"Do you always sleep with your mouth open?"
Her timid voice sent Celina flying upwards, her head colliding with a broken branch. A smattering of leaves fluttered down and clung to her raw cheeks. Sunlight streamed through the kaleidoscope-like canopy of trees above her, morning dew adhering to her skin. A lump of tattered clothes lie merely a few feet away, rising and falling ever so slightly. Anka's wispy hair stuck to the sides of her dirt-stained cheeks, a crooked smile forming on her lips.
"For crying out loud, you startled me to death," Celina murmured, pulling her knapsack towards her chest. A dragonfly whizzed past her ear, prompting her to sit up and face the pleading eyes of the mud-coated girl before her.
"Can you wake up Mariusz, please?" she whispered. Groaning, Celina crawled over to the lump of clothes, gingerly shaking him back and forth. The sun was already sparkling high in the sky, portraying its brilliance to the trio of travelers. They had to get moving.
"No." The word was hardly a whisper, barely reaching his lips, yet it was surprisingly filled with anguish. Furrowing her eyebrows, heavily tainted with frustration, Celina proceeded to yank him upright, exposing him to the sunlight.
"No? I'll tell you what. One minute I'm happy at home and the next-"
"Sorry, just dreaming," he mumbled, rubbing his sleep-deprived cheeks. His fingers pried at the white stitches of his blue and white armband, branding him unwanted, and with one swift movement he thrust it upon the dirt. "We are much, much too late. It's probably almost noontime. Do you have the identity cards?" Forcing himself off the blackened earth, Mariusz timidly grabbed his sister's arm, strategically removing her armband. His eyes almost seem to sparkle in her presence, Celina thought.
Hands rifling through the canvased knapsack, they fell upon two crucial slips of paper. "Yes, I have them, but they won't do us any good if we don't know where we're going."
"You're the leader, darling. Mr. Budny said you have a list of contacts that can help us find a hiding place," Mariusz said, his hand gently resting on Anka's shoulder, urging her to move forward.
Disgust littered her iris, almost as present as the flecks of dark blue. "That's right, I am the leader, and I need you to just be quiet unless I say otherwise," she murmured, forcing her aching feet to put one in front of the other, "the closest contact is in outside of Prague, so I think we should head towards there."
"Then our best bet is to try to make it to Łódź. It's approximately seventy-five miles from Warsaw, so it'll take about two-and-a-half to three days depending on our efficiency. From there, we'll take a train to our next destination, and so on," Mariusz said, smacking a cap on his mused, dark hair.
Her mouth agape, saliva long dried up, Celina could merely forced herself to nod along, following closely behind Anka's short, stumbling steps. She took extra care to remain several paces behind the two Jews. Every fragmented step they took, every glimpse into their eyes flashing years of horror from the war threaten to cripple her. Best to remain as distant as possible from the very people that might get her killed.
Walking, always walking, always running.
10,080 steps later: rolling hills.
Her feet ached, her muscles burned, the ground seeming driving into her foot as if it were a hammer and she was a nail. Anka gradually started to stumble behind, erupting into a fit of horrific coughing. Eventually Mariusz swooped her up onto his shoulders, like a little swallow, its wings failing to beat. The Polish countryside seemed to mock the trio, Celina thought, so blithe and sparkling with its myriad of vivid daffodils and soaring birds. Eventually her steps came in sync with those of Mariusz, yet emotionally she remained as distant as possible, leaving his words unheard, his eyes unseen.
When the glaring sun would dissipate into the haunting glow of moonlight, Celina would lead the two escapees towards a perch on a looming hill. Mariusz would somehow mystically create a fire, as if it erupted from his hands.
On their third and final night in the wilderness, at least, Celina nestled into the comfort of the grasses and gazed at the view before her. City lights floated like lanterns, as mystical as the fire cooking the few remaining provisions left in the knapsack. The entire landscape seemed a greenish blue, as if it were inside a tinted photograph.
"We should arrive in Łódź fairly quickly tomorrow," Mariusz whispered, drawing near Celina and a great deal further from Anka and the fire.
"Fantastic. Then we can get caught and shot in front of everyone," she murmured, resting her cheek in the whispering grasses. Anka seemingly studied them, her reserved eyes blinking peacefully in the moonlight.
"Why?" It was barely a whisper, hardly reaching Celina's ears.
"Why what?"
"I thought it bothered you," Mariusz said, his legs drawn up towards his chest, "on the train, remember? So why did you decide to help us?"
Fireflies flitted above her head, flicking on, then off, nearly blending in with the millions of stars. Sighing, as if her lungs were trying to release the ton of pressure compressing her chest, Celina said, "I told you, remember? I want to find my father. I didn't know it was you until it was too late."
Mariusz paused, tension hanging frozen in the air. "You don't even know us."
Celina subtly shook her head, turning away from the man gazing at the millions of glowing freckles in the dusk sky. She shifted her focus towards Anka. Her painting was the purest of white, blots of black occasionally tainting its surface. Lilac daffodils and ribbons of pink were formed at the bottom, abstract, yet clear. Every step, every move of her hand, all of it was timid, almost hesitant, as if something awful might occur if she were bold.
"Can you just tell me if you know anything about my father?" she whispered, fingering the silken grass.
She felt his warm breath on her neck. "Would you leave us if we did?" With that, she felt the grass rustle, then the vibration of footsteps slowly deteriorating.
His words still stinging her ears, Celina buried her face further into the earth, allowing its coolness to seep into her cheeks. The thought of entering another big city frightened her more than she cared to admit.
Why me? she thought. Why me of all people? I'm not brave enough to handle the city, to handle soldiers constantly watching me, constantly questioning me.
The first question they ask, I'll have to answer the truth.
❋ ❋ ❋
The sun glaring at their backs, the trio made their way through dense grassland, the looming buildings of the city drawing nearer. Celina made an effort to remain in the front, the leader of a wolf pack. Anka trotted beside Mariusz, merely a few feet behind Celina. Her hair was still a tangled mess of wispy threads, however Mariusz had splashed cool water from a crystal clear brook to cleanse her cheeks. Both escapees were now clad in modest, yet well-kept clothing they had brought along.
A sparkling laugh escaped Anka's chapped lips. Craning her neck, Celina saw her giggling and cheerfully chasing butterflies that flitted about. Her brother wore a slight smile, mostly present in his eyes. Celina sighed, the scene reminding her of something out of a storybook. A twinge of reminiscence ate at her gut, reminding her of pleasant days giggling and chasing butterfiles with her father.
"Will you two quit it? We have to get to Łódź before the train leaves, and without drawing attention to ourselves," she mumbled, freezing in her tracks.
Mariusz shook his head, the smile still present, beckoning for Anka to come forward. "Without the medicine of sunshine and laughter, we are destined to fail, Nie? No?" He pulled Anka against his side, admiring the many small cottages and fields of yellow and orange flowers.
"With us stopping and making so much noise, we are destined to fail." Anka broke away from her brother's gasp, trotting up beside Celina. Her hazel, pleading eyes met Celina's, revealing twinges of pain and heartbreak.
"Can we please stay out a little longer and enjoy the sunshine?" she whispered, "It's been a long three days."
Celina sucked in her breath, gazing up at the baby blue sky. She felt Mariusz's and Anka's intense eyes falling on her, waiting for her approval.
It was only the fourth time she'd heard Anka speak.
"No, we have to keep moving. There's people that live near here, you know." Celina ignored Mariusz's cluck of disapproval, pushing her way through the tall grasses. She heard Anka whimper as he swooped her onto his back.
"Why is she always so cranky?" Anka whispered. Celina faintly made out her timid, quivering voice, and it nearly shocked her.
Mariusz chuckled, glancing forward as if to reassure Celina was out of earshot. "She's forgotten how to love, my darling."
These words shocked Celina's entire being, to the point where she nearly froze in her tracks. She's forgotten how to love? Wrinkling her nose in disdain, attempting to ignore her pounding heart, Celina pushed Mariusz's words away as if they were a pile of ashes. She loved her father, loved him so dearly that she was willing to risk everything for him.
Wasn't that enough?
This thought was still throbbing in Celina's mind when a distant blur of a figure appeared, wading its way through the sea of grass.
The smattering of whispers behind her ceased, everyone's attention focused on this figure suddenly drawing near, almost crouching in attack. Mariusz broke away from Anka, his hand waving blurred streaks of friendliness. As the figure drew near, she noticed it was a middle-aged woman, with sun-beaten, weathered face and bulky arms, a sun hat resting on her golden hair.
Celina noted the slip of paper in Mariusz's hands, inscribed with the identity of an Austrian bookstore owner.
"Can I assist you in any way?" she heard the woman's gruff, croaky voice say.
Mariusz shifted uncomfortably between two feet, gazing back at his trembling sister, who happened to be fingering her worn purple ribbon. "No, we just happened to get a little lost...on our way to Łódź to catch a train..." he said in the best Austrian accent he could muster.
Celina merely heard bits of pieces. She noted Mariusz removing the slip of paper from his pocket, handing it to the woman. Even from this distance, she could see suspicion laced in the woman's eyes.
"You don't sound Austrian," the woman said, rather loudly, "in fact, you look much like a Je-"
Celina's heart beat rapidly with panic. Anka yanked the ribbon out of her dark hair, its silkiness rubbing between her fingers as if it was somehow intertwined with comfort. Mariusz now glanced back at Celina, his eyes flashing urgency.
"Uh, Celina, Anka, you go on ahead and catch that train! I'll be along shortly," he shouted, his words ringing in the stale late-morning air.
Celina nodded, and despite the fact her muscles burned terribly she broke out into a run, Anka trailing awkwardly behind. She imagined the woman raising her eyebrows in suspicion, imagined her screams slicing the air. Jews, she would call, I found a Jew. Her breath escaping in ragged increments, she imagined meeting her father inside the barbed wire fence, or wherever they kept prisoners. A mist of hot tears emanated from Anka's eyes. She craned her neck around various times, watching her brother transform into a minuscule dot in the golden landscape.
Celina's heart pumped furiously in her chest as they ran for what seemed hours, though in reality was merely a few minutes. Anka stumbling closely behind, an endless line of train tracks and myriads of bustling people clothed in dull earth tones came into view. Her legs burned, trotting onto the cobblestone road. Glancing around, only a few people lingered about, yet a steady stream was emerging into the station.
They only had a few minutes before the next train would leave.
"Celina we have to wait for Mariusz! What if he doesn't make it back in time? Then we'll be seperated!" Anka cried, desperation frothing from her mouth.
Celina hesitated, words waiting on the tip of her tongue. What if he doesn't come back at all? she wanted to say. Yet gazing into Anka's teary, hopeless eyes, she knew her words had to be sugarcoated. "Look, Anka, it might take a little while for Mariusz to get back, and then we might miss the train. The longer we wait, the more suspicion it will arouse. If Mariusz doesn't make it in time for this train, he'll come on the next, all right?" she said in an undertone.
Anka nodded, pointing to the ticket stand.
As Celina slammed the coins on the table, grasping the nearly transparent paper in her head, a feeling of independence filled her soul with warmth. No longer did she require an adult or friends or passersby to survive. She truly could survive on her own, she thought with a crooked smile of content.
"It doesn't come leave for another ten minutes," she murmured, pulling Anka away from the crowd, "but we could probably board now, if you'd like."
Anka lifted her gaze from the ground, littered with footprints, excitement overriding any sorrow present in her hazel eyes. She reminded Celina of a little girl on her first trip to the zoo, with the lilac ribbon knotted in her hair and all. Sighing, she led her onto the train, the worn seats fairly empty. Immediately, Anka bolted to the back, plopping in a seat by the window. Celina followed. It seemed like ages since she'd last ridden the train to Warsaw, conversing with Mariusz.
"I miss them," Anka blurted out of nowhere.
Startled, Celina cocked her head, studying the young girl whose tears burned scars on her cheek. She seemed so delicate, so fragile, like a lilac. Her father was a tulip, Celina thought, perfect in every way. Mariusz, well, he was a Niezapominajka, a Forget-Me-Not.
"He hasn't even been gone for that long," she mumbled, turning away to face the aisle. She could still, however, hear an occasional sniffle, and for that Celina wanted to get up and walk away. Every tear, every sniffle, bore remnants of the war.
"No, not him, them," she stressed, "my Mama and Papa, and Mariusz. I'm lost without them." The last phrase was scarcely a whisper, yet it screamed in Celina's ear. Understanding gradually began creeping in, like fog tiptoeing through the meadows. Anka was lost without her family, merely a lilac withering silently in the wind.
Celina almost longed to comfort her, to say that her brother would be here soon. But it would be a lie, for as soon as she thought it, the train began whistling and croaking, a frog springing into action. A cry of shock escaped Anka's mouth, before she began bursting into uncontrollable sobs.
Mariusz was not coming back.
Celina's shoulders drooped, depression collapsing upon them. A door creaked shut, along with hurried, uneven footsteps, and haggard gasps of air. Furrowing her eyebrow, Celina spun around, met with a bundle of torn up rags and a fistful of train ticket.
"Anka, my darling, why are you crying?" Mariusz said between gasps. Collapsing onto the nearest seat, he managed a joyful chuckle, intertwined with something else Celina could not detect. Something darker, perhaps. Mariusz clutched his torso, as if the strenuous exercise had crippled him.
"Mariusz, you made it!" Anka cried, tears almost instantly drying.
Celina tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, did we get caught? Does she know you're a Jew?" she whispered so that it was inaudible to anyone nearby.
A few passengers still spun around to gawk at the strange, disassembled man panting like a dog. "Well, let's just say we're not going back there anytime soon," he said, an exuberant laugh present in his eyes. He seemed to show no signs of worry.
Celina bit her lip in annoyance. Not go back there anytime soon? The nerve of this man! "What?" she nearly shouted, then lowered her voice, "you mean the lady knows? Oh no...Mariusz you didn't..."
"It couldn't be helped," he murmured, slight distress settling in his eyes, "I did the best I could. Now all we can do is hope that we'll make it to Częstochowa without any issues." By now Mariusz had settled in, resting his aching back against the scant cushioning. His hand still rested on his torso, his breath escaping in subtle ragged intervals. Anka rose her eyebrows, then shrugged and turned towards the window.
"No. It couldn't be." Celina inhaled, then exhaled, allowing peace and cool air in through her nostrils. Yet the peace never came. For all she knew, Nazis or maybe even Hitler himself were charging through the train station; or worse: waiting for them in Częstochowa. Surely the woman would alert someone, or most likely already has. Her heart sped up, panic threatening to engulf her. And Celina thought they would at least make it to Prague before running into any trouble.
Yet sure enough, hours later, as they pulled into Częstochowa, she noted a cluster of Nazi soldiers standing near the tracks, their eyes penetrating right through the window.
Staring right at Celina.