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Rose.
    “Good-bye,” Maria whispered.
    “Good-bye and good luck.” Rose closed the door behind them.
    John tugged and Maria found herself halfway down the garden path before she could catch her breath. The fence loomed large before them, and she pointed out the gate.
    The back lane was as empty as a cemetery at midnight, but far off gunfire and explosions filled the air, making for a macabre symphony. They hastened their steps.
    The hospital had its share of horrors—amputated limbs, the smell of decomposing flesh and groans of men in pain—but at least it was shelter. Out here, in the dark, with the howl of war all around, she felt exposed and vulnerable. Death only a bullet or a breath away.
    “Northeast is this way.” John gestured to the right, down the alley’s gaping maw of darkness.
    “How do you know what direction it is?”
    He looked up at the stars. “My father was something of an astronomer. He taught my brothers and me how to read the constellations when I was a boy. He used to say he was a pirate in his younger days.” John pointed at a bright star near the horizon. “That’s the North Star.”
    “Well, it’s good to know my aunt Ida was wrong to say it’s bad to have a pirate in the family.”
    His chuckle made her feel light and happy for a moment. But only a moment. Desperation was too close to allow her to feel anything else for long.
    They came to the end of the lane and John slowed to a stop. She hovered behind his left shoulder, prepared to support him if his leg gave out.
    He crouched behind a stone wall. She bent, putting her hand on it, surprised to find it smooth and well-shaped. She examined it and realized the wall was the remains of a home.
    A gasp of dismay escaped her. Several feet away lay the body of a dead man. She could see the bones of his hands, where the flesh had rotted away or been chewed off by small animals.
    John sought her out in the dark. “What is it?”
    “There’s a body over there.”
    “Yes, I saw him.” For a still, silent moment he said nothing. “Not many stood firm against the Germans when they invaded Belgium. Those who did were dispatched in quick order as an example.”
    “But he’s not wearing a uniform.” Knowing about the casual regard men had for death in a time of war was one thing. Seeing it was quite another. “He’s a civilian. ”
    “War is a bloody business, but you’re right. This war is different. Nothing is sacred anymore. No one is safe—women and children, wounded, or even clergy.”
    “No one even buried him.”
    “There was probably no one left to do it.” John squeezed her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
    She clung to him as he led her across the street and into the darkness of another back lane. No lights shone from the windows of any of the homes as far as she could see. The only light was a fire in the distance, dancing to the tune set by artillery guns.
    “Is the entire world at war?”
    “It seems that way, doesn’t it?” John replied. “Most of Europe is supporting one side or the other. Only a few countries are remaining neutral. Canada and Australia have sent men despite the distance.”
    “It’s all so useless,” she said. “What can any country hope to gain from all this senseless destruction?”
    His sigh was swallowed by the breeze. “Revenge and control over more territory. At least, as far as I can tell, but then I’m not a politician. I’m a soldier.”
    “Revenge and control,” Maria muttered, not caring if she sounded bitter. “Mirages. They can’t exist outside of one’s perception, and everyone’s perception is different.”
    “You should have been a philosopher.”
    “I’m a woman,” she replied. “Same thing.”
    He squeezed her hand.
    She squeezed back. It was the middle of the night, and she was walking hand in hand with a man she’d met the day before. Inside a closet.
    If she wasn’t so scared, so worried about his wound or about getting out of Belgium