Dread flooded Ollie’s body, causing his foot to slip from the gas pedal. His pulse increased as the car decelerated. He grabbed the pistol from the passenger seat and tucked it under his leg.

The soldier, his weapon propped on his shoulder, stepped into the road.

Ollie’s mind raced. Turn around? Run the roadblock? He adjusted his cap, then gripped the wheel. As he was about to slam the accelerator, the soldier grabbed the sawhorse. Ollie hesitated and noticed the small Nazi flags mounted on each of the sloped fenders. Red cloth emblazoned with black swastikas thrashed in the wind.

The soldier pulled the roadblock aside, then snapped to attention. He shot up his arm, stiff and straight in a Nazi salute.

Ollie stared ahead, avoiding eye contact. As he approached, he raised his arm, mirroring the soldier, and saw blood on his cuff. His breath stalled in his lungs. Quickly, he lowered his hand as he passed by. He shifted gears and accelerated. In the rearview mirror, he expected to see the soldier raise his rifle. Instead, the sawhorse was slid back into the road.

For two, maybe three minutes, the road remained clear, until a convoy of Wehrmacht trucks approached from the opposite direction. Soldiers packed into the back of the trucks looked down at him as he passed.

Ollie lowered the cap on his head, hoping they wouldn’t recognize a farm boy from Maine disguised as a Nazi officer or detect the peculiar mass in the back of the car. Wind from the trucks blasted the automobile. He steadied the wheel and noticed sweat growing on his back, quickly realizing it was blood from Dietrich’s tunic seeping through his undershirt. When the last truck passed, he rolled down the window and sucked in air.

A few miles farther, he turned into a barren field. The car bounced from the ruts. Dietrich’s body pressed against the back of his seat.

He drove to the edge of the woods and wedged the vehicle under a row of pines. Flooring the accelerator, Ollie propelled the car deep into the canopy, until the tires sank into the mud. He turned off the ignition and got out. Scanning the area, he saw the remains of a burned farmhouse fifty yards away. The roof was missing, windows were broken, and the siding was streaked with char marks. He pulled Dietrich’s body, which was beginning to stiffen with rigor mortis, from the back seat. Unable to straighten the Nazi’s legs, knees scrunched to the torso, Ollie placed Dietrich on the trench coat and used it to drag him across the field.

As he neared the farmhouse, he saw a stone well surrounded by tall weeds. He tugged harder. His shoulder throbbed. Reaching the well, he fell to the ground as the sound of a vehicle approached. He closed his eyes and listened to the engine whine closer, then fade away.