The door above opened and closed, and I took steps backward until I hit a crate, wanting to hide in a corner in case it wasn’t Charlie, but as a flashlight’s glow made an appearance toward the ceiling, I quickly found Charlie’s concerned grimace below the light. He was holding Lucie snuggly in his arm, and I wondered how he could take her without question, but I knew those questions would not be answered until later—if there was alater.
I took Lucie out of Charlie’s grip, and she clung to me as she did any time I snuck in to see her. Lucie was sick a lot over the last few months. The nurses mentioned it was because she had not been breastfed, but Mama said she was unable to do so with me, and I was just fine. I couldn’t understand how they could blame breast milk for illnesses when Lucie had been surrounded by bacteria and deadly germs from the day she was born. It’s a wonder she had been as healthy as shewas.
I also wondered why they chose to keep Lucie alive without Leah. Leah could have cared for her, rather than utilizing a German nurse’s time. It was hate. That’s the only reason to separate a newborn from hermother.
“We’re going to be okay, Lucie,” I cooed while bouncing her around in my arms. She squeezed her hands around my neck and buried her face in mychest.
“She’s scared,” I toldCharlie.
“As she should be,” he replied through a frustrated huff. “Amelia, we aren’t safeyet.”
“I know we’re not safe, Charlie. I’m trying to be brave though, and you’re making it very difficult for me.” It was the first time I had been that angry with Charlie. I knew he was acting out of fear, but it was only making things harder. What if those had been our last moments together? We had to consider that possibility, but it didn’t seem as though Charlie was willing to, which made me believe we would be okay. It was all outlandish, but the only other option was death. Either way, I needed to try andsurvive.
“Put Lucie into this bag,” Charlie said, handing me one of thesacks.
“Inside?” Iquestioned.
“Yes, put herinside.”
“Will she be able to breathe in there?” I asked him, figuring he probably test itout.
“I will make sure there is airflow,” he said with a furrow between his brows, making it known he had already considered thethought.
I took the bag from Charlie’s hand and carefully slid Lucie inside. “It’s okay, baby girl, we’re going to go get some good food and find shelter where we can betogether.”
“Amelia,” Charlie snapped. “Please.”
“Why are you being like this?” I asked him, feeling the animosity wrench throughme.
“I’m scared to death, Amelia. I have your life, and Lucie’s to care for right now, and I would never forgive myself if I were the cause of something happening to either of you. Do youunderstand?”
“And what about yourself?” I argued inreturn.
“I don’t care about myself, Amelia. I could be here or be gone, and it wouldn’t matter in a week.”Because I would be gone too.“But if something happens to you when I could have prevented it, I will have to live with that. I will have to live withoutyou.”
Without another word, I take the other sack from Charlie’s hand. “Am I going inhere?”
“Please,” hemuttered.
The bag had sharp, wispy threads that scratched my skin as I slipped it up around me and cowered into a ball. “If you swing Lucie a bit, she’ll likely fall asleep,” I told Charlie. I had spent hours watching the nurse care for her after Leah was killed. The only way to urge Lucie to sleep was by gently swinging her from side toside.
“Okay,” Charliereplied.
I was cloaked entirely by the bag and lifted off the ground, accompanied by the sound of a grunt. Granted, between Lucie and I, we probably weighed less than a hundred pounds, but carrying bodies was no easy feat for even a strong man with two arms, never mind a man with a missing arm. Personally, I had tried many times to assist in dragging bodies out of the medical line so others could pass by, but I never made it more than a couple of inches withthem.
The feeling of swinging in midair was unnatural and unsettling. It was hard to breathe and very hot and humid inside. The scent of old potatoes, along with the unsteady motion, did not agree with my stomach, but I tried my best to focus on something else, knowing I didn’t have the option ofvomiting.
The walk seemed to carry on for miles even though it was probably less than five minutes before the slightly muted sounds of Charlie’s voice filtered in through the bag. “Where are you going so late at night?” another voiceasked.
“I need to get a head start for my doctor’s appointment. It’s first thing in the morning,” Charlie said, his voice deepening to depict a more serious tone with the othersoldier.
“Oh, you’re the soldier who had his arm amputated,” the soldiersaid.
“That’scorrect.”
“And, what’s in thebags?”
Charlie did nothing to make friends there, and it seemed they felt the same about him until he arrived back as a war hero with a missing limb. I wasn’t sure what was so fascinating about losing an arm during the war, but they appeared enamored with his heroic ability to survive. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Casualties and murder was obviously intriguing to most ofthem.
