فصل 42

florian

There were many possibilities. I pieced together this one.

The family had been eating their dinner. They were alerted of a Russian approach—maybe someone at the door or a sound from outside. The older gentleman, probably the grandfather, instructed everyone to go upstairs and get in bed. He then walked to his room and dressed in his uniform from the Great War. Honor lost was everything lost. He would not allow his family or legacy to be stripped from their land. They would die with dignity. Shoulders square, rows of medals adorning the left side of his chest, the old man walked in and out of each bedroom, taking life yet sparing honor. He then marched to his own room, stood by the window watching the hills beyond, and pulled the trigger.

And now they lay lifeless, their legacy frozen with cold.

• • •

No one could go back to sleep. We left the estate before the first morning light appeared.

The shoemaker held the little boy’s hand.

The boy held the earless rabbit.

What a sorry group we were, brutalized and bandaged, yet luckier than most; certainly more fortunate than the dead family upstairs. The giant woman wouldn’t stop talking about it, describing the scene in morbid detail for the others. I wanted to hit her with a brickbat.

“Sorry, but you didn’t see it, the blood, the children,” she said. “Thank God it was so cold up there. Even so, the smell.”

We walked down the long drive and just before we reached the road, the giant started in about the Polish girl. “Get her out of the cart. She can’t come with us. We can’t be caught with a runaway Pole and a deserter. We’ll end up slaughtered like the family upstairs.”

“Shut up,” I told her. “I’m not a deserter.”

“Eva, she’s showing signs of early labor. She should rest,” said Joana.

“Well, she made it this far, I’m sure she can make it the rest of the way. We don’t want her in our group, Joana. The others just aren’t brave enough to tell you.”

The Polish girl looked to me from the back of the cart. I wanted to give the annoying woman a piece of my mind. The nurse stepped in front of me.

“All right, Eva. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that the horse is mine? I’ll take Emilia on horseback and ride ahead on my own. You can all pull the cart yourselves.”

The nurse girl was even prettier when she was stubborn.

“Joana, please don’t leave us. Please,” begged the blind girl.

The small boy clutched the maimed rabbit and began to cry.

“Really, Eva, at this point it makes no difference,” said the shoe poet. “We’ll reach the ice soon and—”

The blind girl threw her hand in the air. The arguing ceased. Noise, voices, and other sounds slowly emerged through the trees.

Someone was on the road.

I darted through the snow and peered out from behind a tree. A massive procession of people and carts created a long column, as far as the eye could see.

So it had happened.

Evacuation orders had been issued. Germany was finally telling people what they should have said months ago.

Run for your lives.