“Did you work for the resistance?” he asked, before I’d processed the sheer stupidity of his actions. At least he was smart enough to keep his voice down. “Is that how you became a prisoner? I don’t know anyone working for the resistance, unless they’re working in secret—which is the whole point, I guess, so never mind, that was stupid.”

The boy’s remark wasn’t the only stupid thing about him. He ran long fingers through his dark brown locks and tucked one hand into his pocket. His threadbare black pants were too short.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said with a shrug. “I live in town, but I like riding along this route so I can watch the prisoners and—”He hesitated, and the next words came out more quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that I’ve never seen so many people in one place, and I don’t see you unless you come out because no one is allowed near the camp. And as far as I know, there’s never been a girl before you, so the first time I saw you . . . I don’t know, I guess I’ve been meaning to say hello, that’s all. To let you know if . . . if there’s anything I can do to help . . .”

Rays of crimson and gold bled across the violet sky. I focused on the sunrise and the mass of marching bodies ahead. Another person offering help I didn’t want or need—and if he, a civilian, thought speaking to me, a prisoner, was helpful, he was sorely mistaken.

“By the way, my name is Mateusz. What’s yours?”

The guards were ahead of us, but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed him. I kept looking forward and spoke in a low voice. “Leave me alone.”

Before Mateusz could respond, I heard the footsteps and sensed the figure looming beside me. I had no time to prepare myself before I was on the ground, with my eye throbbing and watering.

“Keep your mouth shut, 16671.”

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” the stupid boy said.

Don’t do it, I wanted to tell him as I rose to my knees, but he’d already extended a hand to help me up. Though I wasn’t stupid enough to take it, the cold barrel of the guard’s pistol pressed against my temple.

All I could think of was this hard, unforgiving metal against my skin. One simple motion stood between life and death. Was this the last thing my family had felt? Had the gun ever touched them?