Finding Rebecca: A Novel of Love and the Holocaust (30 page)

“What’s
going on here?” Christopher said.

“Not a
thing, Herr Seeler,” Schultz again spoke. Christopher heard it, the faintest
gasp, and wished he had never walked into that room. He drew his pistol, his
hand shaking.

“What’s
going on here?” Christopher said, his voice louder now. “What was that?”

“I
didn’t hear anything Herr Obersturmführer,” one of the other Sonderkommando, a
Pole called Becker, said.

Christopher
thought to shoot him, to run out to get help, to call Strunz, the head of
Crematorium 4, but he did none of those things. “What do you have back there?
Stand away, stand away or I will shoot all of you!” The men parted and he saw
the crumpled body of a little girl, perhaps eight years old, lying on the
bench, her chest expanding as she gasped for breath. Her long brown hair fell
almost to the floor in straggly knots, half covering her filthy face. She was
wearing a grey man’s shirt. “Where did she come from?”

“She was
in the last shipment,”
 
Schultz
said. “We found her in the gas chamber, underneath her father’s body.” He was
walking towards Christopher now and Christopher trained his gun on him, aiming
right at his face. “She was alive. Still alive after the gas poured in.” He was
still approaching, now only a few feet away.

“Stop
right there, Schultz. I will shoot you right in the face. I swear I will.”
Shultz stopped six feet short. Christopher’s hand was visibly shaking and the
tears were welling in his eyes.

“She
survived the gas. The first person any of us have ever seen do so. She must
have been trapped in a bubble of air. It’s a miracle; there’s no other
explanation for it.” Schultz stopped. “Are you going to shoot her?”

“I will
shoot you, Schultz.”

“Go
ahead.” Schultz said, standing still, his hands out in front of him.

“Don’t
make me do this, Schultz, all of you will be dead in minutes if I report this.
I just have to…”

“We all
know that, Herr Obersturmführer. All our lives are in your hands, even hers.”
Schultz let his arms fall to his side, staring directly at Christopher, his icy
blue eyes strong. Christopher couldn’t speak, could only stare and those few
seconds seemed longer than some years of his life. The men at the back were
standing still and the girl coughed again. One of them turned to her and knelt
down to press his ear against her chest. He said something in Polish. One of
the other men knelt down beside them and began compressing her chest and then
blowing air into her mouth. But still Schultz stared at Christopher and still
Christopher pointed the gun at his face. The prisoner drew his mouth away from
the girl and she began to cough and splutter on her own.

“Is she
going to live?” Christopher asked.

“Maybe,
we don’t know. Tomas is a doctor,” Schultz said, gesturing towards one of the
men. “Tomas, how is she doing?”

“Her
lungs are damaged, but I think she’s going to make it.”

 
“It’s all up to you now, Herr
Obersturmführer. Do you kill her? Kill us? Or just walk out of here and pretend
you never saw anything?” Schultz said.

Christopher
looked at Schultz and then the other four men until his eyes finally came to
rest upon the girl. He pressed his gun back into its holster. “What are you
going to do with her? Have her work in the Crematorium burning stiffs? You know
there’s no place in this camp for children.” He brushed past Schultz towards
the girl, stopping about three feet short. “First thing we need to do is get
her out of here. There are too many guards around.” The others looked at him,
but he moved past them, knelt down beside her. Her heartbeat was faint to his
touch and her chest heaved as her lungs scratched for air. “Let’s get her over
to my office.”

“How are
we going to get her over there?” one of the men asked.

“Get a
cart,” Shultz said. “Heap it up with whatever clothes you can find. We’ll put
her under there. Get some clothes for her too.”

“But the
changing rooms have been cleared,” the man said.

“Well,
then improvise. Go, all four of you, and be quick.” Schultz ordered.

Christopher
had his hand on the girl’s chest, feeling the rhythm of her breathing, in and
out. Schultz was standing behind him, but Christopher didn’t turn around. “Herr
Obersturmführer, you should probably stand at the door in case…”

“Schultz,
if you breathe a word about this….”

“Of
course not, Herr Seeler, I would be just as culpable…”

“Don’t
interrupt me, Schultz. If you tell anyone, I will have the entire
Sonderkommando unit sent to the punishment block where you will all be tortured
and starved to death.”

“Yes,
Herr Obersturmführer. This never happened.”

They
waited in silence for the next several minutes, with Schultz tending to the
girl, while Christopher waited by the door for any guards that might have been
walking past, but there were none and the only sound was of the girl’s
fractured breathing. “Do you know what her name is? Where she’s from? Was she
in the last shipment from Prague?”

“She
hasn’t spoken; she’s barely been conscious, but yes, she was in the last
shipment.”

“What
the hell are we going to do with her once we get her back to my office?”

“Could
you get her into the children’s block in the family camp?”

“I could
try.” Christopher had never seen the children’s block, but had heard it was one
of the worst in the entire camp. The children there died like flies or were
picked off for medical experiments or by sexual predators. Many of the Kapos
had their own little boys or girls they kept for themselves. Christopher looked
down at the nameless little girl and wondered whether a quick death might be
better than that.

There
was a knock on the door and the whispered voices of the other four
Sonderkommandos filtered through. Christopher opened it. They were carrying
sheets and clothes from their own quarters. One of the men said something in
Czech and then Christopher heard some Polish. Schultz spoke in German. “Where
is the cart?”

“Outside
the main door,” Becker said. “There’s no one out there.” Christopher looked at
his watch. It was past 8 o’clock and most of the guards would be off duty. But
there were always guards, and the searchlights. The girl was covered over in
blankets and coats within a few seconds and two of the men picked her up with
gentle hands, one holding her shoulders, the other her feet. Christopher opened
the door and looked up and down the dull concrete hallway before he bade them
to come through. There were no guards and they stepped outside and placed her
on the cart, on top of more clothes, and then heaped some more over her.

“We
don’t need five men to push a cart full of clothes. Tomas, is she okay?”
Christopher asked.

“She
just needs to rest, needs liquids. But I think she’ll be fine. It truly is a
miracle.”

“Save
the religious exhortation,” Christopher snapped. “Schultz, push the cart, the
rest of you back to your quarters.” Schultz pushed the cart and it wobbled
through the thin covering of slush and snow. It was several hundred yards to
Christopher’s office. A guard passed by. Schultz pressed his eyes to the
ground. They kept going. The girl began to cough, the sound clearly discernible
through the clothes. “Is she choking?” Christopher whispered to Schultz,
walking beside him.

“I don’t
know.” There was a group of guards standing underneath an awning by the first
of the warehouses. They were pushing the cart directly towards them. There was
no way around.

Christopher
strode on towards the guards, leaving Schultz to push the cart alone. “Evening,
boys,” he said. “I see the snow is setting in. Do any of you have a cigarette?”
One of the guards who Christopher knew from Canada offered him one.

“You’re
working late, Herr Obersturmführer,” another guard said.

“Yes, no
rest for the wicked. Did you hear about the new Anti-Corruption Committee?”
Each man nodded. “Yeah, my advice would be to be careful for the next few
weeks.” Christopher watched as the cart trundled past and could hear the
rasping sound from below. Schultz began coughing loudly. None of the SS men
looked at him. Christopher waited until the cart had passed before throwing
down the half-smoked cigarette. “Just be careful boys, with a new
administration coming in, we all need to watch ourselves.” The men nodded and
thanked him and he left to catch up with the cart. He walked five yards behind
Schultz until he knew he was out of sight of the guards and then caught up.
They moved in silence. The coughing had stopped. Christopher knew she was dead.
They reached the office and pushed the door open. They brought the pile of
clothes inside, still no noise from within, and laid her out on the floor. It
was dark in the office, the only light the silver beams from the searchlights
outside streaming through the windows. Christopher pushed his ear to her chest.
She was still alive. He smiled and looked at Schultz who smiled back. The girl
coughed again and her eyes opened. Christopher pushed her hair away from her
face as she lay on the floor of the office, just in front of Breitner’s desk.
 

There
was a jug of water in the corner and Schultz put the cup to her mouth, the
liquid dribbling down her chin as she coughed again. The lights in the office
were off and both men were completely silent, the only sound that of the girl’s
breathing. She was wearing a shirt that one of the Sonderkommandos had given
her and her bare legs twitched in the half-light of the office. Christopher
motioned towards the blanket draped over Flick’s chair and Schultz covered her
up. There was a pair of pants for her among the blankets and Schultz helped her
into them. The adrenaline of earlier was clearing and Christopher was thinking,
trying to find some solution to a situation that seemed impossible. There was
simply nowhere for her to go. Schultz certainly couldn’t take her back to the
Sonderkommandos’ quarters. They had been lucky to get her out of the
crematorium at all. Where would he keep her? How would he get out of the camp?
There was only one way out, the prisoners said, and that was through the
chimneys of the crematoria. Christopher put his hand on the girl’s forehead; it
was cold to the touch but getting warmer. Her parents, her entire family, were
probably dead now, their bodies heaped in the crematoria or already crammed
into the ovens. Was there any real mercy in saving her? He picked up the cup of
water and dripped it into her mouth. Schultz began to speak, something in
Czech.

“Does
she hear you?” Christopher whispered.

“I don’t
know.”

Her eyes
flickered, opened and looked up at Christopher through the dark. She was alive,
truly alive. “She’s awake. Ask her what her name is.” Christopher elbowed
Schultz, decrying the half-second hesitation before responding. “Do it.”
Schultz looked at him and then down at the little girl, whose eyes were now
fully open. He reached down and stroked her cheek before asking her name in
Czech. They stared at her for a few seconds but she said nothing. “Ask her
again,” Christopher demanded.

 
“She’s terrified. Her family is all dead,
and now she’s here all alone…”

“Anka,”
she said and both men stared down at her. Christopher smiled and reached down
to smooth back her hair. He took her hand, warm in his.

“You can
leave now, Schultz.”

“Are you
sure, what are you going to do with her?”

 
“Well, you can hardly bring her to the crematorium
with you, now can you?” Christopher looked at him. “I’ll take care of her. Go
back to your quarters.” Schultz looked at him and then down at the girl. He
reached down and touched her face once more and leaned down to her ear.
Christopher could hardly make out the muffled whispers in the language he
didn’t understand, but he did hear his name. Schultz stood up. “What did you
say to her?”

“I told
her who you were.” Christopher could see his eyes through the dark and saw that
his hands were shaking by his sides. “I told her that she would always be safe
as long as she was with you.”

Christopher
opened his mouth to speak, but no words came, and instead he just watched as
Schultz walked out of the office. She began to cough again and Christopher held
her up, sat down beside her, held her to him and felt her arms spread around
him. He sat there, letting the seconds unfurl, waiting for her to stop, to take
her arms away, but two minutes later they were still there stuck together. He
brought his arms away and detached hers and saw the tears on her cheeks, silver
in the moonlight. She said something. Something low that, even if Christopher
had spoken Czech, he would probably not have made out. He felt Rebecca, as if
she were in the room with them, watching him.