The Locket

by Evans, Mike

  The alley ended at a cross street and when we reached it, Tomer stopped and pulled me next to the building on the right. It was strange the way he held me and I thought for a moment he was going to kiss me. Instead, he said, “You don’t have to do this. I will cover for you with Amos.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “He told me to show you. But you don’t have to see it. I will take care of it with Amos.”

  “Amos is the real leader.” “Yes,” Tomer nodded.

  “And you all let the Nazis think it was Stephan.”

  “They had his name.” Tomer had a sheepish look. “They were asking about him and about you. We let them think what they wanted to think.”

  “And the council?”

  “They dealt only with them. We never had any contact with them.”

  For a moment I felt guilty for the things I’d said about Papa, then I remembered the look in his eye when I asked about Stephan. The council might not have given him over to the Nazis, but they knew what was going to happen to him and did nothing to stop it. “They are still traitors,” I arrogantly dismissed his explanation. “What is it Amos wants me to see?”

  “You don’t have to see it.”

  “No,” I said with a toss of my head. “Amos thinks I can’t take it. Show me what there is to see and I’ll prove to him how tough I am.”

  “Okay,” Tomer sighed. “But it’s not pretty.” Then he slid along the wall to the corner of the building and peered out. After a moment he leaned back from the corner and nodded to me. “Okay.” He gestured with a nod. “Have a look.” I moved around him and poked my head out from the corner of the building.

  Down the street to the right about two blocks away was a brick wall, part of the same wall that separated that side of the ghetto from the remainder of the city. In front of it, a dozen women stood in a line, their backs to the wall, facing a group of German soldiers. The soldiers milled about laughing and drinking, and every few moments one of them reached over to one of the women and stripped off an article of clothing. They found great humor in seeing it torn away and as more flesh was revealed, the soldiers’ laugher became louder and more animated. Finally, after ten minutes or so, all the women were completely naked. I turned back to Tomer and whispered, “What are they doing with them?”

  “Just watch.”

  I turned back to watch and saw a soldier draw a pistol from a holster on his hip. He brought his arm level with his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. There was the sound of a gunshot and one of the women collapsed to the ground. A second solider stepped forward and repeated the same thing. One by one each of the soldiers took their turn shooting until all the women lay on the ground. Then one of the soldiers tossed an empty bottle in the air and another shot it. Broken glass flew in every direction, and the others, apparently surprised the shot hit it, burst into laughter.

  It seemed they were through with what I was supposed to see so I turned away, shaken from the sight of it but not at all surprised by their actions. “That’s not all.” Tomer turned me back to the corner. “They aren’t through with their daily ritual.”

  “Daily ritual?”

  “They do this every day at the exact same time.”

  With my head once more sticking out from the corner, I saw three babies lying on the ground near the soldiers’ feet. They’d been there all along, but I hadn’t noticed. One of the soldiers picked up a baby by the arm and plopped it atop the wall. Another solider came with two more, dragging one with each hand, and hoisted them onto the wall beside the others. The babies were too young to sit upright and kept falling over. When nothing seemed to keep them straight, they put them all on the ground again, leaning them against the body of one of the women. Then a soldier picked up a baby, set it on the wall, and held it in place with his hand gripping the baby’s shoulder. He ducked to one side and shouted with a loud voice, “See if you can hit it without hitting me.”

  I gasped and tried to look away, but Tomer pressed his hand against my back and held me in place. “You wanted to see what we face. This is it.”

  A soldier standing a few meters away drew his pistol and fired. Instantly the baby’s head exploded, covering the soldier who’d been holding it with bright red blood. They all burst into laughter, several of them bent double as they made fun of the one who was covered in blood.

  While they were still laughing, another soldier arrived on a motorcycle. He dismounted and reached into a bag. From it he took three bottles and passed them around. Several of the men, already staggering, tipped them up for another drink.

  When they’d emptied the bottles, two soldiers gathered the remaining babies and ran with them into a nearby building. Moments later, they appeared at an open window on the third floor. “See if you can hit this,” one of them shouted.

  Without warning, he leaned back and with a swinging motion threw the baby into the air. The soldier on the ground who had shot the bottle drew his pistol and fired. A bullet ripped through the baby’s midriff, slicing it almost in half. Blood filled the air with a thin mist that showered the others with tiny droplets. They all laughed with enthusiasm, hands on their hips, heads back, mouths open.

  Waves of nausea swept over me, but Tomer would not release me from my position against the wall. Thinking about it now, I suppose I could have closed my eyes, but the horror of what I’d seen was unbelievable and I kept watching, hoping that someone would intervene.

  One of the men on the ground called out loudly and the man with the third baby appeared at the third-floor window. He leaned back to throw the baby but as he swung his arms forward, the baby slipped from his grip and dropped to the pavement below. The baby bounced once and lay there, silent and motionless. The soldiers stared at it a moment in silence, then one of them walked calmly over, drew his pistol, and shot the baby three times as it lay on the ground.

  With those three shots, Tomer moved his hand from my back. I stumbled away from the corner, leaned over with my hands on my knees, and vomited.

  “That is what Amos was talking about.” Tomer slipped his arm around my waist. “That is the enemy we face. All of us.” I slowly stood and leaned my weight against his arm. “We have to get out of here,” he whispered. “Before they see us and make us one of their targets.”

  The next day, Yosef left the apartment to see what Tomer and the others were doing. I stayed behind with Yardina. After what I’d seen—soldiers shooting the women and babies—and what I’d learned about Amos and Tomer allowing Papa and the council to take the blame for Stephan, I really didn’t want to see any of them right then. I just wanted time to think.

  Yosef wasn’t gone long when the door flew open and he rushed back inside. “The soldiers are here,” he blurted. “In large numbers.”

  Yardina looked worried. “What are they doing?”

  “I don’t know, but I think you can see them from here.” We followed him to the window in the front room. Yardina’s apartment was on the fourth floor and afforded a view all the way to the building where Papa and Mama lived. As I watched I saw people coming from their building, being hurried along by soldiers. Trucks were parked in the street and I could see people climbing in back. I turned away from the window, rushed out to the hall, and hurried downstairs.

  On the street, I pushed and shoved my way through a growing crowd of onlookers. Yardina ran after me, yelling for me to stop, but I ignored her and kept moving until I was across the street from the building where Papa and Mama lived. There I came to a stop. Yardina caught up with me and we stood together, watching. “I was afraid of this,” she lamented.

  “Of what?”

  She gestured toward the people coming from the building. “They are all shopkeepers, artisans, and intellectuals.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  She shrugged. “To our captors they are nothing. Nonessentials. Incapable of contributing anything productive to society.”

  People continued to file from the building, the
ir eyes fixed in a blank, emotionless stare, then Uncle Alois appeared. I worked my way toward him but as I came closer the soldiers pushed me back. He saw me, though, and called to me, “Be strong, Sarah. Be very strong.” They shoved him toward one of the trucks where four men grabbed him, picked him up, and threw him in back. My eyes were still focused on him when Yardina nudged me and pointed back toward the building.

  Through the doorway I saw two soldiers dragging Papa between them. With their arms hooked beneath his shoulders, his feet barely touched the ground. Mama was behind them, being shoved along by two more soldiers. I pressed forward once more and in the confusion that surrounded them, I reached past the soldiers for Papa’s hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I cried. “I’m sorry.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean it.” He squeezed my hand and I felt him press something against my palm. “It’s yours now,” he said, choking back tears.

  As Mama passed me, she leaned over and kissed my cheek. Then one of the men grabbed her and pulled her away. I tried to follow them, but Yardina caught me by the arm. “Stay back,” she warned. “You do not want them to take you, too.”

  Papa climbed into the back of the truck, then reached down to help Mama. Once they were in, someone shouted to the driver and the truck started forward. I watched until it turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

  When they were gone, Yardina put her arm across my shoulder and turned me away from the building. We walked in silence a few paces up the street, then I stopped short, my eyes open wide. “Where’s David?”

  Yardina looked confused. “David?”

  “My brother. I didn’t see him with the people from the building.” “Perhaps he was already in the truck,” she suggested. “Or maybe he is hiding.” She nudged me forward and leaned near my ear. “We must keep moving,” she warned in a low voice. “We do not want the soldiers to notice us. If David is still here, he will turn up.”

  Back at the apartment, I realized my fist was still balled tightly around the object Papa had pressed into my hand. I relaxed my fingers and opened my palm to find Grandma’s necklace and locket. Tears filled my eyes at the sight of it. Papa told me it would one day be mine and he remembered. Then I thought of the jewelry box and my papers from Spain. Papa didn’t have the box with him when they came from the building, I thought to myself. It must still be in the space beneath the floor. If the soldiers moved a new family into the apartment, I might never be able to retrieve the documents. Without a word, I wheeled around and started toward the door. Yosef was there and grabbed me. “What are you doing?”

  “I have to go to the apartment.”

  “You can’t go out on the street now. It’s not safe.”

  “I have to,” I insisted. “I have to get back to the apartment.”

  “We must stay right here.” He blocked the door with his body. “You can’t go now.”

  Suddenly gunshots rang out. We rushed to the window and looked out to see two bodies lying in the street below. A squad of German soldiers stood around them, laughing and pointing.

  “That is what I mean,” Yosef pointed. “They are just looking for a reason to shoot people. We must wait until things calm down.” I knew he was right but I was determined to return to the apartment and find the jewelry box.

  Late that night, when Yosef and Yardina were asleep, I rose from my place on the floor in the front room, slipped on my shoes, and quietly stepped into the hall. I tiptoed down the stairs to the front door. Moving carefully, I peeked around the doorframe and checked the street in both directions. There were no soldiers in sight, so I hurried across to the shadows on the opposite sidewalk and walked quickly down to the corner and over to the building where my parents had lived.

  The front door was open and through it I saw the staircase with the hallway beside it, looking dark and ominous. I pushed my feelings aside and hurried inside. As I made my way upstairs I heard people moving around in the building. My heart sank at the thought that the Nazis had moved new families into the apartments already, but I kept going and in a few minutes reached the third floor.

  To my relief, the door to the apartment stood open and I could see the rooms were empty. The furniture we’d collected was gone. I went inside and pushed the door closed behind me, then moved quietly to the bedroom. There I knelt on my knees and felt along the floorboards until I located the ones Papa had removed before. I slipped my fingernails into the space between the boards and gently pulled one of them loose. It came free without much effort and I lifted off the others to reveal the space between the floor and the ceiling of the apartment below. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the jewelry box. I removed the box from the space and put the boards back over the opening. Then, clutching the box to my chest, I walked back to the hall and started downstairs.

  As I reached the first floor, two soldiers passed by on the street outside. I drew back into the shadows and waited to see if there were any more. Ten minutes later, a truck drove past and stopped a few meters up the street. Curious about what was happening I crawled to a window and raised myself up to see. Soldiers stood near the back of the truck, watching as a dozen men climbed from the back and entered a building across the street. In a few minutes, two of the men emerged carrying a chest of drawers. Moments later, two more came with a bed frame. “They’re cleaning out the building,” I whispered to myself.

  With no hope of leaving through the front door, I turned away from the window and hurried down the first-floor hall to the basement stairs. I jerked open the door and walked quickly down the steps.

  Dark even in daytime, the basement was now devoid of light and I felt my way along with my feet and hands. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I saw the outlines of the narrow windows near the coal chute. A fire still burned in the building’s boiler and I could see the glow of it through a vent on the side. I moved in that direction. Moments later, I reached the front of the boiler and opened the door. In the glare of the flames from the firebox I lifted the lid on the jewelry box and looked inside.

  My papers were still inside but on top of them I found a letter addressed to me. I took it out, propped the box against my side beneath my arm, and began to read. The letter was from Papa.

  “Sarah, I know you did not understand why I could not tell you about Stephan, but it was for your own good. The Germans had information linking Stephan to a group planning a revolt in the ghetto. They also had information linking him to you. They knew Stephan was not the primary leader of the rebellious group, but they wanted to use you to make him reveal the real leader’s name. When we were reluctant to do as they wanted, they demanded the Judenrat hand over one or the other of you, either Stephan or you. No one could decide what to do because we were all convinced that whomever we handed over, that person would be killed. To resolve the dilemma, we decided to cast lots—the way Torah says. No one had the correct stones so we used dice. Then no one wanted to choose who would die, so we chose who would live. We cast lots with the dice and the numbers fell to you. When Adolf Eichmann returned for our decision, we had Stephan in our custody and gave him to the SS. I know this was not the outcome you wanted and if the choice had been yours you would have chosen differently, but we did the best we could in a difficult situation. Please forgive me. Papa.”

  I heard heavy footsteps overhead as soldiers entered the building. Afraid now of what might ultimately happen to me I took the locket from my pocket and dropped it into the box. Then I closed the lid tightly and stepped behind the boiler. It was hot and I was worried I might get burned, but in the glow of the boiler fire I found a hole in the wall where pipes went through. It was just big enough for the jewelry box to fit and I slid the box as far into it as I could reach. At least it would no longer be trapped in the apartment and maybe, one day, I could find it again.

  By then the sound of footsteps on the floor above was constant. Instead of trying to leave by the stairs, I turned toward the tunnel and made my way from the basement in that direction. As I
felt my way through the darkness I stumbled over a chair and fell to the ground. I lay there motionless and quiet, waiting for some indication of whether I had been heard. When no one came to the basement, I stuck out my hands to push myself up. My hand pressed against something long and round and as I felt it I realized it was a candle. I groped my way back to the boiler and lit it, then used it to light the way back to the tunnel. A few meters inside, I saw the chair I had tripped over and realized this was the place where Papa and the Judenrat had met. A lump formed in my throat at the thought of him but there was no time to dawdle or reminisce. I continued on to the basement of a building up the block and climbed out to the street one block over. The building where Yardina lived was across the street. I hurried over to it and walked quickly up the steps to her apartment.

  I arrived at the apartment to find Yardina waiting for me in the front room. “Where have you been?”

  “I went back to the apartment.” “Of your parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I was looking for David.” It was true; I had hoped to find him still there, but I did not think I could tell her the real reason.

  “He is staying with Rabbi Gavriel.” “You know this for certain?”

  “Yes. Yosef told me earlier.” “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “He was worried you would try to go over there. I was going to tell you.”

  “When?”

  “After the soldiers were gone and the streets were safe.”

  I wasn’t sure she was telling me the truth, so I moved on to a different topic. “They are clearing the buildings.”

  “They will be here soon.” “Here?”

  “Yes. Here, in our building. They will move us out soon.” “You are certain of this?”

  “Amos Lurie has a friend who knows the SS well. He told us.” She studied me a moment. “Do you have a skill?”