The sky was always filled with smoke and ashes from the crematoria, but the smoke on this day came with the familiar shriek of alarms, a sound that sent the guards into a frenzy. Something had happened.

As Irena and I neared the kitchen, guards ran around like mad, shouting, cursing, and waving weapons. Most were so distracted they didn’t notice the bewildered prisoners who watched them or hurried to take shelter elsewhere. The scene was absolute chaos.

“Wait in your block until I come for you,” Irena said under her breath. “I’ll find out what’s going on.”

I nodded and hurried to the block, altering my course when the Beast rushed across my path, screeching and striking anyone unfortunate enough to be within reach.

In a place where every moment was strictly regimented, seeing it upended was more satisfying than I could have ever imagined. Guards were frantic, labor was forgotten, and prisoners wandered unsupervised, some confused and afraid, others unconcerned. Part of me wanted to join the fray or see what goods I could organize while the guards were so wonderfully distracted, but Irena was right. I needed to stay in my block until we knew what was happening.

There was only one reason the guards would be in such a panic. The attack I’d been anticipating had begun. I was sure of it. As I waited, the Home Army or Red Army—whichever had arrived first—would be surrounding the entire complex, destroying the electric fences, tearing down the gates, opening fire. Soon the guards would be occupied with the outside attack, and while they were fighting they wouldn’t see the inside revolt coming. The wailing sirens, the cursing guards—all sounds of freedom, a freedom that meant Irena, Hania, Izaak, and I could leave this place.

A freedom that meant I was one step closer to finding Fritzsch.

Hania returned shortly after I did, and we watched the confusion and waited for Irena. It was late in the afternoon before she appeared. Compared to the hectic scene earlier, it was now much quieter, but SS guards were still prowling around, so we remained cautious as we slipped outside and darted behind the block, where Irena joined us.

I couldn’t contain my questions any longer. “It’s the resistance, isn’t it? The uprising—”

“No, Maria, the Home Army isn’t going to attack Auschwitz.”

I snapped my mouth shut, taken aback by the news and the sharpness in her tone. That was impossible. After hearing Pilecki’s report, the Home Army would help us. They had to help us.

“They said an attack isn’t feasible.” Irena sighed as she dug her heel into the dirt. “I heard from outside connections earlier this week, but I didn’t know how to tell you. As for what caused today’s uproar, the Sonderkommando planted explosives in Crematorium IV.”