34. Danner

THIRTY-FOUR

Dachau, Germany

To be separated from the other few surviving volunteers has left me wondering where they have gone. The Nazi guard had only ever guaranteed I would avoid execution by volunteering. But they expected me to die freezing in the tub. With the help of Emilie, I’ve defied the odds and I’m not sure what will become of me now. That, and I’ve been left wondering what will become of Emilie.

A guard releases my arm in front of the barrack I had been living in prior to being observed in the sick bay. “If you speak a word about anything you heard, saw, experienced, or know, you will be executed immediately, without warning.”

I assumed I would be placed under a gag order if I returned to the barrack. I’m surprised they’ve let me come back here. It doesn’t seem to be the way they operate. They use us and then likely dispose of us, which is why I know now that execution would have been a better option in the first place.

I trudge into the barrack, toward the back, seeking through the darkness for the wool covered wooden plank I’d used as my bed. The others are already asleep and aside from the faint glow from the moon, there’s no light.Not until I pass by the narrow vacant spot do I know I’ve arrived at my bunk. It’s much harder to make my way to the top with the fatigue and weakness I’m now battling, but I manage to make it up and roll onto my side, praying sleep will come easily.

“You’re back?” Hans peers through squinted eyes, the reflection from tired tears captures a bit of light. “I thought you were done for. It’s been weeks.”

“Yeah, I’m back,” I reply.

“What did they do to you?”

The memory of ice-cold stabbing knives slowly tearing my skin to shreds flashes through my mind. The screams within me are still present. “They didn’t need me,” I lie. Even if my life weren’t threatened, if I were to speak of what occurred, I’m not sure I’d be doing Hans much good by sharing my nightmares.

“Thank God, brother. Thank God you’re back in one piece. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. What about Emilie, did you see her again?”

I have the urge to hug this man, a man with a heart and soul, still living like me—just one person who knows I’m still alive is somehow more important than being alive. “I appreciate your concern. It means a lot,” I say.“And briefly, but it was too dangerous to talk.”

“A vision is worth a lot of words. I’m sure you were exchanging thoughts. It’s something, right?”

It’s something. Life is cruel.

“You’re right. I’m lucky to have at least caught a glimpse,” I say, knowing he would do anything to see Matilda too.

Hans shuffles his arms beneath his cheek, resting in the way he often tries to sleep until we realize how hard the wood truly is against our protruding rib cages. “While you were gone, I couldn’t help but think at least I could tell people someday that I knew you and you were one of the good ones. I could keep your name alive if given the chance. Then, of course, my thoughts led me to wondering if anyone would remember my name if I didn’t survive. The thought of never letting a loved one know what has become of us is more heartbreaking than the thought of losing this battle.”

It seems we’re all on our way to losing hope.

“I don’t know what the future holds, but if I somehow manage to walk out of here, I hope you do too, and if not, I promise you I’ll make sure your name is not forgotten and your loved ones know what became of you.”

It feels like I’m making an empty promise when I don’t see how any of us will walk away from this prison, but to die thinking no one will ever know our stories leaves us without any purpose.

Hans pulls his arm out from beneath his cheek and pats my back. “You’re an honorable man,” Hans says.

“As are you,” I reply.

“You two are something else,” Eli says, groaning as he turns to face us. “It isn’t often you find a friend in the depths of hell, and it speaks well of you to know there are still good men left in this world. Depend on each other until you can’t. Life can disappear in a second. Go ahead and ask him, Hans. Don’t wait any longer.”

“Ask me what?” I ask, looking back and forth between Abe and Hans.

Hans drops his gaze to his lap and sighs. “Could I ask a favor in case something is to happen to me?”

“Of course, but don’t tell me you’re giving up now…” I say, scolding him as many of us often do to each other.

“No, I’m not giving up, but if I lose that choice, would you try to find Matilda Ellman? According to a letter I received from her, she’s somewhere in this town. She said she would be waiting for me. My worst fear is to leave her waiting…if I’m gone.” Hans reaches beneath his blanket and pulls out a thin tube of papers. “Also, do you think you could give her something I need her to have?”

“Of course, but there’s no saying one of us will outlive the other. I don’t want to lose anything precious if it’s me who goes first.”

“I have more notes. I’m a writer. It’s all I can do when I’m not asleep or working. Please, if it isn’t too much to ask…”

“Of course. I promise I’ll do that for you if given the chance to walk out of here,” I say, tucking the rolled-up papers beneath my blanket.

“What about you? Is there something you want to make sure Emilie knows?” he offers. “I’m familiar with a guard who takes and delivers mail on occasion. I can see if he’ll send something for you too.”

I didn’t know anyone received mail from outside of these gates.

“As much as I would like to take you up on the offer, I’m afraid that won’t be necessary as I don’t have an address for her.” As for the rest of his question…the answer isn’t difficult, and though something I’ve refused to tell Emilie many times for selfless reasons, she should know the truth. “But if I don’t make it, and you find the time to seek her out, I would like her—Emilie Marx is her full name—to know that I spent my life falling in love with her, being in love without her, then dying in love with my memories of her.”

Hans repeats my words under his breath as if he needs to hear them once more to remember them. “If I make it out of here without you, I’ll make sure she knows. I promise, and a promise between brothers is something to rely on.”

“You boys need to hold on to your loves if given the chance. What keeps you alive in here will be something you can never live without if you make it back out there,” Abe says. “Trust me, as an old man…I know a thing or two.”

I’ve suffered the pain of distance, living a world apart, knowing my love for Emilie was something we could never share—something I’ll always live without despite my survival here. To think I once mourned over her loss while merely moving a country away from her, makes me realize there’s no hope of surviving anything worse.