Bloodline (9 page)

The two guards that were usually stationed there were named Paul and Aram. Paul was a pleasant man with a genial disposition. Aram was an entirely different matter. He was an animal, swarthy and stockily built, with powerful arms and a body like a beer keg. He was a Jew-baiter, and whenever he was on duty, all the Jews outside the gates made sure that they returned early, because nothing delighted Aram more than to lock a Jew out, club him senseless and drag him across the bridge to the dreaded police barracks.

It was Aram now who stood yelling at Samuel to move his cart. He hurriedly went through the gates and headed for the city, and he could feel Aram’s eyes boring into his back.

Samuel’s six-months grace period quickly dwindled to five months and then to four months, then three.
There was not a day, not an hour, when Samuel was not thinking about a solution to his problem, or feverishly working in his tiny laboratory. He tried to speak to some of the wealthy merchants of the ghetto, but few had time for him, and those who had time offered him useless advice.

“You want to make money? Save your pennies, boy, and one day you’ll have enough to buy a fine business like mine.”

That was easy enough for them to say—most of them had been born into wealthy homes.

Samuel thought of taking Terenia and running away. But where? At the end of their journey would lie another ghetto, and he would still be a penniless
nebbich.
No, he loved Terenia too much to do that to her. That was the real trap in which he was caught.

Inexorably the clock ran on, and the three months became two, and then one. Samuel’s only consolation during that time was that he was allowed to see his beloved Terenia three times a week, chaperoned, of course, and each time Samuel saw her, he loved her more deeply. It was a bittersweet feeling, for the more often he saw her, the closer he was coming to losing her. “You’ll find a way,” Terenia kept assuring him.

But now there were only three weeks left, and Samuel was no closer to a solution than when he had started.

Late one night Terenia came to see Samuel at the stable. She put her arms around him and said, “Let’s run away, Samuel.”

He had never loved her so much as he loved her at that moment. She was willing to disgrace herself,
give up her mother and father, the wonderful life she lived, for him.

He held her close and said, “We can’t. Wherever we went, I’d still be a peddler.”

“I don’t mind.”

Samuel thought of her beautiful home with the spacious rooms and the servants, and he thought of the tiny squalid room he shared with his father and his aunt, and he said,
“I
would mind, Terenia.”

And she turned and left.

The following morning Samuel met Isaac, a former schoolmate, walking down the street, leading a horse. It had one eye, suffered from acute colic, was spavined and deaf.

“Morning, Samuel.”

“Morning, Isaac. I don’t know where you’re going with that poor horse, but you’d better hurry. It doesn’t look like it’s going to last much longer.”

“It doesn’t have to. I’m taking Lottie to a glue factory.”

Samuel eyed the animal with a sudden, quickened interest. “I shouldn’t think they’d give you much for her.”

“I know. I just want a couple of florins to buy a cart.”

Samuel’s heart began to pump faster. “I think I can save you a trip. I’ll trade you my cart for your horse.”

It took less than five minutes to conclude the bargain.

Now all Samuel had to do was build another cart and explain to his father how he had lost the old one, and how he had come into possession of a horse that was on its last legs.

Samuel led Lottie to the barn where he had kept Ferd. On closer examination the horse was an even more discouraging sight. Samuel patted the animal and said, “Don’t worry, Lottie, you’re going to make medical history.”

A few minutes later Samuel was at work on a new serum.

Because of the crowded and unsanitary conditions of the ghetto, epidemics were frequent. The latest plague was a fever that produced a choking cough, swollen glands and a painful death. The doctors did not know what caused it, or how to treat it. Isaac’s father came down with the disease. When Samuel heard the news, he hurried over to see Isaac.

“The doctor has been here,” the weeping boy told Samuel. “He said there’s nothing to be done.”

From upstairs they could hear the terrible sounds of a wracking cough that seemed to go on forever.

“I want you to do something for me,” Samuel said. “Get me a handkerchief of your father’s.”

Isaac stared at him.
“What?”

“One that he’s used. And be careful how you handle it. It will be full of germs.”

An hour later Samuel was back at the stable, carefully scraping the contents of the handerchief into a dish filled with broth.

He worked all that night and all the next day and the following day, injecting small doses of the substance into the patient Lottie, then larger doses, fighting against time, trying to save the life of Isaac’s father.

Trying to save his own life.

In later years Samuel was never sure whether God was looking out for him or for the old horse, but Lottie survived the gradually increased doses, and Samuel had his first batch of antitoxin. His next task was to persuade Isaac’s father to let him use it on him.

As it turned out, it needed no persuasion. When Samuel reached Isaac’s house, it was filled with relatives, mourning the dying man upstairs.

“He only has a little time left,” Isaac told Samuel.

“Can I see him?”

The two boys went upstairs. Isaac’s father was in bed, his face flushed with fever. Each racking cough sent his wasted frame into spasm that left him weaker. It was obvious that he was dying.

Samuel took a deep breath and said, “I want to talk to you and your mother.”

Neither of them had any confidence in the little glass vial that Samuel had brought, but the alternative was death. They took a chance simply because there was nothing to lose.

Samuel injected Isaac’s father with the serum. He waited at the bedside for three hours, and there was no change. The serum had no effect. If anything, the coughing spells seemed more frequent. Finally Samuel left, avoiding Isaac’s eyes.

At dawn the next day Samuel had to go into Krakow to buy goods. He was in a fever of impatience to get back to see whether Isaac’s father was still alive.

There were large crowds at all the markets, and it seemed to Samuel that it took forever to make his purchases. It was late afternoon by the time his cart was finally filled and he headed back toward the ghetto.

When Samuel was still two miles away from the gates, disaster struck. One of the wheels of the cart broke in half and the merchandise began to spill onto the sidewalk. Samuel was in a terrible dilemma. He had to find another wheel somewhere, and yet he did not dare leave the cart unguarded. A crowd had begun to gather, eyeing the spilled merchandise with avid eyes. Samuel saw a uniformed policeman approaching—a gentile—and he knew that he was lost. They would take everything away from him. The policeman pushed his way through the crowd and turned to the frightened boy. “Your cart needs a new wheel.”

“Y—yes, sir.”

“Do you know where to find one?”

“No, sir.”

The policeman wrote something on a piece of paper. “Go there. Tell him what you need.” Samuel said, “I can’t leave the cart.” “Yes, you can,” the policeman said. He cast a stern eye over the crowd. “I’ll be right here. Hurry!”

Samuel ran all the way. Following the directions on the piece of paper, he found himself in a blacksmith’s shop, and when Samuel explained the situation, the blacksmith found a wheel that was the right size for the wagon. Samuel paid for the wheel out of the small bag of money he carried. He had half a dozen guldens left.

He raced back to his cart, rolling the wheel before him. The policeman was still there, and the crowd had dispersed. The merchandise was safe. With the policeman helping him, it took another half hour to get the wheel on and secure it. Once more he started back home. His thoughts were on Isaac’s father. Would Samuel find him dead or
alive? He did not think he could stand the suspense of not knowing a moment longer.

He was only a mile from the ghetto now. Samuel could see the high walls rising against the sky. And even as he watched, the sun set on the western horizon, and the unfamiliar streets were bathed in darkness. In the excitement of what had happened, Samuel had forgotten about the time. It was past sundown and he was outside the gates! He began to run, pushing the heavy cart ahead of him, his heart pounding until it felt ready to burst. The ghetto gates would be closed. Samuel recalled all the terrible stories he had heard about Jews who were locked out of the ghetto at night. He began running faster. There would probably be only one guard on duty now. If it were Paul, the friendly one, then Samuel might have a chance. If it were Aram—Samuel could not bear to think about it. The darkness was thickening now, closing in on him like a black fog, and a light rain began to fall. Samuel was nearing the ghetto walls, only two blocks away, and suddenly the huge gates loomed into view. They were locked.

Samuel had never seen them closed from the outside before. It was as though life had suddenly been turned inside out, and he shivered with terror. He was shut away from his family, from his world, from everything that was familiar. He slowed down, approaching the gates warily, looking for the guards. They were not in sight. Samuel was filled with a sudden wild hope. The guards had probably been called away on some emergency. Samuel would find a way to open the gates, or to scale the walls without being seen. As he reached the gates, the figure of a guard stepped out of the shadows.

“Keep coming,” the guard commanded.

In the darkness Samuel could not see his face. But he recognized the voice. It was Aram.

“Closer. Come here.”

Aram was watching Samuel approach, a thin grin on his face. The boy faltered.

“That’s it,” Aram called encouragingly. “Keep walking.”

Slowly, Samuel moved toward the giant, his stomach churning, his head pounding. “Sir,” Samuel said. “Please let me explain. I had an accident. My cart—”

Aram reached out with his hamlike fist, grabbed Samuel by the collar and lifted him into the air. “You dumb son-of-a-bitch of a Jew,” he crooned softly. “Do you think I care why you’re out? You’re on the wrong side of the gates! Do you know what’s going to happen to you now?”

The boy shook his head in terror.

“Let me tell you,” Aram said. “We got a new edict last week. All Jews caught outside the gates after sundown are to be shipped to Silesia. Ten years at hard labor. How do you like that?”

Samuel could not believe it. “But I—I haven’t done anything. I—”

With his right hand Aram hit Samuel hard across the mouth, then let him drop heavily to the ground. “Let’s go,” Aram said.

“Wh—where?” Samuel asked. His voice was choked with terror.

“To the police barracks. In the morning you’ll be shipped out with the rest of the scum. Get up.”

Samuel lay there, unable to bring his mind into focus. “I—I have to go inside to say good-bye to my family.”

Aram grinned. “They won’t miss you.”

“Please!” Samuel pleaded. “Let me—let me at least send them a message.”

The smile died on Aram’s face. He stood over Samuel menacingly. When he spoke his voice was soft. “I said get up, Jew shit. If I have to say it once more, I’ll kick your balls in for you.”

Slowly, Samuel rose to his feet. Aram took his arm with an iron grip and started walking him toward the police barracks.
Ten years of hard labor in Silesia!
No one ever returned from there. He looked up at the man holding his arm, pulling him toward the bridge that led to the barracks.

“Please don’t do this,” Samuel pleaded. “Let me go.”

Aram squeezed his arm tighter, so that the blood seemed to stop flowing. “Keep begging,” Aram said. “I love to hear a Jew beg. Have you heard about Silesia? You’ll be just in time for the winter. But don’t worry, it’s nice and warm underground in the mines. And when your lungs get black with coal and you start coughing them up, they’ll leave you out in the snow to die.”

Ahead of them across the bridge, barely visible in the rain, was the stark building that served as the police barracks.

“Faster!” Aram said.

And suddenly Samuel knew that he could not let anyone do this to him. He thought of Terenia and his family and Isaac’s father. No one would take his life from him. Somehow he had to escape, to save himself. They were crossing the narrow bridge now, the river running noisily below, swollen by the winter rains. There were only thirty yards
left to go. Whatever was going to be done had to be done now. But how could he escape? Aram had a gun and even without it the enormous guard could have killed him easily. He was almost twice as big as Samuel and much more powerful. They had reached the other side of the bridge now, and the barracks lay just ahead of them.

“Hurry up,” Aram growled, pulling Samuel along. “I’ve got other things to do.”

They were so close to the building now that Samuel could hear the laughter of the guards coming from inside. Aram tightened his grip and started to drag the boy across the cobblestoned yard that led to the police station. There were only seconds left. Samuel reached into his pocket with his right hand and felt the bag with the half-dozen guldens in it. His fingers closed around it, and his blood began to course with excitement. Carefully, he pulled the bag out of his pocket with his free hand, loosened the drawstring and dropped the bag. It landed on the stones with a loud tinkle of coins.

Aram stopped suddenly. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Samuel replied quickly.

Aram looked into the boy’s eyes and grinned. Holding Samuel tightly, he took a step back, looked down at the ground and saw the open bag of money.

“You won’t need money where you’re going,” Aram said.

He reached down to pick up the sack, and Samuel reached down at the same time. Aram snatched the sack of money away from him. But it was not the sack that Samuel was after. His hand closed on one of the large cobblestones lying on
the ground, and as Samuel straightened up, he smashed it into Aram’s right eye with all his strength, turning it into a red jelly, and he kept pounding at him, again and again. He watched the guard’s nose cave in, and then his mouth, until the face was nothing but a gout of red blood. And still Aram stood there on his feet, like some blind monster. Samuel looked at him sick with fear, unable to hit him again. Then, slowly, the giant body began to collapse. Samuel stared down at the dead guard, unable to believe what he had done. He heard the voices from the barracks and he became suddenly aware of the terrible danger he was in. If they caught him now, they would not send him to Silesia. They would flay him alive and hang him in the town square. The penalty for even
striking
a policeman was death. And Samuel had killed one of them. He must get away quickly. He could try to flee across the border, but then he would be a hunted fugitive for the rest of his life. There had to be another solution. He stared down at the faceless corpse and suddenly he knew what he had to do. He reached down and searched the guard’s body until he found the large key that opened the gates. Then, overcoming his revulsion, Samuel grabbed Aram’s boots and began pulling the guard toward the riverbank. The dead man seemed to weigh a ton. Samuel kept pulling, spurred by the sounds coming from the barracks. He reached the riverbank. He stopped a moment to regain his breath, then shoved the body over the edge of the steep embankment and watched it roll into the coursing waters below. One hand clung to the sides of the bank for what seemed an eternity, and then the body
was slowly washed downstream, out of sight. Samuel stood there, hypnotized, filled with horror at what he had done. He picked up the rock he had used and threw it into the water. He was still in great danger. He turned and ran back across the bridge toward the huge, locked gates of the ghetto. There was no one around. With trembling fingers Samuel placed the giant key into the lock and turned it. He pulled against the great wooden gates. Nothing happened. They were too heavy for him to move. But on
that
night nothing was impossible to Samuel. He was filled with a strength that came from outside and he pulled the huge gates open. He shoved the cart inside, then closed the gates behind him, and ran toward his house, pushing the cart ahead of him. The tenants of the house were gathered in the living room, and when Samuel walked in, they stared at him as if he were a living ghost.