Refugees on the Run Read online

  This book is dedicated to:

  Karen, Lois, and David—

  You have a special place in our hearts.

  Refugees on the Run

  © 2021 Focus on the Family. All rights reserved.

  A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188

  The Imagination Station, Adventures in Odyssey, and Focus on the Family and their accompanying logos and designs are federally registered trademarks of Focus on the Family, 8605 Explorer Drive, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Ministries.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of Focus on the Family.

  All Scripture quotations have been taken from The ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  With the exception of known historical figures, all characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations.

  Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative

  For Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this title, visit http://www.loc.gov/help/contact-general.html.

  For manufacturing information regarding this product, please call 1-855-277-9400.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at [email protected], or call 1-855-277- 9400.

  ISBN: 978-1-58997-995-6

  ISBN 978-1-68428-283-8 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-68428-284-5 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-68428-282-1 (Apple)

  Build: 2021-05-22 16:50:48 EPUB 3.0

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Destination Unknown

  Chapter 2: The Gate

  Chapter 3: The Crowd

  Chapter 4: Rocks and Refugees

  Chapter 5: Permission

  Chapter 6: Passport Problems

  Chapter 7: A Family Meeting

  Chapter 8: Sempo’s Garage

  Chapter 9: A Lamb Shank

  Chapter 10: Beth’s Testimony

  Chapter 11: The Tea Shop

  Chapter 12: Closed!

  Chapter 13: Too Late

  Chapter 14: A Signature

  Chapter 15: Sempo’s Life

  Secret Word Puzzle

  About the Authors

  Prologue

  In their last two adventures—Poison at the Pump and Swept into the Sea—Patrick and Beth have had trouble with the Imagination Station.

  The Model T car has a bubbling mixture of liquids in a container in its engine. But the glass container is cracked. The bubbling mixture is leaking.

  The cousins must find three liquids to refill it. They found the first liquid in London during a cholera epidemic. Then they were shipwrecked with the apostle Paul. That’s where they found the second liquid. They still need to find the last liquid.

  Mr. Whittaker gave Patrick a small black box with a wand. On the top of the box was a light that looked like a button. The cousins test liquids by dipping the wand into them. The right liquid will turn the light green.

  Here’s how their last adventure ended.

  Patrick heard the hum of the Imagination Station.

  “There it is,” Beth said.

  It appeared in front of them.

  Beth jumped into the driver’s seat.

  Patrick hopped into the passenger side.

  A small key was in the lock next to an open compartment. Patrick put the vial with the seed oil into it. He turned the key in the lock.

  A sliding panel covered the compartment. Then the panel opened. The container full of oil was no longer there. The oil was now inside the Imagination Station.

  Patrick left the key in the lock. They had found two of the liquids the Imagination Station needed. Patrick couldn’t wait to tell Whit about this adventure.

  “Let’s see if we can make it home this time,” Beth said. She hit the red button in the middle of the steering wheel. Nothing happened.

  Then slowly the sunlight dimmed around them.

  Had the Imagination Station finally broken? Patrick wondered. It felt like they were stuck in an empty tunnel.

  Suddenly, the Imagination Station took off at top speed. Lights flashed all around them. A long and slow whistle blew.

  The flashing lights began to swirl. Patrick saw an image of Mr. Whittaker tinkering in his workshop.

  “We’re almost home!” Patrick cried.

  The image grew blurry. Colorful dots swirled around them.

  “No!” Beth yelled.

  Patrick smelled apricots, lemons, oranges, and Bambinella pears.

  Then everything went black.

  Destination Unknown

  Patrick opened his eyes. The Imagination Station had landed next to a one-car garage. He looked around. Green grass was on both sides of the gravel driveway.

  “Cool car,” Patrick said. A shiny black automobile was parked in front of the garage. Patrick knew it was an olden-time car. He didn’t know how old though.

  Patrick looked for clues. “Can you read the sign on the car’s front bumper?” he asked.

  Beth sat in the driver’s seat of the Imagination Station. She leaned forward. “It says, ‘Service Consulate Japan,’” she said. “What does consulate mean?”

  Patrick knew the word service meant to help someone. He knew Japan was a country. But what was a consulate?

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it’s a type of Japanese car.”

  “Maybe,” Beth said. But she didn’t look convinced.

  “The third liquid for the Imagination Station must be here,” Patrick said.

  “We’ve been gone a long time. I hope we find it soon,” Beth said. “We need it to fix the Imagination Station.”

  Patrick agreed. He unhooked his seat belt and hopped out of the Model T.

  Beth did too.

  Patrick looked at the white garage. It had two wood doors. The doors reminded Patrick of gates that met in the middle.

  “What a pretty green dress,” Beth said. She twirled. Her skirt fanned out around her. Then it fell back to her knees. Two braids tied with green bows fell over her shoulders.

  “You look like you’re going to a party,” Patrick said.

  Beth laughed. “It’s such a beautiful day,” she said. “Maybe it’s an outdoor birthday party. You look like you’re going too.”

  Patrick looked down. He wore a gray vest over a green-gray shirt. He had on dark shorts. Brown knee socks covered his calves. The end of a black tie was tucked into his vest.

  Patrick removed the cap on his head to look at it. It was made of gray cloth. The top of it was squashed flat against the visor. He put his hat back on his head.

  The Imagination Station flickered. Then it disappeared.

  “Wow! Look at that enormous house,” Beth said. She pointed.

  Patrick turned. Behind them was a large, white house. The bottom story looked halfway underground. The top story seemed to have a slanted roof as its ceiling. There was another level between the top and bottom.

  Patrick didn’t see anything exciting about it. It was just a building.

  “Did the Imagination Station give you any gifts?” Patrick asked.

  “Let me see,” Beth said. She checked her pockets and pulled out a half sheet of paper. She showed it to her cousin.

  Patrick read aloud, “Lith-oo-way-nee-a Passport, 1940.” The names B. and P. Schmidt were below that. There was an ink stamp on it. Other words were written underneat
h. They were difficult to read.

  “The only words I can make out are ‘Dutch colony,’” Beth said.

  “I wonder who the Schmidts are,” Patrick said.

  “We might be the Schmidts,” Beth said. She sounded excited. “These are our initials. B is for Beth, and P is for Patrick.”

  “Hello, Beth Schmidt,” Patrick said.

  The cousins laughed.

  “Maybe the Imagination Station gave me something too,” Patrick said. He slid his hands into his pockets and took out Whit’s gadget. “We’ll need this to find the third liquid.” He also pulled out an ink bottle.

  “The Imagination Station gives us gifts we’ll need,” Beth said. “So we must need a passport and ink.”

  “People use passports to go to other countries,” Patrick said. He opened the ink bottle. He dipped the wand of the gadget into it. The light didn’t turn green.

  “That isn’t the liquid the Imagination Station needs,” Beth said.

  Patrick closed the ink bottle. Then he wiped the wand of the gadget on the grass.

  “Maybe we need this passport to go to another country,” Beth said.

  Patrick nodded. “You also need a passport to get back into your country,” he said. He returned the gadget and the ink bottle to his pockets.

  Suddenly, a piercing scream filled the air. Then a woman’s voice yelled, “I’m being crushed!”

  Beth took off running.

  Patrick followed.

  They ran around the large, white building toward the scream.

  The Gate

  Beth turned the corner to the front of the house. She stopped.

  Patrick bumped into her. “What’s up?” he asked.

  Beth pointed. An iron fence circled the white building. A crowd of people stood outside the fence. The crowd was pushing the gate open.

  Only one man was inside the fence with Beth and Patrick. The man wore a gray suit and hat. He was pushing on the gate to keep it from opening more.

  “Hurry,” the man said. “Step through, Agnes.”

  Beth thought, That man wants only the one lady to enter.

  Agnes wore a brown dress and white apron. She had a large straw basket in her hands. It was too big to fit through the opening.

  The crowd outside the fence pushed her forward.

  Agnes screamed again.

  Patrick hurried toward the man. “Can we help?” he asked.

  Agnes yelled, “Boris!”

  Faces peeked between the black metal bars of the fence.

  “Hold the gate with me,” Boris said.

  Patrick grasped two of the metal bars.

  “Take my basket,” Agnes said.

  Beth hurried to the opening.

  This crowd wasn’t like any Beth had ever seen. The men wore hats, suits, and ties. The women were in dresses that went just below their knees. They wore hats or scarves over their hair. Most had suitcases in their hands or by their feet.

  “The basket is too big,” Beth said. “Toss it over the fence.” She took a step back to catch it.

  Agnes lifted the empty basket above her. She tossed it over the fence.

  Beth caught the basket and set it on the ground. She hurried back to the woman.

  Agnes shoved one foot through the gate. The rest of her body was still outside.

  “Once she gets through,” Boris said, “slam the gate shut.”

  “Okay,” Patrick said.

  “You,” Boris said to Beth. “Take the cook’s hands. Pull her back onto consulate grounds.”

  Beth nodded. She realized this fenced-in building must be called a consulate. But she still didn’t know what that meant.

  “Ready?” Beth asked. She grabbed the woman’s hands. “One, two, three.” Beth pulled with all her might. The cook popped through the opening.

  Beth almost lost her balance. She released the woman’s hands. Then she grabbed at the gate to steady herself.

  Two people in the crowd grabbed Beth’s hand.

  “Pull us through,” one said.

  Patrick and Boris strained to shut the gate.

  The hands pulled Beth forward.

  She struggled. But the hands didn’t let go.

  Suddenly Beth popped through the gap and was outside the gate.

  The gate snapped shut behind her.

  Beth fell to the ground. “Ow,” she said.

  “Open the gate!” Patrick yelled. “My cousin is on the other side!”

  “Don’t open it!” Agnes yelled.

  “We can’t open it,” Boris said. “The only way to help your cousin is to talk to the consul.”

  “Then take me to the consul!” Patrick said.

  “Very well,” Boris said. “I’m not sure how you got inside the fence. But you helped me. Now I’ll help you.”

  “Don’t worry, Beth,” Patrick yelled. “I’ll convince the consul to open the gate.”

  “Okay,” Beth said. She tried to stand. But the crowd was too tight.

  Boris yelled, “Find a safe place, young lady. This might take some time to sort out.” He and Agnes turned from the gate and walked toward the building.

  Patrick looked at Beth.

  Beth waved at him to follow Boris.

  The crowd still pressed against her. They didn’t look mean. They looked worried and disappointed.

  Beth watched Boris, Agnes, and Patrick go into the big house. The door shut behind them. But no one in the crowd walked away. They stayed behind the fence.

  Beth heard someone in the crowd ask, “What should we do now?”

  “Take my hands,” a girl close to Beth’s age said. Her dark-brown eyes sparkled. A light breeze moved her dark curls. The girl’s dress matched the color of the sky.

  Beth was glad to see a friendly face in the crowd. She grabbed the girl’s hands.

  The girl easily pulled Beth to her feet.

  “Thank you,” Beth said. “My name is Beth.”

  “My name is Leza,” the girl said.

  Beth looked around. The consulate was on one side of the cobblestone street. There was a park on the other side of the street.

  “How did you get on consulate grounds?” Leza asked.

  “I was there with my cousin,” Beth said.

  “But how did you get on that side of the fence?” she asked. “The Japanese consulate hasn’t let anyone in.”

  A man and woman behind Leza turned their heads. They looked at Beth. She wondered if they were listening.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Beth said. “But my cousin will try to get the consul to let me in.”

  “That’s great news,” Leza said. She beamed.

  “Who is your friend?” the woman behind Leza asked. Her dress looked like Leza’s, only faded. She wore a tan scarf wrapped around her dark hair.

  “This is Beth,” Leza said. “Her cousin is in the consulate right now. Beth, this is my mother, and that is my father.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Beth said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you also,” Leza’s father said. “Where are your parents?”

  “They aren’t here,” Beth said. “My cousin and I are on our own.”

  Leza’s parents gave each other worried looks.

  Beth turned toward the crowd. “Why are so many people waiting here?” she asked.

  “We all want to leave Lithuania,” Leza said.

  Beth recognized that word. Lithuania was written on her passport from the Imagination Station.

  Lithuania must be a country, Beth thought. “Is Lithuania a bad place to live?” she asked.

  “Oh no,” Leza said. “It’s a wonderful place.” She leaned closer to Beth’s ear. “But the Nazis are coming. They want to hurt all Jews. My family and I are Jewish.”

  The Crowd

  Patrick entered the consulate behind Boris. He hadn’t figured out what a consulate was. But he had figured out that the consul was a person.

  “This way,” Boris said. He led Patrick down a hall.

  “What do you
do here?” Patrick asked.

  “I help the consul,” Boris said.

  “You’re the consul’s assistant?” Patrick asked.

  Boris nodded.

  Patrick followed Boris into a living room.

  A Japanese man sat on a dark-brown couch. He wore a suit and a tie.

  Boris removed his hat. “Good morning,” Boris said with a low bow.

  Patrick took off his hat too. He bowed.

  “Good morning,” the Japanese man said. He leaned forward in a small bow. A vase of flowers sat on a coffee table in front of him.

  “May I present Patrick?” Boris said. “He helped the cook get back on consulate grounds.”

  The Japanese man said, “Thank you for helping.”

  “You’re welcome,” Patrick said. “I would like to speak with the consul or the consulate.”

  The man said, “You won’t be able to talk to the consulate.”

  Boris laughed. “This building is a consulate,” he said. “Inside the gate belongs to Japan. Outside the gate belongs to Lithuania.”

  “Oh,” Patrick said. “A consulate is an office that one country has inside another country.”

  The older man smiled and nodded his head. “I am the consul. I represent Japan here,” he said. “My name is Chiune Sugihara.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Shy-yoon Su-ji-har-a,” Patrick said.

  The consul laughed. “You can call me Sempo,” he said. “It’s my nickname and easier to say.”

  “Thank you, Sempo,” Patrick said.

  Sempo nodded toward the window. “What did you find out?” he asked Boris.

  “They’re Jews,” Boris said. “Most have escaped from Poland.”

  “They weren’t here last night,” Sempo said. He sighed. “The Nazis must have taken control of Poland. These people are now refugees. They no longer have a country of their own.”

  “But why are they here?” Patrick asked. “My cousin is in that crowd.”

  “They want to leave Lithuania,” Sempo said. “Is your cousin Jewish?”

  “No,” Patrick said. “She is a Christian. But she was pulled through the gate.”