Page 40 of Winter's End
She decided to circle the property to be sure they were not being observed. The parking lot was sparsely filled, little movement this late in the evening, and the only uniform she saw belonged to the guard posted at the door, who waved at her as she approached.
By nine, the approach of volunteers had slowed to a trickle. Zoe shivered in the cold night air.
MILA
If she walked quickly, she would reach the Cinema by nine, she thought, counting her steps, looking for stars in the dark night sky, anything to keep her from thinking about what she was about to do.
In her mind’s eye, the street would be deserted, all those Reich bastards packed like sardines in the cramped seats of the Cinema. She would walk past casually, across the street from the building, depress the detonator she held deep in her coat pocket and walk away quickly, undetected, as the theater burst into flame.
She gingerly fingered the small device, just to be sure it was still there, careful to avoid the lever. She was going to be fine…absolutely fine…assuming the connection worked. Assuming there was no one around to see her… Assuming her father did not find out and murder her if the Nazis did not…
The little she had eaten threatened to come up in her throat. She closed her eyes and swallowed. What had she been thinking, volunteering for this mission, what made her think she truly had the nerve to do this?
She reminded herself these were ruthless Nazis, the same leering pigs she had toyed with and loathed during her father’s endless dinners, their polished boots firmly planted on the necks of the innocent, the Reich slowly smothering them to death.
She wished Herr Hitler himself were in that Cinema. How satisfying would it be to annihilate him…?
That was the thought on which she would focus. She could do it. Of course, she could…
...
To her distress, as she neared the Cinema, she saw three SS men in heavy black coats standing outside, smoking cigars. In the dark, she could not see their faces. It was not likely they could not see hers.
Head down, a scarf obscuring her face, Mila crossed, head down, to the other side of the street. She wished she had thought to take Hondje with her. Just a woman out walking her dog…
But she had not. Lieve God, she had not thought to do so. And now…now it was time.
EVI
Evi hauntedRadio Oranjefor news of the fighting in the Ardennes, but no amount of hoping or praying changed the disheartening fact; the Germans’ surprise attack had overwhelmed the depleted American forces. Hitler’s army was advancing, more or less unimpeded. On top of that, bad weather was prohibiting aerial reconnaissance, and American forces were suffering high casualties.
On the verge of tears, she stashed the radio in its hiding place and paced the barge’s cramped spaces. The day was gray under an overcast sky, and from the window, she could see the river waters rippling under the might of a persistent wind.
Mam was at the Dans Hal, boxing up a supply of food that had appeared there out of the blue, and there was no one presently in the hold.
Unable to contain her own restless energy, she wrapped a woolen scarf around her head, put on gloves and her warmest winter coat, and let herself out the barge. She hopped on her bicycle and headed to themain road, pedaling fiercely against the wind with no destination in mind.
Perhaps Mam would bring home something besides root vegetables and tulip bulbs. She sometimes woke herself in the night dreaming of beef, or sausages, her tastebuds salivating, and cried soundlessly into her pillow, pressing her hands against her stomach to ease the near-constant hunger pangs...
...
She could turn off at the old school road and visit Sophie, she thought. She had not seen her since that last day of school. It seemed so long ago. Had Sophie seen or heard from Lukas Jensen since he joined the Resistance?
She could head to the petkliniekand look for Zoe, or try to find out where Mila lived and plead her case for shooting lessons.
But she kept pedaling along the main road, eyes stinging in the unforgiving wind.
All at once, she found herself at the tavern where she had nearly been raped. She stared at the squat brick building now, drab and deserted in the daylight, and it came to her in a rush that she had never had the chance to properly thank the American who saved her.
She narrowed her eyes against the wind and looked around. She had no idea where the Beekhof farm was, but it must not be too far, she though, from the tavern where the American had come upon them.
Squinting, she saw perhaps half a kilometer ahead a road sign indicating a crossroad. She pedaled until she reached it, then hesitated. Left, or right?
She tossed a mental coin and turned right, pedaled a full kilometer before she saw the first sign of life – an empty pen, perhaps for sheep, far back from the road, and beyond it a farmhouse badly in need of paint, surrounded by fir trees, and seemingly deserted.
She pedaled closer, read the name on the mailbox – Van de Berg, with a slash of black paint crossed through it. Evi’s shoulders slumped.What had become of the Van de Bergs?
These were large tracts, she discovered as she moved on, separated by lengths of rundown fencing, mostly withered acreage, and no sign of a working farm.
