“We’ve always got time, sir.”
“And it’s perfect weather for a parade, don’t you think?”
“It is, sir.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
On Himmel Street, Liesel was playing soccer when the noise arrived. Two boys were fighting for the ball in the midfield when everything stopped. Even Tommy Müller could hear it. “What is that?” he asked from his position in goal.
Everyone turned toward the sound of shuffling feet and regimented voices as they made their way closer.
“Is that a herd of cows?” Rudy asked. “It can’t be. It never sounds quite like that, does it?”
Slowly at first, the street of children walked toward the magnetic sound, up toward Frau Diller’s. Once in a while there was added emphasis in the shouting.
In a tall apartment just around the corner on Munich Street, an old lady with a foreboding voice deciphered for everyone the exact source of the commotion. Up high, in the window, her face appeared like a white flag with moist eyes and an open mouth. Her voice was like suicide, landing with a clunk at Liesel’s feet.
She had gray hair.
The eyes were dark, dark blue.
“Die Juden,” she said. “The Jews.”
DUDEN DICTIONARY MEANING #6
Elend—Misery:
Great suffering,
unhappiness, and distress.
Related words:
anguish, torment, despair,
wretchedness, desolation.
M
ore people appeared on the street, where a collection of Jews and other criminals had already been shoved past. Perhaps the death camps were kept secret, but at times, people were shown the glory of a labor camp like Dachau.
Far up, on the other side, Liesel spotted the man with his paint cart. He was running his hand uncomfortably through his hair.
“Up there,” she pointed out to Rudy. “My papa.”
They both crossed and made their way up, and Hans Hubermann attempted at first to take them away. “Liesel,” he said. “Maybe …”
He realized, however, that the girl was determined to stay, and perhaps it was something she should see. In the breezy autumn air, he stood with her. He did not speak.
On Munich Street, they watched.
Others moved in around and in front of them.
They watched the Jews come down the road like a catalog of colors. That wasn’t how the book thief described them, but I can tell you that that’s exactly what they were, for many of them would die. They would each greet me like their last true friend, with bones like smoke and their souls trailing behind.
When they arrived in full, the noise of their feet throbbed on top of the road. Their eyes were enormous in their starving skulls. And the dirt. The dirt was molded to them. Their legs staggered as they were pushed by soldiers’ hands—a few wayward steps of forced running before the slow return to a malnourished walk.
Hans watched them above the heads of the crowding audience. I’m sure his eyes were silver and strained. Liesel looked through the gaps or over shoulders.