Page 19

EIGHTEEN

LUKA

I check my watch one last time, already knowing it’s well beyond the hour either of us have been together down here.

She hasn’t missed a day.

I haven’t missed a day.

It’s the only thing that gets me through.

I blew out the flame on my torch an hour ago and have been standing here in the dark for the past hour, waiting for a sign of life, another flame, the sound of a footstep, but there’s been nothing but utter silence except for Apollo, silently waiting beside me.

I spark another match and light the torch, forging light ahead of me to the vacant tunnels.

“Maybe I should go in the direction she’d have come from just to make sure?—”

“We shouldn’t go to the Aryan side, brother. Nothing good will come of that,” Apollo says.

“I need to—just take a look. Wait here. I’ll be quick about it.”

Apollo clears his throat, making it clear he disagrees, but I’m desperate to find her.

I do debate turning back toward Apollo, several times, knowing I’m going against my good common sense.

Maybe one of the sewer covers is up, and I could escape.

I wonder how far could I get without being spotted, questioned, asked for papers?

If anything happened to her, I’m not sure anyone would know where to look.

Not even her family knows she’s been coming every night.

At least, I don’t think they do.

She mentioned bartering with the guard who had threatened to bring her to her father.

She’s been giving him bread and other small commodities.

I keep walking until I spot a sewer cover, but it’s closed.

I’m not sure how close or far away the next one might be, leaving me with no other choice but to return to Apollo.

She would have been here.

Something’s not right.

Apollo’s torch is lit and waiting as I turn the last corner.

“Nothing?” he asks.

“No one was in those tunnels and the cover was closed.”

“Maybe there were gestapo police out there tonight. She’s a smart girl. She’d avoid trouble.”

“I hope you’re right.”

My thoughts are overwhelming as I wade through the water toward the ladder we used to make our way down here.

I start climbing up first, holding on tightly to the torch with one hand and ascending the rungs with my other.

I use the top of my head and hand to push up the sewer cover and push it across the gravel, the severe scrape echoing around me.

I put out the torch and push myself up to the ground level, but before I have a foot up, someone grabs hold of my collar and yanks me out of the hole.

“You think no one would know the two of you have been scrounging around with the rats down there,” the man says, shoving me to the gravel, before reaching in for Apollo next.

A Jewish Ghetto policeman.

“I don’t care,” I tell him.

I’m aware of what my words could cost me, and now my anger is consuming me.

“Why don’t you do the same? You aren’t hungry like the other Jews?” Apollo spews out at him.

A sadistic chuckle rumbles in the man’s throat as if he’s only a bit humored by us, but more annoyed to be in our presence.

“I’m not hungry,” he says.

“The only Jew in this country, huh?” I argue.

The man grabs me by the throat and slams my back into the wall.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” Apollo shouts.

“Are you going to proudly beat a fellow Jew to a pulp for some extra recognition? Maybe an extra ration? You turn on your own people and we’re supposed to bow down to you. There may not be a hell where we Jews go after we die, but you—you are an exception.”

The policeman growls and slams me into the wall again, my head thudding against the brick as a cold sting strikes down my back, making the world spin around me.

A sequence of movements blurs before me but it’s clear the policeman is reaching for his pistol.

“I didn’t turn on my people,” he barks at Apollo.

“I am surviving like everyone else. It’s each man for himself here. You’re a fool if you haven’t come to realize this.”

“I still have my dignity,” Apollo grunts.

“You are nothing but a Jewish gestapo.”

A pop blasts between the buildings, ringing through my eyes, quaking through my body.

The sight of Apollo’s body falling to the ground is clearer than everything else around me.

“No, no, Apollo,” I utter, gritting my teeth.

My head throbs, and a buzz zings through my ears as I crawl toward the only friend I have here in this hell.

The police officer tosses me to the side.

I land on the ground next to the cracked-open sewer.

I’ve lost all my physical strength.

I can’t even fight this man off me.

Blood is dripping down the sides of my face and this man is gawking at me with a stark expression.

“You’re the singer from the Leszno Street square, aren’t you?”

“Apollo,” I mumble his name, ignoring the policeman.

“Get the hell out of here before you end up like your mouthy friend, or worse, deported on the next train.”

I push myself up, staring at Apollo’s lifeless body.

I can’t leave him here.

“Go, now!” the police officer shouts.

The gravel kicks up against the backs of my legs as I run through a blur back to my building, gasping for air with each step.

Sweat drips down my face and my heart thuds like a hammer against my chest while coming to terms with what just happened.

Until tonight, Apollo and I have managed to make it back from the sewer tunnels, into the apartment, quietly, without making a peep or disturbing anyone.

I can hardly breathe by the time I near the top of the stairs inside our assigned building and lunge for the door, catching it before falling to my knees.

I claw my way into the dark apartment and close the door behind me.

Everyone is rolling around or sitting up.

I can only see as much as the moon’s glow will let into the cracks between the curtains, but the reflection bounces off the sets of eyes watching me, wondering what I’m doing at this hour—why I’m crawling into our apartment.

“Luka,” Mother hisses.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” I cry out in a whisper.

“Where have you been? Do you do this every night? Is that how you procured—” The extra food we’ve been sharing with this extended family we’ve inherited.

“Yes,” I answer softly.

“You go by yourself? Why would you do such a thing?” Mother continues to scold me when the last thing I need at this moment is a lecture.

“I—” I peer across the room, wondering if one of the curious stares belongs to Apollo’s mother.

“Apollo goes with you every night.” Her voice comes from beneath the window where she sleeps beside her two daughters, Apollo’s little sisters.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?” she asks, her voice shaking as if she’s already assuming the worst.

As my eyes adjust to the little light available, I slide my boots along the floor, careful not to step on anyone, making my way over to Apollo’s mother.

I kneel in front of her and take her hand in mine.

My throat tightens around a sob.

“No. No,” she growls.

“Where is he?”

“The police—” I gasp for air.

“No,” she cries out again, more guttural and from deep within her gut.

“He shot him. He’s?—”

A cry like I’ve never heard another human make fills the room, echoing off the walls, slicing into my ears.

Tears barrel down my face as I squeeze her hand tighter, my chest bucking with sobs.

“It’s my fault.” To take the blame, it’s all I can do for her.

“Wh—what did you do?” she croaks.

I didn’t have an answer prepared.

“We climbed out of the—uh—the sewer tunnel. We were caught right away. I couldn’t save him. I was thrown against the wall; my head was spinning. It all happened so fast.”

“Apollo?” one of his sisters calls out.

“Mama, what happened to my brother?”

I embrace the three of them, unsure what else I can do but hold them as tightly as I can, wishing there was a way to undo what has happened.

If we had come out a few minutes sooner, we might not have been caught.

But I was scared to leave and miss Ella.

He died because of my selfishness.