For Such a Time (37 page)

Read For Such a Time Online

Authors: Kate Breslin

Tags: #World War (1939-1945)—Jews—Fiction, #Jewish girls—Fiction, #World War (1939-1945)—Jewish resistance—Fiction, #FIC042030, #FIC042040, #FIC014000

Did he have Hadassah?

Aric’s blood ran cold at the possibility. He ground his teeth against a shout of rage and slowly crawled along the slick surface to the next car. He had to find her.

Removing the pickaxe from his shoulder, he tore another meter-sized hole into the roof. Lying on his stomach, he leaned into the hole. “Hadassah!” he yelled over the wind. But only groans—and the fetid stench of unwashed bodies—rose from the darkness below.

He called her name again.

“Help us!” a woman cried.

Not Hadassah. Aric closed his eyes. “Have . . . faith,” he called back. But the words made him feel awkward and angry as he struggled to rise.

He made it as far as his knees when the pickaxe suddenly flew from his grasp, clattered across the slippery deck, and disappeared over the side.

Aric stared at the pair of jackboots directly in front of him.

“Faith is the wishful thinking of fools, Wehrmacht,” a familiar voice said. “Dead fools.”

 44 

The couriers . . . raced out, spurred on by the king’s command. . . .

Esther 8:14

S
houldn’t they be here by now?”

From the driver’s seat, Sergeant Rand Grossman turned to growl at Lenny Buczak, as if the young man harbored some secret known only to the railroad.

Helen sighed. Rand could be formidable at times, and she knew he was as worried as she about the commandant and the others. Still, Lenny couldn’t possibly know; none of them were even certain the dangerous plan would work.

She eyed the shivering young man who sat beside her in the back seat. He’d just endured a three-and-a-half-hour ride in the trunk of the Mercedes, poor dear. He reminded her of one of the frozen hens her father kept hung in the blockhouse on their farm during winters. Rand had stopped only one other time in their journey—at some out-of-the-way place to avoid detection so that Lenny could come inside and thaw.

As before, she began to briskly chafe his arms and wrists to return the blood flow. Lenny offered a grateful smile.

“Perhaps the Kommandant was stopped.” Rand shot Helen
a pensive glance in the rearview mirror. His voice held an edge. “They could have taken him . . .”

She paused in her ministrations to frown at Lenny. She gave his arm a meaningful squeeze. Staring at her, he said, “They . . . should be along any time now, Herr Sergeant . . . ?”

Good boy. Helen nodded and smiled before continuing to knead his frozen fingers. No good would come of Rand’s being upset. They must be patient—

“Then let’s go.”

Rand opened his car door and got out. Lenny turned to her. “But . . . it’s a quarter kilometer through the snow to reach the lantern switch at the track,” he whined. “And I’m still frozen . . .”

His passenger door suddenly opened. Helen saw Lenny take one look at Rand’s steel hook—the sergeant’s favorite ploy—before he slid across the leather seat and, with a groan, out into the calf-deep snow.

Determined not to be left behind, Helen reached across the front seat and turned off the car’s ignition. Then she buttoned her coat and left the car.

“You should stay here where it’s warm,” Rand told her gruffly. Her response was to smile and link her arm through his.

Moonlight illuminated a copse of bare poplars and birch ahead. The railroad tracks were visible in the distance. Rand sighed. “All right.” Then to Lenny, “After you.” With another groan from the young Pole, they began trekking forward in the snow.

Captain Hermann aimed the Walther P38 with deadly accuracy. “Don’t move unless you have a sudden urge to get off this train,” he shouted over the wind.

Aric stared down the pistol barrel. He had to stall long enough to reach the Browning holstered beneath his own coat. “I’ll go, Captain, as long as you join me.”

Hermann laughed. “Ah, you’d like a little hand-to-hand combat then, Wehrmacht?”

Aric eyed the sling cradling Hermann’s left arm. “I doubt you’d prove any more of a challenge than those three underlings you sent after me.”

“Green boys,” Hermann scoffed. “Like Koch and Brucker. I told those two hotheads they would fail. They had no idea who they were dealing with. But I’ve seen your decorations, Standartenführer. They don’t issue those medals to cowards.”

Aric hid his shock. Hermann had known beforehand of the murder plot against him and Hadassah? “Of course, you thought to take my place once I was gone.”

“It did sound promising,” Hermann admitted. “But then the Jew boy and your mistress got involved.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. Himmler himself has promoted me to Kommandant of Theresienstadt.”

“Congratulations. I’m sure he’ll be . . . enlightened along with the Swiss when they arrive tomorrow.”

“You mean the fires? My men are taking care of that now. I simply need to take care of you.” The captain was yelling. He’d planted his feet apart to balance himself against the snow-streaked deck while the frigid wind plastered his clothes to his body. He raised the bandaged arm. “And since I can’t brawl with you at the moment, I hope you’ll appreciate my other skills.”

The barrel of the Walther shifted slightly; Aric sensed the moment Hermann flipped off the safety. He had to take his enemy. Even now the city of Prerov drew close. If Lenny Buczak didn’t receive their signal, the train would miss the turnoff—their only chance at freedom.

“How did you manage to board the train?”

“You think to stall, don’t you? It won’t work, although I am curious to know why you’re on a train bound for Auschwitz. Did you plan to die along with your Jews?”

“If necessary,” Aric said.

“Really? That Jewess
has
poisoned your thinking. Just look at you! One of Germany’s greatest war heroes, reduced to a traitor to the Reich. Dressed in a lowly corporal’s uniform and groveling at my feet.” Hermann waved his pistol. “Now, I want you to lie flat against the deck. When I shoot you, I can’t have you tumbling over the side. I need the body.” When Aric didn’t move, Hermann laughed. “You’re to be my trophy stag, didn’t you know? My next promotion. Now get down!”

Snagging Aric’s helmet with the barrel of his pistol, Hermann sent it flying over the side. Then he shoved him against the snowy deck with a boot, pressing the nose of the gun against his scalp. “Say your prayers, Wehrmacht.”

The hand of God reached down and saved her.

One moment she’d been hurtling toward death—in the next, Hadassah found herself dangling over the rushing tracks, gripped by the collar of her jacket.

“Grab the rungs!” shouted a male voice, the same man who, along with Avram, had helped to raise her onto the roof. Cheers rose inside the cattle car when she twisted and clutched the iron ladder that led up to the car’s roof. For a few seconds she hovered there, catching her breath. She then leaned toward the grated window opening and kissed the outstretched hands that had done so much. God had given her a miracle in this man. “What’s your name?” she yelled.

“Isak,” he called back.

“I won’t forget you, Isak.”

“Please, just save us.”

Abruptly the hands disappeared from the opening and he was gone.

Hadassah climbed the rungs to the snow-dusted roof, then checked to ensure the flares and flare pistol were still tucked beneath her jacket. They were safe, and the Bible was there, as
well. She marveled that once again her life had been spared. Had God truly given her uncle the vision? Was she to save them all?

Isak thought so. So did the others. Such faith by so many couldn’t be denied.

The flame of her conviction began burning brighter, warming her despite the cold that attacked her flesh. She had to reach the front of the train.

“Two trains now, and no signal,” Rand grumbled. The trio huddled under a snow-covered spruce near the tracks. “I don’t like it. Something must have happened.”

Hitler, that’s what happened,
Helen thought, shoving her gloved hands deep into her coat pockets. Lenny said nothing—too busy trying to keep warm in his heavy jacket—so she nudged him with her shoulder. When he glanced at her, she gave him another frown.

“We must be patient. They will come,” he said, frowning back at her.

Rand grunted, seemingly satisfied. Helen smiled. Lenny let out an exasperated breath that rose like mist in the frozen air.

He looked at Rand. “What will you do when this is all over, Herr Sergeant?”

“If we’re successful, I’ll take Helen to Switzerland. We’ll go to Poland first—if that is still your wish—or you can come with us and ride in the trunk.”

Lenny snorted. “I choose Poland, thank you very much.”

The cold night air had turned heavy. The white that blanketed the ground buffered all sound beyond their breathing. Helen burrowed deeper into her woolen coat.

A pinpoint of light suddenly shone in the distance. Another train, Helen thought, unable to stop her shivering.
Dear Lord, please let this be the
one. Let them be safe.

“Was the general happy with his prize?”

One side of Aric’s face ached with cold as he lay against the freezing deck. He wanted to know if Hermann had taken his beloved. He also needed more time.

As Hermann had suggested, Aric prayed—for Morty’s presence. The man handled a machine gun like he was born to it. In the meantime, he had to try and reach his Browning.

Other books

High by Zara Cox
Ensayo sobre la ceguera by José Saramago
A New Hope by George Lucas
Chains Of Command by Graham McNeill
The Last Letter by Fritz Leiber
Dead Heat by Nick Oldham
Birrung the Secret Friend by French, Jackie
Merlot by Mike Faricy