The Family Behind the Walls

23. Jordanna

TWENTY-THREE

JORDANNA

OCTOBER 8TH, 1943 – ?óD?, POLAND

Despite sleeping on a straw filled mattress and being poked and punctured several times a night, I usually manage to get some sleep. I’m certain I didn’t sleep more than an hour last night though. I’ve been considering various scenarios of what could go wrong today while trying to sneak Lilli over to the fields. My gut tells me it’s a bad idea. She would be punished severely if caught and it would be my fault.

Papa is risking his life trying to save us though.

My stomach is growling with anger, starving from missing the crumb of food allotted last night, and this morning for that matter since dinner serves as our breakfast too.

Lilli’s nerves are clear to me as we stand side by side in our row at roll call. She’s wiggling her knees, bouncing enough to be noticed.

“You must calm down,” I whisper.

“I’m fine,” she says.

“Are you worried?”

“No. I want to see Papa.”

“Me too.” I wish I could promise her everything will be all right, and we’ll see him, and he’ll save us and—then we’ll be free. It all sounds like a fairy tale.

Once the kapo is finished with her list of numbers, she dismisses us to report to our labor duties.

What if I forgot something? What if there’s something more that I should have instructed Lilli to do while completing this dangerous task? I watch as she disappears out of my sight, around the buildings, heading toward the sewing block.

At a slower pace than usual but not slower than the slowest person to arrive, I make my way toward the front gates. I spot the line of others waiting to check in and I want to look over my shoulder again, but I might draw attention to my behavior. My heart pounds so hard I can hear it between my ears just like I could when I passed out on the field on my first day of labor.

The kapo, who must receive rewards for every heroic action in favor of the educators, spots my badge number, draws a check mark beside my name and continues to make her looping rounds among the columns we’ve been directed to stand in while waiting for the truck to pull up.

Alfie is up ahead in the fourth and last column to the left. He peers over his shoulder toward me but doesn’t let his gaze linger. There’s no expression I can give him to tell him everything is under control. Nothing is under control. My chest tightens and it becomes harder to breathe, despite the nip in the air. I shiver and tense my muscles, refusing to reply to the cold.

The truck pulls up to its usual position and just as it comes to a halt, the lines begin to move forward. I peer to my right, trying to catch a glimpse of the nearest building, the corner Lilli should be rounding if our plan has any merit.

The kapo is grabbing children by the arms and shoving them up into the truck faster than they can move on their own.

Where is she?

I’m stepping forward, nearing the back of the truck. I regretfully peer over my shoulder in search of her but don’t spot any sign of her near the building or toward the end of these lines which are moving quicker and quicker.

She’s not going to make it. I won’t leave her. I’ll have to tell Papa we can’t go with him. The fields must be the only way to escape. It must have been how the missing girls from roll call got free yesterday. I wish I could believe the fields aren’t the only possible way, but I’m sure many others would have already escaped through these gates by now if it weren’t. No one has mentioned a word about anyone fleeing over these walls or through the main gates. No gossip or rumors either. There are always guards here and in the watchtowers.

The watchtowers. The thought didn’t cross my mind. There are eyes peering down on us wherever we go.

The clouds are thick today, lower than usual. I can only hope it lessens their visibility. Not that it matters at all because she’s not here and I’m next to get onto the truck.

My stomach burns, acidic fumes of bile rise into my throat, and I clutch my arms around my waist as I head for the bed of the truck, ready to make a leap upward to avoid the shoving. The young ones don’t have the height to make the jump so they’re the ones always thrown around. I’m unsure why there are younger children working on the farms at all. Some are hardly big enough to lift the weight of a shovel.

I wish I had a believable reason to hold up this truck. A cause for delay. That would require luck and I’m quite sure no one has any of that here.

With one last glance toward the nearest buildings, heavy defeat settles over my shoulders. Now I won’t know if she’s well all day. She could have been caught sneaking out of the storm window. She might be getting flogged at this very moment.

The visual would cause me to vomit if there was something in my stomach, but I retch dryly as I fall to my knees inside the truck. Alfie grabs my arm and yanks me over to him. I knock other children around as he does. I stare at him, trying to hold back my tears.

His brows knit together, and he shakes his head. I grab his hand and tap out a Morse message simply stating I’m sorry. I’ve let him down too. I want him to go with Papa though. I’ll force him to if I have to. We shouldn’t both stay back. Alfie will know all the ins and outs of this village and might be of help to Papa finding another way.

He shifts over to give me more space so I’m not leaning any weight onto another child. I close my eyes as the truck bucks forward and Alfie elbows me in the chest. I gasp from the blow and press my hands to my heart.

I look sharply at him, his arms wrapped around a little girl he’s pulled onto his lap. She has a scarf on her head, and I reach for her chin, twisting her face toward mine.

“Lilli,” I utter.

She holds her finger up to her lips and Alfie leans toward me, his lips nearly against my ear as he whispers: “She was at the corner of the building closest to my line. She spotted me and ran.” Alfie is louder than he realizes so I wrap my hand around his mouth, his lips wet against my hand. I smile at him as tears fill my eyes. My heart is still racing, throbbing through me like rolling thunder.

“I did it,” Lilli whispers.

I want to ask her where she found the scarf because most of the girls on the farm have either stolen it or had one on them upon arrival. I only had on my pajamas from home when I got here. If I had found one, I’d have given it to Lilli.

Alfie rests his cheek on the top of Lilli’s head, squeezing his arms around her tightly. He hasn’t seen her since we arrived. The boys and girls are separate within the compound and the only reason I see Alfie is because we both work on the farms.

“Did you get any post from Max?” he whispers in my ear again, softer this time.

I shake my head. His gaze drops just as mine does every night when I look for a stark envelope atop the dirty mattress top.

“Follow my lead when we get off the truck,” I whisper into Lilli’s ear.

She’s going to have to dig along with the rest of us and won’t be nearly as quick, I imagine. There’s no telling when Papa might appear from within the trees again. If…

As usual, Lilli surprises us with her bravery, never hesitating to do anything Alfie, me, or the others do to harvest the dying potatoes. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be brought out here with how quickly the cold weather is setting in. I assume until the ground is frozen and there are no potatoes left. I try not to think about what will become of the potato broth soup we’re all given for lunch. We’ll be left with boiled water and dead grass.

Lilli’s begun making quiet grunting noises with each pitch of the shovel. She’s red in the face and sweating, despite the cool air. “Slow down,” I tell her.

“I have to keep up,” she says, breathlessly.

A series of thumps against the ground capture my attention, Alfie’s attention, and Lilli’s. It was the pattern. It was different from shovel digging.

“Papa,” she whispers.

“Shh, shh,” I warn her. “We must wait until?—”

“I know,” she says, glancing at the kapo pacing behind us.

All I can see between the trees is an elbow and the edge of a black boot. He must have seen us looking around. I don’t know how we’ll get to him while being watched with such scrutiny. We aren’t far from the tree line or the dark shadows beneath the long overhanging branches, but if the three of us run at once, it’ll be a scene.

Sweat forms on the back of my neck the longer I try to come up with an idea. We’ve come this far. Alfie is sweating too, more than usual, especially with the cooler air. And I have this awful feeling Lilli is going to throw caution to the wind and go running for Papa. Not that I can blame her, but we can’t.

More minutes pass and I keep glancing over my shoulder. I’ll likely be noticed doing so sooner or later. Now, I’m the one who just wants to make a run for him.

Another vibration of thuds hits my knees, and I watch the trees as I pick up on the letters being tapped out. Papa’s elbow is jerking around. He must have something to hit the ground with. He tells us to wait.

In the next moment, a whistle and a rumbling pop echo between the trees, not the trees directly near us but ones farther away. Smoke plumes out from the woods and the children around us scream and run in the opposite direction. The kapos, too. The smoke infiltrates our area, and I grab Lilli’s hand, just as Alfie grabs mine, and we race straight into the thickest part of the smoke, holding our breath, running blindly for what feels like forever. My eyes are still closed when something catches the back of my smock, yanking me backward. I don’t release either of the other two from my hand so the three of us fall. “Come on, this way!”

Papa. His deep, calm voice. The I love yous, the promises, the goodnights and good mornings, are all painted with his voice, memories I’ve longed for since we arrived here.

“Papa,” Lilli cries out.

Her hand whips out of mine and Papa’s arm wraps around my back. I keep Alfie locked to my side and continue pushing through the smoke until we reach a clearing in the woods.

Papa is standing in front of us, worn, tired, a beard longer than I could ever imagine him having. “My girls,” he says, his voice breaking as he wraps the three of us into his arms. “Alfie. Son.” We all cry silent sobs of joy, trying for just one second to convince ourselves we’re out of danger. I know all too well that the smoke will clear far quicker than the night of the firestorm.

“We have to run,” he says, lifting Lilli into his arms. “Keep up.”

I tap the message into Alfie’s hand because he couldn’t have heard what Papa said. The trees are only partially bare, concealing us just enough but also, not enough. Newly fallen leaves cover the tree roots and our footsteps crunch. The farther we go, the bigger the woods begin to feel, and an echo follows us, or are we following an echo?

Papa whips us toward a large oak, caving us in on one side as he searches the area.

“Someone’s following us,” he says between ragged breaths.