Chapter Seventy-Five, END OF ANTONI
The banging started the night before the actual day it happened.
At first, it sounded like thunder — trailing through the streets. I shrugged deeper into the shadows, watching as beams of search lights entered the houses, coming back out with crying people to the ground. I shivered, turning around to my group, but my breath left in a gasp.
SS had Fabian, Shayna and Krzysztof. One of them grabbed my arm, and shoved me foreword to the other groups of rapidly growing people. Where are they taking us? What is happening? Is this the final —? I tripped on my foot, grabbing Shayna's arm as we were flung into the mass of people.
"Einzelne Datei!" The soldiers screamed, now taking over the turn to hot us with their rifles. The sleepy Poles screamed, cowering and covering their children. Several street fighters had been caught up in the ruse, too. "Single file!" The soldiers were screaming now; panic breaking out. We were going to have another mass shooting; why did they expect us to understand their language?
"They want us to line up in single rows!" I shouted, and Fabian pushed through the crowed, yelling at the top of his lungs. The soldiers caught him moving, and charged through the people, roughly grabbing his arms. I tried to get to him, but Krzysztof held me back. "Let me go." Shayna took my hand, her eyes telling me what I already knew — I could do nothing. This was one of those moments. ()
Fabian started talking fast as they dragged him to the side, explaining how he was only interpreting. One of them punched Fabian's jaw, causing my brother to shut his mouth immediately. His face didn't bleed; but his eyes did. Pure, bright, red venom.
"You want talk? You go up there." The Nazi knew some Polish, and he spat it like it had a bad taste. Fabian clenched , and unclenched his hands as the Nazi grabbed his collar, dragging him to the front of the crowed. I stood on my toes, trying to watch him go.
"You know he'll be okay." Krzysztof whispered, and I hugged his arm around my shoulder.
"I know he can defend himself; but I don't think he's hate proof."
"They aren't going to kill anyone yet."
"Thank you for that Shayna." I rolled my eyes, horrified as the thought of what might be happening here sank into a rock in my throat and grew roots into my stomach, sucking all the moister (out).
"Gehen!" The Nazis and SS started shoving us foreword with their rifles. This time, everyone knew what they wanted.
As the people started moving forward in the night, the single file line was like a snake curling around the streets and buildings. Muffled crying from the little kids, as they covered their mouths with hands; trying to be strong like everyone older than them. We looked indignant form the outside; and the kids thought it ran inside too, so they were trying to change their emotions. What they don't know, is it's a mask (façade)(Persona) you out on the outside, to cover the real mess inside. You don't change how you are feeling — unless you are to fight. Then it's time. But for the safety of others, we could not, this time.
The Nazis made us line up in front of their head office. And imposing, white building with many stairs — like the one in my nightmare. Hitler's flag was draped over the balcony, and I half expected him to appear above it. Finally, this man who had brought so much destruction to Poland, would dare to at last show himself here.
All of us, hundreds — and still more coming — waited in silence. We knew the command to stand at attention — and what it would mean if we didn't. Even the slightest blink could set off a bomb — and we would all be under gun fire. Why did we even want to keep the seconds counting — perhaps it's the hope that we wouldn't actually be murdered.
We waited all night. We stood in the chilling wind, blowing across the sea of people. For once, there were no Jews standing with us. Just the Poles. Is this how they want it? Soldiers marched up and down; I ovoid just feel them waiting for a single excuse to beat someone. They were angry too, at having been drug out of their beds as well; at least theyweren't dying of a thousand things.
The morning light crept up upon the shoulders of the men, and drying the dew in the woman's hair. Our hands shook as they clasped children's; but not from the cold. It's fear of the unknown — for every second your eyes are closed, there is ten minutes of waiting; waiting, which is the real torture. My brain swirled with a thousand possibilities of what was going to happen to us. Everything you've known to be horrific in life, now comes together into one smashing, black, heap in my brain. This kind of thinking has driven others to madness — I shake myself, squeezing the child's hand tighter, and opened my eyes to the orange sun.
We wait, cause there is nothing else we can do. When one of the persons yells out, and the slaps against his body echo, we only watch the sun crawling it's way up the white stairs. One. At. A. Time.
Then the light reaches the top of the building; and descends into the sky. Someone is grabbed from the front of the group. I arch my neck, trying to not appear obvious, but acid burning my stomach as Fabian is forced up the stairs. I count eight, before the Nazi's hand leaves Fabian's shoulder, whipping him around to face us. Like all the air in Warsaw is sucked into our lungs, we wait for the first drop of blood to fall, staining the white steps. My knees go shaky, and an arm slips around my waist. I grab Krzysztof's wrist, flinging it back at him, and straighten myself. I don't want anyone risking their lives, or even a beating, for me. I'm not that valuable. I let out my breath slowly, to show Krzysztof thank you, and another to straighten my back. I have to be brave for my brother; no matter what happens. More than his life depends on how I, we, act; and it starts with one iron spine.
(But) the soldier only leaves my brother standing on the steps, and marches back down. Fabian blinks, the afternoon light behind lighting up his frame. With a deep breath, he glances down at the Nazis, not seeing any demands yet, and straightens his shoulders. Slowly, Fabain's eyes glide over each and every one of us, the captives. With each looking into an eye, a little fire sparks inside Fabain's eye. I can't see every one else's eyes, but I'm sure they now carry the same lick if fire (after his eyes leave them). Silently, we are being lit; płonące żar. Burning embers.
Our hands tighten, and the children's respond; the fire that had gone out with the night, is returing. We know how to contain it inside; a fire to keep ourselves alone warm, and protect it to grow, until the fire can be sent out to burn a whole forest of grey.
I keep mine deep within; it's flames burning my insides. The rush of a hundred dead souls beg me to avenge them, and I struggle as the SS and Nazis walking back and forth between us, to keep the hotness inside my chest. I want to let it out — to burn the faces of their murderers, but the other fires are not ready. There is too many faces to burn, and not enough of one fire. I squint my eyes, hazy water covering them, telling myself I am alright, and to silence the pleas as they are not really happening. Yet I can see faces shaking in the water; faces in the last moments as they begged us to make their deaths count. For something. And for every second I don't fire, a soul's life is lost to the void that means worthless and no meaning. Would they understand, if they knew I can't act now? My veins are even shaking inside my skin, no longer blood, but red-hot lava streaming through them. I want to scream — to let it out — but all this hatred made of fire will burn the innocents too.
When I open my eyes, the dark battle having forced down to a painful lump in my throat, the doors are just opening. Two officers, their medals...medals that represent lives they took... hanging proudly from their well-fed chests. Red interior, like there never was a war. Black gloves, holding the brass doors open. A landing and staircase, and soldiers flood down the stairs to fill the outside platform. Their rifles are pointed at us, and we all freeze. I can almost feel the bullets hitting my body, and little pains spark all over.
