The Locket

by Evans, Mike

  “I am a student.”

  “You must have a skill.” “Why?”

  “The soldiers will return and take us. Maybe not tomorrow, but one day soon. They’ll do another selection.”

  “A selection?”

  “Between those who live and those who die. They might choose from the color of your shoes, or your hair, or your eyes, and,” she pointed for emphasis, “it might just be by your trade.”

  “Was that really the reason why my parents were taken? Because he is a shopkeeper and she is a musician?”

  Yosef rose from his sleeping mat. “No, they were taken because your father is on the council.”

  “But why did that cause them to take him?”

  “Your friend Eichmann wanted them to conduct a census to learn everyone’s trade. They are interested in only those with skills. Everyone else is useless to them. But your father and the council realized what was happening and refused to take the census. So the soldiers began moving us out anyway, using whatever means they saw fit to make their selections.”

  “I still don’t understand the selection.” I was bewildered by it all. “Why are some selected to die?”

  “They select us for work. Those who can work are taken to the camps. And those who can’t are killed.”

  A frown creased my forehead. “They would do that?” “We hear reports.”

  “That is why you must have a skill,” Yardina insisted.

  “Like I said, I’m a student,” I shrugged. “I want to be a historian.” “No. You’re not a student. Students, they kill. Historians, they kill.

  Meek little girls who don’t have an occupation, they kill. And after they kill you, they’ll kill me for harboring you. So you are a cook and a seamstress.”

  “I can’t do either.”

  “Fake it. They’ll kill us all if you don’t.”

  “But what about my papers? They show me as a student.”

  “I know someone who can help,” Yosef offered. “He will get papers that can pass the scrutiny of any soldier.”

  A few days later, Yosef obtained Austrian papers for me that showed my occupation as a cook and seamstress. Not long after that, the soldiers returned to the ghetto and began moving people out of Yardina’s building. All that day we waited in the apartment, listening as they emptied apartments on the floors below. I made sure the papers Yosef gave me were safely in my pocket and tried to remain calm as the soldiers worked their way up to our floor.

  In a little while the soldiers reached our floor. I heard the thump of their boots on the staircase, then a fist banged on our door. Though I heard them coming and knew we were next, the sound of it made me jump. Before we could answer it, the door opened and a soldier appeared. “Out!” he shouted. “Leave everything and get out!”

  “Not even a suitcase?” Yardina protested.

  “Out!” the soldier repeated. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her toward the door. “Get out now!”

  I hurried after Yardina, squeezed past the soldier, and ran out the door. As I stumbled down the steps she glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Remember, you are a cook and a seamstress. Look them in the eye. Don’t hesitate.” It was cold that day and I wore only a thin cotton dress with a sweater bearing the yellow Star of David on the chest. I pulled it tightly around me but it did little to keep me warm.

  Near the front door of the building, I caught sight of my brother David. In spite of all the confusion and uncertainty around us, my heart was glad at seeing him alive. He saw me too, and as I stepped out he came to my side and took my hand. “Yosef gave you the papers?”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I was hiding at first. Then Rabbi Gavriel gave me a place to stay. You have the papers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Show them when they ask for papers. Do not hesitate. The papers will work.”

  Outside the building, soldiers separated the men from the women, with men on one side of the street and women on the other. As we stepped from the sidewalk, soldiers rushed toward me. One of them grabbed my arm. David leaned over and kissed my cheek, then they shoved him away and dragged us to opposite sides of the street.

  Yardina was already with the others standing on the sidewalk with her back to the wall of the building. I made my way toward her and squeezed in beside her. I watched as wives were separated from husbands and babies from their mothers. Seeing the babies reminded me of what I had seen that day with Tomer. I felt sick at the memory of it and at the certainty of what would happen to those babies. For relief from the anguish directly in front of me, I looked away and scanned the men on the opposite side of the street, searching for David. I caught sight of him for a moment, then a truck backed in the way, obscuring him from sight. Moments later, he emerged from behind the truck and climbed in back. My heart sank at the thought of being separated from him and I wondered if I would ever see him again.

  While the men were loaded into trucks, soldiers forced the remaining women into a line, single file. When we were in place, a man in a dark suit came down the line, checking our papers. I handed him the card Yosef gave me and waited, confident that if David said it would work, there would be no problem. The man glanced at it, shoved it toward me, and moved on to the next person. After a while, the line began to shuffle away. I turned in that direction and followed the others down the street. With soldiers guarding us, we walked back through the tenement buildings the same way we’d come when we first arrived from Linz.

  Soon we came to the freight yard and found the tracks once again lined with cattle cars. The doors to the cars were already open and soldiers started herding us inside as soon as we arrived. Even so, getting into the cars was an awkward task and the area around the cars soon became jammed with women trying to get in and soldiers trying to force them in faster. By then Yardina and I were separated and she was nowhere to be seen.

  Rather than delay the inevitable, I did my best to press forward, hoping to avoid rough treatment from the soldiers and wanting simply to get on with whatever was about to happen. As I moved toward a railcar and positioned myself to climb aboard, a soldier with a clipboard walked past. On the clipboard he had a list of names and he read them aloud, shouting at the top of his voice. When he called my name I turned toward him. A soldier stepped forward to prod me onto the car, but when I told him the man with the clipboard had called my name, he took me by the arm and dragged me in that direction.

  Others from the list, about five or six in all, joined me next to the man with the clipboard and when they were gathered, he led us to a truck. We climbed in back on our own and as soon as we were inside, the truck started forward. Moments later, we passed through a gate that led to a bridge across the river. Once over it, we headed north through town. I stood for the ride and let the cold wind blow through my hair.

  It felt good to be away from the crowded ghetto and the stench of life there. The air was clear and fresh and I breathed it in, filling my lungs to capacity.

  For a brief, fleeting moment I felt a sense of relief and was almost happy. I had no idea what lay before me and we were still at the mercy of the German soldiers, but for a moment life seemed suddenly lighter and almost hopeful. Then I looked back over my shoulder to see the train already far down the tracks and fading from sight. A sense of loneliness swept over me. Mama, Papa, and Uncle Alois already were gone. David, Yosef, and Yardina were on a train bound for some unknown destination and no one seemed to know where Stephan was or what had happened to him. As the truck rattled through the streets of Vienna, I realized everyone I’d ever known was gone and I had little hope we would ever see each other again.

  * * *

  Not long after we left the freight yard the truck came to a stop outside an office building on the north side of Vienna. Three soldiers appeared behind the truck and ordered us out. They were stern and demanding but, unlike the ones in the ghetto, did not abuse us or drag us by the arm. We climbed to the ground on our own and they lined us up along the wall
of the building. Then the man with the clipboard appeared and began announcing work assignments. Some were sent to a warehouse across the street. Others were led off in a different direction. Finally, only I remained. The man with the clipboard checked his list once more, then gestured for me to follow him inside the building. He held the door open for me, then led the way upstairs. At the top of the staircase we came to a long hallway. A row of chairs sat against the wall to the right. He pointed to one and told me to sit and wait.

  In a little while, a woman came from an office near where I was seated and motioned for me to follow. I walked with her up the hall to an open door and into an office. A desk sat opposite the door and behind it was Adolf Eichmann. He looked up as we entered and smiled. “Hello, Sarah.” His tone was both smug and self-confident.

  Looking back now, I should have known he was the reason I was called back from the trains. He was also the reason we had an apartment in the building near the front of the ghetto, several blocks from the worst conditions and safely removed from the places used by the soldiers who entertained themselves by killing the more helpless among us. I should have known I would see him that day, but when they brought me in the office and he was at the desk, I was surprised. I’m sure he was amused by the look on my face and satisfied that he’d been able to catch me by surprise. “Adolf,” I said, acknowledging him with a nod of my head. “I thought you were at the hotel.”

  “I was, but that was only a temporary location.” He gestured to the woman who was with me. She backed away and stepped out to the hall. I heard the door close behind her as she went out. When she was gone, Adolf continued. “This space is much better suited for our purposes than a hotel suite.” He came from behind the desk and stood before me. His eyes met mine as he took hold of the sweater I was wearing and gently slid it off my shoulders. “You won’t need this,” he grinned. “We’ll get you another one.”

  A shudder ran through my body. I was nervous and tense, expecting to feel his hands groping me and smell the foul odor of his mouth as he wallowed over my body. Instead, he tossed aside the sweater, took a seat on a chair beside me, and crossed his legs. I was still standing and he patted the chair next to his with his hand. “Have a seat.” I did so, then he looked over at me and in the most casual voice said, “I was wondering if you would like to work for me.”

  I was taken aback, both by his manner and by the suggestion that a Jew could, or would, choose to work for him. “H…how could I?” I stammered. “I am a Jew.”

  He leaned closer and spoke in a hushed voice. “I can have anyone I want.” He pointed with his index finger. “But I chose you.”

  A frown wrinkled my forehead. “You can have a Jew working for you?”

  “I can have anyone,” he nodded. “Anyone at all.”

  “Won’t people notice? Won’t that cause trouble for both of us?” “That won’t be an issue,” he had a dismissive smirk. “No one will question me. And besides, you can pass.” He flipped up the ends of my hair with his fingers. “Your skin tone, your eyes. They will all fit in perfectly. Others need never know.” He took a second look. “Maybe you should cut your hair. But I think we will have no problems.” He rose from the chair and moved behind the desk. “You will do it? You will work for me?”

  I stared at him a moment, thinking of all that had happened and knowing that in the end, my fate was not in my own hands. Images of the ghetto filled my mind, the women and babies along the wall, and the Averbuch children lying in the street at Linz. Bringing me there to that office as if I were interviewing for a job, asking me if I wanted to work for him, was all a charade, and I finally realized, at a level deeper than I’d been willing to acknowledge before, that Jews in Austria, perhaps Jews in all of Europe, had no real choices anymore except the choice to persevere, to survive in spite of all they did to us—to live—because one day this would all come to an end. Nothing so evil and ludicrous as what we’d experienced could survive for long. I wanted to be present on that day when the world crumbled around our German captors, so I said, “I don’t think I have much choice.”

  “No,” he laughed. “You really don’t. It’s either work for me or go to the camps.”

  “Okay,” I shrugged. “I will do it.”

  “Good,” he grinned. “And I will help you.” He opened the desk drawer and took out official Austrian papers. He glanced at them and tossed them on the desk in front of me. “Your name is now Ellen Krupp. You grew up in Linz, attended high school there, and lived just a few houses away from me when we were children.”

  “Most of that is true,” I observed as I picked up the papers and scanned them. The identity card had a photograph of me affixed to it. I was surprised to see it and studied it a moment, trying to determine where he’d obtained it.

  “You are correct,” he continued, still standing behind the desk. “The best cover stories always play on the truth. That way, you have less to commit to memory. You will be working for me as my assistant. I want you to help me document the work we are doing here, create an archive of our accomplishments.” He dropped onto a chair. “But we will go over all of that in the morning.”

  I looked over at him. “What about Stephan?”

  The question caught him off guard. “Stephan?” he asked with a puzzled look.

  “Stephan Rovina. I came to ask you about him when you were in the hotel. What happened to him?”

  “Oh.” Adolf ’s eyes darted away. “He is fine. The Security Office wanted custody of him but I persuaded them to give him to me.” He had a tight, thin smile. “We sent him to the East. He will do well there.”

  “He is alive?”

  “Yes,” Adolf nodded reassuringly, but his eyes darted away once more. “He’s very much alive.”

  “What about my parents?”

  “They are fine, too.” He rested his forearms on the desktop and laced his fingers together. “I saw them onto the train myself.”

  “You saw them?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “I will check to make sure they are settled appropriately.”

  He reached across the desk to a tray filled with papers and took a document from it. “This gives you a room in our boardinghouse.” He handed the paper to me. “It’s located on the corner about two blocks from here. One of the men downstairs can tell you how to find it.”

  Now I was the one with a puzzled expression. “Boardinghouse?” “You will have a room and two meals each day there. Lunch will be provided here.”

  Three meals and a room to myself. I felt guilty and glad at the same time. Still, it was too good to be true. “I can come and go?”

  “You will live as one of us, but you must be very careful. If you are discovered, I will be forced to disown you as a traitor and have you shot on the spot.”

  “I’ll do my best to avoid that,” I said with a wry tone.

  “I am sure you will. Now, you should get down there and show them that paper so they can put you up. Then return here in the morning for work.” He paused a moment and let his eyes slowly roam over me from head to toe. “Do you have other clothes?”

  “This is all I have. They told us to leave everything when they took us from the apartment.”

  “We have a warehouse across the street.” He took a pad from the corner of the desk, scribbled a note, and handed it to me. “Take this to them. They will let you choose some clothes from their supply.”

  I was suspicious of his generosity but glad for the opportunity to have clothes to wear. I nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  When I didn’t leave immediately, he gestured with a wave of his hand. “Go on. Return in the morning.” I stood and started toward the door. Then he called after me. “And, Sarah, do not think of running away.” His brow was heavy and his voice authoritative. “There is no other place for you to go. No one else to turn to for help. If you try to leave I will track you down. I found you once. I can find you again. And then things would not go well for you.”

  From the office, I wa
lked downstairs to the front entrance. A guard at the door patted me down. I showed him the note Adolf had given me and asked where I should go. He glanced at the note, then opened the door and pointed to a building directly opposite where we stood. I crossed the street to it and went inside.

  From the outside the building appeared to be a warehouse, but inside it opened to a long corridor with rooms on either side. A clerk met me in the hall and checked my note. Then he led me farther into the building to a room on the right.

  “The coats are in here,” he pointed to a huge pile of winter coats. All shapes and sizes, they were stacked higher than the door. “Dresses are in the next room. Shoes in the one after that. Find yourself a coat and I’ll show you the rest of it.” I stared at the pile a moment, unsure what I should do. He gestured again. “Go on. Find one that fits. We don’t have all day.”

  I stepped to the pile and sorted through it a moment until I found a coat that looked nice. It was made of gray wool. A little too large, but it was as close as I could find in the brief time he gave me. “That will do,” he said with a short tone. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The next room held a pile of dresses as large as the coats. I picked out four or five. Turning, I spotted a pile of underwear and chose several pieces. I found a pair of shoes in the room next door and the clerk handed me a pair of women’s boots. “You might need these if it starts to snow.”

  As we turned to leave, the clothes were draped over my arm and I held the shoes and boots in either hand. He seemed a little flustered by my appearance and led me farther down the hall to another room that was stacked to the ceiling with suitcases. He took one down, set it on the floor, and opened it. “Put your things in there,” he pointed. I laid the clothes in the case, put the shoes on top, and closed the lid.

  Suitcase in hand, I followed the clerk up the hall toward the front. As we made our way in that direction, we passed a room on the right. The door was ajar and through the opening I saw a man seated at a table. He had a jeweler’s loupe over one eye, and before him was a small pile of stones that appeared to be diamonds. A soldier armed with a rifle stood in the far corner across from the door. While I watched, a man appeared with a small pouch. He opened it and poured the contents onto the table. Human teeth with gold fillings tumbled from the pouch. I gasped at the sight of it.