In the daylight leaking through cracks in the wagon walls, Gustav took out his diary, keeping it out of view of the others. Having been forewarned of the transfer, he’d ensured that he had it concealed under his clothing when they were moved to the isolation block. This battered little notebook had come to represent his grip on sanity, his record of the reality of life now, and he wouldn’t wish to be parted from it. But so long as he was with Fritz, he felt he could face anything.
