Page 73 of The Lost Husband

A weak scream, female, travels past the other side of the door. “Help!” The word is muffled, but I understand it clearly.

I jiggle the doorknob again, knowing it won’t do anything for me but maybe it will annoy one of the Soviets enough to come yell at me to stop.

When the doorknob does nothing for me, I tap my knuckles against the door.

“What are you doing?” Elias asks, yanking on my coat from below. “Stop. Didn’t you hear what they said earlier?”

“She’s screaming. Wherever she is…she’s screaming for help.”

Noah might be screaming for help in a different building too, and I wouldn’t know.

Elias pushes himself up to his feet and presses the side of his head to the door, listening to what I’m hearing. “That is her.” He pounds his fist against the door, rage bursting through him.

“What are you doing?” Christoph jumps up to his feet to grab Elias’s flinging wrists. “Don’t—don’t do that. Stop!”

Keys scrape against the lock and the door shoves us back. “What is this?” A soldier we’ve never seen. He seems just as confused to find us in here as we are, for being locked inside. A German soldier would have already fired a weapon at us so I’m thankful that isn’t his first reaction. “Why are you here?”

“Our friend is sick, somewhere in this building. She’s being cared for by your medic and we just want to make sure she’s all right because we could hear her screaming. Please let us see her.”

“Who are you?”

“Two of us were prisoners in Auschwitz. We’ve been traveling for days. Our friend got sick, and we were trying to find her help,” I explain, leaving out the fact that I plan to break out of this building, and do whatever is necessary to get to Noah. But he won’t help me with that.

“This isn’t a shelter for refugees.” He looks at us with wild eyes as if we’re out of our minds for even setting foot in the village.

“We know. Or… we didn’t know, but our friend—the girl who was screaming…” I press.

“This way,” he says, still looking around as if he’s worried about being spotted by someone.

We follow him back toward the front of the building, then around to another corridor. The screaming has become a whimper, one I couldn’t hear moments ago but hear clearly now.

The soldier pushes on a door to our left, a dimly lit room, hospital style bed, a sterile smell, and Avi. I can’t tell if she’s awake or asleep, but her eyes are closed.

“Stay here. Don’t let me find you wandering around. It’ll be my head.” The guard stares at each of us before closing us into the room.

Elias flies to Avi’s side, and I stop at the window first, desperately searching outside for Noah, but the prisoners aren’t out there now. My heart falls into my stomach and I move to Avi’s side, placing my hand on her forehead. As if I’ve hurt her, she screams again and whips her head away from my hand. Her eyes clench tighter.

“Avi, it’s me. It’s Celina.”

Her eyes flash open. “Celina.”

“I’m here too.” Elias leans in, making sure his face is within her view.

Christoph stands behind us quietly.

“Where are we?” Avi cries out, trying to keep her voice low, though I’m sure it carries through the thin walls.

Christoph makes his way to the other side of Avi’s bed where a rolling cart sits, topped with a few medical supplies.

“They gave her penicillin.”

“One dose won’t be enough,” Elias says.

“Celina.” She grabs the loose wool of my coat. “Where are we?”

“We were trying to find medical care for you and ended up in this village.”

“They’re Soviets,” she whispers, her breaths uneven. “They can’t know who I am. They can’t. Do you understand me?”