She pulls her hand away as her eyes fill with tears. She turns away, facing the bunks, leaving me with the view of her arms moving about by her waist. She turns to face me again as a tear tracks down her cheek. “Elsie is in room four in the administration building. She wears a navy-blue scarf with small black polka dots around her head and she has a tear in her uniform across her right shoulder. She also has a kapo’s armband. You’ll need to tell her: ‘The smell of rain is in the air,’ code for the exchange of rations for information. I will make sure she knows to expect your request.”
“In four days, I’ll have two rations saved up to give her. I’ll seek her out then.”
“Thank you for this,” Magda says. “It’s everything to me.”
“Of course,” I say with a tight-lipped smile, trying to be emotionally supportive. Though, really, I think she’ll soon realize it’s not so wonderful knowing someone you love is a prisoner here, too.
Four days of cutting my food intake from little to scarce is taking a heavy toll on my body. It’s weaker than gelatin and every limb shakes uncontrollably, but it’s worth it if I can find Luka. It will all be worth the hunger and risks to my safety. In a haze of lightheadedness, ambling through the administration hallway, I pass my assigned office. Upon approaching office number four, I peek inside, finding it free of SS guards. Though, my nerves don’t ease, knowing one could walk in at any moment.
The office is filled with waist-high green filing cabinets and just a few desks, compared to the ten in the office I work in. There are only a few people in here, too, which makes my presence more obvious. I take a quick glance at each woman, finding one with a navy-blue scarf and black polka dots, and a tear on her right shoulder. This must be Elsie. While reviewing a sheet of paper in her hand, I step up beside her and clasp my hands behind my back.
I don’t want to address her by name as it’s forbidden here, and only those of us who consider ourselves friends take those liberties. We are nothing but numbers here.
“The smell of rain is in the air,” I recite the sentence Magda quickly fed me when explaining what I would need to do when approaching Elsie.
She steps to the side and weaves between two filing cabinets, stopping by one near the corner of the room where the two lower halves of our bodies are concealed from the open door. She holds out her hand by her waist, never moving her stare from a paper she’s still studying in her other hand. I hand her slices of bread equaling two loaves first and she drops them into her large overcoat with pockets—a perk of being a kapo. She holds her hand out again and a flood of emotions rushes through my chest as I hand her the note I have carefully crafted for Luka over the last couple of days.
“Luka, he’s the singer performing for the?—”
“Yes, I’m aware of who I’m delivering to,” she says, interrupting me. Elsie tucks the note away then turns to face me for a brief second. “I’ll see what I can do. It might take some time as I don’t know when I’ll be given the next SS message to deliver.” She points her nose to the ceiling and takes in a tired breath before uttering her next words. “And don’t expect a miracle.”
I wasn’texpectingto hear self-doubt in her abilities. Maybe she tells everyone the same to protect herself if something doesn’t work out in the requestor’s favor. I would do the same, I suppose.
“I understand,” I say in a hush.
She leaves my side, tending to a filing cabinet on the left side of the room so I take the opportunity to head to where I should currently be.
An SS guard turns the corner just as I’m stepping in toward my office. His stare is direct, cold, and sharp. His direction changes just slightly, aiming for me. “Where are you coming from, when you are to report to this office?”
Lie. Lie, it’s the only option.“I—I’m not sure. I walked past the office and didn’t realize it until I reached the next one downand didn’t recognize the room. I turned around and returned here, of course.”
The guard stares at me, his eyes burning a hole through my head, then he peers down to my chest at my number marked on a patch and the red triangle badge signifying I’m a political prisoner. “Consider yourself lucky that you’re not a filthy Jew,” he says, spitting in my face. “Get to work!”
Without another round, I scurry into the office and take my seat, keeping my head down as I sort through the stack of papers sitting on my desk. I can hardly pull in a full breath as another wave of dizziness overwhelms me. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hard.I’m breathing and the sun is in the sky.
I’m alive.
THIRTY-TWO
LUKA
June 1943
Become hollow. It’s the only advice I could give anyone who just arrived here. It’s been six weeks of somehow surviving on less than a handful of food a day, a mere few hours of sleep each night, and the constant pushing and shoving from the SS on where to be and when just so I can entertain the SS—and now, also the dying prisoners.
Every note I sing is a lie, offering fellow prisoners the falsest sense of hope—a tease seconds before a bullet strikes straight between their clenched eyes.
Everyone still here, walking around beside me, are just skeletons with flesh, moving in the direction they’ve been told to go. I wonder every second if my mother is among them.
“Don’t go out in the cold without a coat, Luka, you’ll get sick,” Mother shouts as I storm out the front door to run to school.
“I’m twelve, Mama, I’m all right. I’ll keep warm by walking fast,” I reply.
Less than a moment passes before Mama grabs my ear, stopping me from rushing down the stairs of our apartment. The yank makes me groan, wondering if an ear can be torn off someone’s face. I don’t want to know if it’s possible. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t eat your breakfast either. What is with you, my son? Without food, you’ll starve. Oy, and what would your father say when he got home from work? It would be my fault, Luka. I was placed on this earth to keep you alive, and I will do just that. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mama, I understand.”
“Good. Now, do you want to get sick from the cold and starve?”
