“Of course there is,” she said. “I don’t mind taking risks, but I won’t throw my life away if I have a choice. I can do a lot more for the resistance alive than I can full of bullets.”
We reached the camp where Jonas and Heide had camouflaged the tent I’d set up with branches and debris to make it look like part of the landscape. They’d done a convincing job of it, and I felt better seeing how well they’d managed to secure themselves in such a vulnerable location.
“Your color looks good,” I pronounced as I saw Jonas.
“This is the closest I’ve had to a roof over my head in weeks,” he said, gesturing to the small tent. “I’m able to sleep better when I’m not shivering all night.”
“I just hope you’re able to get out of here soon,” I said. “When winter sets in, that tent won’t do much good.”
“We’ll do what we can,” he said. The furrow in his brow showed that this thought had already occurred to him. Winter set in early here, and was merciless.
Jonas allowed me to examine his wound and change the dressing. Heide had done an excellent job keeping it clean despite the challenge of doing so in the middle of the forest. She blushed furiously when I praised her efforts.
“I’m going to take the good doctor back toward the hospital so he doesn’t accidentally wander into Berlin. I won’t be back tonight,” Margarethe warned them.
They nodded solemnly, and again I wanted to ask where she was going, but I knew my query wouldn’t be met with a real answer.
“Max, promise me you’ll stay away. It’s too dangerous for you here.”
“I think I can decide for myself which risks I’m willing to take,” I said, though I didn’t fully feel the forcefulness I’d given my words.
“Someone could follow you. How would you explain things to your superiors? Though to be honest, it might be better if they did catch you. You’d spend the rest of the war in a jail cell, but at least you’d be safe.”
“Why are you so concerned with my safety?” I asked. “You brought me here in the first place.”
“Jonas would have died if I hadn’t. That was different. He’s going to live, thanks to you. But he’d not be happy you’d done it if you end up sacrificing yourself on trips like these.”
“I thought you’d be grateful for more food and supplies,” I said. “It’s a poor doctor who doesn’t see his patient through convalescence. You don’t have to try to protect me.”
“Max, there are precious few people in this world with a good heart like yours. It’s worth protecting. More than almost anything else, it’s worth keeping safe.”
The explosion was so violent, it rattled the teeth in my head. The men near me either dove for cover or protected the patients nearest them, sometimes shielding them with their own bodies. When the initial shock wore off, some bore a terrified look, wondering where the next bomb would hit. They weren’t wrong—whenever one bomb hit, there were usually plenty to follow. Others assessed the damage with the intent to determine the need to evacuate the hospital, salvage equipment, or do whatever else was necessary to get back to the business of treating the wounded. Every second the hospital ceased to function meant lives were lost. We quickly judged the hospital itself had suffered no worse than toppled supply stations and upturned cots. One sergeant broke his wrist, but that was the worst of the casualties.
Within fifteen minutes, the chaos had subsided enough that I noticed the earthy scent of charring wood and the tang of smoke in the air. The explosion had turned the trees into burning pillars of death, but if anyone noticed me running toward the blaze instead of away from it, they were too concerned with their own skins to fret about mine. Jonas and Heide might have been in the middle of the blast.
Margarethe might have been with them.
In my mind I saw a flash of her lithe frame trying to run through the burning trees, so easily injured or trapped by a falling limb or a blocked pathway. I couldn’t just stand by and wish idly for her safety. My legs carried me, though my head knew it was foolish. My heart had no such concern.
I ran with all my strength, uttering all the prayers I’d learned at my mother’s side and a few of my own invention. Please be alive, please be alive was as elaborate as I could muster, but grace could be sacrificed in the name of efficacy.
By the time I found their camp, my legs were screaming from the sprint over uneven terrain, but I could barely register the pain. The small clearing they used for a camp was empty, save for Margarethe, who burst forth from the thickest part of the woods. Her clothes were black with soot and her hair was wild as she scanned the clearing for signs of her friends as I had done.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
“I got here just a few seconds ago,” I said. “I know as much as you do.” The camp looked untouched. The tent and their things were still there. They didn’t dare have a campfire, so I couldn’t check to see if there were still warm coals. I didn’t see any footprints in the mud, but they may have been smart enough to cover their tracks. Likely the case, given that they’d stayed alive this long.
“It doesn’t look like they fought anyone,” she said, voicing the thought I hadn’t. No Nazi alive would have left the camp in one piece. They left nothing but ruin in their wake. The longer the war went on, the truer it was.
I registered that Margarethe was dressed in fine clothes, despite their being covered in soot. A wool suit and heeled shoes. How she managed to cross the woods without breaking her neck, I didn’t know. “You’ve left your boy’s costume behind,” I mused, still scanning the landscape for signs of where they might have gone.
“I didn’t have time to change. I’ll come up with an excuse for my ruined clothes later.”
“There’s a war on. Plenty of excuses to go around.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Where could they have gone?” she asked. “You don’t think they’re hurt, do you?”
I bit back a platitude, knowing that it might well not be true. I barely knew this girl, but I found the idea of lying to her, even in an attempt to comfort her, as distasteful as a mouthful of the ashes at our feet. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But they’re cunning and they seem to know these woods. If anyone has a chance, it’s them.”
She sat down on the ground. Heedless of her clothes or the cold. She put her head on her knees and wept. It wasn’t the terrified sobs of someone who feared a looming danger, but the heartbreak of someone who had seen so much of it, she was no longer scared by it—she was simply past all reasonable limits of exhaustion from it. I knelt by her side and wrapped my arms around her.
“Why are you so kind?” she asked. “I’m on the wrong side of all of this.”
“You didn’t have a choice where you were born,” I said. She was in her early twenties, I guessed. Possibly as young as her late teens. She didn’t want the war. She was blameless but didn’t have the luxury of being isolated from the war like the women and children back at home.
“I don’t deserve it,” she said. “I don’t deserve kindness.”