From the Ashes

by Sandra Saidak

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as Ilsa bolted the door. From outside came a kind of chaotic rumbling.

  “There was an explosion in the square. Some kind of bomb. I’m not exactly sure…” She took a deep breath, striving for her usual calm.

  “Here, sit down.” Adolf helped Ilsa into a chair. He went to the bathroom to get her a glass of water, nearly colliding with Krista.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “It was at the Boulevard of the Fathers. There was nothing important going on; just a parade of cavalry troops--” Ilsa shivered. “I’ve never seen a horse die before. People, yes, but horses? It seemed...indecent. It was their screams that got to me.”

  “How big was the explosion?” asked Adolf. They could hear sirens outside, getting closer. “Were there many casualties--other than the horses?”

  “Some riders, I suppose.” Ilsa didn’t sound too concerned about them. “Maybe a few people in the crowd. Most of the damage I saw was the statues.”

  “Oh, right, the Boulevard,” said Krista. “The square just in front of Party Headquarters. Oh, that’s terrible! Those are some of the finest works of sculpture in the Reich!”

  “Maybe that was the idea,” said Adolf. “Some kind of symbolic terrorist statement.”

  “Or, maybe just a disgruntled ex cavalry officer with a score to settle,” said Krista.

  “It probably wasn’t smart of me to run back here, but if they started looking for suspects, and found a missgeburt... I don’t know what they would have done to me. I don’t want to find out--”

  “Were you followed?” asked Adolf.

  “I don’t think so. I’m usually so careful, but--”

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” Adolf wished he could have said something more intelligent—or at least more truthful.

  “Is there any hot water left?” asked Krista. “I’ll make you some tea--”

  “No!” Ilsa stood. “You two have to get out of here, now!”

  “Why? Even if they search this place, what will they find? Two students visiting a museum and a dutiful curator.”

  “The museum is officially closed this week. I’ve only kept it open for us because, normally, no one notices. But with a bomb exploding down the street, and a terrorist on the loose, I think they’ll damned well notice!”

  Ilsa gulped some water and took a deep breath. “If we’re searched, they’re going to find the son of a highly placed Party member consorting with a lower order of life, and an Aryan throwback, who could not possibly be his girlfriend. Sorry Krista, but it’s true. It would be suspicious under normal circumstances, but now, it’s dangerous!”

  She took another deep breath. “Leave here, and head for the nearest crowd. Join in; ask questions. Even if they do stop you for questioning, you should be okay: you’re just a couple of students, there to watch the parade.”

  “I don’t want to go,” said Krista. “I don’t like crowds and I don’t like police.”

  “I don’t want to leave either,” said Adolf. He glanced around the warm, dimly lit museum. It felt so safe. Outside was chaos and death. Staying here seemed like the sanest thing anyone could do.

  “Just lock the door, and we can all three hide in the back,” said Krista. “This neighborhood is mostly deserted anyway. If anyone comes by, they’ll just give it a cursory glance and move on.”

  “Besides,” said Adolf, “if anyone is out there now, they’re going to see us leave, and that will be even more suspicious.”

  Ilsa looked from one to the other, seemingly undecided. Finally she sighed and said, “I hope you’re right.” With that, she went to work with impressive efficiency, locking doors, dimming lights, then disappearing into the back of the museum. From there, Adolf heard the sounds of things moving. Furniture? Equipment? What exactly was back there, anyway?

  “Let’s go see if we can help,” Krista said.

  Adolf pushed open a door holding a lopsided “employees only” sign. Inside was a small room, mostly taken up with a lumpy sofa with no legs and stacks of boxes. Ilsa was pushing some of the boxes and a few damaged artifacts through another door, probably a closet. When she was finished, there was enough floor space exposed for one person to stretch out on--although the carpet didn’t appear to have been vacuumed lately.

  “Krista, why don’t you take the couch first?” said Ilsa. “I’d prefer the floor now anyway. Adolf, you’ll have to start out wedged in a corner, but you and Krista can trade off every couple of hours.”

  “Two people can sit on the couch,” said Adolf. “Great Thor, it’s not like we haven’t sat in close quarters together before!”

  “We’re not going to be sitting,” said Ilsa. “We’re going to be lying down. It will be easier not to move that way.” She nodded toward the skylight overhead. “There will be light enough for reading until late afternoon. There’s box full of books that arrived last week; I haven’t had time to go through them, so that should keep us busy awhile. When the light’s gone, I suggest we sleep.”

  “I was thinking we could talk,” said Adolf. “Maybe help you with paper work; set up new displays. As long as we keep our voices down, and walk without shoes, we should be able to--”

  Ilsa sighed and shook her head. Krista was looking from her to Adolf and back again, but she seemed to be agreeing with Adolf.

  “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here,” said Ilsa. Hearing her tone, Adolf found himself coming to attention. “These walls are thin. There’s a street out in front, and an alley behind this room. Any sound can be heard by anyone outside; any movement can be seen through the skylight by someone on the roof. And if we’re caught in an obviously closed building, we will have no alibi. And no one will believe that we didn’t hear the noise of the crowd, or at least the sirens, and leave to investigate, like good citizens.”

  Adolf stared at her, the seriousness of the situation starting to sink in. “What about...what about using the facilities?” he asked lamely.

  “You’ll have to find your way in the dark. And no flushing.”

  “You talked about trading the sofa every couple of hours,” said Krista. “How long will we need to stay?”

  “Until tomorrow morning, I would assume,” said Ilsa. “Don’t you two understand what’s going on?”

  “I’m beginning to,” said Krista.

  “This is like being Jews for real,” Adolf said suddenly. “Hiding from the Nazis.”

  “It’s not quite that extreme--” Krista began.

  “Yes it is,” said Ilsa harshly. “And while you’re at it, just remember what happened to those Jews when the Nazis caught them!”

  Unconsciously, Adolf backed away from Ilsa, and Krista did the same. There wasn’t far to go, and they both landed against the wall, Adolf nearly stumbling over a box.

  Ilsa forced a smile. “Look, I’m sorry; maybe I’m getting carried away. I just don’t think we can be too careful. Do you?”

  Adolf and Krista shook their heads without a word. Ilsa slipped out of the room silently. She returned a moment later with Krista’s sketch pad and the remains of their food supply: half a loaf of bread, some pastries, an unopened block of cheese and a jar of fruit preserves.

  Krista began smoothing the bunched up sheets of art paper, and went to work drawing. Ilsa opened the box on the floor.

  “This stuff was found in a warehouse in Amsterdam,” she whispered. She took out a small cardboard bound book and gave it to Adolf. “That’s the diary of some girl who hid out for years before getting captured.”

  “Ironically appropriate reading material,” Adolf murmured. He curled his tall body into a relatively comfortable position on the floor with his back against the wall, and began to read.

  An hour later, Adolf was not remotely comfortable, nor could he ever remember being so. He had lost interest in the diary, and couldn’t read in such poor light anyway. Krista was asleep on the sofa. Ilsa lay on the floor reading.

  He fidgeted for a few m
oments, not aware of how noisy he was being until Ilsa slithered over to him. Silently, she indicated he should take her place on the floor. Grunting, Adolf heaved himself over--both legs were asleep--and tried to get comfortable on the dirty carpet. With unbelievable grace, Ilsa neatly folded herself into the corner Adolf had vacated.

  The next thing Adolf remembered was waking from a light doze, feeling cramps in parts of his body he didn’t know had muscles. Ilsa and Krista were both asleep.

  Sighing, Adolf rose carefully to his feet and tiptoed to the bathroom.

  He switched on the light without thinking.

  He turned it back off, silently cursing his carelessness. Almost at once, however, he grew angry. Why was he so worried? Why were he and his friends putting themselves through this kind of ordeal in the first place? No one was going to bother them here. Wasn’t that why they all came to the Judenmuseum in the first place?

  He left the bathroom, and wandered into the front of the museum, stretching sore muscles. Evening light came through the room’s single window. Ilsa had not covered it, evidently fearing someone was already watching from the street when they decided to hide.

  Hard to believe it’s not even dark yet, thought Adolf. I feel like I’ve been stuck here for days. He drifted over to the window, and considered going back to his dorm. Ilsa and Krista probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

  He looked outside, where a pair of blue eyes met his, and then widened in surprise. A moment later, the shrill sound of a whistle pierced the silence of the museum.

  CHAPTER 8

  The Waffen SS private who stood outside the Judenmuseum was about Adolf’s age. He continued to blow shrilly into the whistle he wore around his neck, until two other, slightly older soldiers hurried to the front of the building. The Scharführer pounded on the door, barking orders that it be opened.

  Adolf stared, as if in a dream. This could not be happening. Then he heard sounds from the back room; terrified shouts as Ilsa and Krista came rudely awake, and knew it was all too real. And his fault.

  Feeling a rush of heat as adrenaline surged through his body, Adolf hurried to the door, opening it with one hand, pulling ID papers from his vest pocket with the other.

  “Good day, sergeant,” he said, scanning the first rank insignia that swam into view as the soldiers pushed their way in. Was his voice shaking?

  “Scharführer Schultz. You papers, please, mein Herr.” Adolf’s hand was steady as he handed over his ID. Schultz’s eyes widened as he read the name, quickly handing the papers to his superior.

  “Might I inquire as to what you are doing here, Herr Goebbels?” asked the captain.

  Adolf froze as the door behind them opened. But as Krista limped out of the back room, leaning heavily on Ilsa, he felt like kissing both of them.

  “Ah, I see you’re well enough to walk,” he said, hurrying to assist Krista, while Ilsa melted into the background. “My friend and I were on our way to the parade this morning,” he said to the men, smoothly pulling Krista’s papers from her vest pocket and presenting them to the senior officer. “We heard that horrible explosion and--” Krista promptly dissolved into tears, throwing herself against Adolf.

  “When Krista collapsed, I thought she’d been shot. Then I saw it was only shock. I think it was seeing the horses dying that did it. I tried to get her away but she could barely walk. The kind curator of this museum allowed us come in and rest.”

  While Adolf spoke, the two junior guards were methodically searching the place, while the captain listened intently to Adolf’s every word.

  Schultz stopped in front of Ilsa, and barked a command Adolf barely understood. Ilsa held up her right forearm, and Schultz became even less personable--if that were possible. He roughly grabbed the papers she held--Adolf’s and Krista’s had been returned neatly folded--then shoved Ilsa in the captain’s general direction. The officer glanced at Ilsa’s ID papers and said, “This museum was to have been closed today. Why is it open?”

  “I received a shipment of new artifacts from America last week, mein Herr,” Ilsa said. “Along with orders to have them in place for the week following the Celebration. Since I had nothing else to do today, I came here to get extra work done, as I often do. I wish never to fall behind in my work.”

  Schultz emerged from the back room carrying the blanket Adolf had brought that morning and the box of food. He exchanged a look with his superior officer that made Adolf’s skin crawl. Why? He wanted to shout. There is absolutely nothing dangerous about food and a blanket in the back room of a museum. For a normal German citizen, at least. But Ilsa lived in a different world; a world Adolf had never really let himself think about until now.

  “I see no reason to detain you, Herr Goebbels, or your friend.” The captain’s last word came out as a hiss. He obviously did not like deferring to ugly women. But, as she was in the company of someone like Adolf, he had no choice. “Scharführer Schultz will escort you back to your dormitory.”

  “And the museum fräulein?” Adolf struggled to sound casual.

  “We have a few more questions for her.”

  Fighting for control, he led Krista to the door where Schultz waited. Glancing back, he spoke to Ilsa. “Thank you for your assistance, fräulein. I hope I have not placed you in any difficulty. I shall never forgive myself if I have.” He shot the captain a look which he seen his father perfect and then left.

  It was all he could think of to do to help Ilsa.

  They walked through silent streets. As usual in these circumstances, a curfew was in effect. All the windows they passed were shuttered. Light leaked through very few of them.

  “So, sergeant,” said Adolf. “Has anything been learned about this terrible assault on the body of the Reich?”

  “The man who planted the bomb was caught about two hours ago,” said Schultz. “Of course this is only the beginning. It will be some time before all facts are known.”

  “What do we know so far?” asked Krista.

  “The bomber was Russian, but with a very good German cover. He must have had a great deal of help. The explosion has been an isolated attack--so far.” Schultz glanced at Adolf. “I regret to inform you, Herr Goebbels, that Schatwall’s masterpiece, the statue of your grandfather, was destroyed.”

  “How terrible!” Adolf struggled to achieve an appropriate facial expression.

  They had reached the university. Schultz left them at the door of the commissary/ lounge, which stood between the men’s and women’s dormitories. The light and noise that enveloped them as they walked inside was a soothing balm. Although curfew was in effect here, too, it was limited, requiring only that students be indoors.

  Everyone who was still on campus was gathered here, watching the news on the large wall screen, playing cards or talking in groups. They were not Adolf’s friends, but that didn’t matter. No one wanted to be alone right now, and for once, Adolf felt the same way everyone else did.

  He and Krista murmured greetings and exchanged “where were you when the bomb went off?” stories with a dozen or so fellow students. Then they found an unoccupied sofa and sat down.

  “Are you hungry?” Adolf asked Krista. “We could get snacks downstairs--”

  Krista shook her head. “Maybe we should go somewhere and talk?”

  “What for?” Adolf blurted out, and then was instantly ashamed, when he saw Krista’s expression. “I mean...I already know that I messed up. And that Ilsa could be in danger because of me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Adolf pulled his jacket back on and stood up. “I’m going back. I have to know how she is!”

  Krista’s small hand gripped his arm with surprising strength. “You can’t and you know it!”

  “You don’t understand!” Adolf’s voice came out as a hiss.

  “I understand plenty!” Krista’s voice was nearly a shriek. Casting a nervous glance over her shoulder, where the few people who looked their way were now turning back to what they had
been doing, Krista took a deep breath. “I understand that you’re in love with her, too,” she whispered.

  Adolf opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again. “You’re right,” he said, swallowing hard. “We need to talk.”

  “Let’s go take a shower,” Krista said, and led the way.

  A few minutes later, Krista, wearing a blue swimming suit, and Adolf, in a pair of faded green shorts, were sitting side by side on a green tile bench, enjoying the caress of warm water from several shower heads above them. But it was the noise they came for.

  As often as Adolf had seen pairs and small groups headed for the showers for private conversation, he had never staked his life on the popular belief in the security they provided. But tonight, he guessed, he was about to do so.

  “How long have you known?” Adolf asked.

  “About you or about me?” Krista responded dryly.

  Adolf almost smiled. “I’m an egotist, so let’s start with me.”

  “It’s been pretty obvious to me since, oh, I guess the time we started translating the old bibles.”

  “Does everyone else know?”

  “I haven’t discussed it with anyone. If you’re wondering if you’ve been obvious, I’d have to say no. I just have--shall we say--a kind of kindred spirit radar.”

  Adolf took a deep breath. “And you Krista? How long have you known you’re a...that is...assuming you really are--”

  “A lesbian? Go ahead, you can say it. I guess I’ve sort of known my whole life. I pretended not to.”

  “Understandable, since discovery tends to equal death.”

  “Right. But when I met Ilsa...when I started going to the meetings...I don’t know. I finally just knew it.”

  Adolf shook his head. “I wish I knew what to say.”

  “That you won’t turn me in would be a good place to start.”

  “Oh, come on, Krista, you know I wouldn’t! Neither would anyone else in the group.”

  “No one else in the group is in love with the same woman I am!”