Chapter 3


Zlatka

Disembarking

Once again, the train stopped.

Groaning, squealing, jostling.

I didn’t know

how many days

stops

deaths

there had been.

It had become routine.

I held Necha close,

leaned against the wall

so we didn’t fall.

Doors flew open.

I closed my eyes

against

bright sunshine.

Soldiers yelled,

Mach schnell! Mach schnell!

We jumped

fell

were pushed

from the train.

Human cargo disgorged.

The SS waited

guns ready

dogs barking

on the Judenrampe

between the trains.

Hundreds of people.

Faces haunted

confused

frightened

defiant.

Clutching cardboard suitcases

leather satchels

canvas bags

each other.

Not just a stop

a final destination.

The name

Auschwitz

rippled through the chaos

but it meant nothing—

yet.

Mama rose to tiptoes

scanning the crowd

looking for Tata and Iser.

All around

women hunted for a husband,

father,

brother,

son.

Little children clung to coat hems.

Do you see them?

I asked.

Mama shook her head.

You try.

I lifted my chin

scanned

above the crowds.

No Tata.

No Iser.

Fences.

Everywhere fences

too high to climb

hummed with electricity.

Men in striped uniforms

gaunt and stooped

yellow stars

loaded corpses

dumped from the train

onto handcarts.

Their eyes ringed dark

as if they’d looked

too often

into Death’s eyes.

Nearby chimneys

belched black smoke

into clear blue skies.

A sweet stench

turned my empty stomach.