Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 Max quickly flipped onto his stomach. He flattened himself against the ground, bracing for the crushing blow. The tree landed with a thunderous crash. The earth trembled. Dirt flew into Max's eyes and nose. But the ditch was just deep enough so that Max was not smashed. The tree completely covered the ditch, but it had not hit him. It seemed that the fire was snuffed out when the tree fell. Now he was just trapped.

He lay there, his drumming heart ready to burst from his chest. Above him, Max heard footsteps and voices frantically calling his name. He screamed for help, but his voice was a muffled whisper. He realized nobody could see him. And soon the voices faded, and he was alone. He tried pushing against the tree with his back. It didn't budge. He remembered a few years ago, when there was a fierce thunderstorm in Esties. The lashing winds had knocked down dozens of trees. A branch from a giant oak had fallen in front of their house. It was only a branch, but Papa had needed the help of three other men to haul it away. There was no way Max would be able to move the enormous tree. It was hopeless. Max lay in the ditch, facedown in the dirt.

It seemed as though the earth was swallowing him up, that he would soon disappear forever. And for a split second, Max thought of just closing his eyes and letting the darkness take him. But a voice — his own — shouted at him. Get up! Of course he couldn't just lie here and give in! He refused to let the Nazis beat him — at least not without a fight. He clenched his teeth and managed to inch himself onto his side. Somehow he had to find another way out of the ditch. He groped around with his fingers, until he found a rock. He gripped it in his hand. It was small, but sharp — perfect for digging. Max jammed the rock into the side of the ditch, scraping and digging, The work was agonizingly slow at first, and it was broiling hot. Sweat soaked his clothes and dripped into his eyes.

But soon he had carved out a small space. He dug and dug, until he finally broke through to the surface. Fresh air poured in, cooling Max's face and giving him a second wind. The dirt became looser, and Max dug more easily. He slipped the rock into his shirt pocket; he might need it later. Then he started grabbing the earth with his hands. And finally he had made a hole that looked just big enough to squirm through. He pushed with all of his might, worming himself under the tree. He ignored the splinters of wood that ripped into his skin. He crawled out, feeling as though he had escaped from his own grave. Max stood on wobbly legs, wiping the clumps of dirt from his ears and nose. His entire body ached; his fingertips were raw and bleeding. He had no idea how long he'd been in the ditch — he guessed an hour at least.

He looked around, praying he'd see Zena and Aunt Hannah and Martin and Lev waiting for him. But he was alone. He looked out at the swamp. Had they gone there without him? No, Max decided. They wouldn't leave him. At least the bombs had stopped falling, and the skies were quiet. But now Max heard a noise in the distance: Rat, tat, tat. Rat, tat, tat, tat. There was no mistaking it: machine-gun fire. The bombing was over. The Nazi troops were now marching through the forest.