The Book Thief(49)

For the next two years, he remained in hiding, in an empty storeroom. It was in a building where Walter had worked in previous years. There was very little food. There was plenty of suspicion. The remaining Jews with money in the neighborhood were emigrating. The Jews without money were also trying, but without much success. Maxs family fell into the latter category. Walter checked on them occasionally, as inconspicuously as he could. One afternoon, when he visited, someone else opened the door.



When Max heard the news, his body felt like it was being screwed up into a ball, like a page littered with mistakes. Like garbage.



Yet each day, he managed to unravel and straighten himself, disgusted and thankful. Wrecked, but somehow not torn into pieces.



Halfway through 1939, just over six months into the period of hiding, they decided that a new course of action needed to be taken. They examined the piece of paper Max was handed upon his desertion. Thats righthis desertion, not only his escape. That was how he viewed it, amid the grotesquerie of his relief. We already know what was written on that piece of paper:





ONE NAME, ONE ADDRESS

Hans Hubermann

Himmel Street 33, Molching





Its getting worse, Walter told Max. Anytime now, they could find us out. There was much hunching in the dark. We dont know what might happen. I might get caught. You might need to find that place. . . . Im too scared to ask anyone for help here. They might put me in. There was only one solution. Ill go down there and find this man. If hes turned into a Naziwhich is very likelyIll just turn around. At least we know then, richtig ?



Max gave him every last pfennig to make the trip, and a few days later, when Walter returned, they embraced before he held his breath. And?



Walter nodded. Hes good. He still plays that accordion your mother told you aboutyour fathers. Hes not a member of the party. He gave me money. At this stage, Hans Hubermann was only a list. Hes fairly poor, hes married, and theres a kid.



This sparked Maxs attention even further. How old?



Ten. You cant have everything.



Yes. Kids have big mouths.



Were lucky as it is.



They sat in silence awhile. It was Max who disturbed it.



He must already hate me, huh?



I dont think so. He gave me the money, didnt he? He said a promise is a promise.



A week later, a letter came. Hans notified Walter Kugler that he would try to send things to help whenever he could. There was a one-page map of Molching and Greater Munich, as well as a direct route from Pasing (the more reliable train station) to his front door. In his letter, the last words were obvious.



Be careful.



Midway through May 1940, Mein Kampf arrived, with a key taped to the inside cover.



The mans a genius, Max decided, but there was still a shudder when he thought about traveling to Munich. Clearly, he wished, along with the other parties involved, that the journey would not have to be made at all.



You dont always get what you wish for.



Especially in Nazi Germany.



Again, time passed.



The war expanded.



Max remained hidden from the world in another empty room.



Until the inevitable.



Walter was notified that he was being sent to Poland, to continue the assertion of Germanys authority over both the Poles and Jews alike. One was not much better than the other. The time had come.



Max made his way to Munich and Molching, and now he sat in a strangers kitchen, asking for the help he craved and suffering the condemnation he felt he deserved.



Hans Hubermann shook his hand and introduced himself.



He made him some coffee in the dark.



The girl had been gone quite a while, but now some more footsteps had approached arrival. The wildcard.



In the darkness, all three of them were completely isolated. They all stared. Only the woman spoke.





THE WRATH OF ROSA





Liesel had drifted back to sleep when the unmistakable voice of Rosa Hubermann entered the kitchen. It shocked her awake.



Was ist los?



Curiosity got the better of her then, as she imagined a tirade thrown down from the wrath of Rosa. There was definite movement and the shuffle of a chair.



After ten minutes of excruciating discipline, Liesel made her way to the corridor, and what she saw truly amazed her, because Rosa Hubermann was at Max Vandenburgs shoulder, watching him gulp down her infamous pea soup. Candlelight was standing at the table. It did not waver.



Mama was grave.



Her plump figure glowed with worry.



Somehow, though, there was also a look of triumph on her face, and it was not the triumph of having saved another human being from persecution. It was something more along the lines of, See? At least hes not complaining. She looked from the soup to the Jew to the soup.



When she spoke again, she asked only if he wanted more.



Max declined, preferring instead to rush to the sink and vomit. His back convulsed and his arms were well spread. His fingers gripped the metal.