from the nearest checkpoint, the boat would be heading south, toward them. The scheduled turnaround wasn’t far before it would head away and out of Belgium altogether.
“Come on.” From somewhere inside, Edward’s strength increased, and so did the Major’s—Edward felt it. Like angels prodding them forward.
“We’ll have to swim toward it. Can you make it?”
Max withdrew his arm from Edward’s shoulder and spoke as he removed his uniform jacket. He started to unhook his helmet but must have thought better of it, leaving the protection in place. “Member of the Berlin Swim Club for five years. Let’s go.”
He dove in and Edward rushed after him without taking the time to get out of his own jacket or metal helmet. He knew the water would be cold, and with the jacket loose enough, he hoped it would help and not hinder.
Edward nearly blacked out when he hit the icy river. The water pierced every fiber.
Someone from the high bridge of the tugboat must have spotted them; a Jacob’s ladder appeared down the side. The Major reached it first and fairly hopped from one rung to the next, his upper body pulling him along until someone reached him and finished the job. Edward followed.
“You’re late.”
“Not too late, though. We’ve made it.”
“You said there would only be one more. There’s no more room below.”
“Then we’ll stay above.”
But the sailor eyed the Major, who stood leaning on the gunwale. “Not him.” Though the artificial foot was in place, the Major’s wet trousers clung to the wooden appendage, revealing his handicap. “Go here. Stay inside.”
He opened the door to a compartment at the bow, little more than a forepeak, in which were stored coiled ropes and hitches with barely enough room for anyone to hide.
Nonetheless the Major did as he was told, somehow fitting himself to the cramped quarters.
“What do I do?” Edward asked.
“Stay low. I can use your help, especially dressed as you are. Your uniform might buy us a moment if we’re spotted.” The man shoved a rifle into his hand. “I am Rémy,” he said quickly, then looked toward the prow. “A guard station lies not far ahead. If they spot us, we may have to use these, but for now, keep out of sight.”
The man crouched and Edward did as well. He waited, knowing there was nothing else to do but pray as the little boat chugged down the Senne, steadily picking up speed. Now northward, toward freedom.
A beam shone on the deck. Edward stood tall, hoping his German uniform would be enough to let them through.
A shout—German. “Halt!”
The tug rumbled on.
Nothing for a full moment, nothing but the sound of the motor growing louder in the dim hours of morning.
Something hit the smokestack with a ping, like the sound of a marble hitting a target. Edward ducked flat. More spotlights lit and gunfire exploded into the night.
The captain shouted to the engineer to give it all they had. Sparks from the guard station flickered in the darkness, and Edward saw Rémy and another man Edward hadn’t seen before return fire.
Edward joined in. He knew how to handle the rifle thanks to a hunt he’d been on with Jan and his family during their university days, but that was the extent of his training. He hoped he wouldn’t waste too much ammunition. And he’d never shot at a man before.
Even if his shooting lacked skill, it was better than sitting still. Time suspended in the flurry of battle. It must have been only minutes but seemed like an hour.
Then, at last, they were out of range. Edward sank to the deck, relieved.
“That was number one,” Rémy said.
Edward wasn’t sure he wanted to know but felt compelled to ask anyway. “Number one?”
The man spared Edward by not answering.
Heading northwest as quickly as they were, they would hit the Scheldt and be across the border before long. It was, indeed, the quickest way out of Belgium.
Edward wished to go below—to be sure Isa and his mother were there. To be away from the sights. Away from gunfire, if more was to be had as he fully expected. They were well out of Brussels, and at this rate not very far from being out of Belgium. But it was hardly free sailing in between.
He couldn’t leave the deck, though, so he leaned closer to the man nearby. “Did any women board? One earlier, one shortly before you left the meeting place?”
He didn’t answer at first, as if conversing at all was absurd. “A woman?