The Book Thief(96)

The next day was Friday. Yes, Frau Holtzapfel. Until tomorrow.



Liesel calculated that there were four more reading sessions like that with Frau Holtzapfel before the Jews were marched through Molching.



They were going to Dachau, to concentrate.



That makes two weeks, she would later write in the basement. Two weeks to change the world, and fourteen days to ruin it.





THE LONG WALK TO DACHAU





Some people said that the truck had broken down, but I can personally testify that this was not the case. I was there.



What had happened was an ocean sky, with whitecap clouds.



Also, there was more than just the one vehicle. Three trucks dont all break down at once.



When the soldiers pulled over to share some food and cigarettes and to poke at the package of Jews, one of the prisoners collapsed from starvation and sickness. I have no idea where the convoy had traveled from, but it was perhaps four miles from Molching, and many steps more to the concentration camp at Dachau.



I climbed through the windshield of the truck, found the diseased man, and jumped out the back. His soul was skinny. His beard was a ball and chain. My feet landed loudly in the gravel, though not a sound was heard by a soldier or prisoner. But they could all smell me.



Recollection tells me that there were many wishes in the back of that truck. Inner voices called out to me.



Why him and not me?



Thank God it isnt me.



The soldiers, on the other hand, were occupied with a different discussion. The leader squashed his cigarette and asked the others a smoggy question. When was the last time we took these rats for some fresh air?



His first lieutenant choked back a cough. They could sure use it, couldnt they?



Well, how about it, then? Weve got time, dont we?



Weve always got time, sir.



And its perfect weather for a parade, dont you think?



It is, sir.



So what are you waiting for?



On Himmel Street, Liesel was playing soccer when the noise arrived. Two boys were fighting for the ball in the midfield when everything stopped. Even Tommy Mller could hear it. What is that? he asked from his position in goal.



Everyone turned toward the sound of shuffling feet and regimented voices as they made their way closer.



Is that a herd of cows? Rudy asked. It cant be. It never sounds quite like that, does it?



Slowly at first, the street of children walked toward the magnetic sound, up toward Frau Dillers. Once in a while there was added emphasis in the shouting.



In a tall apartment just around the corner on Munich Street, an old lady with a foreboding voice deciphered for everyone the exact source of the commotion. Up high, in the window, her face appeared like a white flag with moist eyes and an open mouth. Her voice was like suicide, landing with a clunk at Liesels feet.



She had gray hair.



The eyes were dark, dark blue.



Die Juden, she said. The Jews.





DUDEN DICTIONARY MEANING #6

Elend Misery:

Great suffering,

unhappiness, and distress.

Related words:

anguish, torment, despair,

wretchedness, desolation.





More people appeared on the street, where a collection of Jews and other criminals had already been shoved past. Perhaps the death camps were kept secret, but at times, people were shown the glory of a labor camp like Dachau.



Far up, on the other side, Liesel spotted the man with his paint cart. He was running his hand uncomfortably through his hair.



Up there, she pointed out to Rudy. My papa.



They both crossed and made their way up, and Hans Hubermann attempted at first to take them away. Liesel, he said. Maybe . . .



He realized, however, that the girl was determined to stay, and perhaps it was something she should see. In the breezy autumn air, he stood with her. He did not speak.



On Munich Street, they watched.



Others moved in around and in front of them.



They watched the Jews come down the road like a catalog of colors. That wasnt how the book thief described them, but I can tell you that thats exactly what they were, for many of them would die. They would each greet me like their last true friend, with bones like smoke and their souls trailing behind.



When they arrived in full, the noise of their feet throbbed on top of the road. Their eyes were enormous in their starving skulls. And the dirt. The dirt was molded to them. Their legs staggered as they were pushed by soldiers handsa few wayward steps of forced running before the slow return to a malnourished walk.



Hans watched them above the heads of the crowding audience. Im sure his eyes were silver and strained. Liesel looked through the gaps or over shoulders.



The suffering faces of depleted men and women reached across to them, pleading not so much for helpthey were beyond thatbut for an explanation. Just something to subdue this confusion.



Their feet could barely rise above the ground.