We paused outside the men’s washroom, a few meters away from the iron gate that led into the courtyard. The wall was beyond it to the right, out of our line of vision. This was as far as I could go without getting caught. When we stopped, Irena took my emaciated hand and pressed my palm to her stomach. I felt a slight yet powerful ripple as the baby moved.

“If I had a girl, I was going to name her Helena,” she said, smiling at her round abdomen. “And a boy, Patryk.”

Both names conjured such fond memories of our time in the resistance together, and I’d felt the life within her that was about to be snuffed out along with her own, and it was too much, it was all too much, but I didn’t notice my tears until I heard a familiar annoyed rebuke.

“Good Lord, stop that. You’re going to get in trouble.”

But I couldn’t keep the tears from cascading down my cheeks, and I buried my face in my hands. Every time I thought this place had thrown all the cruelty it possibly could upon me and my loved ones, it proved me wrong. My friend and her unborn child were about to die. And here I was, accompanying them to their deaths, powerless to save either one.

I felt her fingers around my wrists, and she guided my hands away. Through my tears, I looked into her face and attempted to speak clearly enough for her to understand me. “Irena, if only I could—”

She pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed my cheek, silencing me, then she released me before anyone caught us and placed gentle hands on my shoulders. She looked at me with glassy eyes full of strength, always strength, and more affection than she’d ever shown me before. I might even have called it love.

“Give these bastards hell, Maria Florkowska.”

Without giving me time to reply, she walked toward the gate. When she reached it, Irena touched her right hand to the center of her forehead, chest, and each shoulder, making the sign of the cross, then rested her hand on her stomach. The hinges creaked as she let herself out and closed the gate firmly behind her. With her head high, she continued into the courtyard and took a right toward the wall, disappearing from my sight. I turned my back to the gate and didn’t listen to the angry SS guards or look at the women filing past me to the courtyard, but I stayed where I was. I wouldn’t leave her.

A few moments later, the familiar crack of gunshots sent me to my knees.

* * *