The Tattooist of Auschwitz (The Tattooist of Auschwitz #1) - Heather Morris Page 0,58
has to, spends whatever time he can steal with Gita, plays with the Romani children, talks to their parents – mostly the younger men, but also the older women. He loves how they care for everyone, not only their biological family. He doesn’t connect so well with the older men, who mostly sit around not engaging with the children, the young adults or even the older women. When he looks at them he often thinks about his own father.
•
Late one night Lale is woken by yelling SS, barking dogs, screaming women and children. He opens his door and looks out to see the men, women and children in his block being forced from the building. He watches until the last woman, clutching an infant, is shoved brutally out into the night. He follows them all outside and stands, stunned, as all around him the other Gypsy blocks are also emptied. Thousands of people are being herded onto nearby trucks. The compound is lit up and dozens of SS and their dogs corral the mob, shooting at anyone who doesn’t respond immediately to the instruction, ‘Get on the truck!’
Lale stops a passing officer he recognises. ‘Where are you taking them?’ he asks.
‘You want to join them, Tätowierer?’ the man responds, walking on.
Lale sinks into the shadows, scanning the crowd. He sees Nadya and runs to her. ‘Nadya,’ he pleads. ‘Don’t go.’
She forces a brave smile. ‘I don’t have a choice, Lale. I go where my people go. Goodbye, my friend, it’s been …’ An officer pushes her along before she can finish.
Lale stands paralysed, watching until the last person has been loaded onto the trucks. The trucks drive off and slowly he walks back into the eerily silent block. He goes back to bed. Sleep will not come.
•
In the morning Lale, distraught, joins Leon and they work furiously as new transports arrive.
Mengele is scanning the silent rows, making his way slowly towards the tattooists’ station. Leon’s hands tremble at his approach. Lale tries to give him a reassuring look. But the bastard who has mutilated him is only a few feet away. Mengele stops and watches them work. Occasionally he peers closely at a tattoo, increasing Lale and Leon’s agitation. His deathly smirk never leaves his face. He attempts eye contact with Lale, who never raises his eyes above the level of the arm he is working on.
‘Tätowierer, Tätowierer,’ Mengele says, leaning over the table, ‘maybe today I will take you.’ He tilts his head, curiously, seeming to enjoy Lale’s discomfort. Then, having had his fun, he ambles away.
Something light lands on Lale’s head and he looks up. Ash is belching from the nearby crematorium. He starts to tremble and drops his tattoo stick. Leon tries to steady him.
‘Lale, what is it? What’s wrong?’
Lale’s scream is choked by a sob. ‘You bastards, you fucking bastards!’
Leon grips Lale’s arm, trying to get him to control himself as Mengele looks their way and starts to walk back over. Lale is seeing red. He is out of control. Nadya. He tries desperately to rein himself in as Mengele arrives. He feels as though he might vomit.
Mengele’s breath is in his face. ‘Is everything all right here?’
‘Yes, Herr Doktor, everything is fine,’ Leon answers shakily.
Leon bends down and picks up Lale’s stick.
‘Just a broken stick. We’ll fix it and be right back to work,’ Leon continues.
‘You don’t look well, Tätowierer. Would you like me to take a look at you?’ Mengele asks.
‘I’m fine, just a broken stick,’ Lale coughs. He keeps his head down, turns away and tries to get back to work.
‘Tätowierer!’ Mengele barks.
Lale turns back towards Mengele, jaw clenched, head still low. Mengele has unholstered his pistol. He holds it limply at his side.
‘I could have you shot for turning away from me.’ He raises the weapon, pointing it at Lale’s forehead. ‘Look at me. I could shoot you right now. What do you say to that?’
Lale raises his head but moves his gaze to the doctor’s forehead, refusing to look into his eyes. ‘Yes, Herr Doktor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, Herr Doktor,’ he mutters.
‘Get back to work. You’re holding things up,’ Mengele barks, and again walks off. Lale looks at Leon and points to the ash now falling all around them.
‘They emptied the Gypsy camp last night.’
Leon hands Lale his tattoo stick, before going back to work himself, in silence. Lale looks up, searching for the sun to shine down on him. But it is concealed by ash and smoke.