My heart dropped, wondering what had happened while I was gone.
Was she okay? Did she learn to hate me?
I walked through the cheering crowd of soldiers, noticing the stares from passing Jewish prisoners who were all emaciated, getting closer to their promised death. I wondered how they were still alive.
"Brother." The uttering of the word, his voice—my body froze. "You're here."
I stopped walking and turned toward the sound—the best sound. I had to bite my bottom lip to contain my emotions as I saw Claude standing before me, in one piece.
For a while, no one knew if Claude was alive. It took months to find out he was in a military hospital outside of Prague. The bullet missed his vital organs by a hair, and though the damage was severe and took a great deal of time to heal, he had survived. Claude was looking for me while I was looking for him, but it wasn't until Frau Taylor nearly knocked down our door one hot morning at the end of July, that we found out Claude was alive and sent back to Theresienstadt.
Claude threw his arms around my neck and slapped his hand against my back. He sniffled and buried his face in my right shoulder.
"I thought you were dead," he told me.
"I thought you were dead," I replied.
We walked side by side around the building toward the newly assigned guard post. "When I arrived back here at the ghetto, you weren't here. The battle was over, and everyone who survived came back."
"I'm sorry to have worried you," I offered.
"You tried to help me," Claude said, "and you lost your arm because of it, didn't you?"
"I would give up all my limbs to help you, brother," I told him.
"You were the smart one to take cover, Charlie. This war is ugly, and it's every man for himself now."
"Claude, I need to tell you something, and I need you to try and understand."
Claude's eyebrows knitted together, a look of question and confusion tugged at the corners of his mouth. "What is it?"
"I wasn't cut out to be the bad guy." I leaned forward, keeping my voice quiet. "My stay here is temporary. There is a woman—"
Claude backed away with a hearty smile. "Who is she?" His excitement would fade when I released the truth.
"You will think less of me," I told him.
"Never. I would not think less of you no matter what you do, Charlie."
My gaze dropped to the dirt below our feet. "I need to save someone from this camp."
Claude's head pulled back, recoiling from my statement. "You could be put into prison, or worse, Charlie."
"I am aware," I told him.
"Who is she?" Claude asked again.
I closed my eyes and pulled in a short breath, seeking courage. "The woman who is checking in the ill prisoners."
Claude crossed his arms over his chest—something I could no longer do. "She is a beautiful woman," Claude agreed. "I wasn't aware you two knew each other."
"I came back because of her, Claude. They didn't want me back—not with a missing arm."
I didn't know what thoughts were going through Claude's head, but his eyes narrowed as if he couldn't find a proper response. "Charlie, that woman, among many others, are on the transit list. She is going to be sent to Auschwitz within the next two days. I'm so sorry, brother."
The odds of Amelia being transported when I returned seemed unlikely. "The special project," I commented. I assumed Claude was aware of what was about to take place in the camp. "The special project" was the only reason my superiors agreed to let me return. We were about to begin beautifying Theresienstadt to fool the Red Cross into thinking Theresienstadt was not a prison. We were to make them believe that this ghetto was created to support the arts and talent of a Jewish community. Propaganda at its finest.
"Ja, brother. They must get rid of anyone who appears emaciated. That woman does not look well, nor do most of the others she arrived with."
