Words on Fire - Page 62

“Whatever my past, now I work with the sick and diseased,” Lukas continued, obviously hinting that he had been around many typhus patients. Or more specifically, hinting that it was possible he might be a typhus patient himself one day.

That, I knew, was a lie. And it sounded different to my ears from his claim of having once worked in a Russian home. My curiosity about Lukas’s past was beginning to burn inside me.

“On your way,” the soldier ordered. “Begone.”

I smiled and finally began to breathe again. At least that had gone well. Hopefully in a wagon, the rest of the soldiers would assume we had already passed inspection, but that wasn’t certain yet.

We still had a long way to go.

Somewhere during the ride, I must have fallen asleep, because my eyes flew open as soon as the wagon jerked to a stop. At first I panicked, realizing I didn’t know why we had stopped, or where we were.

I listened for any voices but heard none, including Lukas’s. Was he still out there?

I fought the temptation to push at the coffin lid and free myself, though I desperately wanted to. With so much silence around me, I was feeling trapped and like I couldn’t get a decent breath. I turned my head and sucked in what air I could from the small drill hole. I wished I could tell whether it was still light outside.

What was happening out there?

Then the wagon beneath me shook a little, feeling the same way as when the soldiers had climbed in to check on me. If it was them, I had to appear dead, had to make them believe.

I’d just turned my face upward again and closed my eyes when the coffin lid shifted, then was pulled open. It was dark outside, which was a relief. Had sunlight glared down on me, even through closed eyes, I likely would have flinched at so much brightness.

But no one spoke and I couldn’t peek. I had to wait, to be as patient as the dead always were.

Then a hand touched my shoulder and shook it. “Audra, are you—”

Recognizing Lukas’s voice, my eyes popped open, and I drew in a breath. He pulled the fabric off my face, and I saw him staring down at me, his concerned expression slowly relaxing.

“You looked so believable, I was worried. Truly worried.”

“You were worried? Why did you have to be so quiet? You couldn’t have told me it was you before you opened the lid? Help me out of this box, please!”

“I didn’t think to warn you it was me,” he said, grabbing my arms to help lift me. “And we do need to be quiet. We’re quite a way past the border security, but we still might see patrols coming through the forests. You ought to wash that makeup off. If a patrol does come through, you won’t have time to get back into the coffin and I don’t think we’ll be able to explain why you look like that without convincing them that the dead have risen.”

“That’s not funny, Lukas.” But I laughed anyway and so did he.

He pointed off to his left. “There is a stream where you can wash. I’ll check on the books.”

I jumped from the wagon and hurried toward the stream, eager to have a clean face again. I dipped my hands into the cold water and brushed it over my face, then dipped my hands in once again and scrubbed harder with my fingers. If our luck continued this way, then the worst was over.

But in the same instant I completed that thought, I regretted it. Our luck had run out.

I slowly lowered my hands, sucking in a breath that I could not release. Directly across the stream was a man dressed in peasant clothing with a rifle in his hands, staring at me with a dark expression that sent a chill up my spine.

“What’s a girl like you doing out here on such a cold night? And what’s all that paint on your face?”

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t even remember how to speak.

“Stand up and come with me. We’ve already found your friend.”

We. Then it wasn’t only him, and they already had Lukas.

My heart sank. Lukas had been my one hope to get out of this trouble, but sure enough, when I got to the crest of the hill, he was seated in the back of the wagon on top of the coffin, his arms tied behind him and a gag around his mouth. A woman with a second rifle was standing watch over Lukas. She was similarly dressed to the man who had captured me and had matted brown hair sticking out from her head scarf. Her eyes flicked between the man and me, growing colder with each look.

“We were hired to transport that coffin,” I said. “Nothing more.”

“Yes, but I’m looking at the paint on your face and I’m thinking maybe you were in that coffin before stopping here. And if you were, then I already know why. One smuggler can always recognize another, isn’t that right?”

“We’re a brother and sister—”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Historical
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