“Anton,” Dmitri whispered. “We must slow down. We don’t know what is happening. If it is the gestapo, we must be careful.”

Anton knew Dmitri was right, but he had a horrible feeling their hiding place had been discovered. Images of Rina and David gunned down like animals flew through his mind. He could not calm himself. His uncle finally grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him to a stop.

“Anton,” Dmitri said harshly. “Listen to me! We must be quiet. If the gestapo has found the cave, we will need to make sure we are not seen.”

Anton was finally able to calm himself. He knew his uncle was right. Anton and Dmitri crept out of the forest quietly, but kept themselves hidden in the underbrush. The sun was clearing the eastern horizon. In the morning light they could see all the residents of the cave standing just outside its entrance. And there in front of them, Bubbe trembled on her knees. And a familiar face hovered behind hers—the young gestapo officer who had already taken her prisoner once.

He held his pistol at her temple. Her eyebrow was cut and bleeding. He must have knocked her to the ground. And now the look on his face said that was only the beginning. Herman and Sergei tried to intervene, but the German forced them back by pointing his gun.

“Bubbe!” Anton cried. He burst from the underbrush and ran toward his grandmother.

“No, Anton!” he heard Dmitri and Bubbe shout at the same time. Their voices sounded low and far away against the thumping sound of Anton’s heart beating in his ears.

Recognition burned in the Nazi’s eyes.

“You!” he shouted. “At last I have found you, you little Jewish pig! Now you die!” He swung the pistol around and took aim at Anton just as Bubbe leapt from the ground. She threw herself between Anton and her tormentor as he pulled the trigger. The explosion sounded like a thunderclap. The bullet ripped into her torso and she fell forward on the man who had shot her. He struggled to shove the old woman’s body aside, and when he finally succeeded, he took aim at Anton once again.

There were ten meters between them. Anton ran toward the officer as fast as he could. At the last second, he closed his eyes, certain he was about to die. And in that moment, he began to pray. If this was God’s plan, as his uncle Dmitri had told him, so be it. Without Bubbe, he had nothing. His only chance was to get to the German before he got a shot off. He would kill the man with his bare hands.

He realized he was too late the instant he heard the boom of a single gunshot. Anton waited for the bullet to rend his flesh. But nothing happened. He felt no pain. Perhaps this is how one died. When he opened his eyes, he could not fathom what he was seeing. The officer’s body lay next to Bubbe on the ground. He had been shot through the head.

But Anton’s grandmother was still breathing. He ran to her side and dropped to his knees. “Bubbe! Bubbe!” he shouted, taking her by the shoulders. “Someone help her!” he pleaded to his friends and neighbors. They looked at him, then looked away. He felt Uncle Dmitri’s hand on his shoulder. Bubbe had been shot in the stomach. Blood soaked her dress. In spite of this, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. She reached her gnarled hand up and touched his cheek.

“Anton, my good boy,” she whispered. “Someday, you will understand this love …” Her words were interrupted by a horrible, wracking cough. “It is all I have to give you. My love.” She closed her eyes and was gone.

Tears flowed down Anton’s cheeks. He could not stop them. He did not want to stop them. And he did not understand what had just happened. Bubbe had saved him. The gestapo officer was dead. But how?

He looked up to see Uncle Dmitri standing over him, his eyes also filled with tears. All of the families that had come to know Bubbe cried along with them.

Then an unfamiliar noise caught Anton’s attention. At the edge of the tree line stood a group of armed men. Pavel was among them and held a still-smoking rifle. He had reunited with his militia.

Anton recognized another face. Daniel. He held a shotgun, but did not quite look at home among the militia members. How good it was to see his old friend’s face!

Uncle Pavel came toward them, and Anton could see that his eyes were ringed with redness. “The Germans are on the run,” Pavel told them. “The Russian army is less than five kilometers to the west. We … all … we are safe, now. I only wish we could have gotten here sooner,” he said, before bowing his head in prayer.

Anton looked at his bubbe, whom he still held in his arms. Then he stared long and hard at the body of a man so full of evil he had made an old woman his nemesis. Now the Nazi was nothing more than an empty shell. His lifeless eyes stared up at the sky like a doll’s.

“Safety is an illusion,” Anton said. “We will never be safe. Not while men like this walk the earth.”

Anton gently laid his bubbe on the ground, and then he prayed through his tears.