Touching the Wire Read Online Free PDF Page B

from
the man who would take them apart, piece by piece. He pointed towards Block 32.
‘Does the doctor know you have twins?’
    ‘No… I don’t think so.’
    ‘Keep them hidden. Keep them
apart.’ They were safer here for now, drinking filthy water from the wash
bucket, even with gassing rumoured, than sent to live with the other twins. He
dispensed a little kaolin and patted Arturas on his shaved head.
    ‘Doctor?’ The mother’s voice
shook, barely a whisper. ‘Is it true we’re to be gassed?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘My children… I’ve heard
twins…’
    He leaned closer, checking
the other twin’s temperature and throat. ‘It would be better they go to the gas
with you.’
    ‘How can you say that? Please ,
I’ve heard…’
    ‘You heard wrong.’
    ‘Forgive me, doctor.’ The
woman turned away, ushering her sons before her.
    The one with no name turned
back and smiled a gappy smile. ‘I’m Peti.’
    Next morning, he was at the
Gypsy camp with no time to spare. The younger men hadn’t been sent out to work
and there was an air of expectancy in the compound. He sought out the woman
with the twins. ‘The rumours were right. The SS will be here any moment. If
they order block-confinement… I can’t promise to keep your sons safe but, if I
can get them out of the compound, I can at least give them a chance.’
    ‘Take them.’ She hugged her
boys close and kissed each of them. ‘Arturas, Peti, you must go with the
doctor. Do as he tells you. Trust him.’
    ‘Mama…’
    ‘Go. Do as I say.’
    He took hold of the
children’s hands and glanced behind him. Their mother’s lips moved in silent
prayer: tears streamed from her eyes. Around him, a murmur rose as the men of
the camp mustered. One held a length of iron pipe, another a shovel, a third a
club of wood and a crudely-fashioned knife. Children filled their hands with
stones. Outside the wire, SS guards with machine guns took position. The gates
were flung open and Nazi guards flooded into the compound.
    He tightened his grip on the
children. A man on his left hurled a rock with unnerving accuracy, hitting a
guard on the temple. The one on his right brandished his iron pipe and yelled
obscenities. Shouted orders were drowned by machine-gun fire strafing the
compound: men, women and children scythed like wheat.
    A rush of gypsies hurled
forward over the bodies, driving back the armed guards, who struggled to use
their weapons at close quarters. Guards fell and were trampled beneath shoes and
clogs, hacked with knives, beaten with shovels, and kicked and scratched by
women and children. They were backed towards the gates by the press of bodies,
clubbing women and children with the butts of their rifles, firing into the air
and dragging their injured comrades to safety. The gates clanged shut behind
the last one and the gypsies hurled stones and rocks at the retreating men.
    He returned the children to
their mother. ‘This won’t end here.’
    ‘They’ll kill us all. You
must take the boys.’
    ‘If you can keep them
hidden, they have more chance with you for now. I’ll do my best for them, I
promise, when it’s time.’
    He treated the injured and
listed the tattooed numbers of the dead. The count tallied: always the count
must tally. Enemies of the Reich? Hitler wouldn’t be satisfied until every
non-Arian race in Europe was extinct. There was little more he could hope to
do, as he could hope to do little for Miriam, the Jewish girl whose kneeling
image haunted his dreams and his waking hours.
    ***
    ‘I itch, Grandpa.’ Charlotte raised her pyjama
top to show a speckle of spots.
    Walt examined them
carefully. ‘Looks like chickenpox, Jennie.’
    ‘That’s what Mum thinks,
too.’ Jennie sighed. ‘I’ll call the doctor. I’ll have to take time off work.’
    ‘Your mum and I can look
after her. Is Lucy complaining of itching?’
    ‘She says she feels poorly.’
    ‘Let’s have a look. Mmmm.
Think those might be spots. I think