From No Tomorrow

The Death Camps

Hunger and exhaustion gnawed at Elzbieta while she watched the Imperials pick apart the wreckage, but she would not look away. She had a plan to get the amulet back. With it, she could do more damage to the Empire- maybe even enough to save her people.

Some time later- it could have been minutes or hours, for all she knew- the Imperials finished examining Akyta's body and loaded it into a waiting truck. As soon as they started their engine, Elzbieta rushed off to the parking garage where she had left the Imperial car. Incredibly, it was still there.

Getting in, Elzbieta rumbled down to the road and reached the exit to the execution grounds just as the truck left it. Calmly, she began tailing the unguarded vehicle.

All while she did, Elzbieta's mind was blank. She always imagined it would feel good to have no worries on her mind, but to have those fears replaced with such emptiness felt wrong. Inevitably, she tried to set her mind to something, but the grimness quickly crept back. There was nothing to do but endure it.

As the truck left Capital City and began down a moderately developed country road, seemingly oblivious to her presence, all fell quiet, and Elzbieta forced herself to think about earlier times. She imagined she was a child again, scribbling on a brick wall with charcoal, trying to concoct a recognizable image before the charcoal all fell away. As she struggled, her parents watched and giggled warmly.

Elzbieta remembered sitting on her father's shoulders, staring out over a low-cut grass field while some strange crimson contraption sat in the middle, crowded around by eager grownups.

"What is that, daddy?" she remembered asking.

"That's a biplane, Elzbieta," her father replied excitedly. "If there isn't too much wind, we're going to watch it fly."

Elzbieta remembered. She remembered how dazzled she had been when she first saw that plane soar. She remembered how glorious it felt to know that people could fly. She remembered how wonderful it was for flying to be fresh and new and innocent; before planes were weapons and pilots were warriors; before the skies were just another killing ground for psychotic grownups.

As she thought about her past, Elzbieta looked out over the countryside and smiled a fragile smile. It looked exactly as it always had. Heavenly clouds still shaded the cool farmlands while rivers crisscrossed the lands like arteries. She could imagine the swishing of the brook singing her to sleep. In her state, she suddenly desired that more than anything.

Still she soldiered on, rumbling after the truck in the single-minded pursuit of her lifeline; her last fig leaf of a chance to change history.

After several suspiciously calm hours of slow driving, under what was now a starry night sky, the truck Elzbieta followed rumbled to a stop at a security checkpoint. Ahead, Elzbieta saw a small, pristine train station that looked no older than a few years.

Faintly, she heard the man at the checkpoint drone, "Papers, please."

Hearing this, Elzbieta began tying together the most convincing lie she could manage in the space of a few seconds, not allowing herself to panic, knowing that she had a backup plan. When the truck passed the checkpoint, she dutifully rolled up.

"You're under arrest," mumbled the man at the checkpoint.

"What?" reacted Elzbieta, in what was just short of a gasp.

"Do you have your papers?" the man disinterestedly interrogated.

"They were in the wrong briefcase," Elzbieta lied, thinking quickly.

"Are you trying to pass for an Imperial officer?" the man coolly threatened, activating some device inside his shelter.

"Are you questioning a superior officer?" Elzbieta coldly bluffed.