I hold Caleb close, trying to hide the fearful trembling of my lanky body. I take a greasy curl from Caleb’s head and twirl it between my fingers. I use to always do this when Caleb was just a small child after his bath. Sitting here, I wish I could give him a bath or purchase some clean clothes from the market. Dozing off in my lap, he looks pitiful with rags for clothing.


If mom was here, she’d walk right out in public, not caring who saw her, or how many guards forced her to the ground, how many times she was beaten or whipped. She would make certain we were fed and clothed properly. Caleb stirs, interrupting my thoughts. He lets out a soft whimper. A whimper that nearly causes my own heart to cry out. I can’t though. Caleb needs me. I have to be strong.


I calm him with my routinely “Shhs” and “It’ll be okays.” His night terrors have become more recent. Caleb never returns to his slumber. We just sit, quietly, because talking is dangerous. One utterance or murmur could end our life. I caress Caleb’s arm. I’m shocked at how apparent his bones are. We haven’t eaten in four days. At this thought, my stomach screams inside what’s left of my body. I wouldn’t even call it a body, more like a carcass. I can only imagine the pain that hunger is afflicting on a seven-year-old boy.


“We have to leave tomorrow, Caleb,” I whisper, through the sinister surroundings of the darkened street.


He nods his head in agreement. He understands the danger of a stagnant Jew. The coldness of the night is attacking us with full force, preying on our vulnerability, biting on our exposed skin like an addict to his heroine. As our remaining body heat is being consumed, I pull Caleb into my chest. I bury my face into those innocent curls, and remember what Mama always taught us. She taught us God is wherever you go, and all you have to do is pray, and God will rescue you.


I turn to Caleb, his hands in mine, and assure him.


“Caleb, We gotta’ pray. Remember what mama said. All you have to do is pray.”


With eyes of doubt and uncertainty, Caleb hesitantly nods. We lay side-by-side, feeling the heat escaping from our bodies, and making a home within the mud and grass we rest on. We squeeze our eyes shut, and hold each other’s hands so tightly, our knuckles become white, and we pray. We ask God to help us find our mother, to save us from the bitter night, and as a personal request, I ask him to feed my brother. Caleb and I drift off into a light sleep.


“Excuse me. Hello?”


I am awoken by repetitive nudging. My heart flies against it’s chambers when my eyes finally adjust to the morning’s glare to reveal a German woman crouched next to my feet. Heavy breathing is set into motion, and I draw Caleb to my side. The woman inches closer. Anxiety occupies my brain and impedes my speech. Only syllables exit my mouth.
This is the moment I am going to die. She is going to drag me into the city, and turn me into the government.


“It’s okay. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” The woman extends her arm in our direction, palm up. I timidly, fit my hand into the open space. She helps me to my feet, my legs quivering like a newborn horse taking it’s first steps into the world. We follow the woman back to a small home, which I assume was hers.


She tells us we can stay as long as we work. Miss is preparing a meal I’m not familiar with. The smell fills the house. A variety of spices invade my nasal passages and slowly seep down into my throat and entice my taste buds. I sample the heavenly flavors that will soon satisfy my hunger. Miss places two heaping plates of the mystery food in front of Caleb and me. I watch my brother devour his helping. A small smile creeps across my face. I tilt my head upward, and mouth the words “Thank you.”


After our meal, I run Caleb a warm bath to get him cleaned up. I think of Miss. Her name isn’t really Miss, we just call her that. Miss could be killed for hiding Jews in her home. Why would she put her life at risk for people as worthless as my brother and me? We have nothing to offer. I shake away the thoughts when Caleb’s voice is calling my name. I dry the water dripping from the skin-covered skeleton standing in front of me. I wince at the sight of his ribs, but I know Miss will take care of us. We amble into the bedroom we’re designated to stay in. Although there’s two beds, Caleb ends up in bed with me. We hold each other close, and we pray.


It’s been a week now that we’ve been staying with Miss. I do the laundry, Caleb sweeps, and Miss continues to make delicious meals. I notice the skeleton of my brother disappearing slowly everyday. Caleb and I are finally happy, no more paranoia. My thoughts are broken by the door collapsing on the floor and the six men standing behind it. I grab Caleb’s hand and we seek refuge in the hall closet. I cover Caleb’s mouth with my hand, knowing he will cry.


We sit in the dark of Miss’s winter coats and listen to the gun shots, and the screams, and the sound of Miss hitting the floor. We close our eyes, and we pray. Hard this time. Footsteps of large men inspect the corners of the house. Words in German are being shouted across the house that I can’t make out. The footsteps recede, and silence falls over the atmosphere.


Caleb and I exit the closet, stepping around the bloody corpse of Miss, Caleb sobbing into my shirt, and making our way out into the night air. My eyes catch a glimpse of soldiers in the distance. Not the soldiers we’re use to. Suddenly excitement emits from my body. The U.S. army. We were going to be saved.