Israel's search continued. She entered country after country, confronting the nations and leaving with another piece returned to her. The conditions that her people had been living in—persecution, imprisonment, enslavement, murder—both horrified and revolted her, but that only increased her determination to press on, even as the world around her, as it attempted to mend, began to fall to pieces itself…
The Belgian Israel-let smiled blissfully up at her main part as she glowed and vanished. Belgium herself had left the room to answer the telephone.
She was politer than most nations have been… Israel thought, turning to leave.
"Um, Israel?" Belgium called, coming back into the foyer. "The phone's for you. It's England."
Israel nodded and followed her into the next room, picking up the white receiver.
"England?"
"Israel!" the voice on the other end gasped. "Listen. You've got to get out of Europe, now. Things are starting to get nasty again… I think we're going to war. It's too dangerous for you to be running around."
"I can't leave," Israel argued. "Not while my people need me. I have to find the rest of my parts. I'm so close to being complete again…and I can't just abandon them!"
England sighed. "Look. I can get you passage to America. You have a piece there anyway, right? You stay there until we get things calmed down again."
Israel didn't say anything for several moments, thinking.
"Israel?" England said. "Dassah, are you there?"
"I'm here."
"Just do this for me. Please?"
"All right," said Israel. "But I won't wait for long."
"Good. Be safe, all right?"
Israel set down the phone. Belgium was watching her curiously.
"Thank you for your assistance," Israel said before turning and walking out of Belgium's house.
And so Israel crossed the Atlantic Ocean, towards what had been promised to be a safe haven. However, the welcome she received there was not what she had expected…
"What do you mean, 'no visas'?" Israel demanded.
The captain shrugged.
"Apparently, the Cuban government has changed its visa regulations," he said. "We can't even get off of the St. Louis. Without visas, we'll never be allowed into the States, either."
Israel frowned. The sea voyage had been tedious enough even with the promise of safety in America, just after a stop for visas in Havana. Now this…
"Continue on to Florida, Captain Schroeder," she said. "Visas or none, we will get to America."
The captain nodded, but looked uncertain.
Israel went back out onto the deck. She stood staring out to sea as the ship began to move again.
Running away. That was what she was doing, under England's advice, by being here, trying to get entry to America instead of continuing through Europe, trying to save her pieces.
Then again, she thought, England said that it would be too dangerous. I won't do my people any good by getting myself killed.
Still…
This leg of the journey passed by almost without her noticing it, and then the St. Louis was nearing the Florida coast.
There was a shot. Everyone on deck ducked, but there were no more after that.
"That was the Coast Guard," Captain Schroeder muttered to Israel. "It seems that our arrival is unwanted."
"Stop the ship here," she said. "I'll go to shore myself. If America has a problem with us being here, then he'll have to bring it up with me."
XXX
Israel got out of the little boat. There was a man standing nearby, one with messy blond hair.
America. Israel walked up to him.
"And just where do you think you're going?" America asked.
"Into your country," Israel replied. "I have a ship of refugees, and England's word. You must let us in."
"You can't stay here," said America. "I'm busy enough without messing in Cuban affairs. He didn't give your people visas, did he?"
"He didn't, but that's not the point!" Israel said. "We need help."
"Even if he had, I have an immigrant quota," America continued, ignoring her. "And it's full. So there. Besides, this isn't something that I want to be involved in."
Israel frowned. "You son of a—"
"Hadassah! Hadassah!"
Israel turned to see one of her pieces running up to them, arms extended.
"Are we going home now?" the Israel-let asked, grabbing one of Israel's hands.
"It doesn't look like we have a choice," Israel said. "But travel through Europe is getting much too dangerous."
"That's okay," said the Israel-let. "We've waited this long, we can wait some more, right? You can stay here until it's safe."
"No, you can't," said America. "You can leave, but she can't come in."
The Israel-let frowned up at him. "That's not fair."
America shrugged. "It's fair for me."
"You're always talking about how you're the hero," the Israel-let accused. "Be the hero now, and help us!"
America hesitated, and for a moment it looked like he might relent. Then he shook his head.
"No," he said. Then he turned and walked away.
Israel sighed. "Let's go, yalda. We don't need him."
The Israel-let nodded, and then she glowed and merged with her main part. Israel got back into the little boat.
With no choice but to return to Europe, Israel did so, justifying her actions with the fact that now she could continue her search. She focused on her remaining pieces, trying to remember where she had still to go…
Israel glanced around warily as she walked down the street, fingering the yellow Star of David that was sewn to her jacket. Everywhere around her were stores with the angry signs on their door and in their windows.
Jeuden verboten. No Jews.
…
"They tell us to leave, but we have nowhere to go," the woman said, holding her baby in her lap as she whispered her story to Israel. "First the pogroms, and now this edict…"
Israel placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "There will be a place in the world for us," she said. "If there was only hate in the world, it would fall apart."
"That is true…" said the woman. "My husband is trying to get us passage to America, but it is impossible."
"Have faith," said Israel. "If not America, then perhaps the Holy Land."
The woman's eyes widened. "Do you really think so?"
Israel smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
"Someday, maybe."
…
Her people could not get jobs. Her people could not go to school, or even own a bike. The children stayed at home in fear. There were rumors, too. Talk of ghettos and camps, of orders to take her people away and kill them.
She could only hope that they were, in fact, rumors.
…
Israel walked down the docks, thinking about where she still needed to go. There were very few pieces still on their own, but they were in Poland, Germany, and Russia…
"Hadassah!"
She turned, and the little girl, her Russian piece, stumbled into her arms.
"Yalda…" she whispered.
"Hadassah," the Israel-let gasped again. "Thought you were here…"
"Are you all right?" Israel asked.
"Me? I'm fine," said the Israel-let. "I guess Russia got bored with torture, so he kicked me out. It was difficult crossing through Europe, especially Poland, but here I am."
"And with me you shall stay," Israel said. "While we go to Poland."
"It's not safe," said the Israel-let. "Not safe for you there."
"I'm not about to abandon any piece of me, especially not to the most dangerous of places," Israel asserted, taking the Israel-let back into herself and heading east.
Israel went to Poland's house, hoping that he would be compliant, but doubting that she would receive any aid after America's rejection.
Israel knocked on the door and waited. It was a long time before anyone came to answer it, and then it only opened a crack.
"Like, what do you want?" Poland asked.
"There's a piece of me here," Israel replied. "I want her back."
Poland frowned. "And why should I let you in?"
"Because it would be preferable to me breaking in."
The door opened all the way.
"If you can find her, then you can have her," he said. "I'm not, like, completely sure where she is…and I don't really care…"
Israel pushed by him and began to search the house, entering every room, checking under chairs and beds, calling to her piece with her voice and her mind. Eventually, she came to a little door at the end of a hallway. She tried the handle, but it was locked.
"Yalda?" she called. "Are you in there?"
There was a muffled reply. Israel took a step backwards and kicked at the lock until it broke and the door opened, revealing a tiny, dark closet in which the Israel-let sat crouched in a very uncomfortable position.
"Hadassah…?"
Israel took her piece into her arms.
"Oh, so that's where she was," Poland said, standing behind her. "I remember now."
"You locked her in a closet?" Israel hissed.
"Uh, yeah," said Poland. "Her in a closet, her people in ghettos. Keeps them out of the way, you know? Go ahead and take her; I was just going to give her to Germany, anyway…
The Israels merged, and then she turned to Poland, shaking with fury.
"Why do you all treat me like such…such…?"
She couldn't find a foul enough word.
"I'm leaving," she announced, walking back towards the door. Poland shrugged and followed nonchalantly.
Before Israel reached the door, someone pounded loudly on it from outside. She glanced back at Poland, who shrugged again.
"Might be Germany…" he muttered.
Israel opened the door. There stood Germany, frowning down at her, one hand clamped around the arm of—
"Hadassah! Hadassah!" the German Israel-let squealed, struggling against Germany's grasp. The taller nation shoved the little girl towards her main piece, who held her tightly.
"T-Take me away from here!" the Israel-let sobbed. "Germany, he… He…"
"Hush, now," said Israel. "It's time to come back."
The Israel-let glowed and vanished. Israel straightened.
"Thank you," she said to Germany, as politely as she could, given the anger and fear that was roiling inside of her. "I shall be going now."
She tried to pass through the door, but Germany placed an arm in her way.
"You're not going anywhere," he said.
"Who…Who says I'm not?" Israel challenged, trying to sound stronger than she felt.
"My boss," was the curt reply. Suddenly, Germany's hand shot forward and he grabbed her wrist. Israel cried out and struck at him with her other limbs, only to have them pinned as well as she was forced to the floor.
"Poland!" she shrieked. "Help me!"
The only response was laughter, Poland's laughter.
"Don't, like, get anything on the carpet, now!" he laughed as he left the room.
Israel shouted at him, shouted at Germany, tried to get loud enough for someone to hear and help, but no help came.
Above her, Germany drew a knife. Israel's eyes widened as she saw the moonlight glint off of the blade.
She screamed.
To be continued…
