Rena's Promise by Heather Dune Macadam, Rena Kornreich Gelissen

could reach out and wake them. If they don't look dead, I speculate, could we all be dead? Maybe this is all there is, maybe there is no world beyond us. One can't think like this without going insane. I stop pondering any thoughts which might lead to insanity. I focus again on the present. The girl-women who carry bodies into camp at the end of the day are in work details under the kapos with the green triangles that signify they are convicted murderers. At least our kapo is not one of those.
Four A.M .
" Raus! Raus! "
We stand for inspection. We can barely keep our eyelids open except for the crisp German orders cracking around us in the night that is really morning. We line up behind Emma. There are a few missing and a few added to our kommando.
My heart sinks as we near the field where we worked the day be-

     

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fore. The SS orders are derisive; if they could laugh at us they would. ''Move this pile of bricks back to the other side of the field." We stand unable to move, unable to comprehend these orders. " Schnell! " The whip snaps, their slaves scatter.
Danka stands next to me, away from the pile we must move. I pray that the girl next to me doesn't throw bricks on my feet. The first brick slices into my hand as the sun breaks through the clouds. Pain and light. I toss it to Danka, willing it to land gently in her hand, pleading with the brick not to hurt my sister. This is useless! It hurts a lot more knowing that this work is futile, knowing that they see our labor as worthless. How long will this go on? Our hands will be stumps if it continues. This is not work. It is meant to destroy us. Like a thunderhead obscuring the sun, I blot out this thought.

After evening roll call, for some reason I linger outside, unwilling to run into the block for the night. Maybe it is the faint smell of spring in the air, maybe I am too tired to run behind the others and wait in line. Danka has gone ahead.
"Rena? Rena!" I look through the wire of the men's camp at a skeleton who seems to know who I am. I cannot move. Squinting my eyes, I stare and stare.
"It's me. Tolek." The bones of his skull seem to stand up out of his skin. His eyes bug out above his cheekbones. He checks the guard tower to make sure no one sees him.
"Tolek! What are you doing here? How long have you been here?"
"I was arrested a few days ago for smuggling people across the border."
"Did they hurt you?" His mouth does not speak but his eyes answer my question. "You look hungry," I say. "Wait here. I'll get you my bread. Lucky for you I haven't eaten yet!"
"I can't eat your bread, Rena!" He turns slightly so no one can tell we are having a conversation.

     

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I turn away from him. "You and Andrzej saved our lives, Tolek. Danka and I would be dead or worse if you hadn't taken us to Slovakia. You have been arrested for saving people like us!"
"And look where it got you."
"We are alive and that is enough. You never took money for that trip, now you must at least accept my miserable bread." I start to walk away against his protests. "I won't take no."
My feet have hope in them again as I run to find Danka. I have seen someone from our past; we are not dead. I can help someone. I no longer feel helpless or at the whim of a fate governed by German SS. I run breathless and tired up the stairs to the bunk Danka and I share. "Danka! Tolek is in the men's camp!"
"Tolek?" Life flickers in her eyes. "Where?"
"Outside. Come on. He's very hungry. We will have to share your bread tonight." I stop, looking directly into her eyes. "He looks terrible, like he might drop of starvation. We must help him."
"Yes, of course." Her eyes are full of tears. We run downstairs and out to the camp road, throwing our meager meal high over the barbed wire. There are no second tries tonight; it lands at his feet.
" Bóg zaplac
    *." Tears get caught in his throat.
"May God reward you , Tolek," we answer, moving away from the fence, unable to risk speaking