Erich - Four.

Erich

            I didn’t like this. Not one bit. There was one moment, just a split second there, when I considered getting the guards down there. The Jew was going to kill Jim. I didn’t know what else to do. But I went down on my own. I could have killed him. I didn’t want to. But I would have. If that was what it came to. Jim was smart to stop me.

             Then Hersch was there. He was always just there. When he said the Jew was Peter, everything made a little more sense. And then I was really glad I hadn’t killed him.

Berezovsky was a name that I had never been able to put a face to. He was a really prominent Jew. There was no Jewish council like the Judenrat anymore, but when something needed be negotiated, someone named Berezovsky always seemed to step up. I had never seen him before, though. He called himself Rzeźnik. The butcher. But since he never actually killed anyone to our knowledge, we knew him as die Russische. The Russian. I had always pictured him older. One of those middle aged Jews with a prematurely lined face and a long beard.

Peter looked nothing like that, though. As we headed silently back through the streets, I got a good look at him. He was our age, probably twenty-two or so. Pale as hell. I wondered if he ever saw the sun. His hair was auburn but his eyebrows were a shade darker. He wasn’t nearly as deathly thin as most of the rest of the Jews. Must have had a smuggling operation. His upper body was massive, in fact. I could tell he knew his way around that knife. He had a good few inches on Hersch, though he still didn’t reach Jim’s ridiculous height. I didn’t like the look of him. He was unsettlingly intense. I could see how he managed to run this place from the inside.

Hersch and Berezovsky walked in front of Jim and me. I must have done something to earn Hersch’s trust. He would have been keeping a better eye on me otherwise. He glanced back at us as we turned towards the center of the ghetto. We were out of sight of the guard towers now. Hersch turned to Peter.

“Give me your radio,” he said under his breath.

Peter growled and reached into the pack on his back. “Where the hell’s yours?”

Hersch didn’t answer him. Peter handed over a large handheld radio communicator, a lot like the ones we used when we were on watch. It made me pretty nervous to see that the underground had their hands on one. I could have brought them in just for that. Those radios were contraband. They must have pinched it off German soldiers. Hersch pulled out the antenna. Static exploded out of the receiver and we all flattened ourselves against the nearest wall. In the silent streets, the noise seemed excruciatingly loud. Definitely enough to get us caught. Berezovsky hissed something in Polish at Hersch. Hersch scowled at him and adjusted the radio until it was quiet before lifting the receiver to his mouth.

“Gabe? Can you hear me?”

There was more static on the other end. Peter looked at Hersch like he had just called the guard on us. “Are you f*****g crazy? You left your radio with one of them?”

Hersch glowered at him. “We can trust Moretti.” That much was true. They had nothing to worry about when Gabe’s loyalty was the question. There was fumbling at the other end of the radio. “Hello? Hello?” Gabe’s frantic, hushed voice came through the static and made me shiver. I couldn’t even see him. How could this still be happening? I told myself I was just glad to hear he was all right. “Hello? Hersch? I don’t know how to use this thing? Where are you?”

Berezovsky snarled in Polish. “You’re f*****g kidding me.”

Hersch silenced him with a dark look. “I’m taking Erich and Jim to headquarters.”

“Like hell you are!” Berezovsky made a move to snatch the radio away.

“Just shut up for a second, Peter!” Hersch continued to ignore his protests. “Gabe, I’ll send Jim through the tunnel to get you. Can you handle that, Banhart?” Jim nodded but did not look convinced of his own abilities. “Good. Come on.”

Berezovsky was still not keen on Hersch’s plan. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Abrahamson. I’m not about to let you waltz a cholerny Nazi into head quarters! Are you trying to get us all killed?”

            “Słuchaj!” Hersch forced him into Polish. Probably so Jim and I couldn’t understand them. That made me uneasy. I wasn’t used to feeling like I was in danger inside the ghetto. Usually, I was the one with the power.

            Hersch must have thought I didn’t speak any Polish. But I did, a little bit. I picked up enough to get by with the locals in this goddamn town. I’m sure I understood more than Hersch thought I could. I only caught pieces of their angry, whispered conversation. But what I understood shocked the hell out of me.

            “On jest przyjacielem. To moi przyjaciele. Oni są tutaj, aby pomóc.”

            He’s a friend. These are my friends. They are here to help.

            It was hard not to cut in when I heard that. For one thing, I sure as hell was not there to help. I was there to do my job, until the three of them showed up to ruin my life. Rebecca had written Jim and Gabe for help, but I had nothing to do with it. And who said I was a friend? Hersch had no reason to believe I wouldn’t sell him out to the Germans. I could have them all killed if I wanted. But Hersch thought I could be trusted. He was taking me to headquarters. I wasn’t stupid; I knew it was the Resistance headquarters. Peter was right to be angry. Hersch had no reason to believe I could be trusted. I didn’t believe I could be trusted.

            The two of them cut off their spat when we reached an alley between two demolished buildings. The more demolished of the two had a staircase leading under the street to a cellar or basement or something. The sight sparked my nostalgia for the old room at Wellington’s. I immediately hated myself. Hersch and Peter went down first. They let Jim pass, but Peter stepped in front of me before I could get even one foot on the steps.

            “Abrahamson might trust you, but I sure as hell do not. Why should I let you in here.”

            “Peter,” Hersch warned. He turned quickly back to Jim. “Banhart, go get Gabe. Take the flashlight off the table. You remember the way.” Jim nodded. He must have spent the night here, then. The tunnels did not sound fun. But I imagined he would rather be down there than watching me stand off with Peter. Jim disappeared behind the door.

            Berezovsky snorted. “Showing them the tunnels already? That’s great, Abrahamson.” He put a hand on the giant knife on his belt. It wasn’t the same one he had gone after Jim with. This was a huge meat cleaver. The butcher knife was in his boot. He was obviously threatening me. I put a hand on my gun.

            I didn’t feel threatened by him. It took a lot more than an angry Jew with a knife to scare me. I straightened up to my full height, glad that I was in fact taller than him. “If was planning on turning you in,” I growled, “do you think I would have waited until now?”

            “Peter,” Hersch hissed, “let him by.”

            “I want his gun.”

            “No f*****g way.” Berezovsky’s fist curled around the cleaver. I was not willing to give up my gun. This whole thing was too hostile. But I did want him to trust me not to turn them in. “Here,” I dug in the pocket of my coat. “Take my goddamn radio.” I slammed it into his open hand. “See? Can’t turn you in if I can’t talk to the outside. Now let me by.”

            Peter glanced at Hersch. He gave an exasperated nod. Peter stepped down. But he waited to let me by so he could follow me into the basement.

            We tensely made our way down the fire-blacked corridor. When we reached the door at the end of the hall, Peter tried to protest one more time. “Hersch, are you sure…?”

            “We’ve come this far. It’s safe.” Hersch cut him off. They pushed open the door. This was clearly not the headquarters. It was just a grimy room with a table and a pair of mattresses. I wouldn’t have thought anyone could live there. But Hersch’s journal was on the table next to a nearly burned out candle. So this was where he lived.

            It took me a second to see the girl crouched next to the hearth. It took me even longer to realize it was Rebecca. She stood up fast with a sharp breath. “Peter!” she gasped. “Hell, you scared me.” She didn’t seem to notice me either, for a second. “I just saw Jim go down the tunnel. Where’s he going? Where is Gabri…What the hell are you doing with a f*****g soldier?” Hersch didn’t even bother to answer. Let her figure it out on her own. Her eyes got huge. “Erich?”

Was I that unrecognizable? I felt like I had changed less than her. God, she was so skinny. It was scary. She looked half-dead. Her hair used to be shoulder-length and pretty. Now it was thin and barely reached her chin. Lice, I thought. Her face was sunken and harsh. She still terrified me, just a little bit.

            She took a very tentative step towards me. I realized just how untrustworthy I looked. My uniform was not exactly a sign of solidarity. I self-consciously took off my peaked hat, hoping that would help. “Yeah, it’s me.” I mumbled.

            She kept her distance. But she didn’t seem nearly as mistrusting of me as Peter. “Good to see you, Amery.”

            “Jim went to grab Moretti from the shop.” Hersch’s voice came from the floor.  He was rolling back the rug. “Give me a hand with the table, Amery.” I shoved the heavy wooden table off the rug. Underneath there was a rotting wooden door in the stone floor.

            “Secret trap door,” Hersch explained. “Only way in.”

            “Used to be secret,” Peter commented snidely.

            Hersch ignored him. He took a brass key out of his pocket and forced open the padlock. The two of them shoved the door aside and we dropped one by one into the headquarters. I hit the floor hard. The whole place was made of stone. Rebecca dropped in after me. Hersch gave her a disapproving look. But that sure as hell wasn’t enough to send her back up.

            It was dark as hell down there. But the light from Rebecca’s fire leaked in and flickered off the wall. The room was much, much bigger than I imagined it could have been. It was the size of the entire basement. The hall and all the rooms. There wasn’t much on the floor. Just a big table with lots of chairs. But the walls were plastered with paper. Memos in Polish and Yiddish and English. Long lists of names or supplies. Pages from books. Military strategy books, I recognized immediately. Instructions and diagrams for building all kinds of weapons.

And maps. Maps upon maps upon maps of the ghetto. I recognized the maps I was used to seeing. The ghetto was really just a big square of about nine blocks. The maps of the outside were all marked up in Yiddish. X’s that marked guard posts. There were other maps, though, that I didn’t recognize. Hand drawn. They were labeled though. I recognized the Polish work for “tunnels.” These maps were so complicated they made me dizzy to look at. Twisted black lines intersecting all over the ghetto. I could not believe how advanced this was.

I realized no one had said anything for a long time. I looked expectantly at Hersch. “Welcome to headquarters,” Hersch mused. “The war room.”

“If we ever got the chance to go to war,” Peter growled in Hersch’s direction.

Hersch didn’t get the chance to say anything. Two faces appeared in the hole above us.

“Gabriel!” Rebecca exclaimed. I forgot how well she and Gabe got along. Gabe was still clutching the radio nervously. Jim looked irate.

“Flashlight didn’t do a f*****g thing,” he grumbled and tossed the light down to Hersch.

“Get down here!” Hersch ordered. Gabe had to jump. But Jim could pretty much just lower himself down. The ceiling of the room was almost too low for his head. Was he seriously getting taller? Rebecca was hugging Gabe as soon as he was on his feet.

“Oh, Gabriel! It is so good to see you. Look at you! I will have to cut this hair.” His hair was much longer than two years ago. It curled down well past his temples towards his jaw. I hadn’t gotten a real good look at him the night before. “I knew you would come,” she smiled, “I knew it.” They were like any normal pair of friends who had gone a long time without seeing each other. It rubbed me the wrong way.

I felt anger rising up as she hugged Gabe. It wasn’t just that she was taking the situation so lightly. It wasn’t that at all, actually. I hated that she got to hug Gabe. She could touch him and smile at him and comment on how he looked now. I was bristling with jealousy. It was ridiculous. There was nothing between them. There couldn’t possibly be. But I felt jealous all the same. I wanted to do what she could do. I wanted to put my arms around Gabe and tell him how happy I was to see him. I was happier to see him than she could ever possibly be.

“Where the hell did you find him?” Jim asked. “I went out there to look for you, Moretti! Where the hell were you?”

“He wandered by the shop two minutes after you left,” Hersch answered coldly. “I told you not to go.”

Rebecca planted a kiss on Gabe’s cheek and I clenched my jaw. Gabe was still wearing my extra coat. It was too long for him. Peter clearly didn’t appreciate this display any more than I did. He barked something in Polish at Rebecca. She gave him a cold look but let go of Gabe.

“Berezovsky!” Hersch warned. Whatever Peter had said to Rebecca, it wasn’t nice. “You need to calm down, kolega.” Peter seemed pretty far from calming down. He was so edgy he made the rest of us seem relaxed.

“You want me to be calm when there’s a f*****g German in my war room?” Peter snarled at Hersch.

That was about the last time he was going to talk about me. “Listen, I didn’t �"”

“Hey, I’ll get to you,” he cut me off angrily. This guy really rubbed me the wrong way. I would have knocked out his teeth if the other guys weren’t there. He got on a level with Hersch and glared at him. “What are they doing here, Abrahamson?”

Hersch obviously wasn’t up for being challenged. “Would you listen to me? Berezovsky, I…”

“I brought them here,” Rebecca made them both whirl around. The two of them seemed to have totally forgotten she was there. She was standing in front of Gabe and Jim. Like she didn’t want us to get too close to them. She just stood there and stared down Berezovsky with that vicious look that even scared me. “They are here to help, Peter. If you are angry, take it out on me.”

Peter just stared at her for a second. You could almost hear the gears in his head shifting. “You brought them here?”

She took a step towards him. You could actually see him soften as she approached. You could tell he couldn’t be angry at her. “I did. They are friends from England. Here to bring back the Resistance.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed and he looked from Rebecca to Hersch then back to us. “What gives you the right to interfere with the Resistance? The Resistance is mine, Rebecca!”

Rebecca’s face was steely. “Correct me if I am wrong,” she growled, “but I believe Herschel Abrahamson Senior was my father. And Naomi Shafir Abrahamson was my mother.” Hersch looked hurt but she didn’t let him talk. “I think I have as much right as anyone.”

Everyone took a second before speaking. Rebecca had taken charge of this meeting. No one was exactly sure what to do. I can speak for Jim, Gabe, and me and say that we felt so out of our depth we couldn’t have said anything if we wanted to.

Peter took a deep breath and approached her. “Rebecca,” he started, “Rivka,” Rivka? I exchanged a confused glance with Jim. The pet name was not what he wanted to hear. “I’m sorry. It’s your revolution, too. Of course it is. But… but oni nic nie wiedzą! Dranie ...”

“Speak to me in English, Peter. I won’t have you keeping things from them.”

“Rebecca!” Hersch was trying pretty desperately to get the situation under control. But Rebecca and Peter were at it again.

“But they can’t help us, Rivka!” he exploded. He had been patient with her. But he was too angry now. I knew the feeling. “There is nothing they can do! They don’t know what they’re doing! Look at them. A-a-an American monkey, and a little pederasta!”  

“Hey!”

“F**k you!”

Jim and I both sprang at him at the same time. Hersch and Rebecca managed to step in front of us. But the time to sit and take Peter’s abuse was long gone. I knew enough Polish to know what he had called Gabe. It took a minute for me to realize that he hadn’t actually insulted me at all. Gabe stayed quiet. He was still no fighter.

 Jim strained towards Peter without crossing Rebecca’s arm. “I’ve been with the underground a year, b*****d.” Rebecca grabbed him by the arm to keep him from doing something that could have gotten him knocked out. “I’ve been on the outside a year. You spend much time outside? Do you know what goes on out there?” Jim surprised me. I didn’t know how long he had been away from home.

“That doesn’t mean you know a thing about what goes on in here.” Peter said venomously. He turned to me. “What’s your problem, friend?”

Hersch caught my eye. He was trying to remind me to be cautious. But I was beyond that. “Don’t ever talk about him like that.”

Peter snorted. “If he can’t fight for himself, he shouldn’t be here.”

I balled my fists and felt my hands start to shake. This was getting out of control. This guy was going to put me over the edge. “Watch it, Yid,” I snarled.

“Erich!” The word hadn’t been directed at Hersch or Rebecca. But they both reacted like I’d hit them. “That’s enough.”

“I want him out of here.” Peter turned back to his maps. “Get the f*****g Niemiec out of here before he gasses us.”

“That’s it!” I lost control. The rush of adrenaline and rage pumped through me hard. Clouded my brain. I shoved past Hersch. I threw Peter up against the wall and knocked down his goddamn precious map. But he was so goddamn fast. The butcher knife was out of his boot and under my chin in one second. I let go of him and took a step back. Hardly anyone had ever bested me that quickly.

I looked around at the rest of them. Rebecca had a comforting hand on Gabe’s shoulder. Jim was standing sheepishly behind them. Hersch just looked at me and Peter angrily. I had fucked this up. They would never trust me now. “Are you two done?” Hersch asked heatedly.

“Yeah,” I growled. “I’m done.” I kicked the leg of the table and headed for the ladder under the trapdoor.

“Erich,” Gabe spoke for the first time as I brushed past him. “No.”

My heart hurt. It physically hurt so much I had to stop. I didn’t dare look back at Gabe. Couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes. I couldn’t do it. How could I stay there? Taking orders from Berezovsky? Keeping Jim safe at all times? Standing so close to Gabe? No. I couldn’t be a part of this. I had to get out.

I set my jaw and climbed up the ladder.

“Amery? Amery!” Hersch called up after me. “Amery don’t you dare go back up there!”  I wouldn’t sell them out. I couldn’t do that.

I looked back down at the five of them looking up at me. “You’re safe from me,” I said quietly. “But I don’t want any part of this.” I didn’t look back down again.