Travelling in small groups will provide some protection, but they will have to be very careful. If they make it to the port of Constanta in Romania, they will find a ship waiting to take them to Haifa. It will be leaving with or without them.
On the day of departure, Magda and Livi’s group of around one hundred trainees travel by truck back to Bratislava. With money in their pockets, they will take trains where they can, otherwise hitch rides or walk. Each of them has a gun and a supply of bullets. Livi and Magda put the bullets in their bags; the guns they shove deep into their coat pockets.
‘Are you upset that Zdenko isn’t in our group?’ Magda asks.
‘A bit, but not really.’
‘Do you like him, Livi?’
‘Of course I like him.’
‘No romantic feelings?’
‘No. He’s a friend, that’s all.’
‘Friendship is a good basis for something else,’ Magda teases.
‘Well, Magda, when you have found the one, you can tell me what it feels like, then I will know what to look for. Until then, sister, mind your own business.’
‘Are you scared, Livi?’ asks Magda, suddenly solemn.
Livi looks at her big sister and sees her own fear reflected in Magda’s eyes. ‘It can’t be worse than a death march, can it? Or a selection?’ she replies.
‘I guess that’s one way of looking at it,’ Magda says.
‘It’s the only way.’
*
The trainees take trains to a range of different towns, from where they will position themselves to cross into Romania. Vranov was one of the options, which Magda and Livi rejected; they choose instead to travel to Ko?ice, and make their way through Hungary. From there, they hope the locals will direct them to Constanta.
They have been given maps and a guide: Vlad. With three other boys, the sisters listen while Vlad tells them they will have to cover another 500 kilometres once they are in Romania.
‘Do you think we will have time to visit Father’s grave in Ko?ice?’ Livi whispers.
‘I don’t think so, Livi. We need to keep moving. We’ll come back one day,’ Magda says.
Livi leans back and shuts her eyes and lets the motion of the train lull her to sleep.
*
Arriving in Ko?ice, the group of six are aware of their friends also disembarking the train, but they ignore one another, as they have been instructed to do. The group is now on their own.
‘Only thirteen days to go and you’ll be on the boat,’ Vlad tells them, as they walk the city streets of Ko?ice. ‘Let’s find somewhere warm to spend the night.’
‘A hotel?’ asks Livi, hopefully.
‘A barn,’ he replies.
‘No soft blankets and feather mattresses for you, Livi,’ one of the boys teases. ‘Will you be OK or should we shoot some ducks and pluck them for your pillow?’
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ Livi fires back.
It’s getting dark when they reach the outer limits of the city. They are on a deserted road, woodland to the left and right of them, but no sign of any barns. The boys want to camp in the woods, so does Vlad, but Livi wants to hold out for shelter.
All six heads turn round at the sound of the clip-clopping of a horse. Vlad’s hand goes inside his jacket. Livi tenses: this is where it falls apart, where they will be taken captive once again, punished for wanting more than a life lived in the shadows. Magda takes a deep breath, trying to control the trembling in her hands. She’ll never shoot anyone, she knows that now, because how can she, when, at the first sign of danger, she falls apart?
‘Where are you off to?’ A farmer whose cart is being drawn by a fine black mare has pulled up.
Vlad withdraws his hand and waves. Both Livi and Magda exhale.
‘To Trebisov,’ he replies.
‘You’re Jews?’
‘We are.’
Livi glances at Vlad, but his eyes are fixed on the farmer. If he’s not worried, then neither is she.
‘Hop on the back and I’ll take you as far as I can.’
They climb aboard. The cart reeks of animal dung, but they’re comfortable enough in the straw.
‘Sorry,’ calls the farmer. ‘I had pigs in the back.’
They trot along in silence for about an hour. Vlad holds himself erect the entire journey. He might as well be on a train or in a car, thinks Livi, adjusting her own posture. The farmer eventually pulls up at a fork in the road. ‘Trebisov is about ten kilometres down the road. You can walk there now, or you can sleep in my barn tonight – it’s up to you.’