Two Days Later
She woke from a dead sleep to a staccato burst of gunshots. Allina clutched the quilt close, heart stuttering in the inky darkness.
A panicked chorus of screams pierced the air, jolting her into motion. She jumped out of bed and ran to her aunt and uncle’s bedroom. It was empty.
Barefoot and in her nightgown, Allina rushed downstairs and onto the front porch. She tripped and stumbled, landing on something soft. Looking down, she realized Aunt Claudia’s body was beneath hers. She inched her face closer, only to spring back with a shriek. Auntie’s eyes were open wide, a small black hole marked her forehead, and a dark puddle of liquid pooled beneath her skull.
Nooooooo! Her fingers twitched as she dragged them through the warm liquid, and the cloying, coppery scent made her gag. Pulling Aunt Claudia’s head into her lap, Allina rocked, whimpering as she clutched it against her belly. She needed to keep Aunt Claudia warm.
Auntie’s face began to flicker with an eerie, orange light. A blast of heat and the crash of splintering wood and shattering glass made Allina shield her eyes as the barn across the road exploded in flames, illuminating the porch with reflected fire. Thick clouds of charcoal smoke billowed from the barn’s windows, and the fumes stung her lungs. It was all but impossible to breathe. The animals inside the barn bellowed in terror and began bashing their bodies against the walls in loud, crunching thumps.
Get up! Allina scrambled on hands and knees to the edge of the porch. When she tried to stand, her legs buckled and she careened down the steps, scraping her arms and legs before landing in the dirt. She stayed down, dizzy and shivering, coughing through grit and smoke as she tried to fill her aching lungs.
The animals in the barn were louder now, shrieking in pain, and Allina moaned with them, watching helplessly, hypnotized by the licks of fire traveling up the barn’s walls to the roof before the shingles exploded in a violent shower of sparks and ash. The ash fell on two bodies, lying prone in the street, their arms and legs bent at impossible angles.
The sky lit up. It wasn’t just the barn. Three other buildings on this street and the next were on fire.
Two officers rushed down the road, boot heels sounding on the pavement. They pounded on the neighbor’s door until the Beckers answered, wielding hand-fashioned weapons.
“You have no business here,” Herr Becker shouted. He pushed one officer back with a wood plank.
Frau Becker stepped in front of her husband as if to shield him. When her eyes met Allina’s, they widened in panic.
“Save yourself,” she called out. “Run!”
Get up, get up, get up! Gripping the porch steps, she slid her arms under her body and, with a brutal push, rose to standing.
The officers’ heads whipped around. Seeing her, they shouted to each other.
Adrenaline kicked in, and she rushed into the house and out the back door, sprinting for the forest. Allina dove into the underbrush and buried herself beneath a pile of leaves, shredding her fingers as she dug herself into the ground. She whimpered in the cool dampness, the scent of decaying leaves filling her nose. Her lungs rebelled, urging her to cough, so she shoved her face into the loam to muffle the sound. Minutes may have passed, or an hour. Were they gone? There was no way to be sure.
Then rough hands wrapped around her ankles and dragged her, screaming, out of the pile of leaves.
“Who do we have here?” The hands turned Allina over, hauled her to her feet, and smacked her cheeks until they stung.
“Come, girlie, don’t you want to play?” The soldier reeked of blood and smoke and sweat. When she tried to pull away, he slapped her hard across the face, stealing her breath.
“No!” She sobbed, head swimming, as two, then three, then four soldiers formed a tight ring around her. “Let me go,” she begged.
The soldiers laughed, taunting Allina as they moved in, dark figures advancing in the shadowy night. She couldn’t make out their faces, or see their eyes, but she pleaded for mercy. They grabbed her, nails biting into her flesh as they ripped the nightgown off her body. The frigid air raised goose bumps on her skin and she struggled to cover herself.
“No. Please. No!” When she stumbled and fell, they turned her over, shoved her face into the ground. Arching her neck back, she spat out dirt and gave a shrill cry.
No! Allina writhed in the muck, straining to get free. She managed a kick that drove one of the men to his knees screaming, clutching between his legs.
“Bitch!”
They flipped her onto her back, and one of the soldiers slammed the butt of his rifle into her skull. Her head filled with a bright, searing pain.
Then nothing, blessed blankness.
When Allina came to, they were still cursing her, pawing at her breasts, yanking her hair. One unbuttoned his pants and lowered himself onto her with a crude grunt. He clawed at her underwear, but she kept her legs clamped together and twisted away from the groping hands and rank mix of sour breath and sweat.
A shrill whistle pierced the night. “Report to the village square. Now.”
The soldier let out a vicious curse and jumped to his feet, buttoned his pants. He pulled her up roughly, slung her over his shoulder—and cursed again as Allina emptied the contents of her stomach down his back.
She slipped back into the fog.
The return to consciousness was slow. There was a sense of warmth at first, of the sun’s rays on her cheeks, and then a gentle breeze that produced uncontrollable shivers. Allina moaned with each minuscule, reflexive movement. Every centimeter of her skin was alive with pain. So thirsty. It was hard to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth.
The agony in her head was the worst. Even the slightest motion made her stomach lurch. She tried to lift her eyelids, but the pain drove into her skull so she squeezed them shut again, fighting to control the sick dizziness. The ground underneath her felt uneven, and something large and round dug into the small of her back.
And the acrid stench of metal and woodsmoke—it was overwhelming.
How long had she been asleep? Whimpering, Allina probed her head cautiously. Her fingers came away sticky and warm. Venturing upward, they found a small wound and traced the slow trickle of bleeding down the right side of her face. She cracked her eyes open. The sight of her arms and legs, bruised and streaked with mud, brought back flashes of memory in a horrifying rush.
No! Allina rolled over.
Her eyes met Frau Becker’s. She touched her neighbor’s cheek, but the woman’s eyes were dull. Sightless. Her skin was gray and cold.
Choking back a moan, Allina craned her neck and saw a sea of lifeless forms. She was lying on them, all the dead bodies. The lumps pressing into her back were the skulls of her neighbors.
She heard an animal’s tortured, high-pitched howl …
“Noooooooooooooo—”
… and scrabbled off the hill of corpses, tumbling to the ground as bodies shifted and slid off the pile.
Realizing her voice was the source of the screams, she stuffed a fist in her mouth to muffle the sound.
Fighting back panic, Allina took her bearings. She was in the town square.
Nowhere to hide.
When two officers ran toward her, laughing and calling out for her to stay and play, she rose up, attempting to flee. The constricted muscles in her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the ground.
The sharp crack of three gunshots filled the air.
An officer in a Schutzstaffel uniform walked toward her, his boot heels echoing on the cobblestones. The man was short and slight. His hair was gray, his gait energetic. As the officer approached, Allina lowered her gaze to the ground, until all she could see were the tips of his black polished boots.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
The muscles in her thighs screamed, but she hauled herself upright, shivering as she tried to cover her breasts. Allina risked a peek upward, and they locked gazes. His eyes were a ruthless ice blue, so pale they appeared silver.
He took off his coat and threw it at her. She clutched it against her body.
“What is your name?” the officer asked.
She swayed before righting herself. If she told him the truth, he’d kill her.
“What is your name?” he demanded, his face turning a mottled red.
“A-Allina,” she said, remembering the fake papers Uncle had given her only two days ago. “Allina Gottlieb.”
“You’re indecent,” he bit out, lips curling back as he looked her over.
Allina lowered her head and shook, stared at his boots again. Another wave of dizziness hit, but she managed to keep from dropping to the ground. The officer took a step closer. He chuckled when she cowered and began walking around her in a slow circle. She squeezed her eyes shut.
The officer grabbed her chin and jerked it up. “Open your eyes,” he commanded. When she did, he brushed the soot from her cheeks and tilted her head back and forth, examining her as if she were a vase or a piece of jewelry. Allina bore his scrutiny without flinching, but she couldn’t stop trembling.
“Voss!” the officer shouted.
A soldier trotted up. “Yes, Gruppenführer Gud.” He was young, with a round face spotted with pimples. The soldier’s eyes slid down her body before darting away. His cheeks flushed a dull red.
“Take this one to her house,” Gud commanded. “Allow her to dress and bathe.”
“Yes, Gruppenführer.” Voss straightened his spine.
He shifted his attention back to Allina. “Pack a suitcase. Take sturdy clothing. Nothing of value.” The general’s voice was as hard as his gaze. “Do you understand?”
Allina nodded and clutched the jacket to her body.
Gud scribbled on a piece of paper, signed it with a flourish, and gave it to Voss. “Show these orders to anyone who questions you.”
The soldier saluted. “Yes, Gruppenführer.”
“You will not touch her. You will allow no one to touch her.”
The boy swallowed, throat muscles working hard. “Of course, Gruppenführer.”
“Be back in an hour.”
The soldier saluted again. “Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler.” Gud turned back to Allina. “Cover yourself,” he ordered, gesturing at the coat she was holding against her body, “and make sure to wash. You’re filthy.” He walked off without another glance.
Allina wound the coat around her body, struggling to belt it with fingers that twitched. She kept her distance from the soldier as they walked to her house. Although she gave the directions, Voss stayed a half step ahead. He nodded to the officers who passed, but blocked her from their view. Allina heard the jokes as the soldiers walked by, the rough comments, the snickers. She kept her eyes to the ground.
When they got to the house, Auntie’s body was no longer on the porch, although a smear of blood remained. Allina stepped around it and walked inside.
The sturdy oak furniture and her aunt’s pretty rose-patterned china and linens were smashed, shredded, ruined. She trailed her finger along the length of a bookcase, and a low mewling rose in her throat. The oiled wood was still silky and beautiful, but the shelves were splintered apart. There was nothing left.
The young officer motioned up the stairs. “Be back down in half an hour,” he said, as she limped up the staircase. “Hurry.”
The soldiers must have been called away before they could destroy the second floor, because her room was untouched. She hurried to the closet and selected her gray wool coat, five plain dresses, and sturdy shoes. When she tugged her suitcase from the top shelf, her uncle’s cigar box fell to the floor. The contents spilled in a pile at her feet.
Her father’s letters, his newspaper articles. There’d been no time to read them. If the Schutzstaffel found these, they’ll kill her for sure, but these bits of paper were all she had left of her family. Leaving the documents behind was risky, and the thought of destroying them, unbearable, so she wedged them under the dresses in her suitcase.
She had to get clean. Allina limped into the bathroom and jerked the cabinet door open, searching for a washcloth. A small sewing kit fell to the floor. She picked up the kit and froze.
My God, my God, I will wear my secrets.
Allina hobbled back into her bedroom and worked with frantic speed, detaching the coat’s lining in three places, then sewing the letters and clippings into the lining and inside pockets before sealing them shut. She examined her handiwork, checking the needlework and patting down the coat. Her stitches were neat enough. The papers made a soft, crinkly sound, but not so much that most would notice. Rushing, she threw her clothes and the sewing kit into the suitcase, along with her new papers—the forged ones for Allina Gottlieb.
She hurried back into the bathroom and turned on the bath. One glance in the mirror made her stumble back in shock. The girl in the glass had ashen skin, a swollen, split lip, and stark cheekbones beneath a layer of grime and soot. The right side of her head was caked with blood.
Allina soaked the washcloth and held it to her hairline before rubbing off the crusty mess of blood and grime. The wound began seeping again, but at least it wasn’t covered in dirt.
Shivering, she climbed into the tub, scrubbing furiously at her body with soap and a brush. Her throat ached but no tears would come—in some far corner of her mind, she wondered why—but her stomach quaked and her limbs jerked, uncontrollably at times, as she washed. The blood and filth melted into the water, swirling in sanguine curls before disappearing down the drain.
Her skin was raw by the time she stepped out of the tub. But she was clean, and she’d stopped trembling.
Allina tackled her old papers next, shredding and soaking them in hot water before tossing the pulpy mass in the trash. Allina Strauss is dead. She dressed quickly without looking in the mirror, yanking on her coat over a navy dress and slipping shoes over wool hose.
Suitcase in hand, she limped down the stairs to find Voss in the kitchen, stuffing his face with food he’d raided from Auntie’s larder. He blinked when he saw her before pushing hunks of bread and cheese into her hands. “We have to hurry,” he said, gesturing to the door. “Eat while you walk.” She managed a few bites of yesterday’s bread before tossing the rest away.
When they arrived at the square, the Gruppenführer was at luncheon, seated outdoors in front of the ApfelHaus Café at a table set with white linen and fine china. The table was covered with a cooked chicken, roasted potatoes, vegetables, bread, fruit, and wine. The sky was blue. The sun was out. Silverware and crystal glinted in the sunlight. And the Gruppenführer sat there with his back turned to the piles of bodies, although their images were reflected clearly in the café’s windows. How could he not see them?
She began to shake again.
Gud dismissed Voss with a wave of his hand. “Sensible clothes, sturdy shoes.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes lifted at the corners as he examined her. “Are you hungry?”
Allina shook her head.
“You won’t mind if I eat.” He motioned for her to sit and tucked into his food. Allina perched on the edge of the chair, careful to angle her head so the corpses weren’t directly in front of her.
Only last Saturday, the square had been filled with the aroma of warm strudel and boisterous greetings from her neighbors as farmers, food vendors, and shop owners offered their wares. It was here where children shrieked with joy on pony rides each spring, got their fingers sticky with fresh blackberries in summer, and dunked for apples every autumn.
Now the town square was silent, save for Gud, who ate with gusto as he called out orders to his men. Several walked around with clipboards, making notes. Some went through clothing, scavenging jewelry and personal items, while others hauled trash and the dead from one location to another. A small group of officers at the center of the town square operated moviemaking equipment.
“They’re documenting today for the Reich and our Führer,” Gud said before shoveling in another enormous mouthful of food.
The Gruppenführer offered neither an additional explanation nor the reason for the massacre of what looked to be dozens of innocent people. Allina swallowed hard, tasting bile as her stomach threatened to rebel. Perhaps a third of the townspeople, murdered. She didn’t dare ask why.
She scanned the piles of bodies but couldn’t glimpse Karin’s face among the corpses. There was no way to know if her best friend was dead or alive. Please let her be safe. Karin and the precious, unborn child she carried. Every structure facing the square had its shutters closed, curtains drawn. Any villagers within, if alive, were out of sight, in hiding.
Allina shuddered and closed her eyes. There was nowhere safe, now. Nowhere to run.
“Our country is better for the events of this day,” Gud added. “I’d accept that reality sooner, rather than later. Your life … it’s different now.” He gestured at the piles of bodies with his fork before taking another huge bite of food. “You must choose a new life today, one not tied to this town.”
The man was insane. They’d killed dozens of men and women in her village. Hysterical laughter bubbled up, but she choked it down.
“Why are you helping me?” she managed.
“You remind me of my granddaughter,” the Gruppenführer answered. “Your features and coloring, the way you hold your head are all very much like my Giselle. You have the spirit of the Reich.” When Allina shook her head, he gave her a warning look. “I’d claim that spirit, if I were you. It’s your choice now. To live or to die.” He took a healthy gulp of wine, smacked his lips. “Why am I helping you? Because I can. Trust me, you don’t want to throw this chance away.”
Allina’s gaze darted between the mountains of corpses and the bountiful feast on the table. He took another bite of food. A bit of meat, shiny with fat, was stuck in the corner of his mouth as he chewed. Her stomach rebelled and she hobbled to the side of the building, retching up the bread she’d eaten. Allina stayed there, bent nearly in half and gasping from the pain.
She was trapped. Out of options.
Wiping her mouth, she walked back to the table.
Gud stood up and nodded. “You’re a strong one. Good girl. Follow me.”
“Hold still,” the doctor ordered, as he tended Allina’s head wound. “One last stitch.” They were standing by the Gruppenführer’s automobile, and the doctor was clearly put out, working in haste while two officers packed the vehicle.
Allina couldn’t silence her gasps. Her body was a single, massive bruise. The stitches burned and the side of her face throbbed with hot, dense pain. Shivering, she gritted her teeth, did her best to remain motionless. The sun was high in the sky, but she couldn’t get warm.
Clipboard in hand, Gud glanced up from the papers he was signing. “Be quick about it, Baehr. We need to get on the road while there’s daylight left.”
“Yes, Gruppenführer.” The doctor snipped the last suture and placed a sticking plaster on the wound with a surprisingly gentle touch.
Exhaustion overtook her, and Allina sagged against the side of the vehicle. Her eyes fluttered closed.
“You must change the dressing once a day,” the doctor instructed, “and wash around the wound. Don’t get the sutures wet.” He tapped her cheeks until she opened her eyes. “Do you understand me?” His gray gaze was sharp, but not unkind.
Allina nodded.
“In three days, take the bandage off.” He pressed on the edges of the sticking plaster again, and she let out an involuntary cry, eyes watering from the pain.
“Enough,” Gud said. “We’re late as it is.”
The doctor backed off. “Heil Hitler!” he said, and saluted.
“Heil Hitler!” Gud saluted before turning to Allina. “Get in the car.”
She climbed into the back, hissing as she slid onto the glossy leather seat. The cushions were plush, but they pressed against every bruise. When Gud hopped in beside her, she moved into the far corner and turned to the window, trying to make herself as small as possible. She pressed her cheek to the cool glass and let out a sigh.
“Be quiet,” Gud ordered. “I have work to do.”
She fell into a deep sleep before the car made it to the main road.
She woke to hands forcing her thighs apart. Gud pulled her skirt up, shoved her hose and panties down, and pushed her onto her back.
“No! Stop!” She pummeled his shoulders and clawed at his hair.
He reared back and slapped her so hard her ears rang.
“You told me I reminded you of your granddaughter,” she begged.
There was desperation and madness in his silver gaze. For a moment, Albert’s warm amber eyes flashed in her mind, and she choked on a sob.
Gud shoved her knees up again, and spread her legs. He cursed as he fumbled with the buttons of his trousers.
Allina tried to resist, to shove him off, but her arms and legs would no longer obey. Closing her eyes, she angled her head and pressed her nose into the leather seat cushion, away from the stench and sight of the monster above her. When he entered her the pain was excruciating and stole her breath.
Make it stop. Please make it stop.
Her mind turned inward, and random sounds and smells and images flitted through her consciousness. Gottestränen Lake at sunset. The soft, rhythmic clicking of Auntie’s knitting needles. Sweet, yeasty bread dough. Uncle reading from the Tageblatt at breakfast. Warm candle wax and incense. Eventually, the memories ceased and Allina was enveloped in quiet. The pain was gone.
When Allina opened her eyes, she was gazing down at their bodies. Gud was thrusting in a crude, urgent rhythm while her own limp form lay across the back seat, unresisting.
She tried to call out but couldn’t make a sound.
Am I dead?
A bright light flashed and she slid into nothingness.
She roused to rough hands shaking her.
“Make yourself presentable,” Gud barked. “We’ve arrived.”