Chapter 9

The table was set, and when Bruno entered, the memory of Pavel and Kotler hit him like a brick wall. He stopped at the door way and found his legs heavy, too heavy to move.

Kotler. The very memory of him made Bruno want to rip someone's throat out. He remembered everything, as usual, too well. Kotler had recognized him in the camp, and did nothing to help him. Kotler had killed countless people in Auschwitz. Kotler, the bloody bastard, had kill Shmuel. At this thought, Bruno fought back a wave of nausea and anger.

"Bruno! Help!"

"Shut up, Jew!"

Bruno watched in horror as Kotler continued to hit Shmuel with the stick. He wanted to help, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't open the door, as much as he tried.

"Bruno!"

"Jew!" screamed Kotler, and Bruno saw the look in his eyes as Shmuel bled out onto the floor. It was the look of someone who loved pain, the crazy look that some of the soldiers had when they shot down birds and stray dogs that wandered close to the gates of the camp.

"Help!"

Kotler raised the stick over his head and brought it down on Shmuel's head. Shmuel stopped moving. He stopped screaming. Even then, Kotler continued.

A soldier knocked on the back door, and Bruno saw Kotler drag Shmuel by the leg to the back of the room.

"Sir," said the soldier," the Commandant is here."

"Ah, yes. We were expecting him."

"And the boy?"

At this, Kotler's tone grew sharp. "What boy?"

The soldier pointed at Shmuel. Kotler laughed,"Oh. Him. Get him looked at, and then send him off to work.

"With all due respect, Lieutenant, I think he's dead."

"No. These rats have more life to them than cats. Take him out."

"Yes sir."

Bruno stood stock still. After that day, Bruno had snuck into the hospital building to see Shmuel, who sometimes could barely form words. Shmuel had lasted about a week .

Maria walked in and smiled at Bruno. When Bruno didn't smile back, she asked, "Bruno? Is everything alright?"

Bruno nodded and took a seat. Maria opened her mouth to say something, when Bruno's father entered with Lieutenant Kotler.

Bruno, whose hand had been shaking, stilled.

"Bruno," said his father, "Do you remember Lieutenant Kotler?"

Bruno stood. "I should," he said, "seeing as I've spent the last six years with him."

His father's smile faltered. He turned to Kotler, evidently expecting an explanation.

Kotler's eyes met Bruno's. "I don't know what he's talking about."

Bruno walked over until he was an inch away from Kotler. "Are you sure about that, scum?"

"Jew lover," hissed Kotler.

"Bruno, what's going on?"

"Oh come now, father, let's dispense with the idiocy for a moment. You know very well what happened to me, and you know very well that Kotler knows me."

"Bruno," his father said sharply,"Respect your elders."

"Shut up," snapped Bruno. He turned to Kotler. "You killed those people and enjoyed their agony."

"I did what I was ordered to do," snapped Kotler.

"So if you were ordered," said Bruno, his voice getting louder, "To…let's say, kill your best friend, you would do it – "

"I would –"

"You would do it because you were ordered to. Am I right?"

"No."

"No?" Bruno grabbed Kotler by the collar of his pressed shirt. "No? Because you didn't have a problem killing Shmuel."

Kotler's eyes widened, and then he burst into laughter. Bruno felt his stomach churn at the sound. It was like hearing the fires burning the prisoners all over again.

"Shmuel?" screamed Kotler. "Shmuel? You mean that little boy I caught eating a stolen piece of bread?"

"He didn't steal it." Bruno's voice was quiet.

"So this is what it's all about! 'Shmuel'! That little rat thief!"

"Shut up." Bruno let go of Kotler's shirt and turned away. He would wait. He would wait and kill Kotler.

"You should have heard the little heeb scream. 'Help'" mocked Kotler in a high pitched voice. "'Bruno'! What a waste of life."

Bruno snatched up a glass and threw it at Kotler, who moved out of the way just in time.

"You son of a –" Bruno was cut off by his father, who had grabbed Kotler by the neck of his shirt, and, with surprising strength for a man of his years, launched him halfway across the room. Maria let out a scream and dropped her tray.

"You told me you had no idea where he was!"

Kotler looked up at Bruno's father and opened his mouth to say something, but the Commander was inconsolable. He pulled a knife from the table and turned it over in the light.

"Father-"

"Not now, Bruno," said his father. "Kotler, you've been a pain in my ass for a while now. I always knew you were a jealous bastard, but I never thought you were capable of this."

"Commandant-"

"Stop talking," ordered the commander. "How long did you know he was in Auschwitz-Birkenau?"

"I had no idea."

"Really now, Lieutenant, do you consider it prudent after you just quoted this Shmuel calling for Bruno?" The commander brought the tip of the knife close to Kotler's jugular. "Now, tell me the truth."

Kotler's eyes darted from the tip of the knife to the commander's face and back. "The day after he went missing."

Bruno started forward. He wanted Kotler dead, but he didn't want his father to do it. "Father, why don't we all just calm down and-"

"Bruno," the commander said sharply, "stay out of this."

"But Father –"

"Kotler, why didn't you tell me?"

Bruno went silent, as did Kotler, who had been muttering under his breath. "I-I don't know, sir."

"You don't know? You don't KNOW? Well you must have known," said the commander, twisting the knife dangerously, "otherwise, why would you have allowed a pure German child to stay in the camp?"

Kotler was quiet. Maria and Bruno held their breaths.

"Answer me, dog!" Bruno looked at his father. His father had never been very emotional, so when he saw tears welling up in his eyes, he was startled, and even a bit afraid.

"Why did you take my son?" Tears spilled down the old cheeks of a man regretting everything he hadn't done, everything he hadn't said.

"Commandant, I-" Kotler stopped.

"You?" The commander's voice was very quiet.

"I'm sorry."

The commander laughed a dry laugh, began to spin the knife in his hand again. "I'm sure you are. But that doesn't bring back the six years I've lost with my son, does it?"

Bruno now felt compelled to step in. He took the knife from his father and placed it on the table. "Get out," he said to Kotler, who willingly obeyed without another word.

After a few seconds, Bruno said, "Where's mother?"

His father turned and said, "Berlin."

Bruno nodded and said gently, "We should go find her."

"We'll leave as soon as possible," his father answered. He stood to face his son. "I'm glad you're home."

In those words, Bruno heard all he needed to hear. His father may not have apologized for what he did to those children, but now Bruno felt he could wait. His father hadn't punished him; hadn't left him there on purpose. He hadn't known. But his father wanted to make things right. And, Bruno believed, sincerely believed with all his heart, that, when his father was ready, truly ready, he would apologize for what he had done to those people.

"I'm glad I'm home too," said Bruno.