“I really am in a terrible rush,” Mala interrupted her. But, seeing the woman’s face fall, she released a sigh and, after checking her surroundings, took off her wristwatch and threw it over the fence. It landed precisely at the woman’s feet. “Go to Anni, the sickbay Kapo, and give it to her as a bribe. That German bitch won’t move a finger otherwise. Tell her to fetch Zippy from the Schreibstube and, when you speak to her, tell her Mala has sent you. She’ll arrange your transfer to a good detail.”
The woman snatched the watch from the dusty ground and clasped both hands in front of her chest. “Thank you, Mally! You’re an angel. Oh, thank you so much! You have just saved my life.”
Now, if only someone saved hers.
As she expected, Blockführer Perschel was exiting the guardhouse, limping heavily on one leg. Coming to an abrupt halt, Mala watched him maneuver his bicycle as she feverishly considered her options. She had no business to be here; should she turn around and—
It was too late. Perschel had already spotted her and was motioning to her to come over. Not feeling her own legs, Mala walked toward the SS man, her head growing dangerously light with every step.
With a tremendous effort, she forced herself to smile. “Can I help you with that, Herr Blockführer?”
“Yes, if you could just hold the handles of this blasted thing for me,” he replied, somewhat embarrassed. “I had a little accident with my motorcycle yesterday…”
“Of course, Herr Blockführer.” Discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, Mala dutifully grasped the handles. “How’s your leg? It’s not broken, is it?” She forced as much concern as possible into her voice.
“I’ll live and won’t even limp, according to the doctor, but I wish I was lying by the river somewhere instead of riding this embarrassment around this sodding place.” He grinned, swinging his bad leg over the bike.
“They should have given you a few days’ convalescent leave, Herr Blockführer. You’re working too much. And you ought to rest your leg. These boots aren’t good for you just now; too much pressure.”
“I wish you were the main SS physician!” Oddly good-natured, Perschel laughed and pedaled away, forgetting to ask her what she was doing in the guardhouse in the first place.
When he was gone, Mala released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
The pleasant coolness of the guardhouse enveloped her as soon as she stepped inside. Jerzy, who must have been waiting by the door, caught her by the elbow at once and steered her toward the toilet. As it always was with SS facilities, it was spotless and smelling faintly of lye after the daily scrubbing performed by the inmates. Porcelain washbasins reflected the bright light of the fluorescent overhead lights just like the white tiles on the walls, giving the simple lavatory an air of a sterile operation theater, no less. While their victims lived in filth, the SS made it a point of honor to ensure that everything that their Aryan hands touched squeaked with cleanliness.
“Thank God, Mala!” Jerzy’s voice was hoarse with nerves. “I nearly had a heart attack when I heard him talk to you. In this stall, quick. Change into these overalls and give me your clothes after you’re done. I’ll dispose of them.”
She barely remembered how she made it into the stall. For a short while, she stood there, with her forehead pressed against the cold tiles, trying to calm her breath. For the first time, doubts began to gnaw in her mind. It was a bad idea. An utterly idiotic idea if you took everything into account. It would only take one vigilant guard lifting the washbasin off her head—she had already seen it lying right there, by the opposite wall, just outside the stall—and it would be all over for them.
Just then, there was an urgent knock on the door.
“Mala?” It was Jerzy’s voice, dimmed somehow, as though she was underwater. There was a distant ringing in her ears, mixed with blood pulsing in them much too wildly as she panicked. Mala felt as though she would faint any moment now—faint for the first time in her life. “Are you dressed? Mala?” came his voice, more urgent.
With the best will in the world, she couldn’t move. The next few moments were a blur. She was faintly aware of Jerzy bursting inside and cursing softly under his breath. She was so paralyzed with sudden, chilling fear, Jerzy’s swift actions scarcely registered with her as he tore the clothes off her limp body and pulled the overalls right on top of her slip, taking charge when she needed it most. The entire time, he stared anywhere but her half-undressed body, even though she was too panic-stricken to feel anything close to embarrassment.
Mala nodded to some of his instructions without comprehending what it was precisely that he was saying as he forced her to move outside the bathroom stall, shoving her clothes inside his overalls at the same time. She felt the pressure on her shoulders when Edek’s comrade lowered the sink onto them.
“Mala? I’m asking if that’s all right? Will you be able to carry it all the way outside the outer cordon?”
It was dark and oddly safe inside and Jerzy’s voice sounded clearer now. It occurred to Mala that she was all right. Everything was all right. Everything was possible.
“Yes. I’ll be fine,” she replied finally after clearing her throat. “I’m sorry for—”
“Don’t apologize, old girl.” He dealt her a light and friendly clap on her back. “Everyone’s nerves would snap. I’ll be in your shoes in a few days. I can already imagine how my teeth will chatter.”
Receiving a signal from Wiesław that Mala and Jerzy were on their way, Edek emerged from the potato bunker, squinting against the blinding sunlight. His heart was frantically pounding, but, on the outside, he remained perfectly calm. Lighting his cigarette, he strode toward the side of the dusty road sprinkled with sparse patches of grass and only then turned his head in the direction from which Jerzy was leading Mala. Jerzy’s towering frame was a perfect façade for her slight figure, contrary to what Edek had feared. Anyone appeared to be short and almost antlike next to the giant Pole, even the tallest SS leaders; with her face hidden and her body concealed by the shapeless blue overalls, Mala was indistinguishable from any other inmate, even to Edek’s eye.
His stomach contracted with almost physical pain when he saw the heavy washbasin on Mala’s shoulders. It was a miracle she could lift it in the first place; how was she to carry it for such a long distance? Inside of him, a veritable war was raging, and yet, his face remained impassive. He only pulled on his cigarette harder as Jerzy stopped in front of him at regulation distance and reported the arrival of the inmate.
“Good luck, Edek,” Jerzy whispered before performing an exemplary about-face and marching off.
Edek couldn’t thank him out loud, but his eyes had said it all: If we’re fortunate, we’ll all fight for our freedom shoulder to shoulder.
“Mally, are you all right?” Edek whispered to Mala, barely moving his lips.
A strained “mhm” came from under the washbasin. He took it as a sign to shut his trap—it was bad enough for her to carry that load and here was he, trying to make conversation—and leveled his steps with her so she could set a comfortable pace.
The heat turned outright unbearable as they exited the camp, a guard saluting Edek and not even bothering to ask for papers, rather to his relief. Now, just the outside cordon was left.
The sun kept scorching the earth.
They walked.
At last, the final checkpoint. Just a bar blocking the road in the middle of a field and a sole SS guard manning it, but to Edek it could have very well been the entrance to heaven itself. The ultimate gate, behind which was death or freedom. Was it truly possible that a single wooden bar painted in black and white stripes could hold so much power over a person’s life? An idiotic piece of wood and, behind it, the entire world ready to embrace them if only they made it past it.
Down from the sky, golden sunlight poured its warmth upon their faces, but it wasn’t the reason for the rivulets of sweat snaking down Edek’s back under the stiff material of his unifor
m. Such perfect stillness in the air; only Mala’s labored breathing and the wild sprint of his own heart interrupting it. It would all be decided in mere moments, whether they were to live or to die. Edek stilled his breathing and tried to look as nonchalant as possible as they approached the guard.
“Heil Hitler, Herr Unterscharführer!” The guard clicked his heels and froze to attention.
Edek barely bent his arm in the elbow.
“Blasted heat, eh?” He shook his head, extracting the Ausweis. Oddly enough, his hand didn’t shake in the slightest.
“To be sure, Herr Unterscharführer,” the guard replied sympathetically and took the pass. As he was studying it thoroughly, Edek was overcome with an overpowering desire to swallow a nervous lump that had lodged itself in his throat. Instead, he cleared it intentionally loudly, indicating that he was in a great rush and didn’t fancy spending another moment on such unnecessary bureaucracy. The guard mumbled an apology, but his brows still drew to a confused scowl. “It says here you’re supposed to be escorting two inmates?” He looked at Edek questioningly, tilting his head slightly to one side like a dog.
Edek gave an indifferent shrug. “I shot one on the way here. He was annoying me.”
The young guard paled visibly and handed Edek his Ausweis before snapping to attention once again. It was clear that bothering Herr Unterscharführer with any further questions was utterly beyond his desire.
“At ease,” Edek smirked, passing him by.
All at once, his heart was in his throat. They were walking on a dusty road and toward a cornfield. In front of them, stiff corn leaves whispered gently in the warm breeze. With each step, the emerald forest looming ahead was growing closer and closer. The hideous gray guard towers had long disappeared from view, replaced by pines and birches—white, clean, with lime-green leaves cascading down around their slender trunks like waterfalls. Behind were the Auschwitz gates. In front of them, was freedom.
Head pounding from the weight of the porcelain sink, Mala trooped forward beside Edek, chest heaving, sweat pouring down her face and back from the nerves and overpowering heat. The black SS boots and a dusty, uneven road was all she could see, still too apprehensive to glance over her shoulder, too fearful to believe that the camp was left behind. In front of them, the afternoon unfolded, golden and without end and Mala squared her shoulders as though spreading wings for the first time in years, her load growing suddenly weightless.
The road bent sharply, walls of corn leveling their heads now.
“Here,” Edek called, stepping off the road and parting the corn with his hands for Mala. “Follow me closely. Just a few more steps and you can throw it down. Just away enough from the road so that the SS don’t notice it.”
Brown earth welcomed them, unraveling its soft carpet before the travelers’ feet. Stiff green leaves reached out to pat them on their shoulders and backs for the bravery that went beyond any comprehension. Gently, Edek lifted the sink off Mala’s shoulders and she felt momentarily blinded by the wide blue expanse over her head, by the platinum disk of the sun pouring down its light on her, melting away layers of despondency, terror, and death.
An uncertain, ghostlike chuckle escaped from her throat and soon grew in power and volume, purging her lungs of the crematoriums’ ash and smoke. Mala laughed, rebellious and free, as though taking revenge at the SS for robbing her of all the reasons to smile… or perhaps just to prove to herself that she could laugh after everything that had been done to her, that she didn’t lose the habit for it.
After regarding her quizzically for some time, Edek joined her in her laughter at last, as though realizing the reason for it.
“Give it to me.” Her entire face glowing with some inner radiance, Mala took the sink from his hands and, with an effort, hurled it into the corn, feeling as though the last chains had fallen off her limbs with that last defiant gesture. “Thank you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, as she wrapped her arms tightly around Edek’s neck.
“For what?” he asked, head tilted to one side, genuinely puzzled.
“For giving me the most precious thing there is,” Mala whispered against his parted lips. “My freedom. Our freedom.”
She kissed him, ravenously and without restraint, tasting life itself open its petals on his lips, intoxicating and painfully sweet. For several precious minutes, the entire world belonged to them and to them only.
Thirty-Three
In the serene stillness of the evening, the sound carried long distances. With his back against the pine, Edek sat and listened, his ears strained to the utmost. From the edge of the wood, he could discern the border of Szymlak’s village. The twilight had colored the forest indigo blue. As soon as the last of the light had faded out of the sky, they would make a dash for Szymlak’s house; not earlier than that. It was imperative to stay unnoticed, to become shadows themselves, to blend with the night and disappear along with it back into the woods.
For the umpteenth time, he consulted his wristwatch—Kostek’s parting gift. It was barely discernable now, but he still made out that the minute hand had only moved a few pitiful notches since he had last checked. It was damnable business, this intolerable wait. He desperately wished to leap to his feet and pace just to shed this nervous energy, the adrenaline coursing through him, just to give himself something to occupy him, but Mala was sleeping with her head resting on his lap, exhausted from their trek of several seemingly endless hours and the heavy washbasin she had to carry until they found a suitable ditch far enough from the camp to throw it into. So Edek remained as still as possible, guarding her peaceful sleep, caressing her serene features with his loving gaze—his fearless Amazonian warrior, his comrade in arms, his future wife, the love of his life.
In the camp, the roll call was well under way. It was only a matter of time until the block elders discovered the disappearance of two prisoners. Then they would recount everyone again, following the protocol in case it was a mistake, which would prolong the roll call for another hour—another hour gained by Edek and Mala. His lips all bitten to blood from the nerves, Edek prayed like he’d never prayed before for the camp siren to remain silent until they were in the safety of Szymlak’s house.
“Quit your fidgeting,” Mala said with her eyes still closed. “They won’t report us missing until they double- and triple-check everything. Me in particular. I’m a runner. I can be anywhere on Mandl’s orders.”
“I thought you were sleeping.”
“I am sleeping. Camp has taught me how to sleep and still be aware of everything happening around me. That’s the only reason I survived for so long. I taught myself how to become an animal. And animals hear everything even in their sleep; else, the predators will snatch them before they know it.” Her face suddenly twitched and pulled to a wistful smile. “Amusing, isn’t it? I feel more at peace in the woods with actual predators lurking around than in the camp with gray-clad human ones. I trust wolves better than I trust the SS.”
“You have all the reason to. At least wolves kill to survive. The SS kill because they enjoy it.”
Silver shadows glided along the moss, but they bore no threat any longer, only shelter and comfort. Through the web of the trees, village lights mirrored the first stars in the darkening sky slowly growing in number. A faint trace of smoke tinged the air and, for the first time, Edek’s nostrils twitched with excitement as he inhaled it greedily. This smoke was clean, domestic, familiar, without the nauseating stench of death in it. It bore with itself the memories of home, of a black pot in the oven, of the homemade bread baking to a golden crust, of the dog’s warm fur as it lay outstretched in front of the stove, paws twitching as it chased a rabbit in its sleep. Edek tried to resist it, but with the best will in the world, he couldn’t. Before long, he was shaking Mala’s shoulder gently but with unmistakable urgency.
“Come, Mala. It’s time.”
She didn’t argue. She recognized the smell of home too.
On the edge of the wood, t
hey paused and waited. In the distance, the bleating of the goats mixed with the chorus of crickets. And through the guttural croaking of frogs, children’s laughter broke occasionally—a long-forgotten, carefree sound that clenched at Edek’s heart until tears sprang to his eyes as the realization dawned on him that he hadn’t heard it in years. In Auschwitz, the only surviving children belonged to Dr. Mengele. It wasn’t all that surprising that they not only never smiled, but never cried either. Upsetting Herr Doktor meant an instant shot of phenol in one’s heart. Even the five-year-olds knew it.
Tugging at the tight SS collar—it was suddenly difficult to breathe—Edek grasped Mala’s hand and searched her face in the darkness. Perfectly calm, she reassured him with a nod, her smile serene and fearless.
“I’m ready, Edek. Don’t fret.”
“Stay close to the ground and drop as soon as you see anyone,” he instructed, his voice betraying him with a slight tremor.
“I said, don’t fret. I was in a Zionist camp for Jewish youth. We had a sort of army training. I was the best at ducking.”
Even in the dark, he could see her eyes crinkling mischievously in the corners despite her deadpan tone. Grateful for the moment of lightness, he took her face, so pale and beautiful in the moonlight, into his hands and kissed her with all the passion of a soldier going into battle. In another instant, they were gliding forward, eyes alert and constantly searching the unfamiliar terrain; jawlines set; all muscles strained with animalistic agility as they navigated the patch of the meadow that lay between the wood and Szymlak’s house—their personal no-man’s-land between life and death itself.
Halting by the wooden fence, crooked and disassembled in places, used for firewood no doubt, they dropped to their stomachs and pressed themselves flat against the dewy, sweet-smelling grass. In a neighboring house, a dog broke into frantic, hoarse barking. Tensing at the risk of being discovered, Edek made a move to leap up, but Mala pulled him forcefully down, surprising him with the steely strength of her slender hands.
The Girl Who Escaped from Auschwitz: A totally gripping and absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 page-turner, based on a true story Page 28