Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
CURRENT DAY
Gliwice, Poland
Elias blows out the flame in the lantern as the sun spills over the horizon.
I pull myself up from the ground and return to my daytime view.
The glass window is cold under my palms, and the prisoners in the yard all look the same again.
I close my eyes, thinking the world outside will change like a photograph on a film reel when I look again. The film is running out.
I scan the rows, slowly, from one side to the other, the way I’ve been doing for the last six days.
Distressed German uniforms, hunched bodies, gaps from missing prisoners—executed prisoners.
No one is looking around, or anywhere but toward the ground.
No eye contact with guards or anyone who might be a spectator.
My chest aches. Not with questions, or fear of what I might see, but something worse. What I won’t see.
A heaviness in my lungs, a dull pain in my stomach, emptiness.
I place my hand on my stomach. I know when something is coming to an end—when there’s nothing left to question.
When the light has gone dark from within because there’s nothing left to see.
I look in the same spot he was in three days ago from the side door.
I see a man in a German uniform who looks like the others, but from up here, I can only see his dark hair falling forward as his head bows.
Noah can’t know I’m being kept here, or that I’ve been watching him, praying they leave him alone and let him be until Christoph returns.
I stopped sleeping two days ago. I can’t will myself to sleep so I’ve been lying awake, staring at a stain on the ceiling, my heart beating slowly, painfully, each thud a reminder of the hollowness inside of me.
Christoph should be back today. He will be back today. He must be.
My hands slip down the window, leaving a foggy smear from my fingertips. I clench my hands by my side, pressing my fingernails into my flesh until pain weakens the images in my head.
Behind me, Avi shifts around in the bed. I turn to her, knowing she must need something. “What do you need?”
“To get out of this cot. Shouldn’t Christoph be returning today?”
“Yes.” My word sticks to the roof of my mouth. I’m not sure about much.
“It’s early. He has time,” Elias says.
Hope is dangerous enough but believing everything is going to work according to plan has already cost me too much.
* * *
Seven days—that’s what the lieutenant said before Christoph left. At seven days, they would be transporting the prisoners they considered necessary to push forward, and the others would be eliminated.
Yesterday was the long seventh day.
And this morning the yard is silent.
No one shouting orders. No boots sloshing through the corridor. No doors slamming. My heart is pounding, watching the back door of the prisoner building.
I didn’t see them leave. I’ve been at the window, my cheek pressed against the glass. The prisoners were taken into the building last night, but I haven’t seen movement since.
And there’s no sign of Christoph.
Elias steps over me, heading for the window. He isn’t looking for a hint of Christoph. He’s looking to confirm that everything has changed.
Elias steps away from the window and over to Avi’s bed, checking her forehead—something we’ve taken turns doing every couple of hours. “No fever.”
It’s been two days since it broke.
“I’m sure Christoph got held up at the border,” Elias says. “They can’t possibly be clear, especially not in the west.”
“I didn’t see them leave,” I tell him.
“It’s so quiet out there. It hasn’t been quiet since we arrived.” He’s stating facts I don’t want to accept.
He knew what was at stake. If Christoph was coming back, he’d be back by now. He would have been here yesterday.
I promise, is all I hear in my head.
I held on to those words once before too.
There was even a moment when I blamed the death of my baby on it, but that was the grief talking.
Wherever he was, wherever he went during that time, it wasn’t Christoph giving up on me.
I know him better than that. He wouldn’t do that to Noah, and wouldn’t do it to me. But somehow, it’s happening again.
“When we confirm they are truly gone, we need to leave and keep moving,” Elias says. “Tomorrow by the latest.”
“It’ll take you a day to figure out how to get that door unlocked,” Avi tells him. The first hint of her recovery. Her feisty sarcasm and attitude have returned.
I sit down on the edge of Avi’s bed while Elias goes to inspect the door.
If they’ve all left, they decided to keep us locked up in this room, which would mean they either believed I was conspiring with Noah, or didn’t want to waste their time figuring it out since Christoph didn’t return yesterday. I’m guessing the latter.
I don’t know what they’ve done to Noah, or what they think of him now, but they were clear about the consequences if Christoph didn’t arrive back in time. Everything inside of me is numb, and I want to push those thoughts away and believe there’s still hope.
“We need direction. They must have used the freight rails to go wherever they were heading. That was their reason for being here,” Elias says.
Avi presses her head into the thin pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “Celina, I know you’re going to want to follow them, if we can figure out where they went, but—”
“Let’s confirm they’ve left before making any decisions,” Elias interrupts, giving me his most sympathetic look yet. “Once I start banging this door down, we’ll know for sure.”
Avi shakes her head. “I can’t understand why they gave me penicillin or did anything to try and keep me alive just to leave us locked in here.”
“Well, they did. They must have felt sorry for us—or you, at least.”
“They don’t feel sorry for anyone. Believe me.”
“You said something similar the day we arrived here. You said they pillaged and billeted…”
Avi turns her head enough to look at me with a strained expression tightening around her eyes and mouth. “They took everything from my village, including a part of me. And I don’t want to relive it.”
“Your scar…” I ask, pressing my finger to my own cheek, wondering if that’s where—who gave it to her.
“Yes. A sure way to make sure I’ll never forget,” she says. “And it’s all I want to do. Forget. Forget everything.”
“When did this—”
“Before the Germans got to us.”
I pull my feet up onto the bed and scoot in closer to her and wrap my arm around her chest. “I won’t let that happen to you again.”
The memory of her screams from the first night we were here sends a fresh shiver down my spine.
“I was so scared when I woke up here,” she utters.
I squeeze her a little tighter, an apology of whatever form it might mean to her. I only wanted to save her life.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but… I need something sharp,” Elias says.
Avi pulls out of my hold and pushes herself upright. “Like your shoulder?” Avi quips.
“There’s no question that you’re feeling better,” Elias says. “There’s nothing in this room. I’ll have to try and break the door down and pray my bones don’t snap as I do.”
“There’s the window too,” I say.
“We’re on the second story. Broken bones will not help us keep moving,” Elias grumbles.
A succession of metal hollow thuds rings against the walls. “Shh, quiet,” I tell them, trying to focus on where the sound is coming from.
It’s the stairs. I suppose they haven’t all left.
A fist hammers against the door, recklessly with panic. “Celina?”
Shock hits me and pins me in place as I stare toward the door. “Christoph?” His name barely makes it out of my mouth when I push myself off the bed and nearly trip racing to the door. “Christoph?”
“Back away from the door,” he says, his breath heavy and quick.
“He’s going to use his sharp shoulder,” Avi utters. “Watch and learn.”
The wooden slab splinters, shredding in the center but doesn’t free from the hinges or lock. Christoph kicks in the bottom panel, making it so he can get into the room.
He’s pale, scraped up, bruised, and his red-webbed eyes, resting on swollen pillows of flesh, tell too many stories all at once, making me question how he managed to get back here at all.
“I lost time I didn’t have.” He releases a heavy breath.
“There were only two trains, and… Soviets stopped me twice, holding me for hours each time for questioning. I didn’t think I was going to make it back at all.
” He hangs his head, pinching his hand against the back of his neck.
“My God—I failed you. I failed him. All of us. I assume the papers make no difference now, but I have them.”
Noah asked him to keep our original papers somewhere safe. He did, even though no place is safe now.
“We think the Soviets left with the prisoners.” I try to hide my despair, but there’s no other way to feel.
“Not all of them. There’s a couple on guard outside,” he says. “I didn’t see any prisoners, though. I’ll try to find out where they’ve taken them.” They won’t give him answers. They’ve likely been instructed not to.
Christoph and I just stare at each other, knowing nothing was enough.
It’s obvious he did everything he could, but I still wonder if the papers would have done any good yesterday, or if they were trying to get us out of their hair all this time.
“There’s a radio downstairs. I noticed it on my way up. We might be able to find out what route they’re taking. The freight rail here is still out of service. The Soviets must be taking the prisoners to another. We can head in that direction, and maybe—”
“What about the soldiers still on guard?” I ask.
“They’re only guarding the front of the building next to us, where they were holding the prisoners. Neither of them paid much attention when I walked into this building. They barely acknowledged me. They’re just here, waiting for straggling German soldiers to make their way through the village.”
“Then, we should leave,” Elias says. “If Soviet guards only care about German soldiers coming and going, hopefully they’ll leave us alone like they did you.”
“Avi, are you well enough to leave?” Christoph asks her.
“I’m not staying here.”
Elias stares at her, his concern only for her now.
“The village is mostly empty, aside from those couple of guards,” Christoph says.
I nod, already preparing myself for the trek ahead, knowing there’s nothing for us here now, knowing I have no idea where they went…or whether they carried out their threat before leaving.
“I’ll check the storage rooms downstairs for food and supplies,” Christoph says.
“I’ll come. If there’s anything useful left, we’ll need it,” I say.
I weave myself through the jagged wooden slats of the door and into the corridor, Christoph on my heels.
The radio near the entrance is in poor condition, its wires half-torn from the wall.
“After I get this working, I’ll pry that storage closet open,” he says.
“I’ll look for other storage closets or open rooms while you do that.”
Christoph stops moving the antenna around and looks up at me. “There won’t be much in here. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“I know.”
Most of the doors are either open or are unlocked, and there’s no sight of any other storage closet, just the side exit door I stood at when I saw Noah last. I press up on my toes to look out the narrow window, confirming I’m far enough behind the next building and out of the Soviet guard’s sight before opening the door.
Fresh air. Wind that smells like spring and damp grass.
The gate along the prison yard fencing is ajar, left open as an unimportant thought.
They might be in that building. They were feeding the German prisoners. If the back door is unlocked, the soldiers out front won’t be any the wiser.