The Darkest Hour(35)

That’s at the heart of all this. We can’t.

“We have to trust him,” I whisper back. “If this disease gets out, we could lose everything, not just the war.” I think about Zerfall making its way to the States. My mother could get sick, along with Ruthie. The thought of them crying blood and joining Theo in a cold grave makes my teeth clench. It was bad enough losing my brother—and having him die thinking that I was angry with him. I can’t lose anyone else that I care about. “I know you outrank me, but you have to take my word on this.”

Sabine’s chin juts slightly upward, and I’m ready for her to launch into me finally, telling me that I’m forgetting my trainee status. But she doesn’t. “Very well. We better move quickly to the coast.”

“You’re not going to insist on looking through his folder?”

She sighs through her nostrils. “That would be ideal, but how exactly can I interrogate Dorner out on the street? I’ll have to take your word concerning his story.”

She must notice the surprised look on my face because she goes on to say, “If Dorner turns out to be lying, I’ll strangle you both. Is that clear?”

Now, there’s the Sabine I know, which puts me a bit more at ease. And she’s right. There really isn’t time for her to give Dorner a full grilling.

Sabine speeds ahead to catch up with Madame Rochette, and I hurry after her. To the right of us, a clock tower sings and I count down the hours until the rendezvous with the SOE.

My heart goes grim, but I urge myself to pick up our pace. If we don’t get Dorner to that drop-off, the entire war might as well tilt in Adolf Hitler’s favor.





Madame Rochette takes us to an old stone farmhouse that sits west of the city. Behind us, all of Cherbourg has gone dark. The entire city is under a mandatory blackout meant to shield the port from Allied bombers sneaking over from England. I search through the feathery clouds for any sign of our planes, but the sky is clear tonight. Thankfully. If we’re caught in the bombers’ cross fire, there is no amount of Hail Marys that will save us from their payloads.

We arrive at the safe house unannounced, but once the elderly farmer sees Madame Rochette he whisks us inside and serves us each a ladle of fish stew. Apparently this isn’t the first time he has taken in fugitives, and he fortunately doesn’t ask us many questions. Once our stomachs are filled, Madame Rochette kindly asks him to give us a pouch stuffed with supplies. Food. Water. A map. Even a weapon—a boning knife. Then we wait. Agonizing as it might be, we don’t have another choice. In the summer months, the sun doesn’t set until late here; and we’ll need to surround ourselves with darkness to hide from the Germans’ quick eyes.

Once that dark sets in, we thank the farmer and sneak back into the night, where we part ways with Madame Rochette. She’s off to her sister’s apartment, but before she leaves I give her two pecks.

“We can’t ever thank you enough for what you’ve done,” I start.

She gives my hand a firm pat. “Vive la France,” she says, and hurries onto the road without looking back. I can’t blame her for distancing herself from us. She has risked her own life to save our necks, and now she won’t be able to return home. At least not until the war is over.

Using the starlight to guide our feet, I hurry us westward, over the gently rolling hills that crisscross with neat rows of shrubbery to mark one farmer’s land from the next. As we thread through one line of bushes, Dorner comes up beside me.

“I’m not sure it’s wise to be traveling after curfew,” he whispers, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Do you want to get to England or not?”

He stumbles on an overgrown root. “We’re going now?” I steady him and nod. There wasn’t time to explain to him earlier that the SOE had already made arrangements to retrieve him tonight. “Precisely how will I get across the Channel?”

“By submarine. The British are on their way as we speak.”

“Then you believe what I’ve told you about Zerfall.” He sounds pleased by this, but I’m not here to stroke his ego.

“Remember your end of the bargain, Dorner. Tell them everything you know about Zerfall, and they won’t kill you.”

“Get me to the Brits and the coordinates and that name is yours.” He matches pace with me, step for step. “You can call me Alex, you know.”

“I know,” I say, and I don’t look back.

We swing south to skirt past the Querqueville airfield, where the Nazis swarm like hornets defending their nest, and we continue on to the grassy fields that run parallel to the Atlantic. The smell of the ocean hangs right under my nose, briny and sharp, and the sea winds have chilled the air around us. Once we’ve passed the airfield, I open the map and trace a lone finger along the path that we’ll take from here to the drop-off point, drawing an invisible line from where we’re standing over to the slim peninsula that juts off from the main palm of Normandy like a crooked finger. We’ll need to reach the very tip of that finger in a matter of hours.

“Looks like there’s another fifteen miles to go,” I say to Sabine.

Sabine gives the map a hard look. “More like sixteen.”

A few days ago I would’ve rolled my eyes at her, but we don’t even have time for that. Fifteen or sixteen miles, it won’t be easy terrain. There’ll be rocky hills and thick brush that snatches at our ankles and—from a glance at the darkening sky—there’s a summer storm brewing that should slow us further. “We better move fast if we want to make it on time.” I say that for Sabine’s benefit as much as Dorner’s. I’m surprised that she hasn’t insisted on leading the charge to the coast, but she seems content to let me do it. Whatever happened during her arrest has truly rattled her, and I’m tempted to ask if she’d like to rest, but she settles that for me.