The Darkest Hour(62)

He shakes his head at me, disappointed, which makes my chest hurt. I throw my head back against the pillow and chastise myself for my stupidity. Why didn’t I kill the mouse when he asked me to?

“I’m sorry, Dr. Nacht,” I say swiftly. Guilt punches my heart for disobeying him. He has treated me so well and has given me so much, but now I’ve lost my chance to earn his smile this session. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I know exactly what has come over you.” He releases a sigh and wipes his shoe on the floor. I take a small comfort that he doesn’t sound frustrated with me anymore, but what he tells me next makes me dizzy. “I’m afraid you’re still fighting the serum.”

“I’ll try harder. I promise.”

“I’ve underestimated your resolve. That’s my fault, but I must remedy it.” He slides open the drawer and takes out not one but two syringes, both filled to capacity with serum.

“Dr. Nacht,” I say through the haze that has settled around me. “If you’ll give me one more chance—”

“We’re running out of time,” he says. “I’ve promised the Führer results and he’ll have nothing less than that.” He approaches my cot.

Both syringes sink into me, and I’m soon lost in a thick shroud. The extra dosage makes me sleepy and my eyelids soon begin wilting; but before the blackness takes me under, I grasp onto one stray thought. I can’t let Dr. Nacht win. I have to stay alive—for Tilly, for Maman, and for Ruth.

Somehow, some way, I need to escape.





In my lucid moments, I sew together my last shreds of sanity and come up with an escape plan. I’m sure Harken would never approve of it. He’d call it weak on a good day and desperate on any other, with a survival chance of about zero; but it’s the only plan that I’ve got.

So I wait.

Dinner is served—a plate of corn mush and some sort of meat that has been cooked until it has lost all flavor, but I swallow every bite of it. I can’t cause a scene. When the plate is empty and my stomach full, I wait for Dr. Nacht to arrive for my morning session, but it’s Nurse Keser who strides into my room instead, ready to administer my next dosage. My heart sinks. I spent hours waiting, but Dr. Nacht doesn’t even show up. But I decide to launch my escape plan anyway. Once that needle hits my arm again, I might fall completely under the Nazis’ clutches.

It takes all of my willpower to pull back an edge of the serum’s haze. “Good day, Nurse Keser.”

She ignores me and gets about her work: checking my pulse, shining a light in my pupils, taking a peek down my throat. She rubs my forearm with alcohol before she readies the syringe. It’s now or never … but what was my escape plan? It has already slipped through my fingers.

“Stay still,” Nurse Keser grunts as she presses the needle against my skin.

“Wait—”

“What for?”

I struggle against the straps, but Nurse Keser squeezes my arm and shoves in the needle. The serum surges through me, but I feel no pain from it. My body must have adjusted to the dosage because now a calm sigh falls out from my lips. The last scraps of my plan fade into nothing. Not that it matters. Another minute passes and I don’t even remember why I told Nurse Keser to wait in the first place. I close my eyes, ready to drift off into a dreamless oblivion.

Nurse Keser’s footsteps thud toward the door just as someone else comes into the room. “What are you doing here, girl?” Nurse Keser barks.

The girl answers, “Dr. Nacht sent me.”

The sound of that voice forces me to open my eyes. I’ve heard it before. Where, though, I can’t recall.

Nurse Keser snorts. “He did, did he?”

“You’re welcome to check with him if you’d like.”

“I certainly will. Come with me …”

I blink toward the door and almost choke at what I see. A girl with dark hair slams the heel of her hand into Nurse Keser’s throat, fast as a snake. Nurse Keser clutches at her neck, and the sounds coming out of her mouth are gasping and terrible. She tries to call for help, but the girl swings a leg through the air and clips Nurse Keser’s temple. The older woman collapses onto the floor, her head smacking the tile with a dull plunk.

The girl approaches my cot, and I notice that she’s wearing a loose men’s jacket over plain trousers. Whoever she is, I’m sure I’m her next victim. I want to scream for Dr. Nacht, but the serum is ready to take me under.

“Don’t be afraid,” the girl says softly. From her pocket, she pulls out a syringe that’s filled with a silver liquid rather than the usual gold.

I wrench my wrists against the restraints. “Dr. Nacht!” I say, only it’s nothing but a whisper.

She jabs the needle into my calf, and my back arches up so fast that it might snap in two. Then my body crashes back onto the cot, and I start shivering all over. I have no idea what this girl has injected into me. Poison? Whatever it is, it’s the exact opposite of Dr. Nacht’s serum, ice instead of fire.

The girl’s face hovers over mine. “You’ll get warmer. Give it a few minutes.”

“What …” My teeth chatter so violently that I can hardly get a word out. “What was in that …” I point a shivering finger at the empty syringe.