Chapter 2
Fortunately for Peter, the guard's pride kept him from telling the other guards what had happened to him. Unfortunately, it didn't stop the guard from making Peter's life miserable. Years later, when looking back on the next three months, Peter wasn't sure why the guard didn't shoot him. It wasn't like there would have been an inquiry into the death of a prisoner. But Peter wasn't one to dismiss good fortune, if you could call living through endless days of repeated abuse and torture, watching fellow prisoners die, and starving to death yourself good fortune.
He saw very little of the man he had saved. He passed him on occasion while working, but never for more than a few seconds. At first Peter tried to get his attention, but after a while he gave up. Whoever the man was, he seemed to be avoiding him, which Peter could understand. The guards were constantly on the lookout for anything that might be evidence of a conspiracy among the prisoners, so the less contact the two of them had, the better it would be for both of them.
So apart from the usual abuse, the next three months passed without event. Then out of the blue one day, the trucks didn't take them to the mines, but to a railroad crossing where a train was waiting. When Peter saw this, he began to feel uneasy. Unannounced changes in plans were never good in this world. The times Peter had seen the guards pull people out of the mines and load them onto the trucks before the day was over, the prisoners were never seen again.
Peter wasn't given much time to dwell on this before the guards began to herd the prisoners toward the boxcars on the train. They crowded in as best they could, but trying to fit nearly a thousand prisoners into one boxcar was a lot to ask for. Peter, being one of the first prisoners into the car, was forced into the corner by the flood of bodies. When the car was as full as it was going to get, the guards closed the door.
About an hour later (at least it felt like an hour; it could have been only five minutes) the train began to move. Peter, trying not to think about what was waiting when the train reached its destination, made himself as comfortable as possible.
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The sudden wave of murmurs that began to surge throughout the crowded boxcar told Peter that something was happening, a fear that was confirmed when he felt the train lurch to a stop. He wasn't sure how long they had been in the car, but it felt like weeks.
The men closest to the small windows were giving reports to the other prisoners. "There's nothing out there, only trees," One of them said. "We must be in some kind of forest."
Another voice, from the other side of the car, said, "I see nothing but trees also. And also the sun is setting."
"Why do you think we've stopped?" someone asked. Peter had his suspicions, but he didn't dare say them out loud for fear that they would come true. Apparently everyone else felt the same way, because no one said anything.
A few minutes later, the door on the boxcar was opened, and a voice said, "Everybody out. Five minutes to stretch your legs." Peter looked around the car as about half of the men moved toward the door—and the other half stayed in place, dead. It was all Peter could do to keep from throwing up right then and there. As soon as his feet touched the ground he ran for the forest and ducked behind the nearest tree.
As he leaned against the tree, trying to catch his breath, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around—and saw that it was the man whose life he had saved in the minds three months earlier.
"You—, "Peter began, but the man clamped his hand over his mouth and leaned in close, his beard tickling the side of Peter's face. "If you want to live," he whispered, "follow me."
Peter hesitated, not sure what the man was planning to do. But, he decided, that whatever it was, it was a better fate than the guards had prepared for him. He nodded and the man removed his hand from his mouth.
"Okay," the man said, glancing around. "Follow me, and stay low."
Having grown up in the city, Peter had never cared much for nature. But with the sun still in the sky, he was grateful for the thickness of the forest as the two of them crept along from tree to tree.
Suddenly, the sounds of machine guns filled the forest. Peter turned to look, but the man grabbed his arm. "There's nothing you can do for them," he said. "Keep moving." Peter nodded and pushed through the forest after him.
After about five minutes the guns stopped. The silence was overwhelming. So much so that when Peter stepped on a twig, the snap seemed to echo forever. The man froze and motioned for Peter to do the same. It wasn't long before he could hear the guards moving through the woods toward them.
Peter glanced at the man and he motioned for him to stay still. As the guards got closer, it was all he could do to keep himself from making a break for it. He kept his eyes on the man, waiting for a signal of some kind.
Then as suddenly as the machine gun fire had started, the guard movement stopped. The man raised his eyebrows in confusion. He motioned at Peter to stay down and he slowly stood and peeked around the tree. There was silence for a few seconds—and then a short burst of machine gun fire ripped into the tree.
Peter heard the guard running toward them. As he rounded the tree, the man punched him in the face. The guard dropped like a rock. "Well that ought to take care of him," the man said. Just then they heard the rest of the guards running toward them.
"Run!" the man shouted as he took off into the woods. Peter didn't hesitate and as he ran after the man, he heard the guards shouting commands to each other.
Peter tried to keep up with the man, but that was easier said than done. He hadn't gone on hundred yards yet and he felt as though his lungs were going to burst at any minute. His only saving grace was that he had a head start. After climbing a particularly tall hill, though, he was ready to stop running and surrender his fate to the fancy of the guards. Then, as though fate had other plans for him, he tripped and tumbled down the steep far side of the hill.
Peter gasped as the air was knocked out of him. It took several minutes of deep breaths to get enough air back in his lungs to allow him to move again. He stood slowly and saw a cave about 50 yards away. Slowly, he began to make his way toward the cave.
He hadn't realized how weak he really was, but that run, though brief, combined with the fall, had drained him of most of his energy. When he reached the cave, he crawled in and as soon as he was back as far as he could go, he lay down. The last thing he thought before he gave into exhaustion was, I wonder where that man went.
