The Journey (31 page)

“There’s nothing we can do here. We’re lacking the proper tools, as well as a knowledgeable leader. We need Dr. Lustig! Dr. Lustig!”

Impossible, we can’t just dig him up! We did away with him. He’s no longer in Ruhenthal.”

“How so? Did he escape?”

“He’s no longer here. He’s not among us. Only his stethoscope is still here, Dr. Plato has it.”

“We don’t want the lifeless stethoscope. We want Dr. Lustig, but fast, before it’s too late!”

“Ask at the crematorium for his ashes if it means that much to you!”

“You’re joking. We don’t need a heap of ashes! We need Dr. Lustig!”

“You don’t want any corpses! Anyone dead is relieved of service and without further salary is placed in perpetual retirement.”

“That’s not possible! We need him because of this plague! We can’t let anyone die!”

“You should have thought of that earlier, my friend, before he lay on his deathbed. He starved to death. Nothing but uncooked barley for his weak stomach!”

“We don’t believe you! No one starves here among us! We share. We pass around. He got his measure of bread, his sugar!”

“Those who are dying are independent once they’re dead. That condition may have escaped your notice. The little feather before his mouth lost all color, but did not move.”

“Could the doctor have prevented it? Where was Dr. Plato? It certainly could have been prevented. The proper procedures should have been followed if something didn’t suffice.”

“The food! The food was useless. The patient refused to eat it. His stomach couldn’t take it, his intestines wouldn’t work. Everything just liquefied and was gone.”

“We’re holding you responsible. Bring the man back! If you had only handled things right it would have been possible to save him. It’s still not too late to try!”

“Save your whining! Point a finger at yourself! Get your dirty fingernails away from me! Don’t you have a nail file like cultured people with a fine upbringing? If you’re going to scrape away at all the walls, the least you can do is use a hose! Rinse yourself off! Douse yourself! Work is what makes life sweet!”

Zerlina is shocked by the intense exchange in the yard and leans out of the window, but the ones who were fighting are already off and gone, nobody else is there to overhear. Lightly the rain sprinkles on the uneven
earth. The water dams up in deep puddles whose surfaces tremble. Small rivulets have formed, which, at first slowly then quickly, press through the irregular stones of the pavement. Whoever walks by below dirties his shoes, which will soon begin to rot. The old leather softens and no longer keeps out the moisture. You have to go barefoot. It’s miserable, however, to have the odd feeling of the muck clinging to your feet as continually pressed down mud squishes up between the toes. Mud baths are not recommended in this weather. There are no hoses available to wash away the slop, the water mains have been shut off. Also, large stoppers have been placed in everyone’s throats such that nobody can swallow any longer. Because of this stoppage even bread crumbs are inedible. The mouth fills up more and more, because any attempt to gulp does not allow even the slightest bit to pass through the gullet. The husks of barley cling to the tongue and gums and stop up all the gaps between the teeth, causing the gums to burn, the mouth now infected. Yet because the soul is hungry, the hand doesn’t hold back and continues to shovel another spoonful through the lips. Everything is sickness, everything is plugged up, everything is full of misfortune. The stomach is bursting and the intestines are blocked.

Help needs to be called. There must be someone who can perform an enema. The voice fails because of the catarrh on the vocal chords. The hair gets tangled in the cooked barley and hangs in the mouth in gnarled strands. The hands should try to pull it away, but they are incapable of gripping anything because they are knotted and bent in at the joints. After a great deal of effort the pewter spoon is allowed to fall, though there is not enough strength left over to grab hold of the windowsill. Zerlina can neither walk nor stand, nor sit nor lie. She cannot move at all. She is incapable of anything. The key and the nail file are not in her little purse. Did Frau Ilsebill avenge herself? Someone stuck them in the cardboard boxes. There are too many of them, Zerlina cannot open them all. Vera could help, but Zerlina fears that she will think her a laughingstock. Also, the workshop leader might take note. Right off she would call out, What’s going on there! Oh no, now they’re carrying off the beautiful boxes, they have to be distributed. Has Zerlina been fooled by freedom? Does salvation lie in the fact that there is no freedom? The moment the fishhook sets itself in the mouth, that’s when all salvation, all freedom is gone. It amounts only to a thought, and thoughts no longer mean anything.
Cross-Eyes took away the brass ring, so therefore no wish can be fulfilled. Have people stopped having wishes? They are still there inside, viscous misfortune having completely tarred them.

Everyone has come down with consumption. The doctors are dead, nobody knows the words that will heal. Zerlina wants to find them. She wants to take the broom and sweep the room. The vermin in the cracks will be pleased. Cleanliness is half of healthiness. Lightly the broom hops over the floorboards and causes the dust to twirl in sharp little swirls. Disturbed fleas leap up in shock like the seven dwarves, seven times seventy-seven dwarves, though they know that it doesn’t mean all that much, for no one will scare them away. And so they let themselves fall again and smugly wait until the broom becomes tired.

To set the whole miserable place on fire would be the only solution. Yet the stationmaster’s daughter looks out her window and cries and waves and calls out. The sparks are dangerous, the woods will burn! Zerlina would not be happy about such a fire, but she would accept it in order that some good be accomplished. The railway will not be disrupted just because some sparks have set off a fire! Unfortunately the train will have to suffer the consequences. Through night and through fog, as the train rages across the countryside, its end already looms before it as the wild machine leaps off its tracks, a peal of thunder rumbles in the sky, the wagons split apart with a dull crack, dead and wounded are everywhere, covered in coats and suitcases, this the penalty for their sins, which settles the score.

Zerlina, however, saves herself. She also soon takes care of her mother and aunt. The others? That’s a difficult question; everywhere there are courageous people who sacrifice themselves in order to save others, for where there’s a will there’s a way. Paul also wants to do what he can and not just passively succumb to his own demise. Almost every day he leaves Ruhenthal, arriving at the blossoming hillsides on the other side of the river, there in Leitenberg where it’s easier to outrun the constables. There must be good people among the inhabitants, for Leitenberg is a town with a long history. Eight hundred years, which Paul had noted himself. Zerlina had once visited Leitenberg seven years earlier and had made good friends there who told her how nice it was to live there. Paul should go to them and ask their help to escape. He could do that if it wasn’t for his pride. No, he
cannot do it, for the friends are long gone, adrift in all directions, they no longer live there, they have ceased to exist. But Paul doesn’t need such poor friends who no longer exist; he will find another way to save himself.

The guards won’t notice it if Paul drops out of line, he being clever and quick, always a champion at running, and now soon disappearing into a side street, slipping around a corner, quickly, quickly, and then into a house, saying only that he’d made a mistake. He will then be greeted warmly, a chair offered to the guest before offering him some tasty food as refreshment. He will stay here, for he can also be of help, he knows his way around both a house and yard and will certainly earn his keep, they being only too happy to take him in, clothe him, and forward the colorful adventure of his escape. In such manner Paul will happily await the first day of freedom. In Leitenberg everything is as always, people live freely and hear hardly anything of the war. The houses stand bedecked and undisturbed, no one would want to destroy a small town full of retirees. In addition they will also respect the historic buildings, the tall cathedral, the splendid town hall, the famous arcade in the marketplace, the old guildhalls. A bishop’s see is a consecrated place that all respect.

If everything else fails, Paul will hide out in a cloister or in a bishop’s palace. People of the church demonstrate understanding when a refugee asks for help and says:
“Benedictus qui venit in nomine Dei.”
A friendly
“Pax tecum”
is said in return, after which the portals to the refectory open as the song “Qui Tollis” is heard. Singing is heard everywhere, the sins of man are atoned for and forgiven in that holy place. The church is powerful, it guards the oppressed and the hunted. The great misfortune of the world will be transformed into the pure gold of charity. Thus Paul is dressed, the lay brothers’ robes suit him well. The cell is indeed small, but clean and airy, the window looks onto the quiet, sunny fruit gardens, the high walls entwined with green steeply descending to the shore road, the poplars bordering the length of the embankment next to the silver-blue stream, the soft meadowlands stretching out on the other shore. And in the cell there stands a brown bed, a dish, a stool made of oak, and a small dresser. The threshold is painted white, such that no illness can cross over it. Paul will study there, but when he grows tired of that, he thinks of ideas for journeys he’ll make in the future after the war, while each morning after breakfast he reads
The Leitenberg Daily
.

From the papers much can be gleaned if one understands a little of the subtext, which the bloated claims of success seek to cover up. Secrets are not allowed to be talked about in the open, yet what is implied reveals much more than sentences full of enthusiasm. The enemy slowly draws near, Leitenberg lying smack in the middle of both east and west. Because of this the prospects are good for a certain end. Even if everything is wiped out by the advance, Leitenberg will hardly suffer. Before it is conquered, the peace will be decided, and then Paul will hurry to the survivors of Ruhenthal and lead them to freedom. In the time before then he must only wait and not lose heart, nor submit blindly and without hope himself to fate, but rather remain ready. Even though the days pass slowly, they still won’t last forever.

It’s been several days since his father’s death and many hours since the funeral took place in the mortuary. Lunch and supper were taken in between, and so the mourning period has expired. Yet life goes on, not everyone can be executed. Frau Ilsebill’s executioner keeps looking for many victims, but there are others that he passes by, and so there is always someone who survives. The hope of being one of them is the right of the young, Vera had said. The greatest treasures are protected by the soul, for they are lodged where Cross-Eyes can’t find them. And so the journey goes on, announcing the good news at all of the oncoming stations. The railroad workers standing there with their red signal flags await what we have to announce. They will listen and then hand us bread and flowers. Thus we will be received everywhere and
“Pax vobiscum”
will be called out, though we will reply,
“In saecula saeculorum.”
Then the central train station of Stupart will approach with its two mighty halls. The train will stop with a rattle, the minister of railways will lift the baton, the band music will begin a bit loud, though the jubiliant crowd won’t mind. Then everyone will get out, the station platform will be covered with a white carpet strewn with countless roses. A handshake, an embrace, a single brotherhood. A rooster in a golden cage will be carried forth, a page presenting it to Zerlina.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Zerlina the golden maiden is here!

Yet Zerlina does not like official greetings, for they embarrass her. She only wants to fulfill her duty, and this doesn’t suit her at all; the rooster
should be handed to someone who after so much privation is owed sincere thanks for not having betrayed the human dignity of those in Ruhenthal. Zerlina doesn’t entirely believe what she says there, but she wants to escape the bustle and do so properly, because on a day of celebration one must praise something, since praise upholds what is just more strongly than injustice and in a healthier manner than blame. Meanwhile, Zerlina manages to find a path to the next station gate. Now she can at last walk away in order to slip unnoticed by Frau Lischka into the apartment. After two years’ absence the apartment has fallen into such neglect that it will be many weeks before everything is put back in order. Also all of the things that the Lustigs hid with acquaintances have to be brought back home, which will certainly take a long time, for everywhere people want to know how you really are, what really happened in Ruhenthal, and if it indeed was so bad. You are not allowed to simply say what happened, but instead you are invited to dinner, a glass of schnapps is offered, the grown-up children are marveled at, this and that is chatted about until you can safely excuse yourself, saying, We have to be off, we’re so tired and have so much to do.

A homey feel has returned to the apartment again for the first time. Strangers had packed into the place like sardines and made a mess of it. Their traces have to be eradicated, the mess in the kitchen and other rooms expunged. Perhaps it would be smarter to look around for an apartment free of such problems, one that was freshly painted and that did not cast shadows consumed with hatred from every wall. If only there wasn’t such a shortage of apartments after the war! But certainly it makes sense to move somewhere else, for the old apartment indeed had many problems, it being too dark and sooty, the foyer too small, the doors not thick enough. Yet these disadvantages were far outweighed by the sense of outrage that had settled in, the horror felt before the unconquerable chasm that had opened between the time when they had departed and when they had returned. Sure, their absence is forgotten, since between then and now there is nothing that one can remember, and in between nothing had happened, only a gaping emptiness, incoherent and senseless, just empty time running on, time that didn’t exist, not time at all. That’s why no one can say anything about it. How then can someone demand an account? Zerlina can only quietly point out that she simply didn’t exist between yesterday
and today, it’s as if she were asleep. Yet she knows nothing of what happened, it was too dark, black as tar, and if it were indeed any different then she doesn’t want to recall it.