“God doesn’t work that way,” she said. “He doesn’t interfere.” He just lets us slaughter each other. She paused for a moment and bit her lower lip, then put a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder. “I think God wants us to learn how to live together.”
“Hah! I’ll bet God didn’t have to live with the fuckin’ Nazis.”
Natalia smiled in spite of the irreverence of the boy’s remark. “Do you go to church, Rabbit?”
The boy shook his head. “Nah, not any more. My Ma made me and my brother go. But ever since they… you know, since then I never went again.” He was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at her. “Do you go to church?”
“I used to, when I lived in Krakow.”
“My Ma went to Krakow once. She said it was beautiful, with lots of big churches.”
Natalia nodded. “It is beautiful. And there are many, many churches.”
“Which one did you go to?”
“My favorite is the Mariacki Church. It’s on the Rynek Glowny, right in the heart of the city. It’s a basilica. And it has this magnificent vaulted nave. The walls are painted in blue and gold and decorated with elaborate friezes.”
“Friezes,” the boy repeated. “What are those?”
“Decorations on a wall, usually sculptures or paintings. Sometimes they tell a story.”
Rabbit spat on the ground again. “I’ll bet none of those stories are about fuckin’ Nazis burnin’ kids in a sewer.”
It took a moment for Natalia to reply. Then all she could manage was, “No… they aren’t.”
“Did you go there often?”
“Well, not on a regular basis, not every Sunday. But I would go sometimes during the week, especially if I was troubled by something, or just wanted to think.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Maybe someday you could go there with me.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’d go with you… but I wouldn’t talk to God.”
They sat for a long time, Natalia with her arm around the tough young warrior who’d just lost the only thing that mattered.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away.
She knew exactly how he felt.
Twenty
BY THE FIRST OF OCTOBER, few buildings remained standing in the section of the City Center west of the canning plant. Natalia hobbled along a narrow cobblestone walkway and finally slumped down, exhausted, in the shadows between two of those buildings. She gingerly touched her swollen ankle, wincing in pain. She’d twisted it badly several hours earlier, running along Okrag Street looking for Rabbit and Hammer. They had vowed to stick together, but the constant artillery barrage over the last three days had created such chaos that she’d lost sight of her friends in the panicked crowds.
And now she was alone.
They’d been on the run for a month since evacuating Old Town through the sewers, and Natalia wasn’t sure she could last another day. She doubted any of them could. They were out of ammunition, there was no food or water, the streets were littered with corpses and communications had completely broken down. They were surrounded by the enemy, and the last flickers of life in the insurgency were about to be snuffed out. Natalia knew it was only a matter of time. For some units of the AK still entrenched in isolated areas, perhaps a few days. In her case, perhaps just a few minutes.
Natalia leaned back against the brick building and closed her eyes, thinking about Adam. She knew where he’d gone that night on Dluga Street, just before she followed Rabbit into the sewer. A commando in one of the last groups to escape had seen him entering Raczynski Palace, the makeshift hospital where hundreds of wounded AK commandos were trapped. Trying to protect them from the SS was a suicide mission. But considering the torment in Adam’s heart, the hatred and revenge that had driven him for years, she knew why he went there.
A week later she heard the news. When the Germans moved into Old Town, the SS stormed Raczynski Palace and murdered everyone—doctors, nurses, patients in their beds. She had cried that night, cried for what might have been.
She heard a noise.
It was the all-too-familiar clanking of tank treads, and she slid backward on her rump, deeper into the corner between the two buildings where the late afternoon shadows provided some cover.
The same chaotic streets that had separated her from her friends a couple of hours ago were now suddenly deserted as the grinding noise of the enemy tanks drew closer. The moment the artillery barrage ceased, those who were still standing knew what was coming next. They abruptly vanished, scurrying into cellars and alleyways like rodents before a flood.
The rumbling diesel engines and creaking treads escalated into a deafening crescendo. A shiver ran down Natalia’s back as she scrunched against the building. The noise echoed off the buildings, and the ground shook violently as the monstrous machines approached.
A loud bang jolted every bone in her body.
Another bang!
Then guttural shouts in German: “Raus! Raus! Fucking Polish Dogs! Raus jezst!”
Natalia crouched, frozen with fear as a blur of black-uniformed SS troopers flashed past the walkway, tossing grenades through cellar windows.
Screams and belching smoke filled the air. Doors flew open, and terrified civilians raced up the cellar stairs and into the walkway, faces blackened with soot. A man with his clothes on fire rolled on the ground, screaming. A woman clutching a baby drenched in blood wailed in agony, then sank to her knees.
Natalia struggled to her feet, ignoring the pain in her ankle, as a squad of SS storm troopers charged into the walkway, sealing it off from the street. The people who had fled the cellar suddenly fell silent, huddling together, moving backward, shoving Natalia against the building.
The SS troopers advanced.
A thunderous burst of machine-gun fire reverberated off the brick walls.
The people screamed in panic and clawed at each other.
A hot, piercing pain shot through Natalia’s forehead and dropped her to her knees. The man in front of her grunted and collapsed backward, knocking her flat. Someone fell on top of her and jammed her face into the ground.
Then it was quiet.
Natalia lay still, her head throbbing, the dead weight of the bodies on top of her threatening to crush her ribs. She struggled to turn her head to the side and get some air. Boots scraped on the cobblestones as the troopers kicked at the bodies. They grunted German phrases and laughed. Then the boots walked away.
Through the tangle of bodies, Natalia caught a glimpse of bloodstained cobblestones in the fading sunlight. A puddle of blood had pooled in a depression; red slowly faded into brown as the liquid soaked into the earth between the stones. The puddle blurred and then smeared into darkness.
Twenty-One
MOVEMENT AWAKENED HER. Natalia opened one eye. Her other eye, pinned against the cobblestones, was crusted shut. She heard voices—heavy, crude voices—laughing and cursing.
Ukrainians.
She caught a glimpse of their boots in the dim light. It was daylight, but probably early, she thought, just after dawn. They were shabby boots, dusty and worn, holes in the soles. How many are there?
The pile of corpses on top of her shifted, and the weight on her ribs lightened a bit as the Ukrainians pulled off one of the bodies. She could understand only a few words, but enough to realize they were looters. It sounded like there were two of them. As another body was dragged onto the cobblestones, Natalia wished now she’d been killed by the Nazi machine gunners.