Highlander - Donna Lettow [80]
Now MacLeod and Avram faced the added problem of what to do about the family Miriam had given her life to rescue from the Ostrowska malina. They needed to find another safe place for the Singers to hide. But they all knew that “safe” was a relative term.
They made their way in complete silence, keeping to the alleyways, staying off the main avenues. They moved a block, a half block, sometimes only the length of a single building at a time. MacLeod and Avram scouting ahead, signaling the others to catch up, they moved their party of ten from shadow to shadow. MacLeod was grateful that Avram’s decades in Warsaw gave him an innate sense of the Ghetto. He seemed to know instinctively where they were, where to go, what to avoid in this now alien landscape.
At Lubeckiego Street, Avram signaled everyone to stop. They had no choice but to cross this major thoroughfare. He waited for a few minutes, trying to detect any signs of life, any movement. The street was dark, deserted, silent. Finally, Avram signaled everyone on. They crossed the street single file, each barely able to see the back of the one in front of them in the smoke-filled dark, moving quickly to get to the protection of the buildings on the other side.
“Halt!”
An unseen German barked the command. Suddenly the street was bathed in a blinding white light. Everyone froze where they were, unable to move, as if transfixed by the light.
The spotlight seared into MacLeod’s eyes. He forced himself to try to see beyond it, but his entire world had turned to white. Tears streamed down his face from the effort. Finally, he raised his rifle, closed his eyes, and fired two shots into what he hoped was the center of the brilliance.
The light was extinguished in the shattering of glass.
“Run!” he heard Avram scream as several shots were fired by the Germans into the sudden darkness. MacLeod opened his eyes but could see nothing but the afterimage of the blinding light. He started to run toward Avram’s voice, in the direction he thought was safety. He’d gone several paces when Rubenstein grabbed his arm, helped him up the curb, and into the narrow passage between two buildings. As his sight began to clear, he could see the others had made it safely across as well.
“Whoa, nice shooting, Tex,” Avram said with a drawl.
“All in a day’s work,” MacLeod answered. Then, more somber. “Let’s move.”
Another two blocks brought them to the burned-out hulk that used to house the Bund, the Jewish socialist youth movement. It was obvious the building had burned early in the battle, and the remains were now cold and dead. MacLeod watched a cloud of anger pass over Avram’s face as he surveyed the devastation. “What?” MacLeod asked.
“There once was a library here,” Avram said quietly. “Thousands and thousands of volumes they’d managed to save. Generations of Jewish thought, Jewish lives, Jewish dreams. Gone. Just gone. Just like the rest of us. Like they never existed.” He waded into the rubble, gesturing MacLeod to help him while Landau and Rubenstein stood guard, pistols at the ready, watching the streets.“The entrance to Mendik’s base should be right around here.”
MacLeod pulled aside some half-eaten timbers that had fallen, revealing a trapdoor.“Lock’s broken,” he indicated. “Nazis have been here.” He dug into the debris, clearing the door with his bare hands.
“Then why are we still here?” Landau wondered. “The building’s burned down, and the Germans would have cleared out any survivors. We can’t do any good here—we should move on.”
“They can only burn it down once,” MacLeod said. It only took Avram a moment to understand his plan. “The goy’s got a point. If the malina is still intact, we