H. Adler - The Journey

A voice called out: “The flood has not yet subsided, the waters are running high. The weather is raging as never before. The black woods are full of the rush of water. Luckily the camp walls are thick. It’s best to stand inside the ark, though inside the ark it’s best to stand under the protection of the plague column. The saint has protected us for eight hundred years.”

They look up at the plague memorial, and yet no recognizable soul hangs from its mast. That’s a good sign. The sound of gunfire can be continually heard, yet none goes off nearby. The unconsecrated cemeteries lie too near the ark. Whoever dies is dragged out from the ark. A continual stench floats about, repulsive and sweet, yet also sharp and biting. Now and then a cracking sound softly erupts, but it is only the wind in the trees. One of the voices has brought along a fresh rabbit that was killed, but which is still warm.

“You can eat the meat. I have a little salt.”

“That’s Zerlina.”

“Who is Zerlina?”

“A girl. You can’t eat that. It smells like human flesh. We have to bury the rabbit or it will be a great sin.”

“Are you crazy? If you don’t want to eat it, then let it be!”

“Isn’t it enough that you’ve committed murder? Do you want to eat the body as well?”

The voices shake their heads. The white flag has turned the poor soul into an idiot. Perhaps the name he called out was that of his lover. Yet the times are not ready for love, there’s too much hunger and it has to be taken care of first. If he cannot eat, nothing will help him. It’s too late for him, the healing has not healed him, for he belongs to yesterday and must die. — No, he won’t die, he just sees double, but perhaps he sees after all. He will eat if it’s not Zerlina. — They comfort him. — Yet he begs them to be quiet. No pick and no shovel. It’s also much too dark. Who can eat the animal without there being any light? Were not the hours even darker when Zerlina had to die? And indeed she was consumed, but it was not by people, but rather flames. Have they indeed all died? — We’ll have to worry about that later. For the moment you have to save others because you’ve been saved yourself. — Was she old? — No, but her mother is. — There is no mother, they were all taken away. — But maybe she hid herself, she was so clever and had some money. — If she did not hide, the money was useless. The money was taken away and the mother too, and they laughed at her, laughed, because she was so clever. — But what if she was able to hide? — Did she manage to do so at the right time? — No, she was in Ruhenthal and had to leave. — Was she transported? — She got on the train. — Then there’s no hope. Whoever was deported and was old was killed and did not travel anymore. — Yet her daughter was Zerlina. — She might have lived if she was healthy. — She was healthy, but …

But why are you hesitating? Was she not all that healthy? — She was healthy, yet she was very sad. — Fool, no one was killed because they were sad. She could be alive. All of life is sad. — She was also faithful. — That means something. To whom was she faithful? — To herself. — That’s ridiculous, that’s not dangerous. — Nonetheless, she was a sanctimonious girl. — One can’t be that without doing oneself harm. — She also stood by others. — One would hope so, but that doesn’t count for a lot. That means nothing in terms of life or death. — She was faithful to her mother. — Was she transported with her …? — We were all transported. — And you survived it? — I don’t know, though it would appear so if you are alive as well. — Then the girl might also have been saved. — And yet what if she’s not with us? — Such confusion! Are there no other girls here? — No. That’s obvious. — So look then! — But when we arrived …

You mean when you arrived here …? Say more! — Well, when we arrived and got off the train it was as dark as it is now. It was continually dark, darker than it could possibly be. It was a darkness so dark that no one could see it. That’s the way it was when horrible curved lamps on high poles hung there and cast out the dense darkness, the light hurting.…

So it wasn’t dark. It was just night, but you could still see. — No, it was dark. Nobody could see, we knew nothing, we were all blended together, but in the darkness. The others could see quite well, but it’s likely they did not, even when it was allowed. And so we went through the dark, a swaying hulk of tired flesh. — So were there a lot of old people with you? — Everyone was old, us as well, too old. — You weren’t old! The girl was not old! — Oh yes, we were old. — You were just tired. Everyone was tired. The uncertainty after the long journey made everyone tired. — No, old, I tell you. And then a man …

The one who wore medals? — The one who wore medals! You should have seen him! He stood there in all his splendor and held up a hand. — Of course he had a hand. — It was a hand like no other. This hand, it pointed. — Where to? — There … in different directions. Toward Unkenburg, toward Leitenberg. Two different directions. A long way. Eight kilometers or more, despite this dark weariness and all these old people. — Did he point the way for you? — It pointed the way. The journey is not finished. And the mother left. The daughter left. — The girl? — The girl left. She followed the mother. — And did you know? — I knew nothing. I stood there and wanted to collapse. — And the hand? — The hand shook. It pointed way off. Elsewhere. Back to Leitenberg! — Sent back? Impossible! — No, not back, that’s right; it just pointed the way. Not toward the mother, not toward the sister …

So not a lover. Only a sister. — Yes, a sister. Yet she fell. The mother had her on her arm. Two women: a mother, a daughter. Women with skilled hands. What chance did they have? — None. We must eat the rabbit. Join me! It will give you strength. — The daughter is the rabbit. — You’re talking nonsense. Daughters are not animals. — But she was faithful, only animals are that faithful. — But not rabbits! Only dogs, dogs! — No, but our dog was also a little rabbit, his name was Bunny. A dumb name for a dog, yet that’s what he was called and he was faithful. That’s how he got such a dumb name. As clever as a person, yet even better. Two men. No hand to point the way and no direction. Only a tail. It pointed nowhere, especially when it wagged, left, right, there was no deciding. It was like a clock striking the hour. — Bunny. That’s good. Not a rabbit after all! — Don’t take it so literally. She was called that because of her innocence. — Because of her innocence? — Yes, her eyes. Because such an animal represents all victims. She sacrificed herself, and now there are no more victims. Meanwhile such animals are treated as if they are still victims. Though it is not done out of scorn. They are eaten, then they’re thrown away. The daughter along with the mother. Do you want to eat the rabbit now?

Then it’s quiet. Only the dead rabbit’s blood still stirs. It’s not a girl. Its head is different. No girl has fur like that. Anyone can see that. It’s an animal that ran off, and though it took the wrong direction, it’s still just an animal. It turned out to be a good direction for someone who is hungry. They are happy though somewhat sad, but it is certainly an animal. It came and was a gift, though some would call it a victim. Have some and build your strength! There’s already some wood burning in the oven. The animal is dressed and cut up, it stews in its juices and knows nothing. Whoever is hungry must eat it and be thankful. Sadness will do him no good if he wants to survive. Dirty salt is sprinkled on the fresh meat. Soon the victim is finished off and is no more. Justice demands that it be split between the seven voices. The brother eats it. It’s the animal that his sister loved. Had she herself not tasted its meat as well? Zerlina is gone. The length of her journey can never be measured. The hand that once showed where and how far is broken off. All of them are gone. Zerlina is with Leopold. She resides for eternity in Ruhenthal in the shadow of Leitenberg. It’s far from here. There is no memorial for her, only for the victims no one is willing to eat. No reporter is ready to write about her. The secretary refuses to even write it down. “That’s not appropriate for our readers. Perhaps the other newspapers in the next town …”