Which is a good thing, considering we’re completely exposed right now. The closest structures are about thirty yards away—a small cul-de-sac of sheds spaced a few meters apart from one another.
“I know where we are.” Misha points towards one of the sheds in the far distance. “That’s where the youngest children were kept.”
I’m already running in that direction, kicking up a cloud of sand behind me. This part of the compound is eerily silent compared with the bedlam brewing on the other side.
My heart constricts when I think about Andrey in the thick of that violence. But I can’t let myself dwell for long.
“Here!” Misha calls quietly. “Over here.”
I join him behind one of the sheds, all of which have doors but no windows. “What is it?”
“I thought I saw someone over there,” he whispers,
