Vladimir was counting . . . counting in his head. All hopes and dreams would depend on his accuracy. Life's ambitions-life itself-would be won or lost on this one skill.

How had a little farm kid ended up "adulting" in the enemy's uniform? Reciting lies, repeating drills meant to put an end to the very freedom he loved? How thirsty for freedom do you have to be to resort to the earliest of skills taught with geese, eggs, and potatoes? The plan, the map, the snow, the moon, the dogs, the hill, the little creek, and the counting, were all figured out in his head. Because his heart wanted something more, and now the very souls he had been training with plotted to kill him.

Born in a unique time, in the depths of the depression, Vladimir read the headlines that Hitler had taken over his country's capitol, Prague. He saw the last battles of that war and enjoyed a few years of goodness even though sorrow and hardship at home settled in the back of his mind. Then the shifting of men's ambitions, philosophies, avarice, and power mongering twisted oppressively and here he was, OUR CANCELED CZECH, counting for his life.

And what if you do get away? Is freedom fragile? Can you hold onto it?