by Rona Arato
“Who told you that?” asked Shoshi.
“My letters, they came back with black writing on the front. And your mother stopped writing.”
“Mama wrote you a letter every week. But we never heard from you.”
“I wrote to you, too. I gave my letters to Igor to mail. He said you were all dead.” He slapped his forehead. “He told me lies. It is you, mein kinderlach.” He rocked back and forth with them locked in his arms. When he released them, their father asked, “And how is your mother?”
“Mama is well. She’s running the restaurant now. Aunt Sadie and Uncle Mendel stole our money and ran off to California. Oh, and one more thing,” Shoshi said, pausing for breath. “Our new American name is Kaputnik.”
“Kaputnik? What’s a Kaputnik?”
“It’s a long story, Papa,” Moshe said.
“Then maybe we should all sit down, and you will tell it to me.” He pulled three stools up to the table and motioned for them all to sit.
“Well, you see, it all started on Passover, just before the first seder,” Moshe began.
Ziggy listened to the first few minutes of the story. But he soon became restless. No one saw him slip off the stool and head out the door. They didn’t know he had gone until they heard a loud cry and footsteps racing down the hall. And by that time, it was already too late.
CHAPTER 22
Escape from a Bat Factory
Ziggy hated family stuff. His mother was always trying to hug him, and when his Aunt Clara visited, she couldn’t stop pinching his cheeks. So when the mushy talk began with Shoshi, Moshe, and their father, he decided to explore the building. Ziggy was impressed – it was an interesting place. The long metal stairway that they had come up stretched upward to a second floor. Ziggy wanted to see what was at the top.
As he climbed, the only sound was the clumping of his shoes on the metal rungs. Close to the top, he heard a noise, as if someone were rattling the bars of a cage. Curious, Ziggy climbed higher. At the top, he saw another door, but this one was solid steel.
From inside came a low growl. Ziggy was intrigued. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He spied a rusty metal key hanging from a hook on the wall. He grabbed the key and inserted it into the lock. Click. Ziggy swung the door open and poked his head into the room. An enormous black dog guarded a pile of bats. The dog had on a collar attached to a chain with a peg that was bolted to the floor. Every time it lunged, the chain pulled the collar tight around its neck.
Ziggy moved closer. He saw letters etched into the dog’s collar. “Fang? Is that your name?” The dog growled louder and bared its teeth. It began to bark. Startled, Ziggy tripped on the peg and fell into the pile of bats.
For a moment he lay stunned, but as his vision cleared, he saw the dog lunge toward him. Ziggy screamed and rolled over onto his stomach, protecting his face. When he looked up, the dog was just inches away, but the chain held him in place. Ziggy noticed that one of the bats had broken in half. Rising to his knees, he reached for it. To his surprise, he saw that the two pieces were designed to snap together and the inside of the bat was hollow. That’s when he heard footsteps running up the stairs and toward the room. The dog heard them too. Its ears perked up, and it began to whimper. The closer the footsteps got, the louder the dog’s whimper grew until it turned into a full-fledged howl.
Igor walked into the room. “How did you get in here?”
“I’m, I’m …” Ziggy stuttered.
Igor noticed the bat in Ziggy’s hands. “Drop it,” he said. He lunged at Ziggy, but the boy dodged his grasp.
This must be one important piece of wood, Ziggy thought, as he ran out the door and clambered down the metal stairs, with Fang and Igor close on his heels. Ziggy reached the ground floor and stopped. Which way had he come? He looked over his shoulder. Fang was galloping toward him, teeth bared, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth. Ziggy saw a door at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he sprinted toward it. His shoe got caught on a loose floor board that sent him tumbling to his knees. He struggled to get back up. Fang pounced.
“Papa, why does Nick the Stick keep you here?” asked Shoshi.
“Nick the Stick keeps me here so I will continue to make his baseball bats,” said their father. “But that’s not important; right now, we must find a way to escape.”
“Can’t we just walk out?” asked Shoshi.
“It’s not that simple. Mr. Stick keeps this place well guarded. And now he has a strange animal that breathes fire guarding the entrance.”
“That’s Snigger!” Shoshi and Moshe said at the same time.
They heard a bloodcurdling howl and the door crashed open. Ziggy fell into the room. An enormous black dog bounded across the floor after him, its upper lip curled back to reveal razor-sharp teeth.
“We gotta get outta here!” said Ziggy, as footsteps pounded down the hall.
“How?” said Moshe. They were trapped. The only exit was the door, and the footsteps were headed straight for it.
“Stop! All of you.” Igor rushed into the room, carrying a shotgun. The dog backed up to its master, and Igor patted its head. “Good boy, Fang.” He faced Mr. Kapustin. “Where do you think you’re going? Have you forgotten your deal with Nick?”
Mr. Kapustin pulled himself up to his full height. “We have no deal. You have lied to me for five years. My wife and children are not dead. You did not mail my letters. I do not owe you a thing.”
Shoshi signaled to Moshe. He reached into his pocket, and his fingers closed around the dimpled surface of a matzo ball. He pulled it out and quickly threw it at Igor. It struck Igor’s arm and sent his gun clattering to the floor. Moshe threw a second matzo ball, and it hit Igor in the head, stunning him.
“Quick,” Moshe commanded. “Follow me.” He dashed into the hallway. The others followed.
“Help!” It was Ziggy. Fang had Ziggy’s trousers between his teeth. They all ran back to help him.
“ROAR!” Suddenly, the room was engulfed in a cloud of smoke.
“SNIGGER!” Shoshi shouted. Since they had last seen Snigger, he had grown immensely. He loomed over the dog. Fang shrank away from the children. Snigger blew out another cloud of smoke.
“I can’t see!” yelled Igor.
“Let’s go,” said Ziggy.
“Follow me, children! I know this building like my own hand.” The kids followed Mr. Kapustin, with a group of Nick’s people right behind them. Mr. Kapustin lead the children through the hallway and ushered them up a staircase that had a wide door at its top. The children climbed higher and higher, past the second and third floors. When they finally reached the top, they pulled open the door and went through to the other side. They were on the roof of the building. Snigger bounded through the door after them.
Shoshi and Moshe stood beside their father gasping for air. Ziggy walked to the edge of the roof, looked down, and whistled. “Now what?” he asked, turning to his friends.
“I don’t know,” Shoshi gasped. Her lungs hurt from the climb. Her dress was torn, her hair had come loose, and she was weak with fear and exhaustion. Beside her, Moshe tried to look brave, but she could tell he was terrified too. And then there was Papa, who was so dazed by all that had happened that he seemed to be in a trance. The street was a long way down, and there was no fire escape on the side of the building. They were trapped. “Snigger,” she said. “If only you could fly.” Snigger looked down, snorted, and backed away from the edge. “It’s okay.” Shoshi wrapped her arms around his neck. “We love you anyway.”
Igor, holding his gun, and two men wielding clubs barged onto the roof. The door opened again, and a shadow fell across the rooftop. Shoshi’s knees buckled as Nick the Stick approached them.
“Leave the children out of this.” Mr. Kapustin stepped in front of Shoshi, Moshe, and Ziggy. “Your quarrel is with me, not with them.”
“It was. Until now,” said Nick the Stick. “Igor, I want the dragon. Get rid of the rest of them.”
Shoshi inched closer to Snigger. The dragon lowered his head and with a swift movement, picked up Shoshi and put her on his back. Then he did the same with Moshe and Ziggy.
“Papa, come too,” yelled Moshe.
Igor aimed his gun.
Shoshi rubbed the dragon’s head. “Please. You can fly. You can fly!”
The boys took up the chant. “Fly, Snigger, fly.”
Snigger spewed flames.
“Shoot!” said Nick.
Mr. Kapustin lowered his head and rammed Igor in the stomach. “Go,” he waved at Snigger. “Go, get out of here.”
“Papa, come with us!” Shoshi reached for her father’s hand. He stumbled, and the children pulled him onto Snigger’s back. Snigger pawed at the edge of the roof. Another step and they would fall down to the street. Shoshi clutched Snigger’s neck with trembling hands. “Snigger, fly!”
Igor regained his balance, lifted the gun, and squeezed the trigger.
And then Snigger jumped.
Shoshi screamed and closed her eyes as they tumbled off the rooftop.
“Hold tight,” said her father, as the building’s windows whizzed by their noses.
“We’re going to be killed!” Ziggy cried.
“No, we’re not,” shouted Moshe. “Look!”
Shoshi opened her eyes and gasped. “Snigger’s wings are open! Snigger, your wings are open!”
Snigger lifted his head. As he did, his body soared higher and higher, toward the sky.
“Snigger, you’re flying!” Shoshi laughed.
“I don’t believe it!” said Ziggy.
“Is this how you got to America?” their father asked.
“No, Papa. We came on a ship,” said Shoshi.
“We sailed in over there.” Moshe pointed beyond the Statue of Liberty to Ellis Island.
They gazed in wonder at the panorama of the New York landscape beneath them. Shoshi wrapped her arms around Snigger’s neck. Her tears dripped onto his scales “Oh, Snigger, you saved us again.”
CHAPTER 23
A Rough Landing
Snigger circled the city for the third time. It had been a nice tour, but they wanted to be back on the ground.
“We’d better land soon,” said Moshe. The sky was darkening, and the clouds let off a low rumble. “It’s going to rain.”
“I don’t think he knows how to land,” said Shoshi.
“I want to get off,” said Ziggy.
Shoshi felt a raindrop. A strong wind blew thick clouds across the gray sky. “Snigger, I know you’re having fun, but please take us down.” The dragon listened. They flew over Hester Street. The children held on tight as Snigger hurtled toward the ground.
“Hold on!” shouted Mr. Kapustin.
“Yahoo!” said Ziggy. The dragon swooped down, skimmed the road, bounced up, and dropped down again, settling on a patch of sidewalk in front of Mrs. Kaputnik’s Pool Hall and Matzo Ball Emporium.
Shoshi slid off the dragon’s back. Her knees trembled, and she leaned against Snigger.
The dragon sank to the ground and rested his head on his paws.
“Good work,” said Moshe.
Mrs. Kaputnik ran outside. “Shoshi! Moshe!” Once she had realized the children were missing, Mrs. Kaputnik had been angry; then panicked. But when she saw them swoop down from the sky on Snigger’s back, she was just glad to have them home safe. “Are you hurt?” she asked them.
“No, but Mama, look, we found Papa and Snigger!” said Shoshi.
“Saul? Is it really you?” Mrs. Kaputnik took her husband’s face in her hands. “Thank God you are safe. So, tell me,” she said, “where have you been all this time, and why didn’t you write?”
The news of Mrs. Kaputnik’s husband’s return spread through Hester Street like sparks from Snigger’s breath. Safely in the restaurant, with the Kaputniks’ regular customers by the family’s side, their father told his story of being Nick the Stick’s prisoner for five years.
“You never suspected he was lying?” asked Mr. Shmuel.
“No, he had shown me a letter that said my wife and children had been killed in a pogrom.”
“Oy, yoi, yoi. Such a crook. Such a liar,” said Mrs. Shmuel.
“He said if I did not do his work, he would harm the family I had left here in America,” Mr. Kapustin continued.
“And of course, he never told you that those no-good-niks left for California when your wife and children arrived,” said Mr. Seltzer. “Nick the Stick has been holding all of us for ransom for years.”
“His henchman even tried to kidnap Misha once,” said the organgrinder. “But Misha bit him.” The man chuckled. “Igor’s hand turned red as a pomegranate. After that, he left us alone.”
The restaurant door opened and a draft of warm air swept into the room. “What have we here?” It was Aloysius P. Thornswaddle. “I see that you have found your dragon,” he said to Shoshi and Moshe.
“Yes, and we found our father. He’s been Nick the Stick’s prisoner for five years,” said Shoshi. “Papa, this is Aloysius P. Thornswaddle, circus barker extraordinaire. He brought us the pool table and taught us how to sell the matzo balls.”
“I see. It’s good to meet you, Mr. Thornswaddle,” said Mr. Kapustin.
“It is a pleasure, sir,” Thornswaddle replied. “This is a most joyous occasion.” Then he addressed the crowd: “Everyone in this room has felt the sting and the intimidation of Nick the Stick’s villainous cane.” Mr. Shmuel lifted his violin and began to play. “You have all been threatened, teased, terrorized, and taunted by this vermin and his gang of bandits.” Thornswaddle was on a roll. The faster he talked, the faster Mr. Shmuel played. “Today, I am happy to say, is the beginning of the end of your troubles. We,” Mr. Thornswaddle waved at the children, “have a plan.”
“We do?” said Ziggy.
“Tonight, we celebrate,” Mr. Thornswaddle declared. “Tomorrow, we take action.”
“So what is our plan?” Shoshi asked Mr. Thornswaddle, after the restaurant had cleared. The children were sitting at a table with their father, their mother, and the circus barker. Snigger, tuckered out from the day, was fast asleep in the kitchen. He was now so big that he took up almost half the room.
“Mr. Thornswaddle,” Shoshi said. “What’s your plan to get rid of Nick the Stick?”
“Mr. Kaputnik – may I call you that?” said Mr. Thornswaddle
“Why not? This has been a very strange day. So, who am I to question a new name?” replied Mr. Kaputnik.
“When we got married in Vrod,” said Mrs. Kaputnik, “I took your name. Now, in this new world, you can take mine.”
Mr. Thornswaddle leaned across the table. “Mr. Kaputnik, did you bring a souvenir from the bat factory?”
“A souvenir?” Mr. Kaputnik looked back at him in confusion.
“He didn’t, but Ziggy did.” Shoshi went into the kitchen and came back with the bat that Ziggy had carried from the factory. “Is this what everyone is looking for? It’s Nick the Stick’s baseball bat; the source of the Yoinkles’ power. Am I right, Papa?”
“Yes, Shoshi, you are right,” said Mr. Kaputnik. Shoshi had grown into a smart young girl, and he was filled with pride.
“Is this why Dingle Hinglehoffer can never win a game?” Moshe asked.
“Are you trying to tell us that this is a magic baseball bat?” said Ziggy.
“It’s not magic, but it is ingenious,” said Mr. Kaputnik.
“Nick the Stick runs what they call a numbers racket. He would have asked this of you, too, Mrs. Kaputnik,” Thornswaddle said. “He forces shop owners to sell bets on the ball games. No one ever refuses him because a gangster like Nick is very dangerous.”
“Mr. Stick gets people to bet on the Slobbers. Then he fixes the games so that the Yoinkles win,” said Mr. Kaputnik.
“Precisely,” said Mr. Thornswaddle. “Then he keeps their money.”
“Why would people bet on the Slobbers if they always lose?” asked Shoshi.
“Because Nick’s men patrol the shops and force people to place their bets on every team but the Yoinkles. They scare people into betting against the Yoinkles. And you, Mr. Kaputnik, made the bats that allowed the Yoinkles to always win.”
“What would happen if the Yoinkles lost their next game?” said Moshe.
“Now you are beginning to think like our enemy,” said Mr. Thornswaddle.
“But what makes this bat special?” Ziggy asked.
“Two things.” He turned the top half of the bat until it separated into two pieces. He held out the pieces for everyone to see.
“It’s hollow,” said Moshe.
“Yes. Because it is hollow, it is lighter than other bats. That means that Yicky Stickyfingers and the other Yoinkles can hit their balls further and faster than anyone else. But there is another secret to its value.” Mr. Kaputnik turned to his children. “I believe my children know what it is.”
Shoshi looked puzzled. “We do?”
“Yes, you do. You’re both wearing it.”
Shoshi looked down at her cotton dress, black shoes, and stockings. Then she snapped her fingers. “Do you mean our amber charms?” she asked, pulling her charm out from under her dress.
Shoshi took off her charm and handed the disk to Mr. Kaputnik. He held it up to the light. “Yes. For thousands of years, amber has been treasured. Some believe that it has magical powers. Especially those pieces that have inclusions.”
“What are inclusions, Papa?” asked Moshe.
“Amber is liquid or sap from a tree. Over thousands, even millions of years, sap hardens. Sometimes plants or small animals become trapped in the liquid.” He pointed to a small dark spot in the center. “That is a tiny spider that lived hundreds of thousands of years ago. Perhaps there is none like it on Earth today. In Russia, a tradesman from the city of Kiev visited our village. He was a strange man, with one blue eye and one black eye.”
“Count Vladimeer,” said Moshe.
“I was already a carpenter, making things out of wood, and this stranger took a liking to me. He would guide me through the forest and help me find the best wood for my carvings. One day we came upon a different type of prize. It was amber. This material was so valuable that it was illegal for anyone but the czar’s people to own it. This man and I struck a bargain. I carved hollow walking sticks in which he hid the amber. What he did with it, I never asked. You two were very young. I wanted to bring you and your mother to America so I sold the sticks to him for money to pay for my passage here. The stranger rewarded me with two pieces of amber, which I carved into good luck charms for you. For centuries,” he continued, “people have thought that amber is good luck, especially for children. I was leaving for America and I wanted you both to be safe.”