Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 88 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications.
I wanted to ask forgiveness, Binyamin. I saw in the note that you put in the pocket of Mrs. Einhorn’s uniform that you were angry at your sister. I also heard that she and your mother were saying that you think your sister went to Leo Sherer to tell him about your secret group that meets at night, and that you want to do dangerous things.
So you should know that it was me who hid behind a stone and overheard you speaking, and I went to Leo and told him everything. He never liked me because I “don’t do anything productive,” and also because I sometimes walk around at night even though it’s not allowed. I wanted him to know that I am sometimes productive, and it’s davka because I walk around at night when I can’t sleep.
Now everyone is searching for you to punish you. They’re saying it’s because you spoke on a radio to someone—I don’t really understand what that’s about, but I think that it also has to do with what I did wrong.
I don’t know where to find you to give you this note, and so I’m just saying I’m sorry again for now. And if I can help you in any way, I will. Because you should know that I think you’re a real hero, and I hope that I can be a hero like you.
Iszak Zuretzky
The paper, featuring a few yellow stains from egg yolk, was resting next to his plate. Iszak’s mother had prepared his breakfast before she left to her daily job at the dairy. As he sat sipping his tea, his left knee jumped with agitation. He had no appetite.
His head shot up in surprise when he heard noise behind their little hut. Who was screaming like that? It sounded like Hauptmann Josef’s voice. The youth stood up and carefully peeked out the window. Oh my, what was going on? The Nazi was running after a figure in the distance, toward the kennels and the cemetery, and he was waving a pistol. Oh, no, if he looked in the direction of their window, by any chance, would he shoot because he was so angry right now?! Iszak huddled fearfully below the window, and after a moment, when the Nazi’s voice grew more distant, he carefully straightened up.
He then decisively folded the sheet of paper and went outside, hurrying behind the house. He narrowed his gaze; a few people were also hurrying in the direction that the other two had been running, but they stopped some distance away. What was going on there? Had Wangel killed Binyamin? Iszak stood, fearfully, and then sat down on the ground. What would be if he didn’t have a chance to apologize to Binyamin? It would be very sad.
His hand brushed against a long, dry branch that had fallen off a tree during one of the snowstorms this past winter. He was afraid to get any closer to see what Wangel was doing to Binyamin, but if he could stick his apology note onto the end of this branch and approach, standing from far, and he would wave it near Binyamin’s face, that would be good. He needed Binyamin to forgive him before he died!
The branch had a pointed edge, and the paper hung into it perfectly. Iszak began walking along the main path, which was empty. The four-meter-long branch rose far above his head, and the paper he had impaled onto it waved in the breeze. But from moment to moment, his pace slowed. No, this was not a good idea. First of all, if Josef Wangel was now threatening Binyamin, or fighting him, then no one would have a minute to read his apology note. His paper might only make things worse. And besides, if he would start waving it near the two of them, the Nazi would think that he, Iszak, had come to fight him, and he’d kill him too. It wasn’t worth it.
He heard pounding footsteps far behind him. Oh, no—it was Bernard! And he was also holding a gun! Alarmed, Iszak veered off the path and ran to the side, behind the Kush family’s hut. The younger Nazi would get here in another minute. He was the scariest of them all. He had probably come to help his father—and that was dreadful.
Iszak held his breath. Could he help Binyamin out? Where he was now, Iszak wasn’t in danger. Bernard was looking straight ahead; he wouldn’t even see who was suddenly stabbing him in the shoulder or the arm with a sharp branch. It didn’t really matter where Iszak hurt him; the main thing was that Bernard should be busy with his own pain and shouldn’t be able to help his father. Could a branch kill? Halevai; it was very sharp!
He glanced around cautiously. Yes, Bernard would be here in another minute. Be strong, Iszak! he told himself. Hashem loves someone who admits to his mistakes and apologizes, and He will surely help you! And biting his lip, he stuck the branch out, onto the path.
The branch did not kill Bernard, nor did it wound him terribly. But it did suddenly appear in front of his legs, and sent him pitching forward. The young Nazi went sprawling on the floor. With shouts of fury and pain, Bernard got a huge blow to his chin and to his right elbow, but he didn’t let go of the gun for a second. Iszak fled in fear to the other side of the hut, as Bernard slowly rose, groaning.
“Who did this?” he screamed, looking in every direction. “Was it you, Schvirtz, you scoundrel? And where is my father?!”
***
“A coward hiding behind a stone, huh?” Wangel shouted. Was his voice trembling a little bit? “Come out of there, Schvirtz! Come out and prove to everyone that you are brave!” He was standing in his place, where he’d frozen the moment the butt of the Beretta that Binyamin was holding peeked out from behind the matzeivah. Binyamin didn’t respond; he just carefully held onto the gun, as his mind tried to break down the situation into small pieces.
The Hauptmann was alarmed to discover that he had a gun.
He had not advanced even one step since.
He also hadn’t shot throughout the pursuit, and it would have been completely expected that he should have.
It must be that his gun was not loaded!
Hashem, should I take the risk? Not take the risk? People were gathering around, standing at a distance. Why had they come here? Were they not afraid? They were apparently relying on the fact that the Wangels had an interest—for now—only in him, and they did not think they were included in the danger. They were probably right, at least as of this moment. But afterward, Wangel would kill them all!
Now. Now. If he did not take this risk, Bernard would come, and then Binyanim would never have another chance. He had to take advantage of these moments when Wangel was standing there. He was surrounded, and unarmed. They could overpower him!
When he would surrender, dealing with the Hauptmann and the girls would be much simpler. And Bernard? … They’d manage with him as well, taking into account that they would be more than one hundred people facing off with one.
“I’m a coward?” he asked loudly, and after a fraction of a second, he stood up, with the gun aimed ahead of him. They stood facing one another, a few meters apart, in silence. Would a flash of light erupt from the gun that the Hauptmann was holding? What did a gunshot even look like?
But he received no more of an idea of what it looked like, because no gunshot came from Wangel’s gun.
Binyamin took a deep breath and looked around him, at the people who had gathered. And at those who were still coming. Time was short. He had to finish this up before Bernard got here. “I’m not the coward,” he said. “You are the coward, Herr Wangel, the man standing and threatening me with nothing. You hear, Yidden? It’s just an example of our whole existence here: Their threats are empty. He has no bullets! He came out to chase me with an empty gun.”
Something fleeting—perhaps a jolt of fear—flashed in Josef Wangel’s eyes. But he just laughed and turned his gun to the right, and his hand roved with it in the direction of the people standing there. Suddenly, the gun stopped, pointing at—
Babbe!
Why had she come here?
“No one move,” the Nazi said. “I see that you’ve decided to take your life till the end, Schvirtz. Let’s see about the lives of the others. I’m counting to ten, and if you don’t put that gun down on the ground, I’ll start shooting. Your grandmother will be first. Ten…nine…”
“Schvirtz, don’t be crazy!” someone yelled. “Stop endangering everyone!”
“Yidden!” Binyamin cried pleadingly. “I’m telling you, his gun is empty. There’s nothing there! Go over and grab him, and prepare to grab Bernard too, because he surely will be armed. If we can only subdue them, we’ll be free! Because the Nazis lost the war fifty years ago!”
“Eight—” The man’s voice sounded almost pleasant.
“Yidden, the world has been free of Nazi rule!” Binyamin shouted with all his might. “Take Josef Wangel hostage, and that way, we will prevail over his family as well, and we can get out of here. Yidden live in the world freely. We’ve been deceived here all these years! I spoke with Yidden from Vienna. I’m telling you, there is no danger to living outside!”
“Seven—six—” Josef was laughing, but Binyamin saw that the hand holding his gun was shaking a bit.
“Babbe?” he cried loudly, not even recognizing his own voice. “Babbe, don’t be afraid. Carefully step back—he won’t do anything. He can’t do anything to you.”
Don’t give in, Babbe’s lips were mouthing the words. Binyamin was able to see every syllable. And she moved. Wangel didn’t do anything. He just continued counting while waving his gun around, with no specific target. He turned back for a moment, perhaps waiting for backup or afraid of being accosted. Some of those standing by were silent, gaping at what was happening, while others were arguing heatedly. But no one took any action.
What were they waiting for? For Bernard to come?! Where was Elkovitz? Where were all the ones who knew the truth?!
He had no choice. “I’ll take over now, Josef!” he said, as the Nazi said the number “three.” “From three to one, and I won’t wait any longer. My gun is loaded—in contrast to yours. You will now turn your back to me, and wait for me to come closer to you, and we are going to go out to the path.” He hoped his voice was not shaking as he continued, “If Bernard comes close to us, you stop him right away; otherwise, I’ll have to shoot you. And anyone who is afraid should move away! Three—two—”
Fingers gripped his forearm powerfully. It was Sol Sherer, and three others behind him. “Enough with this nonsense, Schvirtz!” he said angrily. “Do you want to drag us all into Gehinnom with you?!”
thenextpage-israelbookshop.com 
just terrible! Can’t we get to read the rest already?