Before Our Dawn| ongoing

forty-two

Chapitre quarante-deux
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As the late afternoon sun cast its golden hue over the landscape, Isra, Marcel, and Dr. Muller pulled up in Le Chambon. Dr. Muller halted the car a short distance from the village, positioning himself by the front of the vehicle, his gaze fixed upon the quaint and serene surroundings spread out before them.

Isra peered out from the car window, her eyes scanning the tranquil village ahead. "It looks so peaceful here," she murmured, cradling the newborn nestled in her arms.

Hans nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Yes, it does. Let's hope we find the safety we seek."

Dr. Muller walked to the car, standing by the window. "We should find shelter and assistance here. It's a matter of locating the address Estelle gave us."

Isra glanced at Hans, her worry palpable. "Do you think they'll take us in? I know Estelle said they'd help us, but what if... they don't?"

We have to believe in the kindness of strangers now more than ever."

Dr. Muller gestured toward the village. "Let's not linger. The sooner we seek help, the better."

With a collective breath, they stepped out of the car, their hopes pinned on the goodwill of the villagers in this idyllic but uncertain haven.

The cobbled streets of Le Chambon greeted them, adorned with quaint houses and closed shutters that seemed to guard secrets of their own. People bustled about their daily chores, casting curious glances at the newcomers, yet the air carried a sense of quiet solidarity.

As they made their way through the village, Isra held her baby closer, seeking reassurance in Marcel's steady presence. The trio approached a kindly-looking elderly woman who was tending to her garden.

"Excuse me, madam?"

The woman stopped working and looked up at them. "Yes? May I help you with something?"

Dr. Muller cleared his throat before speaking. "Um, yes, we... we're in need of help finding an address. We, um, have it." He motioned to Hans, who retrieved a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket with Estelle's written address. "This is the place."

The woman rose slowly, smoothing her skirt before removing her gloves. She took the paper and unfolded it, scanning the address. Recognition immediately lit up her eyes, and she glanced back at them. "Yes, I know this address. Down the road," she said. "It's the last one with a brown roof."

Just then, Klaus began to fuss and whine, drawing the woman's attention. "Your baby is adorable."

Isra blushed and edged closer to Hans, partly hiding herself. "Thank you," she murmured.

They thanked her and went on their way, heeding the woman's directions.

"So far so good," said the doctor.

Hans volunteered to hold Klaus, and Isra gratefully passed him over, her arms longing for a moment's rest. They proceeded in silence, observing the houses and the locals they passed by. It was hard to fathom they were at war. Here, everything seemed detached, a small pocket of normalcy in spite of everything else. The townspeople carried on with their lives as if untouched by the conflict surrounding them.

As they approached the house, the one with the brown roof, Dr. Muller stepped forward and knocked on the door, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet street. A few moments passed before the door creaked open, revealing a middle-aged man with a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" he greeted, his tone friendly but cautious, taking in the unfamiliar faces before him.

Dr. Muller cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "We're looking for someone. We were given this address," he explained, showing the man the crumpled paper with Estelle's writing.