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“I want you to stay in this tight passage until I know what we are dealing with. If I don’t come back in five minutes, wait here till Yarda comes to get you.”
“I’m not staying here.”
“Yes, you are,” he said in such a stern voice it took her aback. “They are armed. We don’t have any weapons to defend ourselves with. If they capture me, I will find a way to get out of the situation, but if they capture you?—”
His voice trailed off as his gaze bore into hers. Oliver ran his fingers across her cheek. “These men are a trained unit. They must be on loan from one of the organized crime conglomerates. Russians deal in drugs, weapons, and human beings.”
“What?”
“I believe the correct term is human trafficking.”
She bit her lip. Was he worried that she could be captured and sold off to the highest bidder?
“Meghan, if they grab you, there is no guarantee I can get you back.” He was serious.
She threw her arms around him.
He held her tight to her chest.
“Come back for me,” she whispered.
He kissed her temple. “I will.”
She let go of him, clutching her phone. As he squeezed through the passage, her chest tightened. Panic threatened to close her throat. What if her phone died? She would have no light to find her way out. Meghan took a deep breath and counted to five, but before she could finish her exercise, a rapid succession of shots cut through the silence.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Northern Moravia, 1942
HadHonza told him that they would be trekking over the mountain peaks for over a week, Fred would have stayed with his cousin in the shack. His brother seemed to have an endless supply of energy, and although Fred was used to hard labor at the mill, there were moments when he thought he wouldn’t make it. But when he looked ahead and saw his brother climbing over the rocks with ease, he mustered the courage to follow.
Although unsure of what lay ahead, he was alive. And that meant he had a fighting chance to find her. Hedvika came to him in his dream every night as he laid his head down to sleep. Just before the fatigue overtook him, his mind created a perfect image of her. She smiled at him, and Fred was able to tell her everything. First, he told her how sorry he was for what his father had done. For the unspeakable evil that befallen her family. He was sorry for the time she had to spend in the barn, sleeping on hay. A tear would slide out from underneath his tightly shut eyelids, and Fred would struggle to hold onto her image. And just before sleep would come, and with the blessed rest his body desperately needed, she would smile at him and whisper that she had already forgiven him.
Honza would shake him awake, always too early, and the brothers would set out on the next leg of the treacherous journey. They didn’t speak much, the air too thin, and their pace too brisk. But as the days progressed, Fred told Honza the entire story of what had happened at the mill and of their father’s guilt. Somehow, sharing the burden with his brother made his sorrow lighter, but it didn’t take it away.
And then, without a warning, things shifted. Honza guided him to a lower altitude, and once they entered the forest below the tree line, the punishing winds stopped. Fred felt the oxygen-rich air filling his lungs, and new strength rejuvenated his tired muscles. Had they finally reached their destination?
When a short whistling sound cut through the bird song, Honza signaled to halt. He whistled a short melody, and Fred understood that it had been a signal. Four armed men stepped out of the shrubs, and Fred wondered how come he had not noticed them. They wore ragged clothes; one of them had a Wehrmacht jacket on, all insignia removed. Fred understood that these were his brothers’ comrades, yet fear threatened to choke the very breath out of him. The last time he had seen a group of men holding rifles, they had murdered Hedvika’s family.
The men exchanged a few short words, and then the entire group moved forward, Fred at the center of the imperfect circle. His heartbeat was in his ears, his mind swirling with questions of what would come next. They approached an outcropping of jagged rocks and squeezed through a narrow gap between two boulders. As if by a wave of a fairy’s wand, they entered a clearing bordered on all sides by the ancient granite walls. Inside this natural fortification was an encampment that would become his home for the next two and a half years.
The group marched them toward one of the roughly built shelters. A tall man came out of this simple lean-to. His dark beard covered the bottom half of his face. He wore a tattered uniform Fred had not recognized, but when he saw Honza’s face crack with a smile, he was relieved. The bearded man held out a hand. The men hugged and exchanged a few words. Fred had no idea what they meant. The only thing he made out was the wordbrat, followed byFred. Then, the tall man offered for his hand.
“Igor.” His strong grip made Fred flinch.
“Igor is the commander of this unit,” Honza clarified.
“What unit?”
“Litte brother,” Honza chuckled. “Welcome to the partisans.”
Fred stared at his brother. He had heard rumors of the resistance fighters living in the mountains, but how would this group help him find Hedvika? Who would protect Mother? They were over a week of marching through the roughest terrain away from the mill. The commander spoke again. Honza saluted, then motioned to Fred.
“Let’s go. I will introduce you to others and show you where we are staying.”
Fred followed, his eyes scanning the clearing, hoping to spot her among the small groups of people busy with various tasks.
Honza stopped in front of a lean-to, much like the one the commander lived in.