17. One Step

Chapter seventeen

One Step

"Are you the traitor who drove the pickup truck?" Captain Becker says slowly to Fernard, scanning him like a bird of prey eyeing a small field mouse. He glances at me when I join the line of policemen standing in order. But immediately returns his look to Fernard who's standing in front of him. Only Sergeant Pascal stands on the side of the line next to the SS soldiers and watches us.

"Yes, Commander," Fernard replies in German.

"Don't speak to me German," the Captain holds up the small leather whip and strikes Fernard's face. The whip's cracking echoes through the air, followed by Fernand's groan as he nearly stumbles.

"Yes, Commander," Fernard replies in French. He has a red streak of blood on his cheek.

"What happened?" I whisper to the policeman standing next to me .

"They found a yellow badge in the trunk of the pickup truck, and the Nazis accuse him of smuggling Jews out." He whispers back.

"Did you smuggle Jewish rats out of my camp?" Captain Becker asks him.

"No, Commander," Fernard says. He's whipped again and falls to the ground at Captain Becker's feet.

"We Germans," Captain Becker addresses all the policemen, "are people of honor. Even though we conquered you and could have locked you up in cages just like the Jewish rats, we chose to treat you fairly," he walks paces back and forth, his blue eyes are like flashlights examining us one after the other. The silver SS skull on his black visor glistens in the sun. "But we will not tolerate traitors, and traitors must be punished," he returns to face Fernard who's lying on the ground.

I look at Fernard who's flat on the ground next to the yellow badge in the mud. Is that Rebecca's badge that she wanted to keep? Did it fall out of her pocket? What if it's my fault?

"We're trying to clean the world of Jews, and you send them back to Paris. Do you know what's the punishment for that?" Captain Becker asks Fernard, who is lying at his feet.

What should I do? Confess? I can keep quiet. No one knows it was me. I'm not a suspect. He's new here. No one knows him. No one will care if they punish him. I feel a lump lodged in my throat as I stand up straight. I mustn't confess. I have to stay put for a few more minutes. Pretend that yesterday never happened.

"No, Commander," Fernard mutters in French, his mouth full of blood .

"We make those who help Jews feel what it's like to be one of them," Captain Becker says slowly. "Take the traitor to the corral," he turns to Sergeant Pascal. "But first, tear off all his badges," he adds and turns around, starting to walk back to the Germans' barracks. The two SS soldiers stay in attention and continue looking at us as Sergeant Pascal approaches Fernard, lifts him to his feet, and reaches out to pull his badge off his uniform.

"It was me," I say in German and take one step forward. Everyone turns to look at me. Captain Becker also stops and turns around.

"You?" Sergeant Pascal barks and starts to approach me, but as Captain Becker heads in my direction, the former stops and steps back.

The Nazi officer approaches me, and I look into his blue eyes. Out the corner of my eye, I notice his black-gloved hand holding the small leather whip. My whole body tenses up, and I await the whipping that will soon commence. I can't take back those three fatal words.

"Bend down and take the badge of those Jews whom you love so much," Captain Becker says almost in a whisper.

I bend down and reach out to the yellow badge in the mud. It doesn't matter anymore if Rebecca lost it when she got out of the trunk last night or if it belongs to some other Jew.

Like a flash of pain, I feel Captain Becker's hobnailed leather boot kick me in the face, and I flinch and groan. I taste blood in my mouth, and my cheek burns. But I still reach out and pick up the yellow badge from the mud.

"Sergeant Pascal," I hear Captain Becker say, "I'm not going to take care of all your traitors. It's your job. You know what you have to do."

I look up and see Captain Becker turning and walking away from me. The two SS soldiers follow him. My mouth is full of blood.

"Stand up, traitor," Sergeant Pascal shouts at me, and I struggle to rise to my feet.

"You? It was you? The man I trusted?" He approaches me and rips my ranks from my shoulders. The sound of the fabric ripping sounds like a growl of a wild boar. "You love them now? Who was it?" He spits in anger, his face close to mine.

"Just a boy who managed to escape," I barely whisper.

"Was it that girl we bet on?" He punches me in the gut.

I collapse to the ground and feel the urge to throw up, but I manage to stand up.

"It was just a boy. I don't know him," I reply slowly. I struggle to breathe. I mustn't put her or Priest Nicholas at risk. My fate was sealed, but I must protect them.

"Where is the girl?" He hits me again, and I groan. "I thought you were my friend."

"It's not her. It was just a boy who managed to escape and climbed into the trunk, begging me to take him," I whisper. I fight the impulse to hurl. A sour feeling of nausea fills my throat. I won't break.

"So where is he?" Sergeant Pascal grips my hair and whispers in my ear. "You're not a policeman anymore," he swipes away my police hat, throws it on the muddy ground, and takes my pistol from its holster.

"He ran away. When I reached Paris, he just ran away," I whisper. What would my mother think of me?

"One Jew escaped, and one traitor will replace him," Sergeant Pascal spits in my face. "Good luck in the camp in the East," he whispers to me. "Go ahead, take him inside. He loves Jews, he wants to be with them," he punches me one last time and walks away.

Two policemen approach and hold me, helping me to my feet.

"I'm sorry," one of them whispers to me.

"It's not your fault," I reply and wipe my mouth, "with your permission, I'll go by myself," I manage to say.

I slowly walk to the gate. My whole body aches and I feel dizzy. I do my best not to fall to the ground, but when the policemen try to help me, I refuse.

"Open the gate for me, please," I say to the policeman guarding it. He silently does as I say, only his gaze following me. I knew what I did was dangerous. I hear the wooden gate close behind me. I feel lightheaded. I take a few steps into the yard and collapse on the ground. I need to rest for a short while. My whole body hurts. The other prisoners look at me with fear and keep their distance from me. I have to get used to the fact that from now on, I'm a prisoner just like them. I hope someone tells my Mom what happened. I hope she'll be proud of me.

I need to lie down; I close my eyes for just a few minutes.

"Are you okay?" I hear someone ask and I open my eyes. There's a bald man standing over me. He's about fifty years old, and he's dressed in a dirty white tank top and brown pants held up with suspenders. "You can't lie in the mud like that," he says. "You'll get sick and die. Let me help you up," he reaches out. "Do you have a place to sleep?"

"No, I don't."

"Come with me. I'll help you find a room," he says, supporting me as I try to stay on my feet. "Do you have any cigarettes? You must know that cigarettes equal food here, and food is life."

"I have some," I tell him, knowing it doesn't really matter. They're going to send me on the next train to where Rebecca's mother was sent to die.