Page 51 of The Little Liar
The older brother.
Sebastian Krispis.
Why isn’t he dead?
***
Now, I should tell you how Sebastian, at sixteen, came to be shouting among the sick and elderly that day.
When word spread that the SS was planning to march the survivors out of Auschwitz, Sebastian made a decision. He wasn’t going anywhere. His grandfather, Lazarre, was still alive, weak and unable to walk, but alive. He had contracted lice, and the lice had infected him with typhus. The effects of that disease had covered his eyes in a filmy pus that left him nearly blind. He’d been taken to the infirmary, where Sebastian traded items he’d stolen from camp storehouses to keep the guards from executing the old man.
“I won’t leave you, Nano,” Sebastian had said the last time they’d spoken. “No matter what. I’ll stay.”
“Don’t be foolish...” Lazarre had croaked. “I’ll be dead soon... If you get a chance to run, run.”
“But—”
“Don’t think about me, Sebastian!”
“But, Nano—”
Lazarre reached for his grandson’s hand and squeezed it gently, which stopped the boy from finishing his sentence. Had he done so, Sebastian would have added these words:
“You’re all I have left.”
***
In the end, it was something Udo Graf did that changed Sebastian’s fate. Auschwitz, by January of 1945, was no longer the efficient killing center it had once been. Order at the camp had broken down. The guards, worried about capture, were leaving their posts. So much of the place was in chaos or shambles that keeping track of where prisoners went was a challenge.
When the orders came for evacuation, Sebastian slipped away just after morning roll call, found a shovel and a piece of pipe, and began piling snow atop a wooden crate near the last remaining crematorium. Since the building was no longer being used, he figured guards would not be looking there. And since he appeared busy, nobody in the current confusion bothered to stop him. His plan was to hide inside the buried crate until they marched everyone out.
Once the crate was covered in snow, he banged the pipethrough the center until he felt it break through the wood. Then he crawled inside, pulling the shovel in with him.
He had no idea how that would save his life.
Minutes later, on the other side of the crematorium, several SS guards, under Udo’s orders, loaded packs of dynamite into holes that were bored in the walls, then detonated them to destroy the building. The explosion sent rocks and debris flying everywhere, including all around a snow-covered crate that nobody would bother with now.
That afternoon, tens of thousands of prisoners were marched out of Auschwitz, heading for the German border.
Sebastian remained inside the crate, breathing through the pipe, for two days.
When he emerged, using what little strength he had left to push the top open with his shovel, he blinked back the sunlight. The camp was deserted. He heard the wind whipping through the yard. He tried to stand, then tumbled into the snow, his legs too weak to support even his meager skeleton. He stayed down for a long time, sucking in the air, wondering what to do next.
When he finally rose, he stumbled toward the rear entrance of the camp. There he saw a cluster of prisoners standing by the barbed wire fence. No guards. No dogs. No sirens. No alarms. They were huddled together, as if waiting for a bus.
He dragged himself into the group, and stared at what they were staring at: the Russian Army was approaching. A rush of relief flushed through Sebastian’s body, followed by a shuddering concern.
Nano. Where is Nano?
He started limping toward the infirmary when a figure caught his eye. A man in a coat and cap was walking out of the camp. Even dressed that way, Sebastian recognized the man’s gait. His frame. His down-turned face.
TheSchutzhaftlagerführer.
He was walking out as if going home after a day’s work, and no one was stopping him. No. No! This could not be! Sebastian’s throat was raw and parched, he had not spoken in days.
But he began to scream.
***
