Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
CURRENT DAY
Ruda ?l?ska, Poland
Shaking, heart pounding, and nauseous, I sit inside the corner of the tipped over railcar, wooden window shutters dangling above as I hold Avi’s head in my lap.
If Noah is already moving along with the Soviet column ahead of us, every minute we stay in this railcar separates us further.
Igor, from the train depot, told me a week and a half, but there’s no saying his timeline was exact.
I want to believe it is, which gives me a day or two at most to find these mills in Gliwice.
Christoph said earlier it could take two days of walking to arrive there.
Nothing is definitive, especially with so many obstacles.
Christoph left the three of us here and made a run for the other two railcars, scavenging for anything.
“She’s getting worse again,” Elias says, hovering over Avi to give her more warmth.
“She was talking one minute, then—”
“I know.”
The railcar shakes and groans as a dull glow rises through the opening, followed by Christoph’s hands and head. He has a flashlight and a greasy linen bag. “There wasn’t much, but some.” He pulls a mangled tin can from the bag along with a rusty pocketknife.
He doesn’t waste a moment before stabbing the lid to pry it open.
A whiff of old metallic water with a hint of something sweet escapes the can. Pungent but not rot—like a remnant of food left in a pot long after being cooked.
Saliva pools beneath my tongue while my stomach tightens, my body betraying my mind again.
I wonder if the Soviets are feeding the German prisoners or making them starve just as they did to us in Auschwitz, letting them dissolve into nothing slowly and painfully.
Noah would never let anyone starve. He couldn’t handle the sight of someone going hungry. He’d help them.
Christoph bends the tin lid into a scoop then hands me the first serving. “Watch the rim of the tin, and chew the beans slowly,” he warns.
I pour the contents into my mouth, my eyes watering against the strong vinegar taste.
Christoph takes the scoop back and retrieves another serving. “Can you lift Avi’s head higher?” he asks me.
Elias slides beside me and shifts Avi into him to help her up. “Open your eyes for a minute,” Elias whispers to her.
A quiet groan catches in her throat as she battles the phlegm threatening to choke her again. “We have food. Can you open your mouth?” Christoph asks her.
She does, quicker than I expected she might. I take the scoop from Christoph and slowly pour the contents a little at a time into Avi’s mouth. Her nose and forehead crinkles but she weakly chews the beans before pushing the bite down her throat.
Once we deplete the can, Christoph rolls the linen bag up and clambers back toward the rusted opening.
With the flashlight still trained on Avi’s face, I see the concern lining his expression.
“We can’t stay in here,” he utters. “I heard voices carrying through the trees when I was going through one of the other carts. They’re louder now.
Anyone who comes across these carts will be looking for the same thing as us. ”
We’ve barely rested a half hour.
“If Soviets or Germans appear, we won’t be able to make a run for it from in here,” Elias says the thought I didn’t want to speak out loud.
“We can’t keep walking. We won’t make it through the night,” I follow.
“I have an idea. Give me a few minutes. It isn’t ideal, but safer if I make it work,” Christoph says, ducking back out of the car.
Elias slides Avi back onto my lap and crawls after Christoph.
“What’s happening?” Avi grumbles.
“It isn’t safe in here. They’re trying to find another solution for the night.”
“Don’t move,” she utters. “I can’t.”
“What would your mama tell you?” My words carry a bigger risk of emotionally destroying her rather than helping the situation, but reasoning with Avi when she was healthy was impossible, never mind in her fragile state now.
She doesn’t respond right away, letting a scratching sound from outside whiz in and out of my ears.
“Close your eyes,” Avi mumbles. “Lots of wildflowers.” She pauses, a small smile poking at her lips.
“Sun—warm.” Another pause. “Papa yanking ropes.” A tear forms in the corner of her closed eyes.
“My legs dangle…from the swing.” She’s never mentioned her father.
“A spring song sings from Mama’s lungs.” She inhales a shallow breath.
“I disappear.” She sighs. “To there. Not here.”
“I can picture it all,” I tell her.
It’s what artists do best. Imagine what may be impossible.
That’s what I’m doing now too, relying on my imagination to make me believe Noah is still within reach, walking along a parallel path to the place where we’ll meet.
Still alive, looking for me as I am him, and with a logical reason for wearing that uniform.
Boots against steel yank me away from the tulips. Christoph lifts Avi off me and carries her toward the opening.
He returns for me, taking my arm and pulling me up to my knees. “Come on.”
“I want to stay.”
“We can’t, Celina. I need you to come with me,” he wraps his arm around my back, ushering me toward the opening. I turn my head over my shoulder, looking back at the spot where I was sitting, wondering if I can still see tulips, but even the flashlight is gone.
Christoph follows behind me as wet rubble and snow scrape against my palms while my knees bear piles of abrasive rocks. Elias’s hands reach out from the dark and guide me through hollow snow berm connected to the railcar.
There’s little space for movement, just enough for four bodies to fit together beneath the angled railcar, facing the arc of snow.
Christoph pulls something out of the bag, it’s loud within the enclosed space.
“Don’t move,” he says. “It’ll hold in some heat and keep you and Avi dry.
” It isn’t large enough to fit over the two of us completely, so I make sure she’s covered and rest my chest against her back to lock in the warmth on both accounts.
Christoph’s back is taking the brunt at the opening of the tunnel he dug. “We’ll stay like this until there’s light,” Christoph whispers.
As exhausted as I am, my heart is still pounding, and my mind is racing. All I can do is wonder how we thought we experienced liberation when we’re still running from the world closing in on us.
Snow slides down the side of the railcar into a puddle forming around my heel.
Teeth chatter, but I’m not sure whose. The thermal foil shifts, crinkling in my ear.
“Hold on tight, Mama,” Avi mumbles.
Heavy breaths fill the tunnel. I think everyone is asleep. Except me. I should keep alert for Avi, anyway. I tighten my arm around her, wishing I had more body heat to offer.
When my heart grows louder than the breaths around me, a crunch in the snow—a footstep, a heavy boot—stabs the quiet, the frozen air of a gasp cuts through my lungs. A flicker of light shimmers beyond Christoph’s body and slurred whispers weave through the vacant space between our bodies.
The railcar moans, the undercarriage we’re leaning into vibrates. Christoph reaches over Elias and presses his index finger to my lips. I know not to make a sound. I just don’t know if that will matter in a moment.
The only difference between being beneath the railcar and inside of it is that silence might save us. Whoever is out there is scavenging, the toes of their boots thudding against the car walls. We could be crushed beneath if they shift the weight of the car somehow.
“There’s nothing here,” a man says, his German accent distinct. “The rats probably already came through, which means they can’t be far.”
My stomach drops. I’m shaking so hard the foil shifts, and Christoph moves his hand to my shoulder. He squeezes—both a warning and a way to soothe.
A body jumps out of the railcar.
“We’ll find them. Shoot, and take whatever they’ve found. No problem,” another man says.
The word “shoot” hits me harder than the rifle clattering against his hip. The sound rattles through my ribs.
That’s how they speak. Without a care for the living.
Noah would never talk like that.
My heart pounds so hard I’m afraid the sound will carry through the snow, straight to their ears.
Noah wouldn’t blend in like this.
Everyone knows the German soldiers are only good at one thing—carving paths toward their goal.
If Noah had pulled me from the rubble, if those hands had really been his, he didn’t know what was coming for him—the Soviets.
A boot strikes the side of the railcar wall. Metal groans above us.
Avi shifts, the foil crinkling. She sighs and a cough works through her lungs. I cup my hand over her mouth to suppress the sound. “Shh,” I hush. But my blood runs cold when I consider what might happen to us.
“We could stay here for the night,” one of the men says.
I go still, trying to slow my breaths. Please, God. No. Please, no.
“Not here,” the other says. “There’s somewhere better.”
Christoph still has a grip on me, and I don’t think it’s for my benefit. He’s pinching hard. He’s terrified too.
I can’t see if Elias is awake. If he’s aware that he shouldn’t make a sound.
As my head grows heavier from the lack of oxygen, footsteps crunch in the snow, the sound softening as distance grows between us and them.
Is it safe to take a breath? I do. And another, but we stay in silence long after the faintest hint of snow crunching fades.
My body sinks into the ground, my muscles burning as they release tension.
Avi doesn’t move.
Not even when I do.
I lean over her, pressing my cheek into her hair, careful not to shift the foil.
“Avi,” I whisper.
Her head is so cold, not like it was with the fever. Now, all I can wonder is if my hunt for Noah will be the cause of Avi’s death.
“Christoph,” I say through an exhale.
His hand slides from my shoulder to Avi’s back and stays there. Too long.
The light of day couldn’t be any farther away.