Chapter 9
NINE
CURRENT DAY
Babice, Poland
I can’t help but wonder where the smoke through the trees is coming from. Avi’s right, that it likely doesn’t mean safety for us, but I have to know what it is. If it might have anything to do with the German soldiers being herded away—with…the man who looks like Noah.
Through the sky-high bare trunks and branches and down the narrow-carved path, the stench of waste burns my nostrils just as it did in Auschwitz.
There, in that Hell, no matter what time of day or night, charred ash from bodies, thick coal dust, and bitter chemicals were all I could smell and taste.
That reek of death seeped into my skin and hair, a permanent stain no scrubbing will ever remove. It’s all I’ll ever know.
Someone grabs my wrist, yanking me out of my forward trajectory. “Where are you going?” he asks, his hand shaky.
I swallow a gasp and twist around, finding the older man who was giving us directions last night.
In the daylight, he looks older than I thought could still exist in Auschwitz.
Most of the elderly were sent to the gas chambers during selections at arrival.
Only those considered capable of labor were spared immediate death.
Short gray stubble draws a pattern over the age spots on his head. His sallow eyes and drooping skin weigh on his gaping jaw. I don’t know how he has the energy to stop me.
“Aren’t we following the Soviets with hope of finding food and supplies?” That’s what he said last night when Avi questioned him. “I’m going to—to see where…” I point down the path. “To see where the smoke is—is coming from. It could be coming from them.” Reluctance presses against my tongue.
“Without caution? You’ve learned nothing, then,” the man scolds me.
A flash of rage rips through my veins. There’s no use in pitching insults when no one knows what’s best. “With all due respect, sir, what caution should we be taking? Are there other options?” My cheeks fill with heat, something I wouldn’t think possible amid the numbing cold.
Avi jolts toward me, taking my other hand, tugging me away from the man. “Forgive her, sir. The last explosion in the camp knocked her down two days ago. She hasn’t fully recovered.” Avi speaks so surely, it’s like she’s had practice speaking on behalf of others before.
I’m not confused about where I’m going or what I’m doing.
I simply don’t plan to freeze to death in these godforsaken woods and I need to make sure we’re still on the same path of the Soviets.
“If there’s fire, there might be food, or shelter, even direction,” I add.
Also, another glance at the captured German prisoners.
“Let her go,” a woman calls out. “If she wants to throw herself into more danger, we’ll be better off knowing the outcome before we end up in the same situation.”
I peer down at my worn blue stripes hanging beneath my coat like a curtain.
Then I look at the woman speaking out, dressed the same.
Middle-aged, more emaciated than me, beaten, and hunched like a discarded doll.
“You know, this is what they wanted—the Reich—for us to see each other as enemies.” My words are thick with truth. “It seems they won that battle too.”
I pull my arm out of Avi’s grip before giving her a quick glance as I question if she’ll stop me too. “I don’t want to drag you along with me. Maybe you should stay with them.”
Avi grabs my arm firmly, her hold on me shaking with anger. “You aren’t better off on your own,” Avi whispers in my ear. She looks over her shoulder toward the hollow between some bare trees, keeping her eyes set there until I look in the same direction.
It doesn’t take long before I spot a pile of blue-striped fabric draped over a mound of snow.
I would like to believe that’s all there is.
But it’s not. Not just a pile of clothes or a mound of snow.
A frost-covered body, no breath or mist puffing from her lips or nose.
Her skin is paler than the snow beneath her.
The woman I tried to help with a single potato. The one missing from the group this morning. She survived Auschwitz only to end up freezing to death alone in the woods.
I thought we were free.
“We’ll investigate where the smoke is coming from,” Avi tells the others. “Quietly. We’ll report back after. If we don’t return, go in another direction.”
Avi’s agreement to join me is surprising, but after spotting that poor woman in the snow, it’s clear how reckless it would be to continue forward on my own.
“You don’t have to do this. I know you want to stay away from the Soviets. You’ve made it clear, rightfully so. I can take care of myself,” I tell her.
Avi closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“Don’t bother arguing.” She steps ahead of me, ensuring I don’t have the last word here, but bolt forward to catch up with her.
Those we leave behind become a blur in our background as we continue toward the smoke.
“Just because I’m coming with you though, doesn’t mean I understand any part of you. ”
“Why—what do you mean by that?” I’m sure my question is an open door for another insult.
“Yesterday you seemed confused and timid. Today you’re—somewhat mad and a bit too brave.”
“With your valid reasons to think of me the way you are, I truly don’t feel right about dragging you along with me. You’re just a child,” I tell her.
I shouldn’t risk her safety for my own selfish needs.
Avi scoffs and kick a small rock in her path.
“I’m seventeen. Hardly a child,” she stares with quiet anger.
“I already told you, I wasn’t worthy of a childhood.
The Soviets stole that from me. The least those bastards can do is let me steal some food now.
” She walks faster, forcing space between us, but she isn’t finished airing herself out.
“And how dare you call me a child when you couldn’t even pull yourself out of the snow?
How old are you, then? Twenty-five? You need me. You just won’t admit it.”
“Twenty-six.” Good guess. It’s clear I’ve hit a nerve. I can’t imagine how many children feel the same way, if they were lucky enough to survive this long. “My point is, none of us know what’s best right now, but we need to make clear, firm decisions.”
“And I suppose you know what the right decision is?” she presses.
“Not standing still.” I can’t stand still.
I have to find that man…
Just as the rail tracks comes into sight, Avi stops and presses her hand against a tree, her breaths puffing out in quick little clouds. “You could barely walk yesterday, which is why I’m coming with you.” She rolls her eyes and her shoulders tense.
A branch breaks behind us, forcing us to spin around. Avi clutches her fists to her chest, as if ready to fight someone.
Two other refugees from the group we were with have followed us.
A boy around Avi’s age, messy hair that’s long enough to show he wasn’t a new transport, a determined expression, big, unblinking gray eyes, and a jaw clenching so hard it must be biting back a shiver.
His coat is far too small, but at least he gets to wear pants unlike the women.
The woman looks old enough to be his mother, but they don’t look alike. Though I can only see her tired brown eyes, scraped up thin nose, and parched lips. Her black scarf covers her head and neck, and like Avi and me, she’s in her smock, tall socks, clogs, and a stolen wool coat.
“We’d like to come along with you. There’s no sense in standing still,” the woman says. “We’re hungry, and if that smoke leads to food, we want to join you.”
“I think you’re right to move toward the smoke because with that amount, it might mean whoever was there just put out the fire, which means we’ll have more of a chance of finding what they’ve left behind for supplies and food,” the boy says.
I’m quietly hoping they haven’t left yet, but the boy has a good point.
Avi doesn’t acknowledge their comments, just turns around and continues walking.
“What are your names?” the boy asks. “You two acted like you had been following us the whole time since leaving Auschwitz, but we all know you didn’t arrive until late afternoon yesterday. None of the others trust you.”
“They shouldn’t trust us, or anyone,” Avi says, walking ahead.
I fall back a step, waiting for the two of them to catch up, despite Avi refusing to slow down. My shoulder throbs through my momentary stillness, a pain I’ve been trying not to acknowledge.
“I’m Celina and that’s Avi,” I tell the boy. “I don’t agree that we shouldn’t trust anyone. We were all prisoners. We all want to survive.”
He keeps his eyes set on Avi’s back, his brows arched with confusion. “Elias.” His voice cracks from the cold, and his accent sounds Austrian.
“I’m Gerda,” the woman follows. I get a closer look at her now, finding frost coating her thin eyebrows.
“Are you two acquainted?” I ask.
“No, but we’re both from Vienna.” She offers a small smile and a shrug as if to say anything is something right now. “We ended up among the rest like the two of you, just earlier in the day. We didn’t want to go east and there weren’t that many who chose to go west, it seems.”
Just after crossing the tracks, we step into a cloud of fog hovering over the frozen grass. Avi continues forward, her legs swallowed up by the thick white vapor. Avi releases a groan as she comes to a quick stop. “Gówno!” she snaps.
I’ve learned enough Polish over the last year to recognize profanity.
“What’s wrong?” I speed up my step to reach where she’s stopped, finding the problem.
“Barbed wire,” she mutters, glancing from side to side for as far as she can see.
I don’t think we’ll be able to go much farther from the tracks.
“We can make our way past it,” Elias says, scratching the back of his head, seeming less sure than his statement sounds.