Two SS guards hurried by, wasting no time as they sought shelter. The guards had been in a strange mood during the past few days. They’d been more anxious than usual, and they’d destroyed various buildings and countless records, filling the air with the smell of burning paper rather than burning flesh. Irena had been busy, so I hadn’t had the opportunity to ask what had prompted the shift.

As if on cue, the door swung open, and Irena slammed it behind her. “Good Lord, it’s freezing!” she exclaimed, hurrying to the stove. She stood there for a moment before casting a disapproving gaze over the bedraggled women packed into their bunks. “You call this a fire? Prisoner 16671, fix this.”

Irena never barged into our block without reason. Something had happened.

I hurried to do her bidding. I gathered kindling and stoked the fire, pretending to be absorbed in my work while she hovered over me and spoke in a hushed voice.

“The Red Army is near. Evacuations have already begun, and tomorrow the women’s sector will relocate toward Loslau.” A town west of Oświęcim, known in Polish as Wodzisław Śląski.

Irena didn’t linger to hear my response. Once she’d gone, I relished the fire’s warmth and considered the news. We were leaving Auschwitz. Surely that meant freedom would come soon. Once we were resettled, I’d have to get a note to Mateusz so he’d know how to contact me with updates on Fritzsch.

Upon hearing my whispered report, Hania laughed dryly. “Our liberators are coming, but there will be no one to liberate.”

“We could come across Allied forces during relocation. If not, at least we’ll be out of Auschwitz. That calls for a celebratory chess game.”

She sighed, but it didn’t prevent a smile. “More chess?”

“We can play by the stove, so we’ll be warmer than we are here.”

“Fine. One more game, shikse.”

I jumped down and grabbed the jewelry pouch from its hole beneath the loose brick, and Hania followed more slowly, an odd, vacant expression on her face. Something wasn’t right. I’d been too absorbed in our chess games to notice, but I saw it now as she descended from our bunk. When her feet touched the ground, she swayed, and her knees buckled.

Gasping, I caught her before she hit the floor. To my relief, she was still conscious. “Hania, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She waved me away until I reluctantly released her. “I’ve had a splitting headache all day, so I got a little dizzy. And before you ask, no, I didn’t organize vodka.”

I touched her forehead before she pushed my hand aside. “You have a fever. Does anything hurt?”

“It’s just a headache, and I don’t have a fever.”

“Answer the question.”