Page 86 of The Lost Husband

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.

THIRTY-FIVE

CURRENT DAY

Gliwice, Poland

A rusty chain snakes along the ground in front of the double wooden doors. I yank on the dangling handle, hoping it gives me enough leverage to wedge my fingers around the edge and pry it open. Metal whines against metal as I slowly force the gap wider, trying to minimize the sound. I shove my shoe into the opening and brace my shoulder against the warped wood until the left side of the door jerks inward. I lift the chain from the floor and hook it around the door frame to keep it from closing me inside.