The sun seems ungodly bright and I squint to see a large metal sign up ahead. It isn’t Polish, so I don’t know what it says, but the letters seem to spell out “fear.” I inhale deeply, thinking that fresh air will be good after being in that hellish train. Immediately, I cough and choke so hard that I collapse to the ground. The air is thick with the most foul-smelling smoke. I hear sounds from far away that almost sound like screaming. I am about to get up from my hands and knees when the tall German man yells and kicks me hard in in the side and I go sprawling onto the hard ground, yet again. He yells more curses that I can’t understand as I scramble to my feet. I don’t bother brushing the dirt off, because I am already filthy. The German man laughs at my haste in a voice that is as chilling as the air around me. Both make me shiver violently.
As I fall back in line with the train people, I really start to wonder where these awful people have brought us. Before, I was too afraid to think too much about it, but as we march on through the giant gate, the curiosity consumes my mind. It does not replace the fear, but mixes with it so they are one overwhelming emotion. What will they do with us here in this great place that reeks of burning, rotting something and sounds like a slaughterhouse? I can’t even begin to imagine. Now I start to cry. No tears leave my eyes, but a lump blocks my throat and I take tiny sobbing breaths. We march on.
I look to my left. A skeleton in a prison uniform walks by with a wheelbarrow. That can’t be right. I look closer. The skinniest man in the world walks by with a wheelbarrow full of… That can’t be right. I look again. It is right. I don’t want to look anymore, so I stare at my feet and try not to think about what I just saw. I try not to think about what it means. I try not to think about where I am or what I’m doing there. I try not to think about how I want my mother and father. I try not to think about where they are. I try not to think. I try not to feel. I try not to cry. Just keep marching and breathing in the sick smoke.
Before I know it, we’ve stopped. The wind is less harsh here, but I can hear the inhuman screaming much louder coming from the other side of this wall. The smoke is thicker here too; I know its source is nearby. For several minutes, my world is only the sound of screaming and the smell of burning death. I don’t notice that the line is moving until a large man with a scarf over his face walks up close to me. He leans in close to my face and yells. More German. I just look at him, wishing I had a scarf like that to block the cold and this God-awful smell. I cough. He reels back and hits me hard in the jaw. I fall back against someone who quickly pushes me back up. My head spins and I blink back tears. I cough again, but this time I spit some blood. The angry man grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “English?” I nod. I know just a little, and I pray to God it is enough. “How old are you?” I tell him I’m fourteen. He looks me up and down. For half a second, something flashes in his eyes, but then the anger is back. He shoves me to the left and says “Get in.” That’s when I notice the door. Another man with a scarf is inside. He shuts the door after me and I walk on.
I come to a room. Some of the train people are inside, but only women and a few kids. I think of my brother and I start to cry. The tears cloud my vision, but I can make out the gun in my face when I hear one word: Strip. I’m too afraid to be embarrassed. Horrible thoughts of what’s to come fill my mind and my heart pounds louder than ever. We walk into the next room. A few men come in and sit us on wooden stools. They shave off all of our hair, and now we are truly naked. A little girl beside me whimpers when all her long pretty hair is on the floor. Her mother shushes her and squeezes her hand. I wish my own mother was with me to squeeze my hand. We move into the next room. There is only enough room for the handful of train people and me to stand up and I am reminded of the train. A guard shuts the door hard and locks it. The little girl starts to cry. She calls to her mamma who is now crying too, as they embrace each other. The others seem to be weeping with them; one old woman prays quietly to herself.
I hear a loud hissing sound and look for the source: from the ceiling comes a waterfall of strange looking beads, which begin to emit a thick, awful smelling gas. We all know now that this is the end for us. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, holding it for as long as I can. For the first time since I lost my family, I think of them. I think of my brother, who just could not stop crying after the Nazis took us from our home. He didn’t even see when the guard raised his gun up to the little boy’s head. I can hear my mother, screaming out in anguish, after my little brother was shot to death. I think of how my father tried to control the both of them; he tried to keep them at least looking strong so that we could all be together, wherever they wanted to take us. When they shot my brother, he held my mother so tightly to him that I thought they would both fall apart on the spot. But my father could not control my poor mother from flinging herself onto my brother’s still bleeding body and weeping. The look on Father’s face when they shot her told me it was the end for us. He stood up straight and strong, but still he looked so helpless and broken. I wish he and I had at least been taken to the same camp. By this point, I have breathed in too much of the awful gas. I sink to the ground. My lights go out and all I hear is the screaming and clawing of the other train people in here with me, still trying in vain to escape. I writhe on the ground in agony, and my entire world is screaming. I wait for it to end.
THIS IS SO GOOD. I had read the first two but not the last one. Wow.
ReplyDelete