Resistance: Part Two

If I was the more exuberant, friendlier one, I hoped that Esther would escape the notice of the other passengers.

In the next moment, the war returned, with long, jagged scars in the land where a skirmish might have taken place, or a village with Nazi flags, or rows of freshly dug graves.

The waning sunlight was obscured by tall, thick trees, so strong that they choked out the smaller trees that should have been protected beneath their winter canopy.

I doubted any partisans were here.
“Too bad,” I told Esther. “Partisan fighters would have given us shelter for the night, someplace warm.”

“I tried to prepare, Chaya, I really did. I’ll bet I’m the only courier in Poland who can recite whole passages of the Torah and the Catholic Catechism.”

Their allotment of food was rationed too, and every person in hiding forced those rations to stretch further.

He shrugged, completely indifferent.

He leaned in close enough that I could smell his fetid breath.

I’d become used to hearing Esther sound afraid. By now, the quaver in her tone was almost as familiar as my own voice.

His cheekbones protruded at dramatic angles, giving him a harsh appearance.

“We got a report of two girls sneaking into the ghetto. I think it’s you two.”
He was being coy. He knew it was us, but he hadn’t fired his gun yet. Which meant he wanted something.

She must have managed to grab one in the fray.

The mottled plaster and dingy paint didn’t bother me, but the smell did.

Finally, Avraham said, “I’m sorry, but we cannot leave. Faith will sustain us.”
I hoped that worked, because they certainly weren’t being sustained by food or fuel, or even the comfort of their families.

The pain, for coming here in the first place and inciting tonight’s Aktion.

Anyone cruel enough to send an entire ghetto’s children away to their deaths certainly would not hesitate to quash even the smallest of rebellions.

The two officers were moving deeper into the factory, so this wouldn’t be a cursory search, as I’d hoped.

Esther clambered up first and pried open the window.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to walk to Warsaw?” I mused.

But the earnestness of her expression deserved an honest response.

I could see the thorns sticking out along every branch, hopefully a deterrent for anyone else approaching the woodshed.

The first were those who endeared themselves to the invaders, who proudly allowed their homes to be assimilated into the German territory and their lives into the Nazi culture.

Before it came to that, I’d try to quell his suspicions.

Wit took a slow breath, then said, “There will come a time when everyone must account for their actions during this war. Some will be judged as evil, others as complacent. But I suspect the greatest number of us will fall to our knees and weep when we discover the full extent of the crimes being committed here.”

At the far end of the field, I saw a German tank. It was camouflage green with a tank number and black Iron Cross on each side; the scrapes and dents on it looked like it ran over its fair share of obstacles to get here. But it was clearly damaged. The gears were off its track and its turret was bent.

She must have reported us to that officer in Lodz, who sent out word for the Gestapo to look for us. I wondered if the day would ever come when she would realize what she had done. If she would ever know the price Esther was about to pay for the woman’s bigotry.

Keeping hold of my last vestiges of hope, I walked on, trying my best to fit in.

Trying to look like I wasn’t in a full-fledged panic over what could be happening to Esther right now, if she was even still alive.

My smile was tepid and I began walking again, thoroughly bothered that he followed alongside.

Esther hadn’t noticed me yet, though I certainly took in her disheveled appearance. The dark bruise on one side of her face. Her bandaged wrist.

“Your feet should be dry. The sooner we start walking, the sooner we get our blood moving again.”
Walking might stave off the hypothermia.

Since it was after midnight, it played mostly popular German music, although the upbeat songs were interspersed with newsbreaks.

“I won’t brandish a weapon that I can’t use.”

Esther pressed at the back of my arm, pushing me to walk faster, but I couldn’t do that. We couldn’t let on that we knew we were being watched. That might prompt a confrontation sooner than I wanted it.

Esther and I were taken into a tent with handmade wooden chairs settled around some large rocks that emanated a heat I longed to wrap my frozen body around.