I awake to a pounding on our door. I pull myself up out of bed and stumble out into the hall. Pleading to the unseen person, Mother is already at the door. He steps into our house, a Nazi soldier.
“Collect all of your vile family and come outside,” grunts the soldier. “Hurry, or I might just have permission to shoot the slow ones.
Mother rushes into our room, bumping past me, wakes Izzy and drags her out of bed.
“What are you doing? I'm still asleep,” Izabella says sleepily, probably adding in extra yawns to prove her point.
“We need to leave. Now. Get dressed as quickly as you can. Sara, you too,” Mother says as she leaves our room. We get dressed and step outside. I can't see Father anywhere.
When the Nazi soldiers take us away, I stare at the crumbling buildings and smoldering bricks. Poland used to be so beautiful1 and wonderful2. My favorite art museum had been demolished, and is now a gruesome pile of blackened stone. The hollow faces of starving people line the streets. I clutch Izabella’s hand as we march next to Mother.
A horse trots down the street. It looks happy to be roaming the streets without a master to guide it, but soon that happiness melts away to anxiety. Rearing up up on its legs, the horse kicks at the thin ghostly people crowding him. They claw at the horse’s flesh in an attempt to gain food3 for their starving stomachs, the horse neighing and kicking at its ravenous attackers. The skeleton like figures of the people beat at the horse and each other, eventually pulling the horse to the ground. Izabella squeaks and Mother puts her hands over Izabella and my eyes.
“Just keep walking. Don’t look,” Mother tells us, her voice catching at the end. I hold onto her arm as she guides us away from the horse. When we are past this, Mother uncovers our eyes and shivers.
“Why would they do…that?” Izabella questions, shaking.
“You don’t want to know. It’s okay, just stay in the group and we’ll be safe.” Mother says.
“Right,” I murmur sarcastically. “So safe, with guns pointed at us with trigger-happy fingers holding them.”
We approach a train, and the group of soldiers motion us on. We step on cautiously, followed by other families. The train is crowded and smells of sweat and illness. Once everyone is on, the doors are slammed shut and locked. Rocking and screeching, the train starts rumbling over the tracks. Babies wail, and adults talk in desperate voices. I put my hands over my ears and close my eyes, trying to shut it all out, but the piercing shriek of the train whistle startles me, and I open my eyes again.
We've been on the train for hours now, or maybe just minutes, it's very hard to tell with the blinds down. Clutching my hand, Izabella hums a tune that seems to be in a minor key.
“Izzy, can you stop humming? It's freaky here even without you humming...that,” I sigh to her.
“I can't help it if I'm scared,” she states.
“Well, just be quiet, okay?” I grumble.
“No. I'm going to do what I want to,” she says defiantly.
“Don't make me make you be quiet,” I warn.
“Well then I'll--”
“Quiet, girls! Stop arguing!” Mother says sharply, giving me one of her stop-acting-like-a-little-child look. I can practically hear her unspoken words, “We are on a train with the blinds down and locked into place, going to an unknown destination, with no idea what will happen, and you two are still fighting? What has happened to you girls?”
We hang our heads in shame, but Izabella is still humming. I think she's smirking. I can't tell in the dark.
1 Warsaw had many old and beautiful churches, museums, and temples. More than ¼ of the city had been destroyed by bombs, leaving a dusty wreck. Many disheartened citizens roamed around, looking for shelter (Stewart 22).
2The capital of Poland, the city of Warsaw was the main center of Jewish culture and life. The Jewish population in Warsaw was 350,000, and was 30% of the overall population. Warsaw's was the largest Jewish community in Poland and in Europe, and second largest in the world (“Warsaw” 1).
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