Escape to the Hiding Place
Praise for The Imagination Station® books
Our children have been riveted and on the edge of their seats through each and every chapter of The Imagination Station books. The series is well-written, engaging, family friendly, and has great spiritual truths woven into the stories. Highly recommended!
—Crystal P., Money Saving Mom®
[The Imagination Station books] focus on God much more than the Magic Tree House books do.
—Emilee, age 7, Waynesboro, Pennsylvania
These books will help my kids enjoy history.
—Beth S., third-grade public school teacher
Colorado Springs, Colorado
These books are a great combination of history and adventure in a clean manner perfect for young children.
—Margie B., My Springfield Mommy blog
My nine-year-old son has already read [the first two books], one of them twice. He is very eager to read more in the series too. I am planning on reading them out loud to my younger son.
—Abbi C., mother of four, Minnesota
To Amy Green,
who fought Nazis from her
cubicle every day this summer. —MKH
Escape to the Hiding Place Copyright © 2012 by Focus on the Family. All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-58997-693-1
A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188
Focus on the Family and Adventures in Odyssey, and the accompanying logos and designs, are federally registered trademarks, and The Imagination Station is a federally registered trademark of Focus on the Family, Colorado Springs, CO 80995.
TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
All Scripture quotations marked are taken from New King James Version®, (NKJV™). Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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.
With the exception of known historical figures, all characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations.
Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative
Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this book is available by contacting the Library of Congress at http://www.loc.gov/help/contact-general.html.
ISBN 978-1-60482-667-8 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-60482-668-5 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-60482-666-1 (Apple)
Build: 2014-09-16 17:18:33
Contents
Chapter 1: The Ice-Cream Shop
Chapter 2: The Plane Crash
Chapter 3: Bernard
Chapter 4: New Identities
Chapter 5: The Farmhouse
Chapter 6: The Pilot
Chapter 7: A Warning
Chapter 8: The Choice
Chapter 9: The Dutch Police
Chapter 10: Haarlem
Chapter 11: The Gestapo
Chapter 12: Kabang!
Chapter 13: The Watch Shop
Chapter 14: The Hiding Place
Chapter 15: Whit’s End
Questions about Escape to the Hiding Place
Secret Word Puzzle
About the Authors and Illustrator
The Ice-Cream Shop
Cousins Beth and Patrick sat at the counter of Whit’s End ice-cream shop.
“Hello, Patrick and Beth. How may I help you?” Whit asked. He smiled at them.
Beth sighed. “I’ll have a scoop of chocolate ice cream, please,” she said.
Patrick said, “I’m not really hungry. A root beer, I guess.”
“Patrick? Not hungry?” Whit said. “Well, that’s something new. Is everything all right?”
Patrick looked at Beth. He said, “Go on, you tell him.”
Beth took a deep breath. Then she said, “Patrick and I wanted to babysit and help in the church nursery. So our parents told us to take a class with the Red Cross first.”
“We even found first-aid stuff on the Red Cross website,” Patrick said. “We know what to do during an earthquake.”
“And that we should chop up hot dogs before giving them to toddlers,” Beth said.
Whit said, “And so . . .”
“We went to sign up for the Red Cross class,” Patrick said. “But you have to be eleven to take it.”
“And no one will let us help without the class,” Beth said. “What a waste of time.”
Whit set a root beer in front of Patrick. The foam dripped down the side of the tall glass.
“So do you think that reading about first aid was a waste?” Whit asked.
Patrick shrugged. He took a long sip of the drink.
“I guess not,” Beth said. “I mean, I learned a lot. But now I feel useless. It’ll be forever until I’m eleven!”
“Forever?” Whit asked. “In this case, forever is three years. And you’re right. By then, you’ll be an ancient fifth grader.”
Whit scooped Beth’s chocolate ice cream into a pretty glass dish. He placed it on the counter in front of her.
Beth took a spoon and dug into the chocolate mound. “No one thinks kids can do anything,” she said.
Patrick said, “Except empty the trash and clean the cat litter box.”
Whit chuckled. “Oh, I don’t believe that’s the case,” he said. “I know many children who did great things. Just look in your history book or your Bible. Some kids have been kings, queens, or emperors.”
“But I’m not King Patrick,” Patrick said. “What can I do?”
“And I’m not even allowed to cross Oak Street without an adult,” Beth said.
Whit’s eyes sparkled. Patrick could tell Whit had an idea.
“After you finish your ice cream and soda,” Whit said, “meet me in the workshop. I think this is the perfect time for a trip in the Imagination Station.”
Beth and Patrick had been in the Imagination Station before. It was like a time machine. They never knew when or where in history they were going. But they always knew they were in for an adventure.
Beth and Patrick stepped inside. Each sat in one of the two chairs. Lights, numbers, and buttons stretched out across the panel in front of them. Patrick thought it looked like a helicopter cockpit.
“Are you ready?” Whit’s voice came in on a small speaker.
“Yes, sir,” the cousins said.
“Then push the red button and hang on,” Whit said.
Beth pressed the button. The machine shook.
Patrick felt like the Imagination Station would pull loose from the ground.
There was a loud rumble.
Then everything went dark.
The Plane Crash
Patrick’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the Imagination Station. Then everything was flooded with light. He squinted and looked around.
He and Beth were sitting cross-legged on the shore of a beautiful lake. They were surrounded by trees. Across the lake, a narrow piece of land jutted into the water. A small windmill sat on the land. Its blades turned slowly in the wind.
“Wow! Nice place,” Beth said. She looked at her clothes. They were different now. She wore an olive-green dress.
Patrick looked down and noticed his clothing. He wore a white shirt and an olive-green jacket. His pants matched the jacket.
Something was on his head. He reached up and pulled off a green cap.
Patrick put the cap back on. Then he noticed a thin red scarf. It made his neck itch. Annoyed, he moved the scarf’s knot to one side.
“Hey, look at my watch!” Beth said. “It’s
not my pink one with the plastic band.” She held out her wrist to show a black velvet watchband. The watch face had diamonds around the edges.
“Are those real diamonds?” Patrick asked.
“Maybe,” Beth said. “But the watch is broken. The hands aren’t moving.”
“Why would Mr. Whittaker program the Imagination Station to give you a broken watch?” Patrick asked.
Beth shrugged. Then she said, “Where do you think we are?”
“Well, we’re not wearing Roman tunics,” Patrick said. “Or Pilgrim outfits. These clothes almost look normal.”
Patrick thought for a moment. “When were windmills invented?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Beth said. “The Middle Ages? But they didn’t have watches then, did they?”
Patrick leaned back and felt something press against his back. He turned around. A backpack sat on the ground just behind him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Before Beth could answer, a sound caught their attention. At first Patrick thought it was a lawnmower in the distance.
Beth pointed at the sky. “It’s a plane,” she said.
Patrick glanced over. She was right. A small airplane appeared above the trees. It had blue, white, and red circles painted on the side.
The engine sputtered. The wings dipped.
Patrick stood up. Smoke trailed from the back of the plane.
“What’s happening?” Beth asked.
“It’s gonna crash!” Patrick shouted.
The plane zoomed overhead. Something shot up out of the plane’s cockpit. And then the plane disappeared beyond the trees across the lake.
A loud CRASH sounded, and the ground shook. Smoke filled the sky above the trees.
“Look!” Beth said, pointing. A man with a parachute hovered above the trees.
“It’s the pilot!” Patrick said. “Let’s go see if he needs help!”
Beth was already running toward the pilot.
Patrick raced after her along the water’s edge.
Patrick looked for the pilot as he ran. But he couldn’t see the parachute. Now the trees blocked his view.
Suddenly, Beth stopped.
Patrick almost plowed into her. “What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.
“Listen,” she said.
Patrick stood still and listened. He heard a dog barking.
“Look!” Beth said. She pointed toward the woods.
Three soldiers in gray uniforms moved through the trees. They had German shepherds with them. The large dogs were on leather leashes. The men had rifles slung across their backs.
The pack of men and dogs moved quickly. They were coming toward Patrick and Beth.
“This doesn’t look good,” Patrick said.
“Maybe we should hide,” Beth said. The cousins scanned the area.
Patrick pointed to a clump of thick bushes. “There,” he said.
The cousins ducked behind the bushes. Patrick was glad they both were wearing green. It was easier to blend in.
Beth peered between some leaves. “I can’t see them,” she whispered.
“If you don’t quiet down,” a low muffled voice behind them said, “they’ll find us for sure.”
Beth gasped. She started to turn around.
“Whatever you do, don’t move,” the voice said.
Patrick froze. Is it the pilot? he wondered. “Who are you?” Patrick whispered.
“No time for questions now,” the voice said. “Keep an eye on those soldiers.”
Patrick obeyed. I hope the dogs can’t smell us, he thought.
One of the soldiers shouted, but Patrick couldn’t hear all the words. Then the soldier pointed across the lake.
That’s where the plane went down, Patrick thought.
One of the dogs stopped. It sniffed the air and whined. Then it started moving . . . right toward Patrick and Beth!
Bernard
Beth wanted to run. But she knew it was too late. The dog had spotted them.
The voice said softly, “Stay still, no matter what.”
Beth heard a sudden kabang in the distance. It sounded like an explosion. Except Beth thought she heard breaking glass, too.
The dog jerked toward the noise. It barked and pulled on its leash . . . away from the cousins and the stranger.
Beth peered back through the opening in the bushes. The soldiers ran toward the kabang.
What made that sound? Beth wondered. Is it from the plane?
Soon the sounds of footsteps and barks faded.
“It’s safe,” the voice said.
The bushes rustled as the three of them crawled out. They stood up carefully.
Beth looked to see who had been talking to them. She put a hand to her mouth in surprise.
She looked at a fair-skinned young woman. She was wearing a flowered dress. Her head was covered with a matching blue head scarf. Beth could see a hint of blush and lipstick on her face.
“Is it Halloween?” Patrick asked. “Why are you in a dress?”
Of course! Beth thought. It’s not a woman, but a young man dressed as a woman.
The young man pulled the scarf away from his face. “My name is Bernard,” he said.
“Why are you in a dress?” Patrick asked again.
“It’s a disguise,” Bernard said. “A woman is less likely to be captured and sent away to the work camps.”
“Work camps?” Beth asked. “What’s going on here?”
“I’ll explain as we walk toward Warmond,” Bernard said. “You don’t want to be caught or they’ll send you away, too.” He strode off.
Beth looked at Patrick. He shrugged. They followed the stranger.
“I wanted to find the pilot and help him hide,” Bernard said.
“By yourself?” Patrick asked.
“No, there are a lot of us. I’m a member of the Dutch Resistance,” Bernard said. He tied the scarf on his head again. “We’re fighting the Nazis who invaded Holland.”
Beth was alarmed. “The Nazis! Is that who we are hiding from?”
Bernard nodded. “The German soldiers are everywhere now.”
Patrick frowned. “Is this World War Two?”
Bernard looked puzzled. “Is that what they’re calling it?” he asked.
“Now I understand about the work camps,” Beth said. She remembered from history how people died there.
“Let’s talk about that later. Right now we have to get away from here,” Bernard said. “There are too many soldiers in the woods around Warmond.”
“What about the pilot?” Patrick asked.
“My father and other Resistance workers are looking for him too,” Bernard said. “They’ll find him. But right now we need to leave. It’s too dangerous.”
“Then where are we going?” Patrick asked.
Bernard said, “Let’s walk around the lake toward the windmill. That leads to a road. But act normal. Walk slowly so it looks like we’re out for a stroll. Otherwise . . .”
“Otherwise what?” Beth asked.
“The Germans might think we’re up to something and shoot us,” Bernard said.
The three slowly made their way around the lake.
Beth tried not to giggle at Bernard’s strange clothes. He looked silly.
Bernard led them around to the windmill. Beth watched the large blades turn. They made a slight breeze. The windmill made a clacking sound every time it turned.
“Halt!” a voice called out suddenly.
The cousins and Bernard whirled around. They saw a lone German soldier coming toward them.
Bernard lowered his face and moved behind Patrick and Beth.
The German soldier pointed his long rifle right at Patrick. On the tip of the barrel was a sharp silver blade. It came within inches of Patrick’s nose.
“What are you doing here?” the soldier shouted.
New Identities
Patrick’s eyes focused on the sharp blade. He had to think quickly.
Patric
k glanced at Bernard. Bernard kept his face turned away.
“We’re just out for a walk,” Patrick said finally.
“Did you see the plane?” the soldier asked. He spoke in a German accent. The word see sounded more like zee.
“Yes,” Patrick said. “We saw a plane. It crashed over there.” He pointed to the other side of the lake.
“And the pilot?” the soldier asked.
Patrick shook his head. “We don’t know where he landed.”
Bernard still stared at the ground. Patrick knew he didn’t want to speak. His deep voice would reveal that he wasn’t a woman.
Beth’s breathing was fast and shallow. She looked wide-eyed and frightened.
“Where are your papers?” the soldier asked.
Patrick gulped. What is he talking about? he wondered.
Bernard pulled a pouch from around his neck. He opened it and took out a folded white piece of paper.
The soldier inspected it. “You are Berdina Vos?” he asked.
Bernard nodded. The soldier returned the card to Bernard. He gave Bernard a suspicious look. Then he turned to Patrick and said, “What about your papers?”
Patrick swallowed hard. Then he felt a slight tickle under his collar. He reached up and pulled a string out from under his shirt. A piece of cardboard with writing on it was tied to the string.
Is this what the soldier wants? he wondered.
Patrick slipped the string over his head. Then he handed the card to the soldier.
Before the soldier could ask, Beth had taken out her card on a string. She looked relieved.
Thank you, Mr. Whittaker, Patrick thought. You thought of everything!
The soldier examined both cards and said, “Patrick . . . and Elisabeth.”
The soldier studied Beth. His eye stopped at her wrist. He grabbed it and looked over the watch. He looked as if he were going to steal it.
Then the soldier frowned. “Your watch is broken,” he said and dropped her wrist. “The diamonds are fake.”
Beth just nodded, still looking terrified.