Chapter Thirteen

On that day, all the walls of Noyers were covered with the red posters proclaiming the execution of a French civilian. The Germans made the punishment known in order to warn the population of the severe reprisal for the acts of resistance:

NOTICE

Pierre Courteau, a resident of Noyers had been sentenced to death by the German War Court and had been shot on the eighth of September 1941. This has to be done because of his favoring the actions of the enemy by willfully aiding the resistance group in the war against the German Reich.

After reading those posters, many shocked faces appeared from the crowd. You could see the same expression on the face of Adeline. But the shock didn't last long in her, a moment later, it transformed into a blind, maddening anger that flooded her veins. She clenched her fists. The image of Pierre's face flashed before her eyes. He wasn't just a name on a poster; he was her friend, the man who'd shared her dreams and her stolen moments of joy amid the war's grim reality. His sacrifice ignited a fire within her, a fierce determination that burned brighter than any fear.

The horrible announcement of Pierre's execution had driven a chasm between Adeline and Wilhelm, a chasm carved from fear and uncertainty. Since that day, she'd avoided him, the shadow of suspicion darkening her eyes. She thought he was also complicit in the brutal reprisals. The question haunted her, a relentless echo in her mind: "If someday Wilhelm receives an order to kill me, will he do so without hesitance?"

Moonbeams shone through clouds, painting silver streaks across the leaves. At this night, Adeline wasn't under the watchful eye of her mother. She fell asleep early because of daytime fatigue. She could sense she no longer lie in wait behind the walls to spy on Wilhelm and her. When she walked toward her bedroom, she ran into him. They stood staring at each other in silence; a look of anxiety spread across his face.

"Adeline," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You've been distant since… since the announcement."

She looked away, her voice tight. "Wilhelm… I've been thinking."

"About Pierre? I know it was a terrible thing. But you know I had no part in it."

She turned to him, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and suspicion. "It's not just Pierre. It's everything… The war, the occupation, the violence."

"Please… you know I am not like the others. I hate this as much as you do."

She looked at his uniform. Now, the sight of his uniform became a constant reminder of the violence she feared. "I… I don't know what to say," she said, her voice breaking. She turned and fled. The soft click of her bedroom door sealed their unspoken anguish in silence.

A small lamp on Adeline's desk cast long, dancing shadows across the wooden surface. The room was quiet, except the rhythmic click-clack of her typewriter keys. The red poster constantly reminded her of the Germans' brutality and hung heavy in her mind. She had to do something. Her writing was a once source of solace and escape, now became her weapon. Her fingers flew across the keys. Each tap was a small act of rebellion. The words formed themselves on the page, fueled by a mixture of grief, anger, and a fierce determination to fight back. "Resist the Germans," she typed, the letters appearing crisp and bold against the white paper. She continued, her thoughts pouring onto the page. The words flowed effortlessly. This wasn't just a piece of writing but it was a message of defiance aimed directly at the heart of the German occupation. Each word was a precise strike.

She paused, rereading the words, her gaze lingering on the message. It was a cry from the heart, a testament to the shared suffering and the burgeoning resistance. "It wasn't just a flyer. It was a symbol of hope," Adeline murmured. She tore the page from the typewriter. The flyer was ready.

Adeline secretly walked out of the house, the familiar wooden door creaking shut behind her. The night was a thick, suffocating blanket. Her heart pounded violently as she approached the wall. There, the crimson poster of Pierre execution screamed under the cold moonlight.

But before Adeline could act, a distant shout cut through the stillness. The rhythmic thud of boots on cobblestones echoed closer. It was the unmistakable sound of a German patrol. She froze, her hand instinctively going to the flyer tucked into her pocket. Panic clawed at her throat. She had to be quick. She flattened herself against the building, melting into shadows as the patrol passed, their harsh voices and the glint of their weapons momentarily blinding her. She held her breath, her body rigid with fear. The patrol continued on, their voices fading into the distance. She waited, counting the seconds until the silence returned.

Adeline moved again with a heightened urgency. She approached the wall, her movements now even more cautious. Fear and determination warred within her as she applied the glue to the back of the flyer, carefully positioning it beside the brutal proclamation. The flyer adhered, a silent testament to her defiance.