For Such a Time (38 page)

“That fat man will get your woman soon enough, though I admit, I’ll miss her. She’s such a sweet morsel, even for a Jew.”

Fury rose in Aric like smoke spewing from the locomotive’s stack. He’d never forget the bruises on her cheek. “I’ll kill you for touching her.”

Hermann chuckled. “You’re hardly in a position to do that right now.” He jabbed the muzzle of the gun harder against Aric’s head. “And why should you care? You gave her to me. You must have known what I had in store for her, especially after your party—”

Aric let out a roar and pushed himself to his knees. He didn’t care if he died, so long as Hermann died with him.

He made a lunge for Hermann, but the captain had already regained his balance enough to step backward. Aric’s boot caught against the small opening he’d made in the roof earlier. He fell hard against the deck.

“Back to where we started.” Hermann pressed the pistol barrel against Aric’s temple. “Good-bye, Kommandant.”

Hadassah went still at the agonized groan. She’d advanced across nine more boxcars by crawling on her hands and knees, grasping at the brakeman’s rungs at the end of each car to pull herself across the meter of empty space between them.

Lying flat, she strained to make out the tall man in a greatcoat standing at the center of the next car. Aric . . . or an SS guard? She edged forward, hugging the roof. In the likely event it
was
a soldier, how would she get past him unnoticed?

She’d reached the junction separating his car from hers when she saw a man lying at the soldier’s feet. Then she saw the gun.

Fear paralyzed her . . . until the man’s head moved. He was alive!

She reached across open space for the brakeman’s rung and pulled herself onto the next car. Then she removed the flare pistol from her jacket and slammed a green flare into its barrel.

At the same time, the tall soldier bent to ram his weapon against the side of the fallen man’s head. The face on the ground lifted a fraction. Hadassah recognized the beloved features, agony and frustration carved into lines around his mouth . . .

“Aric!” she screamed, and aimed the flare pistol at the soldier’s back.

The frozen ground trembled as the third train rushed past them on the track. No green signal. “Herr Kommandant’s plan has failed. We must return to Theresienstadt.” Rand was the first to rise from their burrow in the snow.

“Please, Herr Sergeant, we must wait awhile longer! She
will
save them.”

“That’s just Jewish nonsense. Captain Hermann has probably returned to camp. I must be there to aid Herr Kommandant.”

Lenny shot Helen a desperate look, and she immediately understood. If they returned to the ghetto, this young man would likely die. And if he stayed here in this frozen wasteland, he wouldn’t fare any better.

She gave him an encouraging nod. “Have you no faith in Herr Kommandant?” he said to Rand, and then looked shocked at his own boldness.

“You dare question my loyalty to him?”

Lenny pursed his lips. She saw him glance again at the steel hook, then back at her. Helen gave him another encouraging
sign. “Then why not wait . . . at least awhile longer?” he said. “Maybe they got a late start. Or maybe . . .”

His voice trailed off as Rand hunkered back down into the snow. “We wait another fifteen minutes. Then we go.”

Helen reached to squeeze Lenny’s shoulder. He nodded at her. Quickly she withdrew her rosary and began to pray.

 45 

Esther said, “The adversary and enemy is this vile Haman.”

Esther 7:6

A
ric!”

Hermann heard the scream and jerked around. Flames exploded at his throat. The force of the fireball knocked him backward, despite the fierce wind. Stunned by pain and confusion, he stared at the woman who had defeated him. He tried crawling toward her, but then another burning pain seized him—this time in his back. Then another. And another.

His vision dimmed as every cell in his body shifted, creating a weightlessness he’d never felt before. Even with his labored breathing, he imagined he could fly on the cusp of the icy wind, beyond himself, beyond pain. A shiver rattled his body. He felt so cold . . .

———

Aric lay on his stomach, gripping his pistol after unloading three rounds into Hermann’s back. The captain’s body dropped and rolled like a felled tree—then slammed into Hadassah, who was hovering at the edge of open space between the cars.

They both disappeared.

“NO!” Aric cried. He scrambled on his knees toward her.

She was clutching at a single support near the bottom of the car. Hermann’s corpse—doubled in half and wedged into the small space—pressed against her.

Aric could imagine her fear when he saw her pale fingers gripping the rung. “Hold on, Hadassah!” he shouted, and reached down with his free hand to pull Hermann’s body away from her.

———

Hadassah caught Aric’s movement and ducked as Hermann’s body plummeted past her. The corpse skidded against the side of the train, flouncing like a wild puppet on strings, before dropping beneath the bone-crushing motion of the train’s wheels.

In the next instant she felt herself jerked upward by the front of her jacket.

“Are you hurt?” Aric demanded once he’d hauled her onto the roof of the train. His worried gaze traveled her length before he grabbed her frozen hands and tucked them inside his coat. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m f-fine,” she insisted through chattering teeth.

“Honestly, Hadassah, I thought I’d lost you.”

The torment in his voice pierced her heart. She slid her arms around his waist, and they clung together, exhausted. “What about you?” Hadassah would forever be haunted by the image of Hermann’s pistol pressed against Aric’s head. “I thought I might be too late . . .”

“But you weren’t.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “We’re both alive.”

“Only by a miracle.”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “God seems to be on our side.”

He placed a tender kiss on her lips, and Hadassah melted against him, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude.
Thank you for keeping him safe.

“Come! We must hurry.” He shoved to his feet, hauling her with him.

Hadassah remembered the flares. “Do we have enough time?” she asked.

“We’ll find out.” He glanced toward the front of the train. “Walk in front of me, and careful of the ice. Stay along the center of the car.”

They made steady progress toward the forward half of the tender car. Once they arrived, she and Aric crouched out of the wind and peered beyond the tracks. Prerov’s lights faded, leaving only a star-filled sky and the Ceaseless White. Would they make it in time?

Hadassah handed Aric the flare pistol and remaining three flares.

“Let’s hope our friends are waiting for us.” Aric stood with feet braced apart and shot the first Very flare. Hadassah watched it soar into the sky, burning iridescent green against the black night. He fired a second, then a third. Each flare soared higher, like the fireworks display she and her uncle once enjoyed during Mannheim’s annual
Oktoberfest
.

The train gradually slowed. A signal light shone a few kilometers ahead. Hadassah held her breath and prayed that Rand and Helen had succeeded in smuggling Lenny through Czechoslovakia, and that they now waited ahead for the signal. And that the railroad switch operated properly so their train would not continue on its deadly path north to Auschwitz—

The signal light changed color. Aric let out a triumphant shout as the train veered to the right—away from Auschwitz. Hadassah released her breath and whispered into the night sky, “We are your people, Lord, and you are with us.”

Once again the train sped up, moving south now. Aric tossed the flare pistol over the side and dropped down beside her. He pointed toward the bordering tree line.

Two human shapes stood near the track; a third moved up beside them. The moonlight revealed three hands waving silent good wishes.

Hadassah returned the offering, stretching her arms wide in an unspoken embrace. A smile battled her constricted throat. “Do you think we’ll ever see them again?”

“We can hope.”

But she knew with the war still raging and their safety at risk, it would be next to impossible. Yet the three had become such a crucial part of her life. “Good-bye, dear friends,” she called out. “Godspeed.”

“He’ll take care of them,” Aric said, and she found his assurance comforting. “Now let’s get inside. There’s still plenty to do before we reach the border.”

 46 

Meanwhile, the remainder of the Jews who were in the king’s provinces also assembled to protect themselves. . . .

Esther 9:16

T
HURSDAY
, M
ARCH
9, 1944

G
eneral Feldman shifted uneasily against the back seat once his motorcade reached the gates of Theresienstadt. The place seemed oddly quiet; he’d left clear instructions to be met with a full complement of soldiers in parade dress, as well as a marching band.

Only three guards in standard uniform stood at the gate.

Something was wrong. As his shiny black Daimler passed through the entrance amid salutes, Feldman wished he could turn back the three staff cars behind him. If there was a problem, he would prefer the SS-Reichsführer, Eichmann, the Swiss Red Cross, and most especially the reporters from both countries wait until he quietly took care of the matter.

He peered out the car’s window, scanning the ghetto. Where was Hermann, and why was he not here to greet them?

Anger replaced his disquiet as the car halted in front of the
Marktplatz. He disembarked without waiting for his driver. The cobblestone square was deserted.

He gazed toward the park where brightly painted park benches sat empty. Feldman scowled. Why weren’t the prisoners outside and playing their parts? His anxiety conspired with the sausage he’d eaten at breakfast to drill a hole into his stomach. As the others parked and began exiting their cars, he cast around a swift, desperate glance, trying to anticipate their initial reaction.

His breathing faltered at the sight of the charred façades that only yesterday were the newly constructed storefronts of der Führer’s “model ghetto.” It looked as if war had broken out inside the fortressed walls. Several SS guards approached him and saluted, but the fear on their pale faces made the ache in his gut rise to his chest.

“Where is your captain?” Feldman glared into the vaguely familiar face of a tall young man, the highest ranking in the lot, a mere corporal. “Where are the prisoners?”

———

Overwhelmed by the situation, Corporal Sonntag opened and closed his mouth several times. Nothing came out.

“Answer me!”

“He’s . . . Herr Captain left on the train for Auschwitz, Herr General,” the corporal blurted, shaken from his stupor. “I believe he follows Herr Kommandant.”

“What is this? Why was I not told?”

The heat of the general’s anger burned him like a brand. The porcine face had turned scarlet while a whitish ring formed at his pinched mouth. Sonntag desperately wished to be elsewhere. “Herr Kommandant escaped. He . . . he . . . there are no officers here.” His shoulders slumped. “We are only enlisted men, awaiting orders.”

Muttering a string of expletives, some of which Sonntag had never heard before, the general darted a nervous glance over the corporal’s right shoulder. Sonntag had already seen the men—
two decorated Nazi officials, four civilians wearing Red Cross bands, and about a dozen newspaper people. He could hear the camera bulbs popping off as reporters began taking photographs of the ghetto.

“Where are the Jews?” the general ground out. “Get them out here at once!”

Beads of sweat broke out on Sonntag’s forehead. “There is another problem, Herr General—”

But the general wasn’t listening. “With luck we can still pull this off. We’ll tell the Swiss and the reporters that the fire was accidental . . .” He paused, glaring at Sonntag. “Well, Corporal? Get moving!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Herr General.” Sonntag stared past the general toward the compound. He craned his neck to glimpse the horrified faces of the civilians behind him. His knees began to shake.

“What do you mean ‘too late’?” The general shoved hard at his shoulder. “Explain!”

“He means we . . . are already here,” a frail voice said at his back.

The general spun around.

———

Leo Molski stood at the head of a motley tribe of hundreds that followed in his wake. Supporting his thin weight with a wooden stick he’d scrounged from the leftover construction materials, he paused to take in the crowd posing like statues before him.

Several reporters who had been canvassing the ghetto paused in their picture taking to gape openly at them. A few meters away, General Feldman stood transfixed beside a whey-faced corporal, his fleshy features contorted into a comic twist of fury and fear.

Behind them, a pair of Nazi officers posed in full-dress regalia. Likely they were the Jew Killers, Eichmann and Himmler. They stood perfectly still, and Leo felt rather than saw their
cold-blooded contempt. But the four men beside them—men bearing the mark of the Red Cross—were not so cautious with their reactions. Leo saw their aversion, then their indignation.

Finally their outrage.

He turned to his people and tried to imagine what these men were seeing—a pathetic group of thin, hollow-faced creatures dressed in rags. Many wore soiled bandages, and some were so weak they had to be carried. Others limped or crawled into the ghetto’s square.

Leo’s skin heated with shame. They were indeed a grotesque lot. He had no doubt they would all die when this was over—and cruelly, as the murderers burned off their anger at being the brunt of such a joke.

The responsibility made Leo afraid. Not for himself—he’d been prepared to give his life in order to spare another, to let the world know the truth. But what right did he have to influence these others?

“You always did worry too much, Leo,” Erna Brenner said beside him.

Leo gazed at the middle-aged woman who read his thoughts. He tried to imagine the loveliness that once blossomed beneath a face now worn from too much hunger and exposure.

“Our hearts are free now,” she whispered. “We’ve made our decision. Even the Nazis can’t take that away from us. And God knows we do a good thing.” She patted his arm. “So we shall die a good death.”

Again, Leo turned to the bedraggled faces of his followers. Determination lit the many pairs of eyes long weakened from suffering, and tightened the mouths long empty of joy.

A tide of conviction washed away the last dregs of his fear. “Gentlemen,” Leo cried to the men of the Red Cross, spreading his thin arms wide. “Welcome to
Paradies
!”