There was blood on the floor, and thus was the inevitable sign of another life lost in a darkness of peril. This was another’s soul, beginning a journey the existence beyond, leaving all this carnage behind. Both the blood and the soldier crept toward Olek’s aching body; both began to diminish his spirit. Olek’s feet were at a standstill, his mind wondering if he might escape death again, or begin his own journey into the depths.
“Join the line’s, Juden,” the soldier spoke. His eyes gleamed once again in a bitter hatred. Olek saw the man’s teeth, rotting in his own body of disgust. Olek never before in his short life experienced the glare of a man so possessed with prejudice and hatred.
Olek walked forward, the Nazi’s eyes trailing him, as if he were another piece of his prey. Olek started down at the figure’s body, its cloaks soaked in red. He only stared for a brief moment, afraid that the soldier might retaliate against him. In that brief moment, he saw the face of a haggard old woman. Olek winced at the thought of killing the elderly, but pushed he and his mother on outside the building.
Approaching the end of the hallway, Olek heard a sound of complete and utter chaos slowly shifting its way to his ears, as if trying to scare him. Each step, the din of the outside world got louder, as if it knew that Olek were coming. When he finally approached the doorway, he stared off into the din of confusion and tyranny of the Third Reich.
Each sensation he felt, people he witnessed, and shed of blood taken had a story of its own. He kept on walking, wanting to turn his head down in shame. Suddenly, before his feet a suitcase came crashing down, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. Pictures of happier times and clothing spewed out. He looked up, and behold were the soldiers throwing Jew’s luggage down into the street below. Olek grabbed his mother’s hand, and urged to run from the falling luggage. The two ran further into the din, barely missing a small suitcase. Olek and his mother ran; to where, they did not know. It seemed that anywhere you ran there was a sense of death already there. Never before had Olek felt the stench of complete genocide, but something deep inside him sensed its presence towering his spirit.
He looked to his left as he ran. A mother ran in fright, and the echoing of a rifle brought her flee to an end. He looked to his right. One Nazi soldier stood alone, two 9mm handguns in his hands, then madly began stomping around, shooting all life within range. Olek felt the world turn. He was dizzy. He fainted, his frail body landing with a gentle thump on the ground below…
Olek’s body felt a soft poke. Regaining consciousness, he sensed his body rising. A blurry, black abyss swirled over his eyes, and through tiny holes he saw the figure of a tall, burly man, carrying his body in his arms.
“What happened?” Olek managed to wince from his nearly deteriorated lungs.
“You fainted amid the madness. I heard your mother scream, so I came over to pick your body up before the Germans would find out. Stay still.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Olek saw one soldier walk toward the man carrying himself. He stopped and examined the situation.
“Let go of him, he’s as good as dead,” the soldier spoke.
“Then sir, might I put his body over in the pile of others?”
“No, lie it down here.” Sensing the man’s courage to save his soul, Olek pretending to be dead, letting his mouth and eyes droop downward.
“I said juden, LET GO!” There was a small pistol in the man’s side, although still tucked in his leather holster. Olek never would have imagined what this strong man, who had such a good chance of surviving, would do next…
