Beyond the Shadow of Night

by Ray Kingfisher

  “Well, I don’t,” Mama said.

  “Oh, look,” Papa said. “All this bickering is getting us nowhere. We only have ten minutes.” He took his cap off and gave his head a hurried scratch. “Those who want to stay, stay. Those who want to leave, leave. But I go where my wife goes. And I won’t be sorry to say good riddance to this rat’s nest.”

  “No, Hirsch,” his wife said flatly. “We can’t split the family up.”

  “Then what do you want me to do?” he replied. “We’re all adults. It’s the only way to decide.” He turned to Rina and Asher. “You definitely want to stay here?”

  First Rina nodded, then Asher.

  “Very well.” Papa sighed and rubbed his chin. “If that’s the way you feel, we need to find somewhere in here for you to hide.” He peered around the room, then looked at Asher and Rina. “You realize what you’re doing is very dangerous, don’t you?”

  “We know,” Rina said.

  “And you’ll probably be killed if they find you.”

  “No! No! No!” Mama shouted. She burst into tears, and the others looked on in silence. “I’m not leaving . . .” She sniffed and gulped a short breath. “I’m not leaving my children to the dogs.”

  Rina went to speak, but Papa held a hand up to silence her. He turned to Mama.

  “Golda, please. I know it’s hard, but . . . our children aren’t children anymore.”

  “Well, they are to me!”

  He heaved a sigh. “Then I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Please, Mama,” Rina said, stepping over to her. “We haven’t much time. Asher and I want to take our chances here.”

  “But if they find you they’ll—”

  “We’ll make sure they don’t.”

  They embraced. Mama beckoned Asher over and embraced him too.

  “Are you two absolutely sure?” Papa said.

  Asher and Rina nodded.

  “Okay. But we have to be quick.” He walked to the far side of the room and opened the wardrobe doors. “We’ll put you in here and cover you with clothes.”

  “Good,” Rina said.

  “The best I can think of,” he said with a shrug. “Grab your food and water; you might have to stay there for a few hours, until you hear nothing and nobody outside.” He turned away from them. “Everybody else, it’s time to pack.”

  Asher watched as his mama, her face shiny with tears, hurriedly put a few clothes into a suitcase. Keren did the same.

  There were hugs and a few more tears, then Papa pointed to the wardrobe. “Get in now, before I change my mind and drag you along with us.”

  Rina and Asher started emptying clothes from the bottom of the wardrobe. They each fetched a cup of water and put bread in their pockets.

  “I’ll lock the door on my way out,” Papa said. “So if you hear it being broken down, you’ll know to keep still and quiet.”

  “Papa,” Rina said, “do you really believe you’re going to a better place?”

  The furrow on his brow held back his emotions. “I feel as if I’m being forced to make a choice between being shot or being hanged. But we’ve both made our decisions. Come on, let’s get you hidden.”

  They got in, one each side, facing each other with their cups of water under their knees. Their papa gave each of them a lingering kiss on the forehead, then threw the clothes back onto them, rearranging them once or twice.

  Asher had no way of knowing in the darkness, but he thought he heard his papa crying. Then he heard a fractured voice whisper, “Rina, be joyful. Asher, be blessed.” He heard the creak of the wardrobe door being closed, followed by the muffled sounds of people leaving the house.

  Soon, all Asher could hear were distant shouts and his own nervous breathing.

  “I’m sorry, Asher,” he heard Rina whisper. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. It’s just . . .” The sentence trailed off as her voice trembled.

  “I know,” Asher said. “You think they’re being taken away to be shot.”

  She sniffed a few times. “And I think they know it too, but . . . there’s a chance they’ll survive.”

  “And us?”

  “A chance also. A greater one or a smaller one. Who knows?”

  “We both know,” Asher said. “We’ll see them again.”

  Beneath the huddle of clothes, Asher felt a hand grab his ankle and give it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for staying with me.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

  “Me too.”

  “But from now on I’ll take care of you,” he said. “We’ll take care of each other. Don’t worry.”

  “Of course.”

  “And Rina?”

  “What?”

  “Did you . . . did you smuggle in bullets? Is that why we had extra food?”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “You should have told Mama and Papa.”

  “I will, Asher. I’ll tell them when this is all over.”

  “Do you think that will ever happen?”

  “Of course it will. You have to be strong. Try not to worry.”

  “But I do. I still worry about . . .”

  “Izabella?”

  “Of course. I don’t know what happened to her. I miss her. I can’t get her out of my mind.”

  Asher felt his sister’s hand on his ankle again, now squeezing tightly.

  “Listen to me, Asher. I promise you’ll see her again one day. She’s alive. I feel it in my bones. And I know God meant for the two of you to be together.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “But for now, we should be quiet in case guards come in to search the place.”

  They both stopped talking.

  It might have been the clothes muffling Asher’s ears, but he could hear nothing—not one thing except his own breathing and the faint echo of his own resting heartbeat. And in his safe cocoon he’d lost track of time. Had he been drifting in and out of sleep? It was hard to tell.

  “Rina?” he whispered.

  He heard nothing. He moved his foot forward and tapped hers.

  There was a muffled squeal, then Rina said, “I’m sorry. I was asleep.”

  “Me too. It’s so dark and quiet. And my legs are getting stiff.”

  “We can’t move,” Rina said. “We should wait a few more hours.”

  “How do we know what hours are?”

  And that was a fair question: hours or minutes could have already passed.

  “Let’s just stay here as long as we can bear it.”

  “Okay,” Asher said, and drifted back into that state that was neither awake nor asleep, more an acute awareness that important events were happening outside and sooner or later he would be at their mercy. He was never completely sure if his eyes were open or shut. His balance, too, seemed to have no frame of reference, and more than once he had the sensation of falling down a hole, only to wake with a start.

  Then.

  A crack. One single crack, like a piece of wood being broken.

  The door, perhaps?

  His senses went into overdrive. Should he ask Rina if she’d heard it too? No, too dangerous. Be silent. And breathe quietly, all the better to hear.

  A hand on his ankle again. Squeezing. This time so tightly it hurt.

  So, Rina had heard it too.

  But what to do?

  Nothing.

  Be quiet. Be still. One false move and the wardrobe could become a coffin.

  Another cracking sound. This time Asher was definitely awake, and he heard it loud and clear. The sound didn’t come from the door, but from the other side of the room. It was like wood splintering.

  A third crack, and now there was movement—like a hinge in need of a drop of oil.

  Asher heard a thumping sound and felt it too, as if someone had just landed on the floorboards.

  Were those footsteps?

  It was hard to know.

  Now he felt Rina’s grip tighten
on his leg, her desperate nails almost breaking through his skin, making him clench his teeth rather than yelp in pain.

  Another creak, this time lighter.

  The wardrobe door?

  The next thing Asher became aware of was the bundle of clothes being dragged off him, followed by the smell of soot and sweat from the hand clasped over his mouth.

  “Shh!” he heard.

  The hand came away from his mouth, although slowly, as though not quite trusting. But Asher was too confused to speak.

  Then there was a face. It happened in a flash—the flash of a match being lit.

  On the other side of the match was the blackened and furtive face of a man.

  Asher squinted to see past the wavering yellow light, unsure for a moment whether he recognized him.

  The man used his free hand to pull the clothes off Rina and then cover her mouth too. When he pulled it away he held his index finger up to his mouth. “Don’t scream,” he whispered. “You must be Rina, yes?”

  Rina, too shocked to speak, didn’t reply, didn’t move.

  The man now looked at Asher. “And you are Asher? You’re the two Kogans, yes?”

  “Yes, we are,” Asher said.

  Then the tiny light between them flickered and died, and soon another match lit up their faces.

  Yes. Asher knew this man.

  “I’m Josef,” he said. “I worked with you and your papa at the brick factory.”

  Asher went to speak, but Josef held up a silencing finger. “We can talk later,” he said. “For now, just follow me.”

  They crawled out of the wardrobe, gently and quietly unfolding their limbs, taking a few moments to stretch their backs.

  Now Asher could see a little moonlight casting a bluish hue onto the window. The wooden frame was crooked, hanging by one hinge, clearly wrenched off.

  “Don’t speak, and try not to make any noise,” Josef said. He lifted the window frame to one side, and in the half-light Asher saw two wooden stumps leaning against the outside wall.

  He felt a nudge from Rina, asking him to go first.

  A moment later, he was leaning out of the window, peering down to the street below. He could just make out another man standing at the foot of the ladder.

  “Quickly,” Josef said. “The guards will patrol this area soon.”

  Asher scrambled out of the window and as good as flew down the ladder. Before his feet touched the ground, the man standing there gave two raps on the ladder with his knuckles.

  Before Asher knew it, Rina was with him. They stood next to each other, both scanning the street.

  Another two raps on the wood and Josef’s feet appeared at the top. He was halfway down when they all heard a commotion at the end of the street, and looked to see vague figures in the distance, shouting and weaving left and right.

  Josef’s feet thumped down onto the ground, and Asher felt his muscles tighten as he watched him pull out a pistol and shoot in the direction of the figures.

  “Follow me!” the other man shouted, and they all ran, Josef occasionally turning back to fire more shots.

  The next few minutes were frantic. Asher and Rina were led down one street here, up another there, through the front door of one house, out the back door, up a back alley, and out onto another street. At each turn there were shots—in both directions, Asher thought. At one stage Josef and the other man swapped places, with Josef leading them through the front door of a house and immediately through another door.

  Now there wasn’t even moonlight to help them, and Josef lit another match.

  Asher looked around. They were in a kitchen—a very ordinary-looking one. Before he had time to ask questions, Josef opened the oven door and in his whispered rasp said, “In!”

  Asher looked at the oven, a fairly large but otherwise unremarkable affair. He looked at Rina, and then at Josef.

  “It’s all right,” Josef said. “Just get in. Go through.”

  Shots from outside made Rina react first, dropping to the ground and forcing her head into the oven. She stopped and turned, looking up at Josef.

  “Just crawl through,” he said.

  Asher watched, barely believing his eyes, as first her torso, then her legs disappeared from view.

  The match went out. The gunfire was getting closer. Asher turned and saw the moon shadow of the other man, standing in the doorway, shooting further down the alleyway.

  Then Asher felt his arm being grabbed and he was forced down, his head entering the blackness of the oven. He felt his head thump against the back panel, which gave way. He continued crawling through, soon falling a few inches onto soft earth.

  As soon as he got to his knees he felt his hand being grabbed and pulled to one side.

  By the light of a single candle he saw Rina. He turned to look at where he’d just come from and saw a hatch. It flipped open once more and Josef fell to the ground. He’d hardly rolled out of the way when the other man appeared, and Josef gave a quick tug on a piece of string. There was a noise that Asher recognized as the catch to the oven door. Then Josef placed a piece of wood across the hatch, preventing it from being opened again.

  “Not a sound,” he whispered, then spat on his finger and thumb and reached for the candle flame. Asher heard a faint fizzle as the light went out.

  In the full darkness, with his sense of hearing heightened, Asher heard muffled noises through the wall. He understood no words, but knew what was happening: the guards were shouting and running back and forth, then shouting some more, then asking questions of one another. Eventually, after more angry discussions, there were groans of frustrated acceptance, and the noises faded away.

  For a minute or so there was silence in the darkness, and Asher might as well have been alone. His senses turned to the damp mustiness of the place. A match ignited, providing his eyes with some reference, and then its fire was transferred to a candle.

  Josef lit another two candles. “It’s okay now,” he said. “We can speak.”

  “So speak,” Rina said. “Tell us what’s happening.”

  “He told you,” Asher said. “He worked at the brick factory.”

  “I was also a part-time resistance fighter.” Josef shrugged. “Since the factory closed I have more time for those activities.”

  “But how did you know where we were?” Rina said.

  “Your papa got a message to me while he was waiting at the meeting point.”

  “And what are you going to do with us?”

  “Now you’re in the resistance too,” Josef said. “That is, if you want to be.”

  Rina looked at Asher, who nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, we do.”

  Josef smiled. “Good. Welcome to our bunker—your home now.”

  They all got to their feet, and Asher looked around.

  It was a strange room, so narrow he could touch both walls, but so long that the far end wasn’t quite visible.

  “There are no doors or windows,” Josef said. “The hatch is the only way in or out.”

  Asher looked up to see a few ventilation grilles, then behind him, where a shelf displayed packets of food. Two beds—in reality no more than small mattresses on the floor—were arranged end on end halfway along, against the wall.

  Rina eyed up the two beds. “The four of us are going to live here together?” she asked.

  Josef shook his head. “One more. We can sleep in shifts on the beds.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know, most resistance fighters are living in the sewer system, or even in shallow underground pits. This is a hotel by comparison.”

  “Of course,” Rina said. “I’m sorry.”

  Josef pointed to the opposite end, where a rusty bucket lay on the floor, and something else was jutting out of the wall above it. “And we have a water valve over there.”

  Rina’s face still held a worried frown, but she nodded. “It’s good,” she said. “Perfect. So we fight from here?”

  “One of the many locations across th
e Jewish district.” He wagged a finger at her. “And listen, we need all the hands we can get. I want you to know you’ll be safe here—well, as safe as any Jew can be in this city. The toilet facility is right at the end, beyond the bucket. You, uh, cover it with earth.”

  Asher and Rina peered beyond the makeshift beds, into the darkness at the end of the room.

  “If you need privacy just ask. But . . .” He let out a little laugh. “. . . I can’t vouch for the spiders.” He looked at the other man, who smiled back at him.

  “Never mind spiders,” Rina said firmly. “Do you have guns for me and Asher?”

  “Do you know how to use one?”

  She glanced at Asher. “We can learn.”

  “Good,” Josef said. “That’s good. And I’m sorry, we need a bit of humor here to while the hours away.”

  “Humor is good,” Rina said.

  “You like humor?” Josef pointed to the other man. “This is my friend, and your new brother-in-arms, Adolf.”

  Rina cracked a rare smile.

  “And yes, before you ask, he speaks very good German.”

  “How do you talk to each other?” Asher asked.

  Josef leaned across and patted the man on the back. “Adolf speaks good German and a little Polish. I’m Polish but speak a little Russian, as well as Yiddish. And you?”

  “We both speak Polish and a little Russian, as well as Yiddish and Ukrainian.”

  Josef laughed out loud, then chided himself for making such a noise. “Sounds like we have all languages covered. We can be translators if we fail as soldiers.”

  “So, you’re Jewish?” Rina said. “Do you have family?”

  His laughter quickly dissolved. “Well, I did.”

  “You did?”

  “Now, I’m not so sure. A wife. Three children. A mother-in-law. We survived until three weeks ago. We hid whenever they came to take us away. Then they came one last time with loudspeakers. They said the deportations had ended, that any remaining Jews would be fed and moved to better housing. My wife . . . she . . .” Josef took a few deep breaths. “She said she and her mama had had enough of hiding. We argued. I told her it was a trick. She disagreed, and I was torn, I didn’t know whether to go with them or not. Perhaps I was a coward for staying hidden.”

  “No,” Rina said. “You’re no coward. Any fool can see that.”