The Room on Rue Amélie(94)

Eventually, hours later, Ruby came to a broad road on the edge of the forest. She stopped in her tracks, unprepared for the risks that came with a return to civilization. But she might pass as a local laborer instead of a prisoner. The problem was that she knew very little German—only a few words. She certainly couldn’t pass herself off as a German civilian, but perhaps she could make someone believe that she was a refugee from somewhere else. The other alternative was to melt back into the forest and press on in a different direction, but already, Ruby felt wildly lost, and she had the feeling she would starve to death or succumb to her fever long before she found her way to safety. No, her best bet was to try to hitch a ride with someone heading west and to hope that whoever picked her up would take pity on her. It was her only chance.

She began to walk along the road, head down, heart thudding. She wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing, but she was certain she had no choice. Several cars whizzed by, their drivers ignoring her entirely, and then, in the distance, she saw a small truck whose hood featured a white square emblazoned with a red cross. She blinked a few times as it drew closer, sure at first that she was imagining things. Could it be a German Red Cross vehicle?

She stepped into the middle of the road and began waving her arms over her head. “Bitte stoppen!” she cried in German. “Please, stop!”

To her relief, the truck slowed and came to a halt beside her. The man in the driver’s seat looked barely older than Charlotte, and she could see that his gaze was concerned rather than angry. It was a good sign. He said something to Ruby in German. She shook her head and murmured, “Ich verstehen nicht.” I don’t understand. He tried again, repeating his words more slowly, but still she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said in French. “I don’t understand.”

Something in his expression changed, and he looked her up and down. “Prisoner?” he asked in French.

“No,” she said quickly. “Laborer. Er, Arbeiter.”

The man looked skeptical, but he turned to confer in German with the other two men in the truck. Finally, nodding, he turned back to her. “Get in,” he said in French, nodding to the back of the truck. “We take you as far as we go. Then you exit.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Ruby said, a wave of relief sweeping over her. “Thank you so much. Vielen Dank!”

“Bitte,” the man said with a small smile. He paused and asked in French, “You are sick? Ill?”

Ruby’s mouth went dry. Yes, the truck likely had medical supplies, but what would she do if they refused to transport her because they didn’t want to be exposed to her fever? No, it was more important that she get as far away from Ravensbrück as possible. “Just very tired,” she said as firmly as she could. “And hungry.”

“Yes,” the man said. He turned and said something to the man in the passenger seat, who rummaged in a bag and withdrew an apple, a piece of bread, and a piece of cheese. “Here. You eat.” He nodded again to the back of the truck, and Ruby, momentarily stunned by the bounty of the feast, mumbled a thank-you before grabbing the food and climbing in. She ate greedily as the truck began to pull away, and although she felt nauseated, she closed her eyes and willed the food to stay down. Her baby needed it. Soon, lulled by the truck’s movement, she fell into a deep sleep.

It was dark by the time she awoke to a man shaking her shoulder. It was the driver of the Red Cross truck, she realized, and he was saying something to her. “I—I don’t understand,” she managed to say as she struggled upright.

“You go here,” he said in French. “We go that way.” He pointed down the road, and although she wasn’t sure why she couldn’t continue with him, she knew better than to talk back.

“Thank you very much for the ride,” she said. “Where are we?”

He took a moment to process her question. “Very near to Swiss border. Swiss is that way.” He pointed down the road in the darkness.

“Switzerland?” She sat up straight now, her heart thudding. It wasn’t the direction she had intended to go, but wasn’t this better? Switzerland was neutral, and she’d be more likely to find help there than she would have if she’d headed north to occupied Denmark. Switzerland adjoined France too, which meant she wasn’t so far from home. “Thank you,” she said to the man, who was glancing not so subtly at his watch. “Danke. Thank you very much.”

“Bitte,” he said. “Viel Glück. Good luck.”

He helped her down, and before she had a chance to say anything else, he was already climbing back into the driver’s seat, already pulling away. It wasn’t until he’d gone that she realized he’d handed her another apple and another piece of cheese before he left.

She wolfed down the food as she stood in the grass, trying to decide what to do. This was a smaller road than the one they’d picked her up on that morning; it was made of dirt and appeared to wind through an unpopulated rural area. If she was near the Swiss border, as the Red Cross man had said, she could feel a bit safer. Perhaps she didn’t need to melt back into the forest and risk getting lost. If she stayed along the main road, maybe she’d find a safe place to sleep.

Her body ached, and she sang to the baby again as she walked. Her fever, she realized, wasn’t burning quite as fiercely. The sleep on the truck had been restorative, but she knew that if she let her body get depleted again, the illness could come storming back. She had to find a safe place to stop for the night.