Alexander Altmann A10567 (22 page)

The Rat was gone by the time Alexander returned to his barrack. Sitting alone in the dark on the edge of his bunk, Alexander wondered whether Midnight could smell the flames licking the barrack next door or hear the walls of the warehouses collapsing. His stomach grumbled but he didn’t want to empty his pockets or shake out his socks; he needed the food for the march. He climbed off his bunk and combed the floor on his hands and knees for a heel of bread or a corner of cheese. He dragged the mattresses from their planks and swept his fingers over the splintering boards, crawling under the lowest tier of bunks to feel for crumbs in the dark, but the floor was licked clean. He stood at the door to the Rat’s bedroom and slowly pushed it open. He’d imagined a lamp on a table, a desk and a chair, clean sheets and a pillow. It was a room, that was true, with four walls and a door, a bed and a nightstand, but there was nothing else to distinguish it from the squalor of the barrack. Alexander lifted the mattress from the bed and tipped the nightstand upside down but the Rat had left nothing behind.

An old man slipped between the burned-out barracks calling for his son. Alexander wiped an arc across the frosted window pane with his sleeve and watched the old man, wishing he could sneak out in search of his mother. The kapo had told him that his barrack was protected and that if he wandered outside alone, he took his life in his own hands.
I’d leave here if I could
, he told himself.
I’d check the women’s barracks and the latrines. I’d search the kitchen and the infirmary.
Isidor had told him that the infirmary smelled like death, that the patients were pin-thin and that if they took too long to die, the SS doctors injected them with phenol to speed things up.

He pressed his nose to the window and stared out at the barracks. A guard had lit a fire on the steps of block fourteen and was hurling a box of papers into the flames. An officer swept past him, pulling on a blue and white jacket. He had a pen in his hand and was scratching something onto the skin of his forearm.

“The Russians are coming. You won’t get away with this,” Alexander hissed at the darting shadows. He lay down on his bed but he couldn’t sleep, not with the rumbling trucks and the spitting flames and the end of the war hurtling towards him. He climbed from his bunk, collected some snow from the barrack roof for breakfast and waited for the kapo to collect him.

“The commander will be in early,” the kapo said as they set off for the stable.

Alexander opened his mouth. “Is he leaving?”

“I don’t know.” The kapo chewed on a fingernail. “He hasn’t said where he’s going.”

They marched in silence, stepping into the yard as the dark of night left the sky. The commander appeared at the stall door moments later, looked in on his horse, then stalked off. Alexander was left alone with the horse, to worry over his fate.

They spent three days in the stable together, waiting for the commander to return or for the war to end. The kapo waited with them. Alexander prepared Midnight every morning and stripped his tack every night before returning to the barrack.

“They’ve blown up the last of the crematoria and set fire to the storage barracks,” the kapo said one morning as they sat in the feed room between the empty bins. “They’re destroying the evidence. It’s over. You’ll be home soon.”

But it wasn’t. There was still the clawing hunger and the cold. There were still guards with guns. The commander could turn up tomorrow and order them both onto the march. Alexander scooped the last scraps from a feed bin and added it to his stockpile. Since the feed deliveries had tapered off, his pile had dwindled until all that was left was a handful of grain and a few potatoes he’d dug up. He picked a bruised one from the pile and shared it with Midnight.

“
Antreten! Alles Raus! Schnell! Schnell!
”

Alexander heard a guard’s heavy footsteps coming towards him.

“Get out of bed!” the man yelled, shoving the butt of his rifle into Alexander’s back.

“But I look after the commander’s horse.” Alexander’s face crumpled. “They’ll be expecting me at the stable.”

“Not any more you don’t,” the guard flared. “You’re done.” He wrapped his fingers around Alexander’s collar and dragged him from his bed.

“That can’t be,” Alexander stammered, reaching for his shoes. “The commander needs someone to saddle his horse.” The guard’s face twisted in anger.

“The commander’s gone.” His words were sharp as flint. “Now get out!”

By the time Alexander joined the march, the snow was stained red. The road Isidor had travelled before him was littered with bodies. Alexander had seen death, but never like this – bodies slumped on top of each other in ditches, their shirts matted with blood.

Alexander hadn’t been old enough to attend his grandfather’s funeral but he remembered crouching behind the bushes at the cemetery and seeing his grandfather’s stiff body wrapped in cloth. He remembered his
Zaida
being lowered into the ground and the prayer his father had whispered as he bent over the grave. Alexander’s lips formed words, Hebrew words:
Yitgaddal veyitquaddash shmeh rabba
…

He lifted his wet shoes from the snow and pushed his tired legs forwards. There was no use trying to escape. The few who had tried had been set upon by dogs. He hoped Isidor hadn’t tried to slip from the line. He dragged his eyes from the slumped bodies, saw the kapo marching ahead of him and remembered the man’s last words: you’ll be home soon.
Home
, he said to himself.
If I can just get home.
He dug his hand into his pocket, pulled a sugar cube from the sticky seam and slid it into his mouth.

When the moon was high the men stopped for the night. Alexander recognised a few of the men – they were engineers, kitchen hands and clerical workers – men who had been useful to the SS and had been spared, until now. The kapo found Alexander and sunk into the snow beside him, but neither of them spoke. Alexander bit his lips to stop them from freezing. He sat in the cold snow and gulped down his fear. It was still dark when the guards ordered them to keep marching and only half the men rose.

“
Alles Raus!
”

Alexander pushed his hunger aside and rose on shaky legs.

“
Vorwärts Marsch! Eins, zwei
…”

Alexander looked up and saw the commander’s black shadow first, then four perfect white socks.
Midnight!
His heart flailed in his chest.
Midnight!
His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“
Eins, zwei!
”

The commander steered his horse past Alexander, continued a few metres, then pulled on the reins and circled back up the line, looking down at the ragged men as he passed them, his face fierce, as if on a hunt.

“
Eins, zwei!
”

The commander slowed the horse to a walk. They were two rows from Alexander. Close enough for Alexander to see the white blaze between Midnight’s eyes. Close enough to see the horse stop and raise his head.

Midnight planted his legs firmly in the snow. He pricked his ears forwards and lifted his nose to sniff the air.
He can smell me
, Alexander realised, feeling panicked and proud at the same time. The commander’s mouth puckered. He urged Midnight to go but the horse wouldn’t budge.

“
Gehen! Laufen!
Go!” The commander lifted his leather whip in the air. He brought the strap down on Midnight’s back leg and the horse’s wide eyes narrowed in pain. He snorted and threw his head from side to side, his black eyes searching the shadows for Alexander’s outline, for the soft eyes and kind hands that went with the familiar smell.

Alexander touched his nose to his sleeve to smell the sweat – the scent – that tethered Midnight to the spot, cursing himself for putting the horse in danger.
I’ve got to get him to move before the commander strikes him on the head
, he thought. He tore through the column – taking his scent with him – shoving aside the women who walked in front of him and elbowing the men who blocked his path, while the commander slashed at the horse, his face purpling as he brought the crop down hard on Midnight’s back and neck.
Come on boy, keep up with me, keep moving, don’t stop.
Alexander glanced back at Midnight and saw the commander tug on the reins and the horse tuck his chin to his chest to fight off the bit.

The commander clenched the whip’s heavy wooden handle. He brought the long leather strap crashing down on Midnight’s head and when Midnight lifted it again Alexander could see the moon – and the horse’s fear – reflected in his dark eyes. He couldn’t just stand there and watch the commander lash Midnight’s head. He remembered what he’d said to the horse the first day they met –
You’re going to have to trust me; I’m all you’ve got
.

He knew what he had to do. Flinging himself into a deep drift, he burrowed into the wet snow to bury his scent. He scraped handfuls of snow over his chest and legs, until he couldn’t feel his fingers or his toes. He hoped the guards hadn’t seen him. He didn’t want to die.
Not now, not after all I’ve been through.
And so close to seeing my parents and climbing onto Sari’s back.

He closed his eyes and made himself as still as a corpse, so the guards would think him dead. He heard a dog bark and a guard hissing commands. Fear – and the shock of the cold – pumped through his body but he made his face blank. He heard the snap of leather and Midnight’s frightened squeals. He felt the ground shift and the snow flurry around him as the column of inmates marched past. He heard a strangled cry, a distant gunshot, fewer footsteps, and then just the wind.
Go
, he begged Midnight.
Please go.

He didn’t know how long he lay in his icy bed with his teeth chattering and his eyes squeezed shut, but he didn’t move until Midnight’s shrieking subsided, and then found that he couldn’t. He heard a triumphant cry and, lifting his eyes to the lightening sky saw, through the departing column of prisoners, the commander’s black shadow move slowly away. He wanted to reach out and rub Midnight’s neck and tell him he was a good boy. Instead he said goodbye, the words frozen in his throat.

The commander’s outline became a black blot and then a speck. Alexander’s head felt heavy and his body numb. The wind scattered his thoughts. He wasn’t cold any more, just tired. So tired. His eyes fluttered closed.
Sleep, Alex, you’re exhausted
, he heard his mother say. She cupped his face in her hands and lowered his head onto the snow. It was soft as a pillow.
You’re tired, Alex, sleep
, she whispered, her warm hand on his cheek. Alexander let his shoulders sink into the soft snow and his muscles loosen.
I’ll see you tomorrow
, she said, her warm breath on his skin. Then she turned down the lights and the room went dark.

Alexander opened his eyes. He looked up, expecting to see sky, but saw, instead, the sloping wooden beams of a barn. He swept his hands over the hard dirt floor and tried to remember how he’d got there. Images of the night before skittered across his lids.

“Alex!” The kapo hurried to kneel beside him, his face flush with relief. “You’re awake!” He rocked back on his knees and helped Alexander sit up. “Here, have some water.” He pushed a blackened tin mug into Alexander’s hands and rummaged through the basket at his feet. Alexander dropped the mug and snatched a beet from the basket, sinking his teeth into the plump purple flesh.

“How long have I been sleeping? Where are we?” Sweet red juice dribbled down his chin.

“We’re on a farm, just outside Katowice.”

Alexander looked at the kapo blankly. “Whose farm? How did we get here?” He swallowed the beet and grabbed another.

The corners of the kapo’s mouth turned upwards and Alexander realised he’d never seen the man smile.

“We came by horse and cart. You’ve been sleeping for two days.”

“And the march?” Alexander remembered the dogs and the guards and the bodies by the side of the road. “I was buried in the snow. How did you…”

“I saw you fall and bury yourself.” The kapo pulled a radish from the basket and passed it to Alexander. “You wanted to escape.”

Alexander didn’t correct him.

“I thought you were crazy, burying yourself like that, but they marched right past you. No one pulled you from the ground or shot at you.”

Alexander waited.

“So I did the same. I lay still until they were gone, then I crawled over and dug you out. I forced some snow into your mouth and went for help. This was the first place I found.” The kapo bit into a carrot.

“How did I get here?” Alexander looked down at his waterlogged shoes.

“I convinced the farmer to pick you up with his cart.”

“I don’t remember climbing into a cart.” Alexander searched his memory.

“You didn’t.” The kapo reddened. “I lifted you on.”

“And the farmer?”

“He didn’t want to take us in, but I told him the Russians were coming. Told him if he didn’t help us, he’d be siding with the enemy.”

“So we’re safe here?” Alexander felt doubtful. “He won’t turn us in?” Alexander took the bread the kapo offered him, tore it in half and slipped the larger half into his pocket.