Beyond the Market

"We are dead, Isaac," Aaron greeted his brother as usual.

"Sure we are," sighed Isaac, from under the torn blankets.

He slowly sat up, remembering the date he saw in the market yesterday. January 12, 1940. Five months since Hitler invaded Poland, but Isaac couldn't care less. It's been two years since he last saw his parents- Jacob and Sarah Schindler, the famous doctor couple- since they had left the village to visit a friend in town. They never returned. For a Jewish couple in 1938 Germany, he could think of many outcomes that probably were correct, but he longed to know for sure.

Then 13 years old, Isaac was left as the sole caretaker of his little brother, Aaron. He knew they had to get out of the village and then out of the country. In six months, he arranged for tickets and scraped some money. They were ready. That's when the tanks came. June, 1939.

Hitler wanted to ensure all machines were intact for the upcoming invasion. Where else to practice than on the homes of the people you had convinced your countrymen were evil? So they brought the tanks to the villages and started firing at Jewish homes. When the onslaught began, he pushed Aaron under the bed and ran to take their tickets off the wardrobe. However, in a memory clearly etched in Isaac's mind, it fell on him and knocked him out. When he woke up, the men had already left, presumably thinking their job was done. Their tickets were lost but even if it hadn't been, his legs were damaged anyway.

When the dust cleared, Isaac dragged Aaron to their underground garage, which nobody knew existed. He wasn't going to give up. He decided to rebuild their lives there until his legs got better, or they got tickets. His legs nor tickets, however, were not the worst outcome that came out of it. The trauma of losing their parents and a near-death experience had pushed his brother off the brink. He started to develop delusions and convinced himself that they were dead during the explosion. He urged Isaac not to try and "save" them. Cotard's syndrome. 

Knowing the name of the condition, thanks to his parents' notes in the garage, however, was as useless as his legs that couldn't walk. It was clear that there was nothing he could say or do now that would cure his brother. He let it be. His insides sunk every moment he saw his baby brother lose his mind, but he let it be. He cried in silence every chance he got, but in front of Aaron, he let it be. His sole mission was to get them out of there.

"Come on, Aaron, today we try again," Isaac said, pulling his mind out of that painful memory lane. They had work. He'd heard Oskar Weiss, his father's friend, was in the village thanks to a conversation he overheard in the market. He could help them with tickets. The problem? He lived beyond the market. Soldiers patrolled that area. Soldiers with weird symbols on their uniforms. Their previous attempts had all been a failure. 

"You can't go beyond the market, Isaac, that is against the law-," Aaron began.

"Yes, yes, because once you are dead, you are not allowed to leave the place you died and those are death's guards making sure it doesn't happen," Isaac cut him off, "I know Aaron, I have heard this fifty times, please just get ready."

"But have I told you what happens to those who succeed in crossing the guards?" asked Aaron, his face showing an unusual dread.

Isaac sighed, clearly annoyed at the delay but composed himself and replied, "Yes, they, they um, leave forever, whatever that means. But you know what Aaron? There is nothing I wouldn't give to leave here forever, so get READY!"

****************

They were walking to the market covering their heads with shawls and wearing cross pendants to blend in. Aaron walked ahead briskly, while Isaac followed, slowly dragging his recovering legs. 

"Would you please keep up, Isaac? Your legs are fine," Aaron said.

Well so much for saving your life buddy, Isaac thought. These quick trips to the market were for food and information. Isaac has often marveled at how easier they have become over time, thanks to his precautions. Or maybe it is due to the negligence of the authorities, in their belief that no rational jew w

Advertisement

ould stay in this lawless land. But he did. He'd do anything for his family. 

He now looked at all the new faces. They had started to appear in the last year or so, probably migrants from across the country. He theorized that this is the Nazi regime purifying the villages by repopulating them with the "better race". Pathetic.

But he didn't waste his time debating the political correctness of the Holocaust. For him, as for others who were persecuted all over the world in the name of war, regardless of the god they worshipped or the scripture they read from, all it mattered was that his family was in danger. That they be never bothered by anyone, new or old. Lucky for him, they gladly did that. Even his old neighbors who knew him and his brother, would never so much as look at them. He knew why; associating with a Jew was as bad as being one. 

They now approached the stall that sold fruits. Isaac was about to put an apple slyly into his pocket when he heard a group walking very close by. He covered his face fully and asked Aaron to do the same. Aaron did not.

"It's cold," the older lady was saying.

"So after that," the second lady continued, "they slit their throat in the middle of the street. It was so painful to watch, the poor doctors."

"I'd actually once gone to their house for my daughter, I remember they had two sons. I wonder what happened to them."

Isaac froze, his mind conjuring images of what was just described. He wanted to cry. He wanted to shout at the world and demand it for justice. But he knew nobody cared. He and his brother, and all the people like them, were not treated the same as others. They did not deserve the same rights the others did. In a power struggle between the mighty and cruel, they were but dead pawns.

He closed his eyes, his mind a hazy web. He wanted this to end. As he opened them, he saw his brother standing there, smiling. That broke the spell for him. He is not going to stand here hearing the news of his dead parents with his sick brother. It was now or never.

"Aaron, we cross the market today, or we die here."

"Isaac, no, please, they will send you off. Please don't."

"I'm done taking care of you. I'm going no matter what you do or not do!"

Isaac ran to the other side. Aaron, grunting, followed him. Isaac could now see soldiers with their weird symbols. They were ready to take him down, but he did not care. Now he saw the soldiers take something out of their pockets, a gun? No, is that, is that a key? What are they doing? His legs were slowing him down. He took a deep breath and looked ahead. Are they opening the gate? Oh, there are people coming through. Maybe he can run through it if he is fast enough. Where is Aaron? He now watched as two people started talking to the soldiers. He was very close now. Close enough to see their faces. Wait.

Isaac stumbled on his legs and fell to the ground. It can't be. With his whole life flashing through his eyes, he looked up. Jacob and Sarah Schindler smiled at him.

"You have been so brave, Isaac," Sarah said.

"Don't worry, we know what we are doing. Seeing both of you one last time is all that we ever wanted," Jacob said, his pupils dilating.

He now saw Aaron, crying for the first time in years. Sarah was consoling him. In the next moment, she glanced once again at Isaac, and then she was gone. Isaac blinked and looked at Jacob. He was gone too. Where are they? 

"Where are my parents!!" Isaac shouted in between his sobs.

Aaron sat down, holding Isaac in his arms. His voice muffled, and he said, "They crossed the town for us, Isaac, they crossed it for us."

But have I told you what happens to those who succeed in crossing the guards?

Even his old neighbors who knew him and his brother, would never so much as look at them.

Isaac breathed heavily as he stopped crying. He slowly rose and started to walk towards the market. Now at the center, he did not notice that his legs did not hurt. He then removed his shawl and threw out the pendant. Then he screamed into a market with hundreds of people, "My name is Isaac Schindler, and I am a Jew!!!"

Nobody turned.