There was a giant bang as the truck swerved sideways, lurching into the bushes beside the road and slamming headlong into a tree. Zus cursed, and as some of the soldiers were thrown from the truck and others scrambled down, their guns drawn against an invisible enemy, there was no choice but to open fire, even though this was the wrong truck, a truck that couldn’t possibly provide ample food for the winter, a truck whose only real bounty was men.
Yona ran forward with the others, all of them firing at the Germans. Some of the soldiers had reached for their weapons; others simply stood there, stunned. One soldier lay in the middle of the road, still and bloodied, apparently knocked unconscious after falling from the vehicle. The driver of the truck clambered down from the cab, his cap askew as he searched the forest wildly. A bullet sliced through his neck before his feet hit the ground, and he slumped face-first into the earth.
Most of the soldiers fell, one by one, dropping to the ground in clouds of their own blood, but impossibly, two remained standing long enough to fire back. Their bullets ricocheted off the trees, whizzing like crazed bumblebees as they shot haphazardly at a threat they couldn’t see, panic rendering them careless. But it was too late for them; a bullet found the head of one of them, and a spray of machine-gun fire from one of the brothers shredded the chest of the other, and then, with all the Germans finally lying dead, the forest fell silent.
Yona slowly lowered her weapon, her legs quaking beneath her as the full reality of what they’d done began to sink in. They had murdered these soldiers for no good reason; there was no assurance they were carrying anything of value aside from their weapons and the clothes on their backs.
“That was for our parents,” Maks Rozenberg said, kicking one of the Germans. His brother Joel spat in the dead man’s face.
“Come, quickly,” Zus said, shouldering his gun and grabbing Yona’s hand. “Come, all of you. We must take what we can and disappear before another truck arrives.”
It was too sloppy, all of it, and Yona felt sick. Rosalia had acted without considering the consequences, her hatred temporarily squeezing her common sense aside. Yona scanned the road, looking for her as the others gathered themselves. Her heart skipped as she realized the fiery-haired woman wasn’t there. “Rosalia?” she called out.
The others stopped what they were doing and turned, looking for her, too. It was Yona who saw her first, facedown on the ground, her beautiful red hair splayed around her like a lion’s mane. “Rosalia!” Yona cried, rushing to her side and dropping to her knees. She put a hand on Rosalia’s back; the other woman was still breathing in shallow gasps. Yona knew even before she gently rolled her over that Rosalia was dying.
Her face no longer looked like stone; as she tried in vain to drink the air, there was a softness to her that Yona had never seen before. Zus came to kneel beside Yona, and then Chaim was there, too, all three of them looking down helplessly as Rosalia opened her eyes, struggling to focus on them. Yona could hear one of the Rozenberg brothers exclaiming over something he’d found in the truck, one of the wives urging them to hurry. But their voices sounded very far away. There was a gaping hole in Rosalia’s chest, and Yona could see blood bubbling out each time she took a breath.
“I had to,” she managed through gasps for air. “They took so much. My children would be proud that I stood up for us.”
Yona could feel tears in her eyes as she reached for Rosalia’s hand and held tight. Zus put his hand on Rosalia’s chest to try to stop the blood, but Yona shook her head at him sadly. It was no use.
“Yes, they would be,” Yona said, and Rosalia smiled a wobbly smile.
“I will tell them,” she whispered, and then she took one last shuddering breath, and the light went out of her eyes.
Yona could feel herself choking on a sob, but before she could say anything, Chaim had grabbed her arm and Zus’s and was pulling them away. “We have to go,” he said, his voice thick with both grief and urgency. “Now. We’ve been here too long.”
Yona looked up in a daze to see the others waiting by the edge of the road, the giant packs Moshe had made for them stuffed full. Yona blinked back tears; there had been more supplies in the truck than she had imagined. The Rozenbergs had worked quickly; the Germans lying on the road had been stripped of their guns, boots, and coats, too—an impressive stash with which to survive the winter.
“Come,” Chaim urged again, his tone panicked now, and then Zus grabbed her hand and was pulling her along, toward the woods.