Beyond the Shadow of Night(71)

“Talking?”

“You can guess. But it ruins everything if they find out at this late stage. So we go now. The others have been told too, and also told where their weapons are. I’ll get yours now.”

He climbed onto the top bunk, reached up to a beam, and pulled himself up. After the last few weeks the feat seemed superhuman to Asher, but as he watched, he could feel adrenaline imbuing his own body with more strength. From the top of the beam Stefan dropped two knives and four guns onto the bed. Then he came down.

“You two, the kitchen block. You two, the clothing warehouse. Asher, you’re with me. Remember what you’ve been told. Only kill guards out of sight of other guards. And quietly too. If you can use a knife instead of a gun, much better. Then drag them out of sight. When you hear the first grenade explosion, head for the main gate and kill any guards you see.”

He handed out the weapons, hiding one of the guns in the back of his pants under his belt, giving another to Asher. “Take care. The guns are loaded. Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Asher and Stefan had reached one of the buildings used to store sacks of hair and glasses. They hid around a corner, Stefan peeking out occasionally.

“We’ll wait here until the guards come in,” he said. “But have your gun ready.”

Asher plucked out his gun and weighed it in his hand. “Where have the arms come from?”

Stefan cracked a rare smile. “From the camp’s own stores, so I’m told. Someone said children were used to get them, but who cares? Let’s be quiet and be ready.”

Asher said no more, just tried to judge the number of spare bullets in his pocket.

“Right,” Stefan said a few minutes later. “Follow me. Put your hands behind your back. Relax. Be normal.”

They stepped out and called over to a pair of guards, who strolled over. They were both fresh-faced, Asher thought, perhaps only seventeen or eighteen.

“What are you doing out of barracks?” one of them said.

Stefan pointed a thumb at Asher. “My friend here wants a pair of these spectacles. Is that okay?”

The guards both laughed.

“But he can’t see without them,” Stefan protested. “Perhaps some nice silver-framed ones, yes?”

Now one guard stopped laughing and gave Asher and Stefan a sideways glance. Soon the other also realized something wasn’t quite right and pulled his face straight.

Both guards reached for their rifles, but as they did so each instantly had a pistol pressed firmly against his chest, just below the rib cage. As the ends of the pistols pushed deep into flesh, the triggers were pulled, the close range deadening the sound as efficiently as it deadened the guards.

“Quick!” Stefan hissed. They dragged the bodies to the back of the room, behind some sacks. “Now we just do the same again,” he added. “Until we hear the grenade.”

They stood in position again, but only had to wait a couple of minutes before they heard the dull boom of a grenade. “That’s it,” Stefan said. “Good luck, my friend.”

“Perhaps one day we’ll celebrate this,” Asher said, and gave Stefan a slap on the back.

“I hope so,” he replied. “But first we need to get out of this cesspit.”

As they left the building, the sound of another grenade exploding jolted them, but they managed to break into a run, both firing as they ran between the cover of buildings.

They made their way toward the camp gates, Asher’s mind sharp with fear and determination. Another explosion—a bigger one—knocked both men off their feet. One side of Asher’s face felt painfully hot and he could smell his singed hair. It was the camp fuel tank, once used to hold gasoline for the pyres, but now hidden in a rage of yellow fire and dark smoke. It made Asher grin—not smile, but grin. If he died now, a part of him would die happy.

Asher scrabbled around for his gun, lost in the fall, but Stefan pulled him away and onto his feet.

“No time!” Stefan shouted. “To the gates!”

Asher noticed other buildings were on fire too, and the air was alive with bullets. They ran on, dodging fireballs and gunshots until they reached the gates.

“Someone’s already gone over!” Asher shouted, pointing up at the top of the fence, where a section of heavy cloth had been slung over the top, covering the barbed wire.

Both men started climbing. Asher reached the top first and swung both legs over. He heard a shout of pain from Stefan and looked down. There was a mass of blood and flesh where Stefan’s elbow should have been. Asher could see a sharp section of bone poking out of his jacket.

Asher looked up to the nearest watchtower, where a machine gun was flashing with gunfire. For a second, helpless across the top of the gate, he forgot about Stefan and prayed the guard up there would spare him.

“Help me!” Stefan shouted, bringing Asher back to his senses.

Asher reached down and grabbed Stefan’s other arm. He tried to pull, but could only hold Stefan steady. He looked farther ahead and saw a guard running up toward the gate. He grunted as he strained to pull Stefan up, then heard a bullet whistle past his ear.

That was when he let go of Stefan and threw himself back. Both men hit the ground at the same time, Asher outside the gate, Stefan inside. Blood spewed from Stefan’s mouth, but still he looked at Asher and held a grasping hand out.