Page 55 of The Nanny Outside the Gates

FORTY-SIX

HALINA

“Where is he taking her?” Isla screams. She’s been screaming for five minutes.

I’ve been trying to get her to stop, praying no one from outside hears.

I’ve considered just leaving her here screaming but she will absolutely go out back and find her parents, as well as the rest of the officers here.

I have to find a way to reason with her so I can leave.

“Listen to me, please just listen to me for a moment. I know you don’t like me. I understand. I do.”

“I hoped you would stay with us,” Marlene utters, her eyes filling with tears. “But now you’re going to leave us like all the others, right?”

“All the others have been killed by Papa,” Isla says, begrudgingly, to her.

“Is he going to kill Hali too?” Marlene asks, holding her small hands to her lips.

“Girls,” I say, interrupting them. “Listen to me. Try to remember what I’m about to say because it’s important…

” Isla isn’t shouting at least, and Marlene is staring at me, waiting to know what I have to say.

“War does something to people, and I know neither of you probably know much about the world before the war, but people are different now, and when the war is over, people will change again.”

“But Papa will always have to know he killed people,” Isla says.

“He wants to be like Hitler. I don’t like Hitler.

I don’t like school or saluting to him. I don’t like hating people.

” A tear falls from her eye and she swallows hard, trying to regain her strength and composure—something a ten-year-old shouldn’t have to maintain.

“You both have your entire lives ahead of you and you get to be whoever you want to be. Hitler doesn’t need to say that. The war won’t last forever.” I hope and pray. “The world wants it to be over. We all do.”

“What about Flora? That Jew—” Isla says, stopping herself for a moment. “The man, Gavriel, took Flora.”

“Why do you think that is?” I ask, taking her hand in mine.

Isla drops her gaze to the ground. “She’s not really our sister, is she?”

I let my eyes do the talking because I think this answer would be better off coming from Ada. “Why would you think such a thing?”

Isla shrugs. “Mama never loved her the way she loves us. Flora doesn’t look like us. And, she’s been sick, as Mama says, but she never took her to a doctor. She always takes us to a doctor if we’re sick.”

Isla is too smart for her own good. I watch the thoughts spinning through her eyes, trying to make sense of something that will likely never make any sense to her.

“There are reasons for all things in life, some of which we may never understand. But you’re right, Flora does need to see a doctor. It’s important that she does, right?”

Isla gawks at me. “Yes, yes, it’s important. Is Gavriel bringing her to the hospital now? Is that where he’s taking her?” Isla asks.

“Yes. I’m going with him to take her to the hospital to see a doctor so she can get better. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Will you bring her back after she’s better?” Marlene asks.

“She’s not our sister,” Isla adds. “Did Mama steal her from someone?”

My throat becomes too dry to continue this conversation. “I don’t have that answer, but what I do know…it’s important to be a good person and make decisions that help others. Never hurt them. That’s all I want to do.”

“You helped me,” Marlene says, a lopsided grin curving into her dimpled cheek.

“I did? How so?”

She shrugs but steps forward and wraps her arms around me. “I don’t know, but I’ll miss you a lot.”

Isla wraps an arm around me, a half embrace, but I’ll take it. “I’ll miss you too, Hali. I hope you stay safe. I hope Flora gets better, so she isn’t?—”

“Isn’t what, sweetheart?” I ask gently.

“Sent to the place where all the other sick children seem to go. The place they don’t come back from.”

“I’m sure it only seems that way,” I say, lying, unsure who I’m protecting but something remains of their innocence, at least.

Her words sent a shiver down my spine, recalling the Kinder-Euthanasie program the Reich was running until two years ago.

The program was publicly declared over, two years ago, but even after that, Julia and the other housemothers at the orphanage said we had to protect disabled and sick children at all costs because the program still ran in secrecy.

I tried to convince myself it was only a rumor and we were just taking extra precautions.

“I don’t think that happens anymore.” My words don’t sound true.

“It does. Papa told Mama so. That’s why they didn’t bring Flora to a doctor,” Isla adds.

I curl my hands into fists until my knuckles ache.

Nausea spikes through me. This shouldn’t come as a shock.

I know what’s happening in Auschwitz. It must be part of their push for the superior Aryan race—healthy, perfect Aryans with one ideology.

There’s only one way to do this—brainwash, kill, and manipulate, but like everything else, it must be done covertly.

“I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure she gets well. I promise. And remember, you are strong young ladies with your whole lives ahead of you. Do something wonderful with it.”

Isla and Marlene stand stiffly, as if rooted to the spot.

A tear falls from one of Marlene’s glossy eyes—rolling down the length of her cheek until it drops to the wooden floor.

Isla clutches the fabric of her nightgown, her cheeks flushed.

Neither says another word. They just watch me walk away from them.

They don’t know how much it hurts to leave them behind.

I make it out the front door and to the mouth of the woods, deeper and deeper, unable to see anything by the time I’m a minute deep between the trees.

Gavriel said there’s a clearing a quarter of the way along the path, a place where even a cloud-covered moon offers a flicker of light.

He said all we have to do is keep walking and we’ll find it.

I hope it’s that easy to spot on my own.

The path is roped with moss covered roots, perfect for tripping or hurting an ankle.

I’m moving as fast as I can without running.

The leaves swish and swash over and over like thick paper being shuffled together into a pile of disarray, the sound mild but loud enough to cover any other noise I might pick up around me.

When the leaves stop rustling for a moment, I stop, close my eyes and try to listen for a sound. Any sound.

Finally.

The baby’s desperate cry travels on a gust of wind, whipping around me as I forge through the darkness along the narrow path, running as fast as I dare.

The thicket of trees presses in on me, their low-hanging branches like clawed arms with gnarly fingers catching on the fabric of my uniform.

The ground is warped with bowing roots, threatening to trip me with every step, and the night tightens around me as I press on, only focusing on moving forward.

For a moment I stop, just to catch my breath, bending forward, hands on my knees, ears straining for the baby’s next cry. Except, the next gust of wind travels alone. I gasp for air, my lungs burning, my pulse thrumming. I can’t afford to stop.

My legs grow heavier as I trudge on, the trees thinning until a sliver of moonlight spills across the ground, exaggerating every shadow but guiding me toward our meeting spot. Broken twigs and damp, matted leaves litter the dirt, and the air clings to the scent of late summer rain.

A whimper ripples through the air and my breath stutters as a piercing cry follows, drawing me to the next tree where Gavriel waits, shrouded in his loosely fitted clothing, gently rocking the sweet, innocent baby girl in his arms.

“Shh,” I whisper through my panting, touching her chest, trying to calm her down. When she hears my voice up close, her cries falter as she grasps onto a strand of my hair between her tiny fingers. Her tired giggle bounces between the trees, but her delight will be short-lived.

“We have to go,” Gavriel says, his scratchy whisper catching in his throat.

“Here, I’ll take her,” I say, reaching my arms out.

“Not yet. I’ve already had a minute to catch my breath. You haven’t.”

Behind us, raging shouts fire out in the distance and dogs are barking. They know.

I follow Gavriel through the clearing and onto another uneven dirt path as the little baby in his arms let’s out a relentless wail. Is she hungry? Hurt? Tired? Or does she sense the danger we’ll face if we don’t make it out of the woods quickly?

The trees end abruptly, spitting us out onto the road, our breaths heavy with exertion and worry. My foot presses into the gravel, and I hesitate…just for a second. Gavriel doesn’t. He pushes forward into the sweep of spotlights.

Just beyond the trees to our right, the barbed wire surrounding Auschwitz hums with electricity, a sound I’m familiar with. The existence is a warning of the grave consequences we’ll face if we’re caught.

“Stay under the branches to the side of the road,” Gavriel says, still charging forward.

To our right, the barbed-wire fence enclosing Auschwitz cuts across the horizon like a jagged scar. We’re not inside the death camp itself, but we’re close enough to make out the faint cries from within. Still, we’re trapped within German seized land, an SS-controlled zone.

The checkpoint ahead isn’t an exit from the main Auschwitz compound, but from the so-called “Area of Interest,” a tightly patrolled forty-square-kilometer restricted zone meant to protect the secrets of SS homes, camp-run factories, and the regime’s lethal order.

Beyond it, where I come from, Polish civilians still scurry about.

If we can just make it past this checkpoint, we might find somewhere safer than here.