The stony terrain turned to scraggly trees, then eventually a thick forest, temporarily placing him out of sight of the soldiers. The warming temperature returned feeling to his hands, causing his fingers to throb. Exhausted, he hid in the cavity of a rotted log and hoped the soldiers would pass him by. He struggled to control his breathing, expecting at any moment the thud of German boots. Instead, he heard rippling water. Bidasoa River, he thought, recalling Lucien’s map. Sensing the divide between France and Spain was within reach, a decision ravaged his gut. His head told him to stay hidden. But a deep-seated desire to return home caused him to crawl from his hiding spot.

A shot rang out. The branch near his head splintered. His heart rate soared. He turned. Fifty yards away were the Wehrmacht soldiers, one kneeling with his pointed rifle, the other with a machine gun propped on his hip. Ollie dove behind a tree. Bullets sprayed the forest.

He struggled to run. His ankle throbbed. As he staggered through the pines, more shots rang out. A sharp pain stung his arm, his sleeve turning warm and sticky. He barreled through thornbushes. Needles scratched his face. He pressed on, drawn by the crescendo of gushing water. The soldiers closed in. He reached the river and stopped.

The water raged, brown and thick with debris. The heavy rains had caused the river to overflow its banks. He scanned the area. No bridge. No place to hide. He stared into the muddy abyss. Blood dripped from his fingers.

A branch snapped. “Dort!”

Ollie saw the soldiers emerge from the pines. Brows lowered. Faces scowled. They raised their weapons. With no other choice, he jumped.

The icy water shocked him. He surfaced and sucked in air, taking in a mouthful of silty muck. He choked. Shots rang out. Bullets split the air near his head. He dove under and kicked his legs. The force of the current twisted his limbs. He struggled to swim, his soaked coat like a lead blanket. His chest heaved, recycling used air in his lungs. As he was forced to surface, more shots exploded. He gulped air and went under.

As he came up again, he saw a soldier running along the shoreline with his machine gun raised. Ollie sank. The German squeezed off his ammunition. Bullets rippled the water.

He kicked harder, attempting to propel himself farther into the river. Unable to hold his breath any longer, he surfaced and saw the soldier shove another clip into his weapon. Too exhausted to dive under again, he watched the riverbank rush by, a blur of mud and brush. The soldier sprinted and pointed his weapon, and the current swept Ollie around a bend.