Night of Flames: A Novel of World War II Read Online Free PDF Page B

their car.
    “Could you fi ll the tank for us?” Henryk asked, getting out of the car.
    The man grunted and shuffl ed over to the pump, spun the crank and removed the hose. As he pumped the gas he looked over the car and bent down, peering inside. “Nice car,” he muttered. “Where you goin’?”
    “We’re heading to Krakow,” Henryk said.
    “Krakow? What for?”
    “We live there. We’re heading home.”
    “Shouldn’t be headin’ west.” The man spat tobacco juice on the ground and wiped his chin with his hand. “The fuckin’ Germans are comin’. Probably get to Krakow before you do.”
    “Well, that’s where we’re going,” Henryk said. “Is there a café nearby where we could get some breakfast?”
    Anna had rolled down her window and was listening to the exchange. The man put the cap back on the car’s gas tank and hung the hose on the pump. “If I had a nice car like that I wouldn’t let the Krauts get it. I’d be headin’ east.” He leaned against the pump and spat on the ground again.
    Anna could tell that Henryk was getting annoyed. He opened his wallet and pulled out a few zlotys. “Well, you may be right, but we’re heading to Krakow all the same. How much do I owe you?”
    The man reached out, took the money and started back toward the shed, Night of Flames
    31
    shoving the money in his pocket. Without looking back, he waved his hand to the left. “The next street over, there’s a café. Don’t know if they’re open, though.”
    The small café was empty except for a heavyset woman of about sixty wiping off the top of one of the round wooden tables. A bell jingled as they walked through the door, and the woman looked up at them with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron. “Come in,” she said, rushing to one of the tables and pulling out the chairs. “Please, come in and sit. I’ll bring some coffee.”
    They sat at the table, and the woman produced a pot of steaming hot coffee and three well-used mugs. She disappeared behind a swinging door and returned with a pitcher of milk and a glass, which she set in front of Justyn.
    Without asking what they wanted, she disappeared again. From behind the swinging door came the sounds of clanging pots and the woman’s husky voice barking orders at another person.
    Anna took a sip of the strong coffee and looked across the table at Henryk and Irene. “I don’t care what she brings. At this point, I’ll eat anything.”
    “I’m starving,” Justyn said, fi nishing off the glass of milk and pouring another.
    The woman reappeared, set the table with simple white plates and mis-matched silverware and disappeared again.
    Henryk took a sip of the coffee and set the cup down, rubbing his eyes.
    “This came along just in time,” he said.
    “You’ve got to be very tired,” Irene said. “Perhaps we should fi nd a place to get some rest.”
    He looked at her and smiled, taking another sip of coffee. “The coffee helps.
    I’ll be fi ne after some food. We need to keep moving.”
    When the woman emerged from the kitchen again she was trailed by a slender gray-haired man in coveralls carrying a large tray. The woman removed two platters from the tray and set them in the center of the table. One was heaped with sliced ham and boiled sausages, the other with thick slices of coarse, dark bread, a bowl of jam and a plate of sliced cucumbers. “Please, eat,” she said. “I can bring more if you’re still hungry.” Pushing the man ahead of her, she disappeared again behind the door.
    The food tasted marvelous, at this moment as wonderful as in any restaurant in Krakow, Anna thought. She helped herself to a second boiled sausage and 32
    Douglas W. Jacobson
    slice of bread, glancing at the others. Their heads were down, concentrating on the food, too hungry for conversation.
    When they were fi nished the woman set about clearing the table, and the gray-haired man reappeared with a cup of coffee in his hand. He pulled over a chair from one of