“Keep coming,” the guard commanded.
In the darkness Samuel could not see his face. But he recognized the voice. It was Aram.
“Closer. Come here.”
Aram was watching Samuel approach, a thin grin on his face. The boy faltered.
“That’s it,” Aram called encouragingly. “Keep walking.”
Slowly, Samuel moved toward the giant, his stomach churning, his head pounding. “Sir,” Samuel said. “Please let me explain. I had an accident. My cart—”
Aram reached out with his hamlike fist, grabbed Samuel by the collar and lifted him into the air. “You dumb son-of-a-bitch of a Jew,” he crooned softly. “Do you think I care why you’re out? You’re on the wrong side of the gates! Do you know what’s going to happen to you now?”
The boy shook his head in terror.
“Let me tell you,” Aram said. “We got a new edict last week. All Jews caught outside the gates after sundown are to be shipped to Silesia. Ten years at hard labor. How do you like that?”
Samuel could not believe it. “But I—I haven’t done anything. I—”
With his right hand Aram hit Samuel hard across the mouth, then let him drop heavily to the ground. “Let’s go,” Aram said.
“Wh—where?” Samuel asked. His voice was choked with terror.
“To the police barracks. In the morning you’ll be shipped out with the rest of the scum. Get up.”
Samuel lay there, unable to bring his mind into focus. “I—I have to go inside to say good-bye to my family.”
Aram grinned. “They won’t miss you.”
“Please!” Samuel pleaded. “Let me—let me at least send them a message.”
The smile died on Aram’s face. He stood over Samuel menacingly. When he spoke his voice was soft. “I said get up, Jew shit. If I have to say it once more, I’ll kick your balls in for you.”
Slowly, Samuel rose to his feet. Aram took his arm with an iron grip and started walking him toward the police barracks. Ten years of hard labor in Silesia! No one ever returned from there. He looked up at the man holding his arm, pulling him toward the bridge that led to the barracks.
“Please don’t do this,” Samuel pleaded. “Let me go.”
Aram squeezed his arm tighter, so that the blood seemed to stop flowing. “Keep begging,” Aram said. “I love to hear a Jew beg. Have you heard about Silesia? You’ll be just in time for the winter. But don’t worry, it’s nice and warm underground in the mines. And when your lungs get black with coal and you start coughing them up, they’ll leave you out in the snow to die.”
Ahead of them across the bridge, barely visible in the rain, was the stark building that served as the police barracks.
“Faster!” Aram said.
And suddenly Samuel knew that he could not let anyone do this to him. He thought of Terenia and his family and Isaac’s father. No one would take his life from him. Somehow he had to escape, to save himself. They were crossing the narrow bridge now, the river running noisily below, swollen by the winter rains. There were only thirty yards left to go. Whatever was going to be done had to be done now. But how could he escape? Aram had a gun and even without it the enormous guard could have killed him easily. He was almost twice as big as Samuel and much more powerful. They had reached the other side of the bridge now, and the barracks lay just ahead of them.
“Hurry up,” Aram growled, pulling Samuel along. “I’ve got other things to do.”
They were so close to the building now that Samuel could hear the laughter of the guards coming from inside. Aram tightened his grip and started to drag the boy across the cobblestoned yard that led to the police station. There were only seconds left. Samuel reached into his pocket with his right hand and felt the bag with the half-dozen guldens in it. His fingers closed around it, and his blood began to course with excitement. Carefully, he pulled the bag out of his pocket with his free hand, loosened the drawstring and dropped the bag. It landed on the stones with a loud tinkle of coins.