H. Adler - The Journey

Zerlina is quiet. She should never have told these stupid women such fairy tales. She hears the talk around her as nothing more than senseless noise that is melded together with the sound of work and other noises into a mountain of sound, though there is nothing peaceful about it, instead it’s disturbing and unsettling, a delusion that bedecks all of the boxes with a poisonous dust. Yet the delusion contains nothing, it is only a halfhearted murky shadow that dissolves into an untraceable odor. It smells of the night, of bare trees, vermin, rubbish, the thin layer of dust left by the fog, and all of it falls into the pits. No one knows anything more about it because nobody survives. The witnesses to this destitute journey waste away as well. Only a lone black flag waves above them, the tar of misfortune, the impenetrable shadow of the heavy night, plague having broken out, against which there is no cure as it rains, the muck breaking over the banks, it being hunger, everything that happened, the father, the train station, death, the rain, the murder, the journey, and the endless hunger.

Against her will, Zerlina thinks of Vera. Maybe she was right, but only if one could fight back and actually do something. When all you had to do was to keep gluing together boxes, there’s nothing more to hope for. It’s better to just leave, not wait any longer, say nothing to anyone, today, right now, drop back and turn around, where there’s no guard, past Herr and Frau Lischka, then quick across the courtyard and through a passage in the wall in order to arrive at more light and bricks. There you can go through, avoid the barrier without escaping, no, just through. Nobody will ask questions, because nobody asks questions when someone disappears without a word. Unhampered freedom has been guaranteed to the people since the end of slavery and serfdom. This natural right is unassailable and sacred, since it is taught in the schools, and it remains so as long as one does not relinquish it oneself. Zerlina has done nothing wrong. Therefore she is free. Each and every person in Ruhenthal is also free and has had his freedom taken away unjustly. There is no one who is not free. If someone wants to stop Zerlina, it’s against the law and morally wrong. Complaints would then be made to the minister of justice. Zerlina would inform anyone what the law says. There has been no trial at all. Cruel fate is not a proper verdict. Therefore it is also not necessary to dress like a criminal on the lam.

Zerlina leaves without anyone stopping her. She sings a song about a happy wanderer. It was not right of Paul to squash all noise. Zerlina touches the wall, tapping it in hope, yet with determination. She presses at the wall with a key. The mortar is as crumbly as old cake because it is weatherworn and helpless to hold itself together. She rubs the wall with the key as the dry mixture of sand, dissolved chalk, and water crumbles away. The egg-yellow dust piles up on the earth. Soon the space in between is wide enough that the teeth of the key can fit between two bricks. The bricks themselves also give way. The key serves as a pickax as the bricks allow themselves to be taken apart.

“What are you doing there, Fräulein? You’re ruining the wall, stop it!”

“I’m making a hole. I’m about to leave.”

“You want to escape? That’s out of the question!”

“I’m not escaping. I have no intention to do that whatsoever. I’m simply leaving as quietly as I can and am taking along anyone who wishes to come. You’ll simply have to accept that, sir.”

“You’re crazy. Nobody leaves here. It’s simply not allowed. You must remain! You must remain or end up planted in the grass!”

“But I don’t want to. I’ve stayed here way too long already, almost two years. I’ve had enough of it already. I need a change of air, sir! You indeed look a bit pale to me as well. Without a change of air the plague will spread. To stay here any longer is dangerous to one’s health.”

“All that about the plague is nothing more than a rumor told in the latrines. I can assure you that you need not be afraid of anything. Should it happen that you come down with the plague or any other contagious disease, you will be quarantined. Then any danger will be prevented.”

“You are in my way. I am leaving. I’ve thought about it and I know the way.”

But Zerlina does not leave. The small hole that she has bored through the wall is no deeper than a finger. The wall has caused some nasty abrasions and yet stands solid and unshaken. Zerlina turns around. She lets it go for today. Tomorrow she will come back and bring along a file with which she can better bore than with the key. She will also remember to bring a hammer in order to knock out an opening that she can squeeze through. She won’t be put off or stopped. Then she will march off and follow the country road that Paul has told her about up through the hills. Soon she will leave the main roads, and soon she will be in the woods and will look for a place where she can hide herself until the end of the war. She will make a camp amid the moss and cover herself with brushwood. The fields and woods and meadows will supply her with nourishment. She will live like a little rabbit and feed on nourishing grasses and fruits. There won’t be any danger of feeling lonely, but rather the threat of inclement weather. Whoever is careful can gather many riches for the heart and spirit, the time soon passing into eternal memories.

Zerlina says to herself: I was there. I lived it and survived it. There is danger everywhere, but it can be dealt with and disappears. Today, now that it’s all over, it’s an indestructible good. Be happy all of you who live an orderly life today, though I really pity anyone who did not share my fears, for they have missed out on one of the deepest fears. But also to know none of it is lucky. Is it possible that there exists such an ability to forget? If so, then such horror never existed, only the confused heart that strayed too far and was overcome with sinful horrors that pulled it into the abyss. There the emptiness of sleep encompassed it and covered over everything. Yet darkness protected everything. Endless grains of sand trickled into the black tar and came to rest in the soft mud of the rumbling journey. Now they attained eternal peace as the persistent flow ceased and all the grains bonded together forever. A smooth path ran above the surfaces worn smooth as a mirror. On wheels that turned easily, coaches that rode on springs glided by silently. Buried beneath were slumberers who rested on feather pillows, but who did not feel constricted, because their thoughts while sleeping were always fixed on the blissful approach of the journey’s end, everything so far having been filled with a future that had no end.

Today no longer exists for Zerlina. She does not sense that things go on happening around her. She only lives for tomorrow and is free and healthy. The plague has spared her body. Left and right, everyone is sick and writhes with pain. Nurse Dora’s rooms are overfull, she can do nothing, Dr. Plato no longer risks helping the sick. Ulcerating sores break open, a disgusting stream spews out of all the rooms, down the stoop and into the yard where the drains are stopped up. The city health workers show up anxiously and vainly poke away at the drains in an attempt to release the deadly stream.

“There’s nothing we can do here. We’re lacking the proper tools, as well as a knowledgeable leader. We need Dr. Lustig! Dr. Lustig!”

Impossible, we can’t just dig him up! We did away with him. He’s no longer in Ruhenthal.”

“How so? Did he escape?”

“He’s no longer here. He’s not among us. Only his stethoscope is still here, Dr. Plato has it.”

“We don’t want the lifeless stethoscope. We want Dr. Lustig, but fast, before it’s too late!”