Pastel Orphans (15 page)

“I don’t know. A few. Only those who make trouble.”

“And how are they killed?” asks Eri calmly, like he is just going through the motions, as if he already has the answers.

“Some die from their illnesses; sometimes they are shot or hanged. Others, I believe, are gassed.”

“You believe?”

“Yes. This is being tested more widely across the camps.” It sounds like he is telling us something that he read in a newspaper.

“But,” he says, suddenly remembering, “many are killed humanely, with injections.” The rise in his tone suggests that what he has just said will somehow be seen as something good, as if it will somehow make a difference to his current position.

“Can you explain to us how the killing of people because of their race can be humane?” asks Danii, not calmly like Eri.

The man cannot. He cannot even meet Danii’s gaze.

“The family taken there from this house—the Aronofsky family—where are they?” asks Eri.

“All dead. All the first shipment is dead.”

Eri stares at something on the wall. He does not say anything for several minutes. These are long and painful minutes and no one says anything. The others are used to Eri. The old man’s eyes keep darting sideways in the direction of the noose.

“I wonder if you would make us some coffee,” says Eri suddenly and politely to the man.

The old man is surprised. He was expecting a bullet to a part of his body, as was I.

“Yes, of course . . . coffee. It is cold tonight, yes?” says the old man. He stands up cautiously, nervously, waiting for Eri to confirm these instructions, but Eri says nothing and the man then continues towards the kitchen. He glances at his wife, who has gone quiet on the floor. I believe she has fainted from pain and shock. No one bothers to check.

We watch the man open a tin and scoop coffee grounds into a pot on the stove. I do not want coffee. I do not understand what Eri is doing. He lights a cigarette and relaxes back into the chair. Perhaps he is allowing himself time to think what he will do. I notice that the others stand fixed, like statues. Their guns do not waver.

When I look at Ailsa, she is smiling and it is then I understand. They are playing with him. Eri has designed this. He is torturing him with time—time the man has to think about the noose and his impending death.

A flash goes off. A bullet passes through the middle of our group, but miraculously misses us all. The old woman has pulled a gun from her dressing gown pocket. Martha fires several times into her head.

The old man, who is not as frail as he made himself appear, has slipped out the back door. Ailsa fires her gun at the doorway but he is already gone.

“Quick, after him!” calls Danii.

I walk to the window as everyone but Eri rushes after the escapee, who runs along the narrow road, calling for help. I see that lights in the surrounding houses remain turned off, and curtains stay closed and still. Everyone is too afraid to look outside their windows.

I close one eye, aim the gun at the running man, and pull the trigger. The weapon jumps in my hand slightly but I have control of it. The old man crumples to the ground.

Eri gets up from the table to stand beside me at the window. We watch as Danii bends to check that the man is dead before returning to the house. Eri turns and looks at me as if he is seeing me for the first time. He nods. It is gratitude and commendation.

I think how easily death can happen, how easily I can make it happen. My body is trembling slightly, but there is no regret, only numbness. It is but one life for the many, perhaps hundreds, who have died in the camps. That is what I tell myself. That is what I will tell myself if I have to do it again.

“Let’s go,” says Ailsa excitedly as she rushes back in.

“Not yet,” says Eri, taking a seat again. “Let’s have our coffee first.”

It is only the next morning that I learn the Aronofsky family is Eri’s family. His immediate family as well as his aunt, uncle, and cousins are now all gone. Kaleb tells me this. He also tells that Eri and the others have been talking about my aim on the man who fled, that I would make a good partisan.

The town we visited has no more Jews. Most of them were massacred by German police. Some, like Eri, escaped. He had argued with his parents and cousins about returning to the village after it was raided the first time. While he escaped farther into the forest, his family returned to their house—and shortly afterwards were taken to the camps. He later learned that one of the new residents had a close affiliation with the Germans.

This was the man I killed.

It is getting colder now and I am disappointed with myself that I have not left earlier. Next time the partisans go on a mission, I plan to leave for Cracow.

Rebekah tends to sit closer to me now, as if I have passed some test that allows her to. She talks about her childhood. About how Kaleb and she were very different, how Kaleb was always quicker and cleverer. How childhood illness made it difficult to meet people and make friends. How the war has brought her closer to her brother. But even with this new openness, her words are measured. When I question her about her parents, she goes quiet and finds excuses to leave. These questions are obviously painful for her. I know from living with women that while they say much, they will only reveal the things they want to, that they carry many secrets.

The rest of the partisans return with explosives. They have also brought with them wine and whisky and more vodka. Again there is much washing up and much feeding of them while they are hungry. They wear packs that carry the materials they need to make bombs.

But this is to be no early night of rest. It is an occasion to catch up with old friends, and I am considered part of the group now. Tobin is there too, though it is as if there is a window of glass between him and us that might shatter any moment. When Rebekah and I go to collect more water for the washing tank, Tobin says to us under his breath that we are nothing but slaves for the Jews. There is malice in these words.

But I am not the only one to hear this. Martha has heard and she whispers something to Eri.

Eri instructs Tobin to carry logs into the house. He is slow to respond and only does so when Eri takes a step towards him. The other partisans are silent and watchful. I believe they are now aware that Tobin is unsteady, that perhaps he is no longer to be trusted.

This night there is no mission. It is time to celebrate the reunion of the partisans after their successful missions. Eri seems more lively and happy to have everyone back together. He pats me on the back and passes me a glass of vodka. I take a sip and cough and everyone laughs. I still do not have a taste for the burning liquid.

We have built a small fire outside and we drag chairs from the house to surround it.

Eri talks about the killing of his family, how he returned to find them gone. He also talks about the couple who was just killed. Once the German police find out, they may come looking for those responsible. He says he is looking forward to it if they do. He says that they hate to be outsmarted; humiliation for a Nazi is worse than death. He says that it is best to stay a few more weeks only, and then move east. They should be able to recruit more partisans for their attack on the invaders.

The men are drinking much and I see that Rebekah laughs at her brother, who has joined in. Her smile is wide and serene, her eyes glinting from the flames. I am feeling warm and funny inside from the vodka. I tell her that she is very beautiful when she smiles but she shyly walks closer to her brother.

I am an idiot for saying that.

Eri is sitting on a chair and Martha sits on him. She turns her head so that they kiss passionately. When Eri realizes that people are watching them, he puts his hand on Martha’s breast. The men, and even Ailsa, cheer.

Tobin drinks but he is watching everyone as if they might turn on him, or perhaps it is that he looks for someone to blame for something. But he is at least calmer tonight. He is not wearing his usual rage. The alcohol has made him dull and lonelier still. From an outsider he would draw sympathy.

Eri and Martha disappear into the house. Eventually, the rest of us straggle inside when the fire dies and the cold seeps into our bones.

I crawl into bed with heavy limbs. It feels like the floor in my room is moving and I am relieved when my head finally rests on the pillow. Tobin is snoring loudly in the bed across from me.

Down the hallway I can hear the rhythmic squeaking of bedsprings, the grunts of Eri, and Martha’s gasps. I wonder if Rebekah is listening also. My own bed sways with wine and vodka.

The partisans are planning another mission. I am asked to go also.

“We will leave Tobin to watch the house with Rebekah,” says Eri.

I say nothing but Martha has seen Rebekah’s face. She understands. She knows that Tobin is a predator.

“We should leave the boy this time. We need someone who is a good shot to watch the house. Tobin is strong; we will need a donkey to carry the explosives.”

Eri looks at Martha. The smile is brief but I have caught it. Tobin is something of a joke between them, perhaps all of them. The looks Eri and Martha give one another are a code. There are no hugs or kisses this morning. They are bound by forces that override love.

I am relieved when at lunchtime they begin to pack for their mission. The journey will take them many hours and they hope to be back just before dawn. Once they are gone, I can release Otto, who is now recovered from his illness, and we will leave together.

I go to Otto to tell him what is happening and he sits up enthusiastically, talking rapidly about where to go first. He tells me that I can trust him when we get to Cracow, that he will always be grateful and will never give me up. That perhaps after the war I can come and stay with his mother, brother, and sisters. He has affirmed our friendship.

I look at his light skin and think that even to look as Hitler wants does not make things better. That life is hard whatever your color, whatever your race. We shake hands, positive about the future, positive that we will succeed.

But then as I pass Rebekah’s room, I also feel regret. After I am gone there will be no one else to look out for her. I hope that Kaleb will watch out for his sister, but his enthusiasm seems to grow towards the partisans and their plans.

My hopes are suddenly dashed when I see that Otto is with the partisans as they begin to leave. They think that Otto might be useful, in case they need a decoy. In case they have to use him as a cover. They tell him that if he tries to escape, they will put a bullet through his head.

I watch Otto leave with the partisans. I watch the best chance to find my sister disappear behind the trees. I sit for a moment to reflect on my bad luck.

Then I remember how the partisans sleep through the day after their night missions. Perhaps tomorrow will be the time to go. I am determined to make this work. I just have to hope that after such a long walk Otto is well enough to go. I have to hope also that he is not shot by either side.

I cannot leave without telling Rebekah. I go to her room to tell her of my plans. She is wearing the dress I left for her. She has finally decided to wear it. It is pale green with flowers and long sleeves with cuffs. She is very attractive with her dark hair and smooth, light olive skin. She wears a cardigan of light green over the top of the dress. After she hears my news, her eyes are fixed and wide. I see a flash of shock and disappointment before she is once again composed.

“When?”

“I must leave tomorrow,” I say.

“I thought this would be coming,” she says.

“I will leave in the morning after the others return, while they are sleeping.”

“You could leave now.”

I find excuses: “I have no flashlight. I do not know the terrain like Eri. Last time I attempted to travel at night I got lost and nearly died.” I cannot mention that I am taking Otto. I do not know how far to trust her.

Rebekah nods.

“Do you mind that I am leaving?”

“It is your right to do what you have to. Will you take the German with you?”

I look at her with an open mouth.
Has she heard us talking?
I wonder. I know that she has some knowledge of the German language.

“It makes sense,” she says. “If you leave him here, Tobin will shoot him eventually. I think Otto will be grateful, and for that reason I think you can trust him. And I am sure that since he knows Cracow and the countryside, he can guide you. It is all right. I will say that I saw and knew nothing. The two of you can slip out. If I have to, I will make up something; I will say you have gone to the river, and no one will check on the German. You and I are the only ones who do.”

I wonder what will happen to her when I am gone.

“What will you do?” I ask. “The men are talking about going east to fight. Kaleb has talked about this too.”

“I guess I will have to follow them but Kaleb has already said that he must find a village, a safe place to hide me.”

“But surely he won’t desert you in a village if you don’t want that.”

“No, he won’t, not if I ask him not to, but that doesn’t stop me from being a burden. It’s not that he doesn’t love me; it is just that he is able to set aside sentiment. He is prepared to make sacrifices, even sacrifice himself, in his quest to find greater good. I also know that he fears for me if I come with him. Without me there, he can focus fully on his task. He has a taste for this; he wants to free our country. He wants to commit to the cause. While I am with him, he is restricted. You have relieved some of the burden on him by looking out for me here.”

It is brash of me, but I can’t stop my next words; it is as if they need to be said: “Do you want to come with me?”

This has surprised her. She actually pauses as if she is thinking seriously about it.

“I should stay with my brother for now. He is the only family I have left.”

“Of course,” I say. “You must stay.” As if my suggestion was ridiculous.

Then she does something I am not expecting. She takes my hand in hers and bites her lip before she speaks.