“I’m sorry, miss,” he said heavily. “The place is crawling with guards. If there was a way out, I’d be long gone.”
There was an announcement over the loudspeakers, and the man gave me one last look then ran away. When Josie returned, she took the seat beside me and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes.
“Did you hear the announcement?” she asked.
“What did they say?”
“The prisoners are being sent back to their barracks and they’ve been told to close the shutters and doors,” Josie said. “I doubt that’s just because of the fog. It won’t be long now, I imagine.”
Outside, the general chatter and movement quickly faded until the whole place seemed to have fallen into an eerie silence.
“Are you scared?” I whispered.
“Not scared. Just sad. I doubt my mother knows I’ve been captured and we parted on difficult terms. I wish I could talk to her one last time—to tell her how sorry I am for everything and to tell her that I love her. I just wish she would be proud of me. I just wish I could make her understand why I chose to take these risks even though I ended up here.”
“She’ll be proud!” I protested. “Of course she’ll be proud of you.”
“But everything is so secretive,” Josie whispered tearfully. “What will she be told about my death? Will they tell her gently? Will she hear of my successes, or just that I was arrested? And Noah? No one even knows that we were in love. Who will think to tell him what became of me?”
“We can’t change any of it now,” I whispered, my throat tight. “I don’t even know where Hughie is. I just have to trust that the truth will find its way to him one day.”
“I wasn’t even crying in there because of what’s about to happen,” she whispered unevenly. “I was crying because I know now I won’t get to hold my Maman or Noah again. I wish I could embrace them one last time.”
“Hold them in your heart at the end,” I said to her softly. “Even when the world around us goes to hell, we can find peace in our minds. You taught me that, Josie.”
“That’s what you’ll do?”
“Giles will be waiting for me on the other side. But—” I broke off, emotion overwhelming me. When I spoke again, I could barely get the words out. “It will be Hughie I think of in the last moments. Like you, I suppose, I’m not so much scared as sad.”
The door opened, and the SS guard was back. He spoke directly to Josie now, giving up altogether on his attempts at English. She replied in German then stood, holding her chin high.
“It’s time to go to the infirmary,” she said, eyes filling with tears again. I rose too and hugged her. The guard barked something at us, and we separated. Wendy and Mary roused and pushed themselves up.
“The infirmary?” Wendy queried, frowning.
“Typhus inoculation,” Josie said lightly.
As we walked along the path toward the “infirmary,” I could smell smoke in the air. The sun was starting to set, but when I looked toward the building ahead of us, I could just make out smoke rising from a chimney at the back of the building, rising up to reach the heavy fog.
They sat us at a low bench in a corridor. All of the doors leading off the hall were closed until two men in lab coats entered the room. One was younger, maybe only in his twenties. He looked uncertain. The other man was short, with a thick mustache and a shiny bald head.
“One at a time. You’ll come with me,” the bald man told us in clear English. He pointed to Wendy. “You are first.”
“No,” Josie said, raising her chin as she reached to take my hand. Her palm was sweaty and although her voice was strong, she was trembling. “Keep us all together.”
“But you must undress for the exam,” he said impatiently.
“No,” I said. He scowled at me. “We won’t undress unless a female doctor is present. We don’t need to undress for an injection, anyway.”
Wendy and Mary gave us bewildered looks, no doubt surprised to hear our defiance to the German doctors. But the doctor sighed impatiently, then muttered something under his breath. The young man walked out of the hallway to a door at the end and returned quickly carrying a tray. I stared at the tourniquets and the small brown vial, a single syringe and needle beside them.
Hughie, I love you.
The first doctor swept an impatient glance over the four of us.
“Expose your arm then, please.”
I released Josie’s hand and undid the buttons of my blouse. The doctor quickly measured the liquid, drawing it into the syringe, while the younger man moved along the line and applied tourniquets to Wendy and Mary’s arms. After the older had injected Wendy and Mary, the young man moved the tourniquets forward to apply them to me and to Josie.
When the bald man bent toward me with the syringe, I looked him right in the eye.
“I have a son,” I whispered to him. There was a flicker in his eyes. “He’s a baby—not even three years old. My husband is dead. I am all that child has in the whole world.”
“Very sad for your son,” the doctor said stiffly.
I felt the slight pinch as he punctured my skin. My heart began to race as he injected the liquid. Josie reached to take my hand again. Beside us, Wendy and Mary were watching quietly, both calm and both, so far, still well.
The doctor lifted the syringe to prepare it for Josie, then paused. He reached to the tray and picked up the little vial. He shook it, as if checking to see how full it was, then sighed and sat it back down.
“Is the dose not sufficient?” Josie asked him, her voice strained. He pursed his lips.
“You are small. It will be enough.”
“I feel dizzy,” Wendy said quietly.
“It’s just a side effect from the inoculation,” the doctor said dismissively. “Please wait here, we will just be a few minutes.”
He didn’t look back at us as they left the corridor. Josie and I stared at one another.
“Gosh, that’s making me sleepy…” Wendy said, but she trailed off.
“I feel very strange too,” Mary said, but her voice was coming from a long way away.
“Let’s go somewhere lovely together,” Josie whispered. I closed my eyes, and brought to mind an image of my son. I saw him pink and angry when I held him in my arms the first time. I remembered the milky, sweet smell of his cheeks as I nuzzled him close when I’d fed him in the night. I remembered the feel of his soft body collapsing into my arms after his first triumphant steps toward me, the sound of his laughter when I played with him during the months when my ankle was healing.
I’m sorry, Hughie. I love you. I hope you’ll be free. I hope you’ll be happy. I hope one day you’ll find the truth.
As the room began to grow dim, the images faded too, and I used my very last breath just to love my son.
C H A P T E R 29
JOSIE
Natzweiler-Struthof Camp, Germany
October, 1944
I was still conscious, but my mind was foggy. I could not keep my eyes open.
I was walking down a beach, Maman on one side, Noah on the other. He was holding my hand now. Maman had looped her arm through my elbow. Aunt Quinn was ahead of us, smiling and waving us closer. What does it smell like there, darling? The air—so fresh and crisp, and salty too. What will we eat there, Josie? Ah, we will stop at a kiosk for chips and fish wrapped in newspaper, drizzled with sharp vinegar, and I’ll eat as much as I want but I won’t get sick at all. How do you feel in your heart?