“How long have you been helping them?” she asked.
“I found them here two weeks ago, while I was out on a hike,” said Antoine softly. “They were freezing in the snow, and I thought . . .” He looked away, sniffed loudly, and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his coat. “What about you?”
Juliette put the bread back in her pocket and told him about her Papa helping the Kraismans for the last few weeks. She felt a great relief come over her as she finally said the story out loud. It had been such a burden, holding onto a secret that could get so many people taken away or worse. The confession felt as though she’d been keeping a hundred sparrows locked in her chest, and she’d finally opened the cage door.
“Do you have any idea where they’ve gone?” asked Antoine, glancing around the house. “I was here three days ago, and they were all bundled up inside.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I always wondered where they’d gotten their food.”
“They left something,” she said. She stooped and grabbed her bundle and the menorah. “See? It’s what they use to light candles for Hanukkah. I think they must have left in a hurry.”
“It’s just as well,” said Antoine, peering around the front room, looking for clues. “The war’s coming this way. Word is there are Americans dropping into France. It’s got the Germans all frightened, and they’ve begun heading to this area.”
“Two of them came to our bakery today,” said Juliette. “I thought you might be one of them when you came in here . . . that’s why I—” She raised the whittling knife feebly, suddenly feeling silly for charging out from under the bed ready to go to war with no one but her stupid neighbor.
Antoine touched the hole in his pants and rubbed his leg. “Good thing it was only a scratch. You’re not strong enough to actually cut me.”
Juliette felt her cheeks burn at the comment. Why did everything have to be an insult with him? “You seemed pretty upset when it happened.”
“I was only startled,” he said, sneering at her with his big, flat face. “What is that, anyway? Girls don’t whittle.”
“I was making something for Masha, the little Kraisman girl,” she said, holding up her bundle.
She knew it was a mistake the minute she did it. In an instant, Antoine had snatched the doll away from her and was shoving her back as she scrambled to grab it. The boy lifted it high above his head, out of her reach, and she cursed herself for being smaller and weaker than he was.
“Shoddy craftsmanship,” commented Antoine, examining the doll.
“Give that back!” yelled Juliette, clawing at his arm. “You have no right to take my things!” She lunged forward and grabbed ahold of it, and Antoine grunted as he wrestled it back and forth from her.
“Give it back!”
“Let it go!”
“I said—”
“They’re in here!”
They both froze, their eyes going instantly wide.
The last words had come from outside the cabin.
Chapter 9
ALONG THE FRENCH–BELGIAN BORDER
DECEMBER 29, 1944
5:53 P.M. LOCAL TIME
Boss felt the wind in her ears—and her face, and tail, and every hair on her body. From above, the parachute went taut, and with a sharp tug she was no longer falling but floating gently through the air.
She barked with excitement, but also confusion. It was just night, and in the overcast grey sky she could barely make out the mountain ridges in the distance. Beneath her, the parachutes of her packmates floated down in a line like pads on a paw—but soon they were swallowed by the shadows of trees beneath them. Where were they?
Boss breathed deep, savoring the cold air and the millions of smells coming to her as she descended. She wondered if any dog was as lucky as she was.
She tried to think critically, like a soldier, and survey her surroundings. There were a handful of white clearings around them, which would be good landing spots but bad for visibility. Otherwise, it was just dense forests, with trees so close together that she couldn’t see the snowy ground between their branches. The goal would be to land, get harnessed to the sled, and get into the trees as quickly as possible so as to avoid being seen by the enemy.
The enemy. Boss glanced around her and realized how visible she and her packmates were. The enemy could probably see them from miles away . . . and if not them, the sled.
She looked over her shoulder and saw the sled above them, dropping with the help of two parachutes. She worried that it might break on impact . . . but then she saw Gregor above it. Saw the determined look on his face. The sight bucked up Boss’s spirits. They’d be all right, so long as he was looking out for them.
She heard a bark from below, and saw that Tank and Dash had landed in the nearest clearing. Boss lowered her ears and raised her feet. Time to do what she was trained for.
Chapter 10
OUTSIDE PLAINEVAUX, BELGIUM
DECEMBER 29, 1944
8:15 P.M. LOCAL TIME
Juliette and Antoine had just crouched down behind the overstuffed armchair when the door flew open with a bang. They huddled together, their backs pressed against the chair, trying to make themselves as flat and small as possible.
Carefully, they craned their necks back and peeked around the edge of the chair.
Two German soldiers, guns raised, stomped slowly into the front room, shaking snow from their boots. Silhouetted by the moonlight from outside, their long coats and sloped helmets made them look like phantoms.
“Show yourselves,” bellowed the one in front in accented French, strafing a flashlight around the room.
Juliette wondered if the soldiers could hear her heart beating. It was certainly pounding fast enough.
After a moment of silence, the second German strode into the house. He did a lap of the rooms, making a racket as he threw open cupboards and drawers, his flashlight throwing weird shadows around the cabin. He finally stormed back into the front room, grumbling, “Nothing. Not even a crust of bread.” Then he strode toward them purposefully. He turned, and Juliette felt her fear spike as he flopped right into the armchair they crouched behind. The two spoke in German, and listening hard, Juliette could make out the basic words she’d learned at school and from Papa and Mama.
“See?” said the one in the chair. “You were hearing things.”
“There were voices, Till,” said the one still standing. He closed the door and circled the room. When he got close, Juliette saw his face in a shaft of moonlight from the window and recognized him as Gerhardt, the soldier from the bakery that morning. “I’m sure of it.”
“It’s probably hunger,” grumbled Till. “I’ve been hungry for weeks now.”
Gerhardt said nothing but absentmindedly reached into his pocket and pulled out a brown block half wrapped in foil. He took a bite and chewed, though he made a face. He held it out to Till, but he shook his head.
“I thought you were hungry,” said Gerhardt.
“I don’t want another ration bar,” said Till, and suddenly he began speaking quickly and angrily. “I want chocolate, and coffee, and good bread. I want a roll with a wurst in it, and maybe some noodles. Remember those, Gerhardt? I can almost taste them. Instead, we’re stuck here, in these freezing woods, eating terrible rations, all for some stupid, miserable war. And now, thousands more of us are going to come here to fight the Americans. It’s going to be a madhouse.”
“Easy, Till,” said Gerhardt. “Words like those could get you punished . . . or worse.”
“Gerhardt, why are we still fighting this horrible war?” ranted Till, sitting forward and holding his hands out to his countryman. “We’re running out of supplies. The Americans and English are coming, but from what we’ve heard, they’re also out of food. This forest is going to be a battleground for two starving armies for . . . for what? So that Hitler can have a Europe without Jews, or blacks, homosexuals, and everyone else he just decides to deem inferior? So that he can take over the entire worl
d? I am sick of fighting and killing, Gerhardt. I just want to go home.”
Juliette considered that information. Soldiers were coming . . . but they were running out of food. More important, she heard the strain in the Nazi soldier’s voice, the sadness and panic behind his words. He was as sick of the war as any of the people in her town.
“We do it for the glory of Germany,” said Gerhardt.
“You do it for the glory of Germany!” said Till, rising to his feet and storming toward Gerhardt. “But I don’t even know what that means, and I’m sick of—”
There was a skittering noise as Till’s boot collided with something that slid across the floor. The Nazi soldiers’ eyes followed it. Gerhardt bent down, picked it up, and held it up.
Juliette’s heart leapt. She felt Antoine gasp behind her.
“What’s that?” asked Till, peering at the gold-painted candleholder.
“It’s a menorah,” said Gerhardt, spitting the last word as though it tasted foul. “It’s for Jewish black magic. They light candles in it and summon the devil.”
“Nonsense,” said Till, but glanced around the room nervously. “Really? I’ve heard stories, but never believed . . .”
“If this is here, this place is probably cursed,” said Gerhardt. “More important, there have been Jews here. Let’s head back to town and start knocking on doors. This cabin isn’t so far out that none of these mountain hicks knows about it. Odds are, someone was harboring them, and I’d like to know who.”
Gerhardt pulled a small flask, like a miniature canteen, from his belt. He unscrewed the cap and flung a clear liquid from it onto the floor. Juliette’s nostrils burned as a chemical smell filled the air.
“Kerosene?” asked Till. “You’re not planning to . . .”
“Let’s clean the filth off this place,” said Gerhardt.
He drew a box of matches from his coat, shook one out, and lifted his left boot to strike it on his heel. Juliette’s stomach rose to her throat as she heard the sulfur head sizzle and pop.
The Nazi tossed the match casually to the floor. With a FWUMPF, the floor of the cabin burst into flames.
Chapter 11
OVER TOUL, FRANCE
DECEMBER 29, 1944
5:53 A.M. LOCAL TIME
As the snowy clearing came up to meet Boss, she started running in air, just like she’d practiced at the base. She hit the ground, ran a few yards out to let her parachute drag, and then used her mouth to unbuckle it.
There! Perfect dismount! She stood up straight, head held proudly to the sky, and took in her surroundings with excitement. No mountain would be too high for her! No river too deep! No—
THUD! Delta came swooping down too close and slammed into her side, sending Boss sprawling. Both dogs got tangled in Delta’s parachute.
Fury raged through Boss. Stupid Delta could never get things right. She was always messing up Boss’s best chances to be a good soldier dog. Without thinking, Boss showed her teeth and let loose a low growl. Delta did the same, and suddenly they were twisting and snarling and biting at each other, getting further and further tangled in the net of parachute cords that tightened around them.
Then one bark drowned both of their voices out. Boss and Delta stopped their fighting and whined.
Tank looked down at them and growled low and steady in the back of his throat. Boss felt her heart break as she saw the look in his eyes—disappointment. Boss wanted to whine, to point out that she’d landed like a pro and it was Delta’s fault, but it was obvious that Tank wanted none of it. She lowered her ears, bowed her head, and went quiet.
A moment later, Gregor touched down, and he helped Boss and Delta untangle from each other. There was a loud crash in the snow nearby, and Boss looked up to see the sled, its two extra-large parachutes draping slowly over it. Gregor whistled and waved the pack to his side.
All ten dogs stood in formation, with Tank and his neighbor Dash up front, Boss and Buzz directly behind them. Boss did everything in her power not to click her teeth at Delta as she trotted by. It would be a stupid move—there was nothing Gregor liked less than an angry or mean dog. There had been a handful of them in Boss’s first obedience training class, dogs like Chief and Flare and Zigzag—always fighting, always showing their teeth. Gregor hadn’t wasted time in sending them off to other packs or missions.
She wouldn’t be that kind of dog. She’d be a good soldier. If Delta did something that made her look bad, she’d be even better. That was how good she was.
Gregor tied the dogs together and climbed onto the sled behind them. Boss looked to her side and locked eyes with her partner, Buzz. Buzz nodded, looking a little ruffled but ready to go. That was Buzz—ready for anything. That’s why she and Buzz were swing dogs, stationed right behind Tank and Dash, trained to help steer the sled down the easiest path. Delta was just a team dog, one of the pullers.
Gregor whistled. His whip cracked.
Just like that, they were off.
Chapter 12
OUTSIDE PLAINEVAUX, BELGIUM
DECEMBER 29, 1944
8:25 P.M. LOCAL TIME
The Nazis stormed out of the house, leaving Antoine and Juliette alone in the burning cabin, doing their best to stifle their coughs as smoke filled the air. When the door closed behind them, Juliette rose to try and put out the fire—but Antoine yanked her back down.
“We’re going to burn alive!” she cried, her eyes stinging as oily black smoke rose into them.
“They might still be out there,” he whispered. “Get down. Here, follow me.”
Juliette hadn’t realized that Antoine had grabbed his basket of blankets when they fled behind the chair. He pulled the bundle out and unrolled it across the flames between them and bedroom door, smothering them.
“Come on,” he said, and crawled across the blanket. Juliette followed, feeling the searing heat on either side of her and coughing out smoke. By now, the flames had crept up the wooden walls of the cabin and were beginning to lick at the rafters. They didn’t have a second to lose—if they didn’t move now, the whole place was going to burn down on top of them.
Once they were in the bedroom, Antoine gently closed the door and pointed to the back window. “Crawl out of there,” he said. “We’ll escape out back.”
Juliette cracked the window and crawled outside, landing with a grunt in the snow beneath. She worried the noise might attract the soldiers, but out here, all she could hear were crackling flames as the cabin’s roof began to catch.
Antoine was half out the window when he pushed himself forward—and didn’t budge. A startled, unbelieving look crossed his face.
“What’s wrong?” asked Juliette.
“I’m stuck,” he said.
“You’re . . . oh no.” Juliette looked into the window at Antoine’s waist. One of his belt loops had caught on the inside sill, and he couldn’t reach the snag.
“Hold still,” she said, and wormed her thin little hands past him. Even through the growing smoke, she could see where Antoine’s belt was caught on a nail. She grabbed her whittling knife, wormed it in, and begin cutting at the leather of his belt. She had to act fast—the air in the room had grown incredibly hot, and she could just make out the orange flicker of flames rising around the door.
Juliette squinted as she put her shoulders into it. She was almost . . . there . . .
SNAP! Antoine went flying out of the window and tumbling to the snow with a grunt. Juliette helped him stand and steadied him as he stumbled onto his feet. Together they both scurried into the woods.
The cabin was a wall of flames in no time. The two of them watched it at a distance as it lit up the forest, its light flickering between the trees, a column of thick smoke rising into the sky.
“Well, even if the Kraismans were out looking for food, they can’t come back here now,” grumbled Antoine, but Juliette’s mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about the family, how they would feel if they came back to the cabin and found it gone. It was g
oing to get so cold tonight, and she wondered if Masha had remembered her jacket. But even more than that, she thought about what the Nazis had said earlier. Thousands of them were about to overrun her town. There was no hiding from the war anymore. Her stomach sank, and she felt the backs of her eyes prickle.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and think this through. Mama and Papa had made it clear to her early on that there was always a possibility that the Germans would come to their door and take them away for no reason. “Nazis never need a reason,” Mama had told her. They’d prepared her. If they were ever taken, or if it seemed like the war was finally bearing down on their town and they weren’t around to help, she was supposed to tell Mrs. Burgo across the street that she wanted to “pick wildflowers,” and Mrs. Burgo would hire someone to take her to . . .
“Lierneux,” she said. “We have to head farther south, to Lierneux.”
Antoine’s eyes widened. “Are you out of your mind? We’re not going there. If we walk, that’s at least ten hours. We’d never get there before nightfall. Be rational.”
Juliette’s cheeks burned. How dare he speak to her like that? “Then we’ll walk at night. Quit being a coward and come on.”
“We need to wait for the American troops,” said Antoine. “They’re supposed to be here any day. My father says that if we can just hold out for a few more days—”
“You heard that soldier,” said Juliette firmly. “They’re going to start interrogating people around town. If that happens, I’m supposed to meet my parents in Lierneux. And if I don’t meet them there, they might go looking for me. I can’t risk that, not with our town being turned into a battlefield.”
Antoine sighed and shook his head. “Listen to me,” he said slowly and carefully. “The Americans are here to liberate us. The Germans are tired and hungry. My father says that if we can make the Germans think we’re on their side, we can get out of this.”
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