Page 83 of The Storyteller of Krakow

‘Move.’

‘Orders are clear. No one goes out until the barrage stops.’

‘I don’t care about orders.’

‘You’re still sick. You can barely stand.’

‘I can drive.’

‘And if you get hit? Then we’ve lost two trucks instead of one.’

‘She’s out there,’ I said, my voice breaking despite myself. ‘She went and I should be with her.’

My hand immediately went to the coin on my necklace. I thought of Noor, of what she had told me and what she had told Anka. Anka could not die. I had to save her. I had to. I was a warrior.

In my state, I tried to tell Marekowski this but he just looked at me as though I had lost my mind.

His grip tightened. ‘That’s not how this works. You can’t just do what you want.’

‘It is exactly how this works.’ I tore my arm free. ‘If I hadn’t been lying in that tent like a useless child⁠—’

‘You had a fever! You’re sick!’

‘I should have gone.’

He stepped between me and the door.

‘Lena, listen to me. If she’s wounded, she’s probably already being brought in by stretcher. If she’s…’ He stopped himself.

If she’s dead. The word hung in the air.

‘You can’t just drive into open fire because you’re afraid for her.’

‘I’m not afraid.’

I shoved him and he stumbled back a step, startled more than hurt. I seized the door handle and hauled myself into the driver’s seat. My hands were already on the wheel before he could recover.

‘Get out of the way!’ I shouted.

Someone yelled behind me. Another voice called my name.

I turned the engine over.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then it caught.

Marekowski leaped aside as I lurched forward. The truck bounced over ruts and stones, shouts trailing behind me like smoke.

The road towards the lower ridge was barely a road any more. It was a suggestion of one, gouged and cratered. Smoke hung in the air, thick and bitter. Somewhere ahead, artillery thudded in irregular bursts.

‘Hold on,’ I muttered, though there was no one beside me.

The olive grove came into view through a haze of dust. Trees stripped and splintered. Earth torn open.

And there – half off the track, one wheel collapsed into a crater – was our truck.

The driver’s side door hung open.