Drying my hands on a dirty dish towel, I obeyed, and the sight before my eyes made me clutch the countertop for support.

She was an SS guard I hadn’t met, and her resemblance to Irena Sienkiewicz was uncanny. If Irena had lived to see her twentieth birthday, she would have looked like this woman—near twenty herself, with Irena’s tall, thin frame, angular features, and bright eyes, but blond hair beneath her cap. If I hadn’t known better . . .

Stop, it’s impossible, I told myself. Irena is dead. Shot and killed two years ago along with her unborn child.

This woman’s voice sounded familiar because it sounded like Irena’s. A new guard who resembled my friend in appearance and speech. What a cruel irony. A daily reminder of my grief.

“Do you have anything to fucking say for yourself?”

The guard had Irena’s mouth, too.

I looked into her eyes and found something behind the cruelty, something I couldn’t place, but I dismissed it. It was all in my head. This woman was my enemy, not my dead friend.

“Forgive me, Frau Aufseherin,” I murmured; then I faced the cauldron and resumed cleaning.

She grabbed my shoulder and spun me around again. It seemed I was doing everything wrong around this guard. “Did I say I was finished with you?” she asked.

“No, Frau—”

“Shut the hell up! Dammit, 16671.”

And that was when I knew.

It was Irena.

It wasn’t, it couldn’t be, but the more I told myself I was wrong the more every wit and sense and fiber of my being told me I was right. Irena had survived. I didn’t know how, but I didn’t care because she was alive and she was masquerading as a camp guard. I looked into her eyes again and identified what I couldn’t place before. Annoyance that I hadn’t recognized her, then annoyance replaced by satisfaction.

We both knew exactly what needed to be done.

“You’re not dismissed until I say so, is that clear?” Irena asked.

“Clear, Frau Aufseherin, and if you’ll be so kind as to dismiss me, I have work to do,” I replied, making sure I was loud enough for my kapo to hear.

At once, Irena grabbed my arm, sneering something about teaching my defiant ass a lesson, and ushered me past my kapo, who darted out of the way. I stumbled along beside her, too dazed to focus on where she was taking me, but, when we passed through a familiar gate and courtyard, I realized our destination. Block 25. Earlier, I’d overheard a guard saying Block 25 had been emptied, so Irena must have been privy to the same knowledge.

Inside, the bunks were vacant, but Irena kept her firm grip on me while she looked around. Once satisfied, she released me, and I fell away in disbelief.