A Change of Skin (50 page)

He moved to the door and opened it. The hinges creaked but she did not turn to look at him. A small room naked of all furniture except a two-deck wooden bunk. Other women, sleeping. She stood in front of a walled-up window that looked out on nothing. She was nude and was humming softly. She touched her enormous belly and sang in a low voice. She touched her short hair and then again her pregnant abdomen. Her flesh was colorless, young still but not as it used to be. On her breasts and her belly and the bones of her cheeks lay luminous light, and her eyes were half closed.

Franz left the room and did not look back. He closed the door. He walked down to the street loosening his black tie. It was summer and hot. In the street he took off his jacket.

No trouble, Herr Architekt, no trouble at all, I assure you, sir. Go right ahead and examine whatever documents you care to see, the archive is at your service. Though of course we don't have much time left now. I'm afraid you may find it quite difficult to locate the file on the person you mention. We have handled so many prisoners here at Terezin. And you don't give me much information to go on. But I shall try, sir, heh-heh, that's all you can ask of me, I think. Now, when did that group take their leave? You know, I'm sure, that we use only their numbers here. No names. Oh, heavens no, no names. Let's see now. Spring. Summer. Ah! it was in October, Herr Architekt, October of 1944. The trees in the square of Theresienstadt were bare, and dead leaves floated along the banks of the river. Heh, to be a bit fanciful, eh? Well, why not? Sticking to plain facts, sir, they departed in a rail convoy of cattle cars, packed in like so many sardines, their arms locked together, heh, scarcely room enough to breathe, I should imagine. But you, I'm sure, have seen those miserable convoy trains, we all have. Maestro Schachter and the musicians and performers who provided Verdi's
Requiem
the day Oberscharführer Eichmann visited us. Their destination was Auschwitz. Yes, Herr Architekt, you're quite right, one of the women musicians was with child. She gave birth shortly before they departed. Now, let's see, let's see. Child a boy. Himself dispatched to Treblinka later. In the arms of a nurse, I suppose, heh-heh. Further details? The hospital authorities, perhaps, sir, if they are still here. Now, the man you mention. The spring register. Summer. Herr Architekt, I really must have more details. Young, blond? Pah, hundreds were young and blond. An apostate Jew? There were many of those, too, sir. But we smelled them out. Heh, yes, we ran them to ground. Pale? They were all pale, my dear young Herr Architekt, if not when they arrived, then soon after. Heh! So, so. His mother had believed he would be safer here than at the front? Well, now! Heh … I suppose she may well have felt so … heh … but we don't have records on the thoughts of the prisoners' mothers, you know. Only their bloodlines, sir, only their bloodlines. Still … and by the way, Herr Architekt, speaking of safety, I trust you have a suit of civilian wear laid handily by? Not yet? Ach, sir, you must take care of that quickly, quickly. They say that we're surrounded now. But I suspect that an agile young person like yourself might make his way west and south toward the Americans. I'm told that the roads are packed, a multitude of refugees. But not in uniform, sir. We in the archives plan to burn our documents in a few hours now. With them our uniforms. As for the buildings, the prison and the crematorium, I understand that they shall be left standing. Good solid construction, Herr Architekt, you have every reason to feel proud of them. Of course, if we're shelled … But doubtless it won't come to that, so long as there are prisoners left. Yes, yes, to return to your pale blond young man with the oversolicitous mother, heh. Now really, I must have some concrete detail. One eye blue, the other brown? Hah, Herr Architekt! Splendid! Such a curiosity is sure to have caught someone's notice. Our doctors would have been most interested. Hmmm, one eye blue, the other brown. Heh, if the prisoner is still among the quick rather than the dead, Herr Architekt, I will wager that now he has neither a blue, nor a brown eye! Oh, no, no, just empty sockets, for eyes of two colors are contrary to nature, and our doctors, you know … heh, heh. Of course, they may have limited themselves to corneal transplantation. But such an opportunity would not have been wasted. Oh, never. One eye blue, the other gray. Ach, yes, brown, brown. No, sir, Herr Architekt, I cannot locate the file. We need his number. Without a number … Still, you yourself saw him arrive. I find no death report, and I'm sure the eyes would have been noted. There is just a chance, sir, a very slim chance, in view of the epidemics these last months, that he is still here. I doubt it very much, sir. Most improbable. Still … shall we go to the cells and have a look? Perhaps, perhaps … I trust your immunizations are up to date? Of course … And a handkerchief, sir, one needs a handkerchief, preferably, heh-heh, a scented one, the stench in the cells is … ach! No, not many are left. A very few. The hardiest of the vermin, the most stubborn and resistant. This way, sir. Once outside, I shall follow you. You know your way through this maze far better than I. Yes, Herr Architekt, the buildings will remain standing. Perhaps, heh, they may be used again, after a few years have gone by. For everything passes, as they say. Victory. Defeat also. Really, sir, you must provide yourself with civilian wear. It's essential. Now, allow me, this is a master key. The Archivist must go everywhere at one time or another, you know. Data must always be confirmed. Down this corridor? Listen to the cannon. Ach, it won't be long now. And the dogs, how they're howling! I think no one has fed those dogs in quite a long time. Ah, well, with such confusion. Herr Architekt, may I wonder why you wish to find this prisoner? Is my suspicion correct, sir, that you wish to take him along with you today as a kind of safe-conduct? Heh, it's an idea that has occurred to me also. But you shall have to carry him on your shoulders, sir, none of these prisoners is able to walk now. And I am too old, not strong enough for such exertion. No, I shall have to take my chances. Dressed as a priest, Herr Architekt, I have the garments all ready. But you, perhaps it may work. You'll have to have documents, of course. The bearer, Herr Architekt Franz Jellinek, is certified by Number so-and-so … ach, perhaps we had best forego the number and use his name … has assisted me to escape … The wording must be precise. And once we have his number, I can give you his file, too, if that will help. An idea, sir, certainly a very possible idea. Any port in a storm, as they say. Here, here we are. Just allow me to open this door. If you will use my flashlight now … not too close to them, Herr Architekt, they're pestilence itself … Vermin! Scum! On your feet, on your feet, swine! There, heaped in the corner. Up, up! No, they can't stand. They will be dead very soon now. They will never be rescued by any one, I believe. Pigs, open your eyes! Your eyes, we want to see your eyes! One brown, one blue. No … I don't … Just a moment, there, dragging himself along the wall. But not too near him, Herr Architekt. Ach, the stench! Is it he? Yes, yes, I really believe … Open your eyes wider, pig! What, Herr Architekt? A knife? As it happens, sir, I do have one. A keepsake of the old days. Heh-heh. You push the button, the blade appears. Very sharp, too. I use it for erasures. Occasionally, you know, even the most meticulous of clerks commits an error, and a little scraping is required to … Herr Architekt, what are you about there, sir! Herr Architekt! No, sir, no, I protest! I am in no position to give you orders, but operations are the function of the doctors, sir, they're … Herr Architekt! My God, Herr Architekt, what have you done? I shall have to report this to your superiors! Why, the man is almost dead! No, no! Into the handkerchief with it, man, quick now. Then I suggest you throw the handkerchief into the river. Good God, sir, if I had known … Still, you have your reasons, I'm sure, you must have your reasons. At least no one has seen us. Quickly, now, Herr Architekt. I shall make my report … But to whom? No, I shall make no report after all. And the pig will doubtless be dead in a matter of hours. He may well bleed to death now. But my God … To the river, sir. I confess I'm afraid. If it should ever be suspected that I participated … at least, witnessed … And my disguise as a priest may not serve well enough … I'm not a young man, I shall have to walk slowly, I shall tire quickly. So many years among documents. The Archivist. And now, now … Blood is dripping on your trousers, Herr Architekt, hold the handkerchief farther out. Directly to the river, sir, I say, directly, directly … No witness except myself. But if times were … your superiors … if the swine should live, he will never pass along his bi-colored eyes, at least … but still, Herr Architekt, still … and they say that last night a wolf was prowling near the fence … The cannon seem closer now. Perhaps after all they will shell us. We must hurry, hurry, we don't have time to waste, sir. I go to burn the archive. You, to the river, to throw that … that …

*   *   *

Δ   You jumped out of bed, Pussycat, humming. Franz arched an eyebrow.

“Up, man, up!” you grinned at him. “Get dressed!”

“Why?”

“We're going to explore the pyramid!”

“It's after midnight,” he protested, looking at his wristwatch.

“All the better. The witches and goblins will be out. Get dressed, Franz, and I'll go after Javier and Betty.”

You put on a record, just for a change,
Anytime atall,
and wriggled into your yellow shantung dress, naked beneath it. Holding your golden slippers in your hand, you went out into the hall. You closed the door and stopped beside me. For I was waiting for you.

“Is everything ready?” you asked.

3

VISIT OUR CELLARS

That same September night the Narrator is led by Fatality to the Place. The only Reading he takes along with him is a poem by Octavio Paz which at this time has yet to be published:

Water above

Below, the forest

Wind along the paths

The well is motionless

The bucket black
The water solid

Water goes down to the trees

Sky rises up to our lips

The Narrator decides to ponder over this poem. Feeling ashamed, he asks himself why poets can say everything in so few lines and Baudelaire replies, he believes, that only poetry is intelligent. The Narrator, Xipe Totec, Our Lord of the Flayed Hide, changes his skin.

 

Δ   You stopped at the base of the enormous hill-like pyramid, in front of the entrance to the tunnel. There were iron rails for the wheels of the mine carts used to move out the excavated earth. The tunnel stretched in a straight line, illuminated by hanging naked light bulbs, as far as the eye could see. Javier stepped aside and Franz went in first, then Elizabeth, then Javier, and finally you, Isabel. The tunnel was low and the men had to stoop to dodge the electric cable overhead. Franz stopped for a moment with his fingers touching the smooth black wall. Elizabeth rested her hand on his shoulder and felt his sweat. But the air was not hot here, a cold current of air swept in from the entrance. Shafts led off to right and left. Franz moved forward again and Elizabeth kept her hand on his shoulder.

“Straight ahead,” Javier said quietly. His voice was muffled, yet seemed to echo. The four of you walked on slowly. As you approached one of the hanging bulbs, your shadows stretched behind you; as you walked on beyond it, they moved out in front of you, your shoulders magnified to spread all the way across the narrow tunnel. Franz reached a low dark arch and stopped. Javier felt until he found the light switch on the wall. Illuminated stairs climbed out of sight, almost vertically, to the foundations of the chapel, a dizzying ascent. Javier turned the light off.

“Franz?” a voice said. “Franz?” The voice was neither near nor far. It was penetrating without being loud. It lost itself in echoes and all of you stopped. Elizabeth thought that the voice had been Javier. She turned to him angrily: “Javier, shut up!”

“Franz, where have you been hiding?”

“Shut up, I said! Don't pay any attention to him, Franz. He's spent his entire life playing let's-pretend games. They're not worth worrying about.”

But Javier and you, Isabel, both knew that the voice had not been Javier's. You said nothing. Javier, confused, did not know what to do, what attitude to adopt, whether to be ironic or amused. He spoke, still quietly,

“To the right, Franz,”

and Franz led you down a dark gallery of uneven stone. The lighting was not so bright now. Franz bumped against three protruding steps, the profile of one of the seven ancient pyramids that form the great hill. Elizabeth grabbed him by the waist to keep him from falling.

“Straight on, Franz,” Javier said.

And the unknown voice, louder than Javier: “Franz, haven't you expected anyone to find you? Did you think you were finally safe?”

“Don't listen to him!” Elizabeth hissed. “He's out of his mind!”

Franz slowly, gropingly moved forward, the palms of his hands touching the rough stone walls. Now the cold draft from the entrance corridor was behind you. The air was thick, motionless. You were deep within the hill in a labyrinth of galleries and cross-galleries that seemed suspended in darkness and space, timeless. Water dripped softly and invisibly, as if the seven pyramids nested one upon the other concealed a secret spring, or as if the stone itself were sweating.

“Up the steps, Franz. We're right behind you,” said Javier.

Franz raised his face and climbed slowly, as a sleepwalker. He reached the topmost step and stopped.

“Now,” said Javier, “we are approaching the heart of the pyramid.”

“No,” said Elizabeth. “Don't believe him. Don't listen to him.”

The air was dense, almost suffocating, and you could feel the weight of the thousands of tons of earth and stone above you pressing down, wanting to settle the last few inches or few feet that would close the tunnels forever. Elizabeth reached forward to touch Franz again but hesitated and instead turned and stared at Javier's expressionless face, its whiteness accentuated by the pale light of the naked bulbs.