Page 85 of The Lost Husband

“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 tookeverything 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 hissharpshoulder,” 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.”