~ Short Lasting Luck ~
I was lucky I wasn’t stopped by any police that day. After all, I was walking around with a backpack and traveling clothes. What was to stop them from pulling me over and taking me to Hitler?
I hadn’t been walking for long. I had asked Elijah for directions and where I was – it turned out I really was in Nuremberg – and he informed me that the quickest way to Berlin was to cut through to Dresden. The problem was, although it was the quickest route, there were no cities besides that in between Nuremberg and Berlin. I wouldn’t have a good chance of getting more food and a nice bed.
Sure, it increased my chances of getting to Berlin without getting stopped by soldiers, but that was hardly a problem. I could live with Nazis. I couldn’t live without food and water.
The food Monika and her family had given me wasn’t enough. I could stretch the bread and cheese as far as possible, and water down the soup, but even then – even with my already tiny stomach – I could only make the food last a week, with three meals a day.
These problems weren’t the end, either. I had about a twenty-five percent chance of not running into any police. And who knows what I would do if I ran into them. I didn’t have papers, so they could easily arrest me. I looked like a Jew, and what’s more, I was a Jew, and there was nothing to prove otherwise. I was only fourteen; they could easily hurt me or take advantage of me, without me even knowing it until it was too late. I wasn’t nearly as careful as I would have liked, and as much as I tried, I was terribly naive when it came to an offer for a warm bed.
As I hurried through the last few streets dotted with crumbling buildings, I pulled my coat tighter around my waist, head down.
Turning down the last street heading out of Nuremberg, I prayed under my breath, Oh God, don’t put any soldiers in my path. I need to get out of here without any trouble. I pushed down the last few houses. As each house passed, I murmured, Still safe. I was still clear of any soldiers.
Still safe.
Three more houses to go.
Still safe.
Two more houses.
Still safe–
Out of nowhere, a German entered the street right in front of me. He started toward me as soon as he caught sight of me, and I cursed under my breath as I calculated how long it would take for me to run the opposite direction. I turned around, ready to sprint for my life, when the Nazi shouted, “Hey! You! Stop!”
I stopped, though I hadn’t even started running yet. I needed to be bold but appear timid. Don’t act like a Jewish girl.
The German ran up to me. “You! Name,” he demanded, and I held my breath as I answered, “Emilia Kaplan,” The officer narrowed his eyes at my sass-infused tone. I lowered my head. “Papers,” He held out his hand.
Oh no. I didn’t have papers! What was I supposed to do? I dug around in my pocket. “Oh, I’m very sorry, Officer, but I believe I left them at the Cafe! Silly me, though I don’t suppose you would like to go with me to get them, would you?” I hit the flirty-tone perfect. All I could do was hope there was a cafe somewhere in this wreckage.
Somehow, the officer agreed, and I bowed my head even lower – if that was even possible – as I walked in the direction I hoped the cafe would be.
“Fraulein, the Cafe is this way,” The German pointed in the opposite direction that I was moving. “Oops, silly me,” I tried to sound simpering, but in truth I was relieved that he had caught on to my flirting by calling me “fraulein”.
Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting in the Cafe, and the German had completely forgotten about my papers. “What’s your name, schatz?” I asked sweetly, and he grinned at me toothily. “Werner Shafer, liebling,” he answered, leaning toward me. Knowing his intentions before he did, I leaned away casually, saying, “Well then, I suppose I’ll see you later, Shafer,” I waved as I left the cafe, watching him slump forward against the counter, drunk and tired.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I bolted out of town and down the road to Dresden. So much for not running into a soldier.