Is Flora a prisoner here too?
THIRTY-FOUR
GAVRIEL
Boom.
A rumbling thunderclap shakes me out of focus, and I come to realize I didn’t complete even a third of what I should have today. It won’t go unnoticed. Just as soon as I’ve swept up the sawdust and stashed away the brown paper bag with the remaining medical supplies away in the alcove, someone is blowing a whistle outside. We should still have another half hour before we’re supposed to head back to Birkenau, but I thought it was odd that the kapo hasn’t been up here in a few hours. I’m sure I’m about to find out why.
The sky is orange and gray, cloudy, with heavy drizzle, but it’s daytime. There’s still light and we’ve never returned to Birkenau in the daylight. I tuck the jacket of my uniform into my pants and pull the drawstring as tightly as I can to conceal the blood stains. I compress my fingers around the bandage, feeling a swelling burn and pull along the edges of the wound, but I need to keep my hand tucked into my sleeve as much as I can. Injuries are a sign of liability and first-aid supplies could be a sign of theft—both cause for punishment while working beneath an SS officer.
The house is as noisy as normal with Officer Schäfer home, Frau Schäfer, and all three children. The sound of bickeringgrows louder the closer I move to the main floor, and it’s bickering between Isla and Marlene as well as the usual husband and wife spatting. One would think they would all look around and see how much worse their lives could be and appreciate the luxury of having a home and food on the table, but they’re incapable of seeing the truth—all of them, except Halina.
I pass the kitchen, finding the four family members seated at the table and Halina standing complacently in front of the countertop, bouncing Flora on her hip while watching the family as if they’re putting on a production. Her gaze sweeps to the side, spotting me, her eyes soft with concern. She chews on her bottom lip and I’m not sure she’s aware because Frau Schäfer’s seat faces her direction.
“Goodbye!” Marlene shouts.
I speed up, avoiding any trouble. Marlene shouldn’t be speaking to me.
The racket of a chair scraping against the wooden floor stings my ears as I reach for the servant’s entrance. “What have I told you?” Officer Schäfer scolds Marlene.
“She says hello and goodbye to everyone she passes,” Frau Schäfer says. “She doesn’t know the difference.”
“Well, I know he’s a Jew,” Marlene mumbles. And with that, I close the door behind me.
As warm bread sits before them, ignored for the chance to have the last word, the bickering ensues as I amble around the side of the house to the meeting place for all prisoners. Adam, Benson, Rueben, and Kasia are already in their appropriate lines, but there are still a couple others missing from the other two houses.
Up next to Adam, I settle into the line and release a heavy breath. “How’s the hand?”
“Not good,” I reply. “You in one piece?”
Adam holds his hands out to inspect, flips them over then back. “Guess so,” he says. I nudge my shoulder into his.
“What would a day be without a dose of your humor?”
He stretches an exaggerated yawn. “Bor-ing,” he utters, long and low like a ship’s horn in the fog. “While on the topic…Kapo Blockhead is back.” Oskar. The man without a soul. “Sylvia is back too,” he says.
I figured they’d been let go and killed. That’s what happens when someone doesn’t return to their position.
When Oskar steps into sight, a shiver runs down my spine, finding him battered and bruised almost beyond recognition. I can’t imagine what they’ve done to him, or still, why they’ve sent him back. Is it to show us what our fate will be?
“Someone here—someone who works in the Schäfer house is responsible for a missing key, stolen food, and other objects I won’t mention. One of you will confess before we leave this property,” Oskar grunts.
My breaths shorten and numbness spreads through my veins. I could be accused of all but the key. Though I didn’t personally take anything, I also didn’t deny it when presented to me. Halina replaced the sandwich, and the other food was set to be thrown away. The pistol and ammo from Officer Schäfer’s desk…it’s still in their house, just in the alcove. I don’t think they would have waited so long had they known about the pistol. What did I do? Why was I so stupid?
No one speaks up and if anyone were to, it should be me. If there’s no confession, will they just remove all the carefully selected help they’ve assigned to these houses? I can’t see them doing that, but I’ve seen far worse for much less. Any long-lasting prisoner at Auschwitz knows to keep quiet. There’s a better chance of a lesser punishment if a person confesses.
“I’ll say it again!” Oskar shouts. “Someone will fess up to these crimes before we leave.”
I know what this is…they’re reacting to what happened in Treblinka with the prisoners revolting against the guards. This is what Schäfer was fighting with his wife about when he told her she needed to stay home all day and keep an eye on the house. Except it was the kapos he was worried about trusting. Now, it’s the kapo blaming the prisoners.
“We know better than to take anything from the officer’s house. Not one of us has a death wish,” Adam says, his words brave, but his voice wavering as he holds his hands up in plea.
Oskar tilts his head to the side and steps in toward Adam. I should elbow him. Tell him to shut up and not say anything else. He knows better. We both do.
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” Oskar asks Adam.
“No, I’m not smart. I’m nothing,” Adam says, his bravery gone.
