Page 30 of The Little Liar
“Sebastian,” Lev says, “we cannot leave him here. He is a rabbi. Take his legs.”
They lift him together and stagger down the ramp, Tanna and the girls behind them, Lazarre and Eva next, Bibi and Tedros following. Their feet make contact with the muddy earth. Nazi soldiers are everywhere.
“We stay together, no matter what!” Lev yells. “You understand? We stay together!”
What happens next is a bombardment of sights and sounds, absorbed by a fifteen-year-old Sebastian like a violent storm, as if lightning, wind, rain, and thunder all hit at once. First comes the screaming. Officers shouting commands in German, and passengers shrieking the Jewish names of their loved ones.Aron! Luna! Ida!Dogs bark and bare their teeth, straining against their leashes. The dead rabbi is ripped from Sebastian’s grasp by two soldiers who are piling corpses near the tracks. More screaming.Rosa! Isak!A Nazi yells, “Women over here!” and Sebastian sees wives being pulled from husbands, mothers pulled from children, their hands grasping empty air.No! My babies!He turns to see his own mother, aunt, and grandmother being pulled away, yelling for their husbands to help them. Sebastian runs in their direction, gets three steps in, and feels a whack across his head that staggers him; a guard has just rapped him with a wooden pole. He has never before been hit in the skull. His eyes go blurry as he reaches for the back of his neck. He feels the warm ooze of blood, making his fingers sticky. Then his father is yanking him backward, yelling, “Stay with me, Sebby! Stay right beside me!” He tries to locate his mother, but she has disappeared into the hundreds of other faces being raced from here to there. Running. Why is everybody running?
Wait.His sisters! Where are his baby sisters?He’s lost track of them. The dogs howl wildly. There are so many guards, so many rifles, and all these skinny people in striped uniforms, scurrying through the yard like crazed ants. Sebastian glances back at the train; he sees suitcases being thrown into a pile.
More screaming.Yafa! Elie! Josef!More orders.Move! All of you!The men are broken into lines of five and marched forward, past Nazi officers in various uniforms, some sharply pressed with black tunic collars. When these men point, prisoners are ripped from the line and taken away. It seems thatthe older and weaker ones are being selected, but it’s hard to tell. When Sebastian passes, an inspecting officer looks him up and down, as if studying a piece of furniture. He looks away and Sebastian stumbles forward, holding on to the back of his father’s jacket, being tugged along in foggy confusion, still not knowing what country he is in, what air he is breathing, or even having the moment it takes to ask the obvious question: Why is this happening? To him? To his parents? To the rest of his family and everyone on that train?
There is no time to think about his brother.
Nico pivots on the railroad tracks.
Hours after that last transport departed, he is still stumbling along the rails, hoping to see the train reappear. He continues walking west, eventually reaching the Gallikos river, and a metal bridge that crosses it. When night falls, he plops down near that bridge and falls into an exhausted sleep.
He is awakened by a rifle poking him in the chest. He squints into the glaring sun and sees the face of a Nazi soldier, who yells in German:
“What are you doing out here, boy? On your feet!”
Nico rubs his muddy face. His legs ache when he tries to stand. He feels somehow different this morning. Almost numb. He speaks to the soldier in the soldier’s native tongue.
“The train,” Nico says. “Where did it go?”
“You speak German?” The soldier is taken aback. “Who taught you this?”
“I work for Hauptsturmführer Graf,” Nico says.
The soldier’s look changes.
“Graf?... Udo Graf?...” he stammers. “If that’s true, why aren’t you with him?”
The soldier doesn’t seem much older than Sebastian. Nico shuffles his feet and pushes up on his toes, trying to make himself taller.
“Where did the train go?” Nico says again, imitating the tone he often heard Herr Graf use when speaking to his men. “The one from yesterday? With all the Jewish people? Tell me.”
The soldier cocks his head, wondering if this boy is being clever or just plain stupid. Maybe it is a test?
“The camps,” he replies.
“Camps?” Nico doesn’t know that word in German. “What camps?”
“I think they call it Auschwitz-Birkenau. In Poland.”
“And what do they do at the camps?”
The man runs two fingers across his throat, as if slitting it.
A shiver shoots through Nico’s body. In his mind he sees his mother yelling his name, running toward him on the platform. He sees his father and grandparents and little sisters, calling out for him. Tears begin to stream down his cheeks. The large man had been right.
Nico was the liar.
The weight of all this slumps the boy’s shoulders. His head drops like a heavy rock. He doesn’t care what this soldier does with him. His family is gone.
What have I done?
The soldier, confused by the boy’s demeanor and his strange knowledge of German, decides he isn’t worth the risk. If heshoots him, and he truly works for theHauptsturmführer, it could cost him his position. If he lets the kid go, who would know?
