Sel­ma Wijn­berg is a crim­i­nal. Because she is Jew­ish. And for this crime, she is deport­ed to the Sobi­bor death camp, sen­tenced to sort the clothes of the dead while a smoke made of thou­sands black­ens the sky. And in the light of this enor­mous funer­al pyre, at the end of a Nazi pis­tol, Sel­ma is ordered to dance. The hand that offers to dance with her belongs to Chaim Engel. Chaim and Sel­ma don’t speak the same lan­guage. But some­times, love doesn’t need a lan­guage. Who falls in love in the mid­dle of hell? Chaim and Sel­ma do. And who knew that love could kin­dle so much hope. But when the pris­on­ers of Sobi­bor hatch a dar­ing plan of escape, it is time to kill or be killed. The gate or the fire. Chaim and Sel­ma will go out on their feet, or out with the smoke. And in an hour of bul­lets and blood­shed, Chaim and Sel­ma dis­cov­er that hope — and two hands twined togeth­er — can be the key to keep­ing two peo­ple alive.