From the sound of the whistles, Sam estimated that they were at least a quarter of a mile away. He crawled out, catching sight of the last train car on the tracks up ahead, before turning back to the others. “No sign of patrols. Stay low, we’ll have a better chance. They’ve got a lot of cars to search.”
“This way,” Gustaw said, and they followed him up the hill into the woods, breaking every so often to listen. The whistles between the patrols grew fainter the farther they traveled. After a half hour, the trees grew thick enough to provide decent cover. Now all they needed was distance.
40
Rays of sunlight broke through the treetops, lighting up the forest floor, as Sam, Remi, and Sergei followed Gustaw. An hour after that, they came to a cabin in the woods. “There it is,” Gustaw said, pointing.
It was slightly bigger than the one he lived in. No smoke from the chimney. A bad sign, Sam thought.
“Wait here,” Gustaw told them. “I’ll see if he’s home.”
They watched as he broke cover and walked up the dirt drive to the cabin. He knocked on the door, the sound carrying down to them. After a moment or two, he walked around to the side, then disappeared around the back. Five minutes later, he returned.
“He’s not there.”
“What about a car?” Sam asked.
“I checked. Nothing. It’s possible he’ll return.”
The faint whistle of the train drifted up to them. It was moving again. Which meant the Guard was done searching.
“They’ve got to know we’re in the woods. Let’s keep going. The more distance between us and the train, the better.”
Gustaw nodded. “Our only option at this point is to head higher into the woods or try to get to one of the towns between here and Wrocław. They’ll set up checkpoints, so we’ll have to find a way past them. Once we do, there are plenty of people who are against the Guard who will help.”
They continued on. After fifteen minutes, they heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle — a large one, by the sound of it.
Sam motioned everyone to the ground. He peered through the bushes, seeing a red World War II Opel Blitz truck bouncing down the road. Used for cargo or soldiers, this truck had been refurbished, the once-open cargo bed completely enclosed with hard siding. White lettering on the door read CC’s Antykwariat.
“Antique dealer,” Remi said.
“I’ve seen the shop in town,” Gustaw added. “The man who owns it as well. I think he’ll help.”
The truck pulled into the drive of a nearby cabin, backing in. The driver, a tall white-haired man with a gray, neatly trimmed beard, got out of the truck.
“Worth a try,” Sam said, watching as the man unlocked the back of the truck, rolling up the door. If they didn’t do something soon, the Guard would catch up to them. “Ask if he can give us a lift.”
Gustaw called out.
The man turned, his green eyes regarding them with curiosity as they approached.
Gustaw spoke rapidly. The only word Sam understood was American.
The man eyed each of them, rattled off a response to Gustaw, then settled his gaze on Sam, asking, “Got yourself into some trouble?”
“You’re American?” Sam said, surprised. “Running antiques in Poland?”
“Started off collecting cars and branched out a bit. Interesting work that keeps me busy. Never know what’ll turn up from one day to the next. So what is it I can do for you?”
“We’re looking for a ride into Wrocław.”
“I’m headed that way. If a couple of you don’t mind riding in the back… Not enough room up front.”
“About that,” Sam said. “Might be better if we all hid in the back.”
The man stroked his beard a moment. “Exactly what sort of trouble are you in?”
“Don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Guard?”
His brows went up. “How’d you cross paths with them?”
“Sort of a long story.”
“Give me the condensed version while I load the truck. Get us out of here that much faster.” He unlocked the cabin door, dropped the keys into his pocket, then rolled the dolly in.
Sam, Sergei, and Gustaw followed while Remi kept watch out front. A few boxes were stacked by the door next to a table and, beside it, two wooden crates. “What goes in the truck?” Sam asked.
“Everything. Couldn’t get it all in the first trip. This is the last of it.” Sergei and Gustaw carried the table out as Sam helped move the two crates onto the dolly, all while giving a quick version of their hunt and the Guard’s pursuit.
Once everything was removed from the house, the man locked the door, then met them at the back of the truck. “It’s a good thing I happened along, then, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” Sam said. “So you’ll help?”
“Gladly. But we’re going to want to move those boxes to the other side of the truck bed.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Sam asked.
“They’re covering the trapdoor to the false bottom.”
Sam eyed the truck, only then realizing that the rear bumper and side panels concealed the hidden compartment beneath the raised floorboards so that it couldn’t be seen from the outside. “You think we’ll all fit?”
“Three of you, it’ll be tight. It was used to smuggle supplies so the Nazis couldn’t find them. Occasionally, children and resistance fighters were smuggled out as well. Someone will have to ride up front.”
“I’ll do it,” Sergei said. “I’m probably the last person they’re looking for. And I speak Polish.”
Sam jumped into the back of the truck. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
41
Remi slid onto her back into the hidden compartment in the truck bed next to Sam, who was next to Gustaw. Sergei and the driver lowered the floorboards over them, then moved the boxes into place, the space turning suddenly dark. As the truck started down the road, she wondered how terrifying it must have been for the children hidden there during the war.
After several minutes — the road, thankfully, fairly smooth — she felt the truck slow, then stop. A few moments later, she heard someone talking and strained to listen as the antique dealer, speaking Polish, said, “Is something wrong?”
“There was an escape. Dangerous criminals in the area. We’re searching every vehicle.”
“Nothing back there but boxes and old furniture. It’s been locked the whole time. I can’t imagine how they could get in, then lock it.”
“We’d like to look. For your own protection.”
Remi slid her hand toward Sam’s as she heard the sound of someone walking toward the back of the truck. “Do you have a key?” the man asked the driver.
“I can open it for you.”
“Just the key. Please.”
The engine shut off. “Here it is.”
“Thank you.” She heard someone walking toward the back, then the sound of keys jangling as the person unlocked the cargo door, then rolled it up. Light filtered in through the cracks in the floorboard a moment before the back of the truck dipped as someone stepped inside. Remi felt Sam tensing beside her as he gripped his gun with both hands. She tried to even her breathing, sensing that the man was standing directly over them.
“Anything?” someone from the outside asked.
“Just furniture,” the man above her said.
“Let’s go.”
The truck rose slightly as the man jumped out, then walked back toward the cab. “You haven’t seen anyone around, have you?”
“I saw several people walking through the forest about a kilometer or so back, but they didn’t look like criminals. There was a woman with them.”
“That could be them. We heard a woman was helping. How long ago was this?”