H. Adler - The Journey

“Ask at the crematorium for his ashes if it means that much to you!”

“You’re joking. We don’t need a heap of ashes! We need Dr. Lustig!”

“You don’t want any corpses! Anyone dead is relieved of service and without further salary is placed in perpetual retirement.”

“That’s not possible! We need him because of this plague! We can’t let anyone die!”

“You should have thought of that earlier, my friend, before he lay on his deathbed. He starved to death. Nothing but uncooked barley for his weak stomach!”

“We don’t believe you! No one starves here among us! We share. We pass around. He got his measure of bread, his sugar!”

“Those who are dying are independent once they’re dead. That condition may have escaped your notice. The little feather before his mouth lost all color, but did not move.”

“Could the doctor have prevented it? Where was Dr. Plato? It certainly could have been prevented. The proper procedures should have been followed if something didn’t suffice.”

“The food! The food was useless. The patient refused to eat it. His stomach couldn’t take it, his intestines wouldn’t work. Everything just liquefied and was gone.”

“We’re holding you responsible. Bring the man back! If you had only handled things right it would have been possible to save him. It’s still not too late to try!”

“Save your whining! Point a finger at yourself! Get your dirty fingernails away from me! Don’t you have a nail file like cultured people with a fine upbringing? If you’re going to scrape away at all the walls, the least you can do is use a hose! Rinse yourself off! Douse yourself! Work is what makes life sweet!”

Zerlina is shocked by the intense exchange in the yard and leans out of the window, but the ones who were fighting are already off and gone, nobody else is there to overhear. Lightly the rain sprinkles on the uneven earth. The water dams up in deep puddles whose surfaces tremble. Small rivulets have formed, which, at first slowly then quickly, press through the irregular stones of the pavement. Whoever walks by below dirties his shoes, which will soon begin to rot. The old leather softens and no longer keeps out the moisture. You have to go barefoot. It’s miserable, however, to have the odd feeling of the muck clinging to your feet as continually pressed down mud squishes up between the toes. Mud baths are not recommended in this weather. There are no hoses available to wash away the slop, the water mains have been shut off. Also, large stoppers have been placed in everyone’s throats such that nobody can swallow any longer. Because of this stoppage even bread crumbs are inedible. The mouth fills up more and more, because any attempt to gulp does not allow even the slightest bit to pass through the gullet. The husks of barley cling to the tongue and gums and stop up all the gaps between the teeth, causing the gums to burn, the mouth now infected. Yet because the soul is hungry, the hand doesn’t hold back and continues to shovel another spoonful through the lips. Everything is sickness, everything is plugged up, everything is full of misfortune. The stomach is bursting and the intestines are blocked.

Help needs to be called. There must be someone who can perform an enema. The voice fails because of the catarrh on the vocal chords. The hair gets tangled in the cooked barley and hangs in the mouth in gnarled strands. The hands should try to pull it away, but they are incapable of gripping anything because they are knotted and bent in at the joints. After a great deal of effort the pewter spoon is allowed to fall, though there is not enough strength left over to grab hold of the windowsill. Zerlina can neither walk nor stand, nor sit nor lie. She cannot move at all. She is incapable of anything. The key and the nail file are not in her little purse. Did Frau Ilsebill avenge herself? Someone stuck them in the cardboard boxes. There are too many of them, Zerlina cannot open them all. Vera could help, but Zerlina fears that she will think her a laughingstock. Also, the workshop leader might take note. Right off she would call out, What’s going on there! Oh no, now they’re carrying off the beautiful boxes, they have to be distributed. Has Zerlina been fooled by freedom? Does salvation lie in the fact that there is no freedom? The moment the fishhook sets itself in the mouth, that’s when all salvation, all freedom is gone. It amounts only to a thought, and thoughts no longer mean anything. Cross-Eyes took away the brass ring, so therefore no wish can be fulfilled. Have people stopped having wishes? They are still there inside, viscous misfortune having completely tarred them.

Everyone has come down with consumption. The doctors are dead, nobody knows the words that will heal. Zerlina wants to find them. She wants to take the broom and sweep the room. The vermin in the cracks will be pleased. Cleanliness is half of healthiness. Lightly the broom hops over the floorboards and causes the dust to twirl in sharp little swirls. Disturbed fleas leap up in shock like the seven dwarves, seven times seventy-seven dwarves, though they know that it doesn’t mean all that much, for no one will scare them away. And so they let themselves fall again and smugly wait until the broom becomes tired.

To set the whole miserable place on fire would be the only solution. Yet the stationmaster’s daughter looks out her window and cries and waves and calls out. The sparks are dangerous, the woods will burn! Zerlina would not be happy about such a fire, but she would accept it in order that some good be accomplished. The railway will not be disrupted just because some sparks have set off a fire! Unfortunately the train will have to suffer the consequences. Through night and through fog, as the train rages across the countryside, its end already looms before it as the wild machine leaps off its tracks, a peal of thunder rumbles in the sky, the wagons split apart with a dull crack, dead and wounded are everywhere, covered in coats and suitcases, this the penalty for their sins, which settles the score.

Zerlina, however, saves herself. She also soon takes care of her mother and aunt. The others? That’s a difficult question; everywhere there are courageous people who sacrifice themselves in order to save others, for where there’s a will there’s a way. Paul also wants to do what he can and not just passively succumb to his own demise. Almost every day he leaves Ruhenthal, arriving at the blossoming hillsides on the other side of the river, there in Leitenberg where it’s easier to outrun the constables. There must be good people among the inhabitants, for Leitenberg is a town with a long history. Eight hundred years, which Paul had noted himself. Zerlina had once visited Leitenberg seven years earlier and had made good friends there who told her how nice it was to live there. Paul should go to them and ask their help to escape. He could do that if it wasn’t for his pride. No, he cannot do it, for the friends are long gone, adrift in all directions, they no longer live there, they have ceased to exist. But Paul doesn’t need such poor friends who no longer exist; he will find another way to save himself.

The guards won’t notice it if Paul drops out of line, he being clever and quick, always a champion at running, and now soon disappearing into a side street, slipping around a corner, quickly, quickly, and then into a house, saying only that he’d made a mistake. He will then be greeted warmly, a chair offered to the guest before offering him some tasty food as refreshment. He will stay here, for he can also be of help, he knows his way around both a house and yard and will certainly earn his keep, they being only too happy to take him in, clothe him, and forward the colorful adventure of his escape. In such manner Paul will happily await the first day of freedom. In Leitenberg everything is as always, people live freely and hear hardly anything of the war. The houses stand bedecked and undisturbed, no one would want to destroy a small town full of retirees. In addition they will also respect the historic buildings, the tall cathedral, the splendid town hall, the famous arcade in the marketplace, the old guildhalls. A bishop’s see is a consecrated place that all respect.