Yesterday's Tomorrow

by Guy Rosmarin

  The chubby viola player was lying in a puddle of blood that was rapidly expanding into a small pool, circling the erratic convulsions of his limbs. Bloody spongy brain matter was splattered on the wall behind him, leaving clear evidence he was executed at point-blank range. Right next to the dying violist, the skinny dark-haired girl stood facing the ground with her eyes shut and her arms tightly hugging a violin case. Except for a single tear running down her cheek, she stood motionless, her face expressionless, as a smoking barrel of a semi-automatic pistol was pointing at her forehead.

  “Halt!” Andy’s shout rattled the temporary silence that otherwise was about to be shattered by another gunshot. The executioner swiftly turned his gun in Andy’s direction only to find his partner with his arm up straight in Sieg-Heil.

  “Gruppenführer?” he lowered his pistol. “Juden,” he jerked his head towards the motionless corpse on the ground.

  One quick glimpse was all it took for bile to climb up Andy’s esophagus. He closed his eyes and tried his best to clear the revolting image from his mind. He took a long deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, all the guilt and fear that nearly crippled him boiled to a bone chilling stare. “I’ll take the girl.” An authoritative Bavarian grunt burst out through his lips without a flinch of hesitation.

  “But the mission is to eliminate the subjects!”

  Andy shot a frigid stare at the man who dared to question him.

  “The Gruppenführer must have a legitimate reason for his demand,” the executioner patted his comrade in the back. “Nevertheless,” he turned back to Andy with a hint of cocky confidence in his voice, “we need to know to whose custody we are transferring the prisoner…for our report.”

  Without giving the matter a single thought, the word “Schmerz” slipped out of Andy’s mouth.

  A long silence sucked the color from the man’s face, and he slowly put the pistol back in his side arm holster. The other forced a fake grin and commanded the violinist to go with the Gruppenführer.

  “Soon you will wish Ziegfried had given you the gift of quick death he gave your fat friend.”

  Andy tapped his upper lip with his index finger. His chilling stare silenced the wicked laughter before it began to roll.

  “Is that really the Doctor?” He heard a whisper from behind as he walked the violinist down the dark alley. Once he turned at the corner, he grabbed her hand and ran towards the light at the far end of the street. She showed no resistance.

  Andy kept a steady pace, dashing through the old town on the way to the central train station. His navigation was based on a ten-year-old memory of modern-day Prague and street signs that reaffirmed they were heading in the right direction. When he saw the station up in the distance, he allowed himself to slow down. He glanced at the girl. Her heavy breathing made him realize he was still holding her hand, so he let go. The girl did not look back, just wrapped her arms around the violin case.

  “We must get you out of here,” Andy broke the silence in his perfect German as they approached the station. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay.” The girl slowly turned to face him. Her eyes glittered with fear. “Sprechen Sie Deutsche?” Andy asked when she failed to respond.

  “Nein,” she whispered.

  “Moscow. We need to put you on the next train to Moscow,” he mumbled in Czech.

  “Moscow?” The girl shook her head slowly. “I don’t know anyone in Moscow,” she whispered in Polish.

  She talks, Andy let out a sigh and tried his best Polish to explain why Moscow was her safest option. The girl listened very closely. At some point, her eyes drifted to the Nazi insignia on his overcoat then down to the ground.

  “Warsaw,” she whispered.

  “It’s 1941. Warsaw is the last place you would want to be in. Believe me, I…” he tried to find the right words in Polish, but then he noticed the tears in her eyes

  “I just want to go home,” she whispered.

  Going to Warsaw is like walking straight into the lions’ den. If he could only find a way to tell the poor girl that in two months Hitler will turn Stalin from his strongest ally to his fiercest enemy and make Russia a safe haven for refugees, or at least assume the authority he had built in his character to get her on a train to Moscow, no questions asked, but her tears softened him. He glanced at the departure board. “There’s a train leaving in ten minutes on track seven,” he said. The girl nodded and sniffled, then pulled a lump of scattered bills from her pocket and lined up by the ticketing booth. “Save your money,” Andy gently patted her shoulder and pointed at the ranks on his overcoat. “I think these will get us a free ride. We better get going. We don’t want to miss that train.”

  “Last call for Warsaw” announcements were made in Czech, Polish, and German when they reached the track. Civilians flocked the front half of the train as German soldiers boarded the back. Andy grabbed the girl’s hand and headed straight to the rear of the train where the presence of officers was prominent. He felt a slight resistance from her. “We have to keep playing the game if we want to make it to Warsaw,” he spoke under his breath then lowered his visor.

  They were last to board behind a group of clean-cut young soldiers. Andy recognized the Bad Tölz uniform and insignia. They were SS cadets. The Gruppenführer ranks prompted them to clear the way and shoot their arms up in the air. He felt a quiver in the girl’s grip and dismissed them with a quick nod.

  “Tickets please.”

  Andy turned back. The conductor gulped down the saliva in his mouth at the site of the ranks. “My apologies. The compartment at the far end of the aisle in the next car should be empty, sir.”

  When they stepped into the compartment, the girl pulled away from his grip and cringed in a fetal position on the corner of one of the two wide seats, with the violin case still tightly tucked against her chest. Andy made sure the door was locked and took off the uniform. The engine’s whistle cut through the silence and the train began to move. The violinist’s eyes were glued to the window as if she was purposely avoiding contact. Andy dropped the Gruppenführer cap and overcoat on the floor and sat on the opposite seat facing her. Only four feet separated them, but the air between them felt like a thick barrier.

  “I’m not…who you think I am,” he said, struggling with his Polish, but the girl remained unmoved. “I know you may find it hard to believe, but if anything, I’m here to help you.” She slowly turned to face him. Andy stared deep into her dark brown eyes and tried to find words that would make sense in a language he could barely speak.

  “Are you American?” The girl said in English.

  Andy’s jaw dropped. “Yes…I am an American,” he said. “Did my accent give it away?” The girl turned her eyes to the skull pin on the cap. “Oh, I just borrowed that,” he let out an apologetic smile. “It helped me escape”

  “Are you some kind of a spy?”

  “No, no…I’m a college professor. I teach history.”

  “At Harvard?” She pointed at the logo printed on his sweatshirt.

  “Yes, Harvard.” He smiled. “My name is Andy Spencer.”

  The girl stared at him with no response at first. “Helena Schultz,” she said and turned her eyes back to the window.

  “That violin has a very unique sound,” Andy tried to keep the conversation alive after another long pause.

  “It is very special,” the girl whispered in English, staring at the darkness outside the speeding train. “Doctor Pain,” she turned back to him. “Is that the man whose uniform you are wearing?”

  Andy took a minute to digest and nodded slowly. “So, you do speak German?” he said. The girl shrugged and looked away. “That’s what I said to the Gestapo men in the alley.”

  The girl let go of the violin case for the first time since they had fled from the alley. She buried her face in her hands, hiding the tears, and trembled. Andy pressed his fingers ag
ainst his lips. He felt it was his words that took her back to the terror and wished he could take them back. He tried to console her, but when he got close, she shot a wary gaze at him, like a wounded animal fearing for its life, so he drew back to his seat. Still a long way from earning her trust, he looked away but continued to keep his watch with an occasional glance until her tears dried, her eyes closed, and her head dropped forward. She was scrunched in the corner of her seat with her arms wrapped around the violin case, but her breaths were slow and steady. It hurt Andy to look at her locked in this uncomfortable position, so he approached again and gently pulled her down to the cushioned bench. He felt a flinch, but her eyes remained shut and there was no further resistance, so he lifted her feet up on the seat and covered her with his overcoat. There you are, he sat back and continued to stare at her pale face that glittered under her black silky hair. She looked so young and beautiful. He almost felt guilty for having those thoughts but couldn’t stop looking. He wished he could freeze the moment in time. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since her playing swept him away, but that feeling of elation was still clear in his heart and mind. A glimpse of her breasts rising with a deep long breath was a clear indication there was life in her. Life that wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for me. He could pat himself on the back, but his sweet pride was mixed with bitter guilt, knowing his hesitation in the alley cost an innocent person’s life.

  The train came to a sudden stop, pulling Andy from planning his next move and the girl from deep sleep. She sat up and looked around with some confusion as she rubbed her eyes. Andy had his forehead pinned to the window.

  “How long was I sleeping?” she mumbled in English.

  “Oh,” Andy flinched, “maybe two hours?”

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “I don’t know.” Andy turned his eyes back to the window but could not see much through the darkness. “There’s no sign of a station out there. It looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “This is an express train,” the girl said. “The next stop is Polish border crossing. We will not get there before morning.” She let out a long yawn and pulled her feet back on the seat. Andy shook his head as he kept looking through the window. “Is something wrong?”

  “I think I see SS officers outside the train questioning the conductor,” Andy said with a grave but imperturbable tone of voice that sounded more pragmatic than alarming. His brain was already in crisis mode. “We need to get out of here!”

  The girl brushed away the overcoat, grabbed her violin case, and rose to her feet. Andy walked to the door and slowly opened it to a narrow crack. The dark corridor was empty. “It’s still safe, but we don’t have much time.” He grabbed the cap and overcoat.

  “Are you sure they are after us?”

  “I think it’s me they’re after. They probably want this uniform back.” He shook his head and sighed. “I practically gave it away when I told the Gestapo I was Doctor Schmerz. Anyway, you’ll have a better chance making it if we part ways now.” The girl nodded, but Andy could sense the dread and uncertainty in her eyes. He put his hand on the door. “Before we walk out of here, there’s one thing you must know. Warsaw is not the same place it was when you left. It’s very dangerous. I understand that you have to find your family, but whether you do or you don’t, you must leave Poland as quickly as you can.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Russia is a good place to start.” The girl looked away. “I promise I’ll come back to help you through this.”

  She turned her eyes back to him. “What if they get you?”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine.” Andy tried to force a smile, but the girl kept her somber gaze.

  “So…what do we do now?”

  “Here,” Andy gently pulled a hair band from the back of her head and let her hair loose over her shoulders. “We’re going to downgrade to coach and get you to mix well with the crowd. This way, no one will recognize you.” She caught his hand with her own two as Andy tried to pull back from the awkwardly intimate moment he unintentionally triggered. She tried to speak, but Andy broke away from her soft grasp and turned to the door, disguising his own discomfort with the need for haste. He looked through the narrow gap after repeating his cautious door-opening procedure. “Let’s go.” He took her hand and stepped out.

  They ran through the premium aisles, Andy with Ziegler’s cap and overcoat folded inside out under his armpit, and the girl with her violin case tightly tucked against her chest. When they entered the cadets’ car, it was completely dark. They walked along the aisle with slow cautious steps not to wake up anyone, but just as they were about to cross over to the next car, they heard the door opening in the rear. Andy slowly closed the steel door behind him and followed the girl to the next car. It was packed with sleeping commoners. Perfect, he let out a silent sigh and proceeded to walk down the center aisle, looking for a vacant seat. He found one in the front half of the car and turned to the girl, who was trailing a few steps behind him. They exchanged acknowledging nods and Andy resumed his quick stride. When he reached the door at the end of the car, he looked back. The violinist was settled in her seat, covered in a thick wool blanket that an old lady on the seat next to her offered to share. She glanced at him. Andy thought he saw a tiny smile, but his attention was instantly drawn to the uniformed men behind the door at the other end. He glimpsed at her one last time and moved on to the next car.

  No need for these anymore, he tossed the cap and overcoat out on the tracks as he crossed the gap between the two cars. He looked at the door ahead, hoping the next car would be just as full and dark as the one before. The instant he reached for the handle a barrage of deafening outbursts made him pull away and cover his ears. At first, he thought the train engine was the source of the assault, but the harsh pulses kept repeating in a uniform mechanized beat. He pushed the palms of his hands hard against his ears, but it only made the pulses louder and more painful. The noise was coming from inside his head. He dropped to his knees and shut his eyes. Closing his eyes only made it worse. His head began to spin so fast he had to force his eyelids open. When he did, there was nothing in sight. The train, the door he was about to open, and the bright crescent moon that shone above him were all gone. The only thing that remained was the pulsating noise in his head, and it grew louder and louder.

  Chapter 20

  His bedroom seemed like an old forgotten memory. He felt like he had just returned home from a long voyage. The noise was still ringing in his ears, but not half as loud as it was only moments before. It sounded more like…an alarm clock.

  He turned to the nightstand by his bedside and shut off the angry antique clock. The time was 6:31. Silence never felt so good, but the instant he began to appreciate it, the latest escapade unfurled in his head. Helena Schultz. He rubbed his forehead. His initial impulse was to look her up in the history department search engine, though he was never truly convinced she gave him her real name. He closed his eyes and saw her smile peering through the silky black hair. She did smile at me. Now that he had a chance to linger over her snapshot in his mind, he could clear his doubts. He peeled off the sweat-drenched Harvard sweatshirt and tossed it in the laundry basket on the way to the shower. He hoped the hot stream would wash away any remnants of the dream and help him focus on the day ahead, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about her.

  By seven-thirty he was washed up, clean shaved and ready for another deadline extension negotiation. He set a fresh pot to brew and walked back to the living room with the project’s master binder. When he pulled the blinds up to let the sun in, his attention went to the utility truck parked below, very close to where a similar truck blocked his way out of the lot early yesterday morning. “Not again. Not today,” he muttered, but to his relief, as if his worries triggered an immediate response, he saw the truck pulling away.

  The coffee was stronger than usual and very b
itter, but it was the perfect stimulant for the occasion. Andy sorted out all the documents relevant to his continuous progress, placed them in a new folder and packed it in his briefcase along with the fat master binder. It was a little after eight when he slurped the last bit of coffee, still too early to leave, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He tucked his shirt in, put on the neatest tie of the three he owned, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out.

  The door to the conference room was slightly ajar when Andy arrived. He pushed it open and peeked inside. It was dark and empty. I’m positive Henry said the conference room. Panic tingled his fingers as he pulled out his mobile, but as he started dialing the dean’s number, he realized he was forty-five minutes early. No wonder no one’s here yet. He shoved the phone back in his pocket, walked in, and turned on the lights. He parked himself in the corner seat farthest from the door and began sorting through his documents again. It took him ten minutes to acknowledge he had it all in perfect order. He stretched his arms high above his head and let out a long yawn. He still had half an hour to kill. It was a perfect opportunity to rehearse his part. He’d been through the motions so many times, he knew exactly what he had to say and how to say it, so he leaned back with his hands crossed behind the back of his head and closed his eyes. He figured all he really needed was a little clarity of mind. He managed to keep it clear for two minutes, maybe three, but just when he was about to doze off, last night’s journey unfurled before him with details so sharp and vivid, he thought he was dreaming again. He opened his eyes in a panic. The images were still there, as if they were branded to his consciousness, especially his last glimpse at the violinist face…her smile.