The Things We Cannot Say(15)

Looking back now, I suspect a brilliant man like Aleksy might have understood what his fate was, but he walked into the town square with his head held high. After scanning the crowd, his gaze landed on Emilia, and he smiled at her as if to reassure her. I tugged her to stand in front of me and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She was stiff within my arms, surely as confused as I was. Why is Aleksy in trouble? He’s never done a wrong thing in his entire life. Aleksy lifted his smile to me, and when our eyes met, he nodded once. He seemed calm, almost serene. That’s why I thought for a moment or two that everything would be okay, because Aleksy was the wisest man in the town, so if he wasn’t worried, why should I be?

But then the commander grabbed Aleksy’s upper arm and he pushed him hard and to the ground—and Aleksy’s arms were tied behind his back, so his face slammed unguarded into the granite cobblestone that lined the square. Before he could even recover, another soldier slid his hand into Aleksy’s hair and pulled him up until he was on his knees. Aleksy could not contain a cry of pain at that, and it was all I could do not to shout out in protest too.

Mama grabbed my upper arm, and when I turned to her, her gaze was locked on Emilia.

“Cover her eyes,” she said flatly.

“But why are they—” I said, even as my hands rose toward Emilia’s face. I heard the click of the handgun being cocked, and I looked up.

Aleksy’s death was somehow too simple and quick to be real, one single shot to the back of his head, and then he was gone. I wanted to protest—surely a life so big couldn’t end like that, without dignity or purpose or honor? But the soldiers tossed his body to the side as if it was nothing much at all, then they shot the mayor in the same way. I felt dizzy with the shock of it all, it was just too much to process on the fly. My own eyes had to be lying to me because what I was seeing was entirely illogical.

Aleksy Slaski was a good man, but the very things that made him so central to our township—his intelligence, his training, his natural ability to lead—also made him an immediate target. To destabilize a group of people is not at all difficult, not if you are willing to be cruel enough. You simply knock out the foundations, and a natural consequence is that the rest begins to tumble. The Nazis knew this—and that’s why one of their very first tactics in Poland was to execute or imprison those likely to lead in any uprising against them. Aleksy and our mayor were among the first of almost one hundred thousand Polish leaders and academics who would be executed under the Intelligenzaktion program during the early days of the invasion.

The shock wore off too soon for Emilia and she began shrieking at the top of her lungs. A soldier near to us turned his gun toward her, and I did the bravest and stupidest thing I’d ever done in my life, at least to that point. I pushed in front of her, and I begged the guard, “Please sir, please. My sister is distressed. Please, I will comfort her.”

And I immediately turned—not even waiting for his response. I tensed, expecting the searing pain of a bullet in my own back, but even as I did so—I locked eyes with Emilia and I pressed the palm of my hand hard over her mouth. Her eyes were wild with shock and grief, but I pressed so hard that she was struggling to breathe through her now-blocked nose. The tears poured down her little face, and when I realized I was not about to be shot myself and she was finally quiet, I bent low and I whispered to her, “Can you be silent, little sister? It is so very important.”

Her little green eyes were still glazed over. She nodded, a barely perceptible movement that I noticed, but didn’t entirely trust. Still, I loosened the seal of my hand over her mouth and she sucked in air but she didn’t shriek. The crowd began to disperse, but Emilia was catatonic—her eyes fixed on her father’s body, crumpled alone against the stone on the other side of the square. I slid my arm around her shoulders and I forced her to turn to my parents.

“We cannot take her, not permanently,” my mother whispered to me fiercely. “We are too old and too poor and you are too young and on your own. The occupation will be hard and we just don’t know how...” Her voice broke, and Mama’s gaze flicked to Emilia’s face, and then she looked back at me, for a moment visibly stricken. But she raised her chin, and she hardened her gaze as she said, “I am sorry, Alina. But you simply must find someone else.”

“I know,” I said heavily.

“Then come straight home. This is no time to be wandering the town alone, do you hear me?”

Frankly, I couldn’t believe they would leave me alone in the town at all after what we’d just seen, so I gave a shocked protest. “But Mama, surely you or Father will stay and help—”

“We have work that needs doing at home. It cannot wait,” she said. I didn’t dare protest further, because she was clearly determined. I looked around for my brothers, but both had already left with their girlfriends—and then Mama walked off too, dragging a visibly reluctant Father behind her.

I stared into the dispersing crowd as I learned for the first time the way it felt to force someone else’s welfare to a higher priority than your own instinct for safety. I wanted to crumble and sob, or better still, run after my parents like the frightened child they knew me to be. Instead, I wrapped my arm around Emilia’s shoulders, and together, we started to walk.

“Alina,” Emilia said thickly, when we were some distance from the square.