Read Those Who Save Us for Free Online Page B

the fruit. The knock comes again, faint but insistent.
    Anna rushes to the door and flings it open to find Max standing there.
    Oh, my God, she cries, dropping the apple, which wobbles unheeded across the floorboards. Oh, thank God you’re all right—
    Max tries to smile.
    May I come in? he asks.
    Don’t be a fool, Anna tells him. She tugs him into the kitchen by the shirtsleeve.
    Max props himself against the icebox as Anna secures the lock and begins whisking the curtains shut.
    So you know, he says. About the Aktion this morning.
    Anna turns to examine him. He is covered in mud, his hair plastered to one side of his head as if he has just awakened, and there is a shallow scratch on one cheek. Other than this, he appears unharmed.
    I was in the Quarter and I ran across Herr Nussbaum, she says. And when I went to your house, I found the animals—
    They killed them, Max says.
    Yes.
    Max frowns at the floor, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
    I was afraid of that, he says. I wanted to do it myself, the humane way, but there wasn’t time.
    Anna begins rummaging through the pockets of her skirt.
    I have your glasses here somewhere, she says. I know you’re hopeless without them—
    Then, without warning, she begins to weep.
    Max comes to Anna and takes her in his arms. This is the first time he has held her properly, and Anna relishes it, damp and filthy as he is. She sways against him, closing her eyes, but Max stares at the wall over her shoulder, distracted.
    How long will your father be gone? he asks, detaching her.
    How did you know he’s not here?
    I’ve been in the bushes much of the afternoon. I saw him leave a half hour ago, off to dine with his friends, am I right? Top brass, all of them.
    Max rubs his eyes. Dear God, of all the places I could have come, he groans. I’m so sorry, Anna . . .
    He runs a hand down the side of his face, which rasps with stubble. I just need a bite to eat, he says. Then I’ll be on my way.
    Of course I’ll fix you something, Anna says, collecting herself. But first we must get you out of those wet rags.
    Anna—
    Ignoring his protests, Anna leads Max from the kitchen and into the house, beneath the twisting, exaggerated shadows cast by the chandelier in the entrance hall, up the main staircase.
    Here, she says, once she has shown him to the WC. Clean yourself up. I’ll be back in a moment.
    Then she ransacks Gerhard’s bedroom closet for clothes he will not miss, keenly attuned all the while to the small splashes Max makes as he bathes and shaves, the noises she would hear each morning if they lived here together. It is ridiculous, given the circumstances, but there it is: the fierce joy that Max is in her house. Anna shakes her head at herself and returns to the WC with a pair of old tweed trousers and a shirt.
    Thank you, Max says, accepting them. I’ll be quick.
    Anna ignores this, exiting to let him change but leaving the door open a few centimeters. From behind it, she says, So you left before the SS began the Aktion. How did you know they were coming?
    Silence from the WC. Stealing closer, Anna watches Max remove his shirt. His skin is very white, blotched here and there with a fair man’s spreading freckles; because he is so thin, his body looks much older than that of a man in his mid-thirties. His chest, however, is furred with a surprisingly healthy crop of reddish hair. He slides his trousers and briefs from his hips.
    Please, Max, Anna says, touching her burning face. Tell me what happened.
    Max dresses in Gerhard’s clothes, which, Gerhard being a portly fellow, bag comically on his narrow frame. Then he opens the door all the way. Anna slides past him into the narrow room and perches on the lip of the tub.
    I’m sorry about your father’s dog, Max says. Jews aren’t allowed to own pets. The animals were killed because they’re considered contaminated by Jewish blood—
    Anna makes a dismissive gesture.
    Herr Nussbaum said the SS were turning the