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FIFTY-THREE

ELLA

February 1945

Unknown Location

The voices of the Soviet soldiers still repeat in my ears as I sit on a hard bench in the back of a transport truck.

“We haven’t found any record of Luka Dulski,” an aide said upon answering my plea to help me find someone.

The relentless battle to survive, pushing myself beyond limits, and forcing myself to hold on just another minute, hour, and day has rendered me helpless—unable to find words, stay upright, or fully understand what’s happening.

The fight inside of me has left my body.

And if Luka is gone after this relentless fight—what was it worth?

The word liberation waves in the air like a flag in the wind, but the meaning seems open to interpretation.

Who won? Did anyone win something?

It seems we all lost. Our friends, our family, our humanity, our lives…

Is the war even over?

Tatiana’s head falls heavily on my shoulder, her breaths short and quick but steady.

The soldiers promised us food and medical care, but the look in their eyes spoke a different truth.

Maybe I’ve lost the ability to trust another person, but something tells me they were offering a sense of hope to keep us alive a bit longer.

They gave us bread and soup, the warmth of the liquid was like new blood being pumped through my veins, and though the bread was as stale as what we’ve grown used to, it was bread to help us, not to keep us alive for the sake of being a slave.

The journey from Auschwitz to a displacement camp is foggy.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been in this truck, how far we’ve traveled, or where this location might be.

The other faces of people around us are unfamiliar, gray, and I keep wondering if some of them are still breathing.

Would Luka be unfamiliar?

He could be looking for me, too, but would he recognize me?

Tatiana mumbles something against my shoulder but as I peer down at her, I see she’s asleep, dreaming perhaps.

Her words don’t make sense.

Perhaps that means she’s somewhere better within her mind now.

If I could sleep soundly, maybe I’d dream of Luka—him waiting somewhere for me.

But I don’t dream anymore.

Maybe I’ll wake up and find out that everything I experienced over the three and a half years was a horrific nightmare.

What if I never wake up again?

The truck stops and we’re assisted out and into a collection of connected tents.

The air inside is warm but only from the amount of people surrounding us.

The smell of smoke is strong, mildew, sweat, and the decomposition of every living thing.

Doctors and nurses run in every direction.

There are many, but I can’t imagine there are enough for the number of decaying people standing about.

They won’t be able to help everyone, no matter how hard they try.

It’s impossible.

I’m holding Tatiana up, but losing my grip.

Her ankles drag behind her as I pull her along from under her arms. The fight has left her body, too.

A nurse comes by and takes her by the arm, hoisting her upright to remove her weight from me.

“I need to take her with me,” the woman says.

“No,” Tatiana groans but doesn’t fight against the nurse holding her.

She can’t.

“They need to help you,” I tell her, placing my dirt-covered hand on her cheek.

“Let them help you. You’re safe now.”

My words linger in the air after they take her away.

I just hope I’m right…