CHAPTER 8
“We should have brought more food.”
Her mother was fretting in the corner in the basement, her arms crossed around each other and rubbing on her shoulders. She shivered slightly in the cool of the basement and glanced at her daughter.
“I could wait until dark and run across the street. It would be fine. I could get some clothes, gather up the food, and be back in ten minutes.”
Her mother’s eyes widened as Katrina spoke, and in her telltale hiss she whisper-shouted “no!” She began to shake her head as she reacted.
“Are you crazy, girl? The police are out there, the Milicja, they will eat you alive. The world has gone mad outside. It is not safe!” Her mother paced behind her as she stomped toward the window in the kitchen and peered out. It was evening, and the angry voices were muted.
Katrina looked out the window, craning her head in either direction as if she were about to cross the street. “Mother, it is fine outside. Come look for yourself. There is no more gunfire. I do not hear any yelling. You can see the door to our building from here. You can watch me as . . . .”
“Katrina, must I chain you to a bench and sit on you to keep you here?” Her mother’s eyes were wide with fear and her cheeks and chest were slowly being engulfed in a red rash from it all. She began sputtering and balling her fists. Katrina finally turned from the window and placed her hands on her hips as she squared off to her mother.
“Mother, we can die in here of starvation or we can risk dying out there of something else. Either way, if we do nothing, we are going to die.”
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest and squinted. “Why don’t you send your Golem?”
Katrina’s mouth fell open as she watched her mother, trying to figure out if she was being sarcastic or serious. Her mother deflated as soon as the words escaped, regretting them, but it was too late. Katrina recognized the taunt for what it was, and she stormed past her mother, pushing her out of her way and heading toward the door of the temple. Her mother let her pass, assuming she was going to march toward the bowels of the temple or perhaps the Rabbi’s study to quietly pout. Instead, she stormed toward the door the temple and before her mother could do anything but scream, Katrina opened the door and was gone.
They had been hiding in the temple for three days, and the fresh air felt warm on her cheeks and the smell of high summer made her feel better immediately. The sun had already descended past the treetops, leaving the empty streets fairly cool. The only movement she noticed was the birds overhead chasing mosquitoes. In less than a minute she was across the street and walking into their tenement. She could feel her mother’s terrified stare from the temple window, but she was still too angry and did not turn to face her, instead letting the door swing shut behind her.
Passing through the familiar, stuffy halls, the doors of families she had known for all 15 years of her life, she felt a mixture of sadness and hope. Seeing some of them sharing hushed whispers in the hall, she saw their frightened looks, the pressure of trying to protect one’s children under such oppressive conditions, and thought she might begin to cry. She steeled herself and pushed on.
The stairs to their apartment were empty, and without further distraction, Katrina was standing before the door to their apartment. Her first stop was their kitchen window, quickly surveying the barbed wire, the gathered police, and confirmed there was virtually no movement from the people. Martial law had sucked the life from Lodz.
Katrina worked quickly, gathering clothing and food into several bags. The sound of police vehicles coming and going drifted up to her, but she ignored them. As she packed, she reflected back on her Golem and the words of the Rabbi, still stung by his warnings. If God truly cared, she thought to herself indignantly, she wouldn’t have needed her Golem. God would have protected her and her mother, and the Jews of Lodz. He would have protected them forty years earlier. He would have protected Rabbi Isserles from the Nazis. What kind of God would be angry with her for using the Golem to defend herself and His Jews? Her blood again began to boil at the thought of it all.
The Father is the Giver of Life; but the Mother is the Giver of Death, because her womb is the gate of ingress to matter, and through her life is ensouled to form, and no form can be either infinite or eternal.
She did not think she fully understood the words, but she appreciated the sentiment. The mother gives life, and life always ends in death. She was not yet a mother, but by bringing forth the Golem, she has brought death to others. Perhaps she, or Golem himself, would soon meet the same ending.
She did not hear the police officers going door to door until they were already at the entrance to their apartment. She had not bothered to shut the door, and too late realized her error. She heard the boots as they walked across the hall outside the apartment, heard the pause, and the entry. Within seconds she was facing them. She did not recognize their faces; they were highway patrolmen from somewhere else. All three inspected her, a visual assault as they looked up and down at her body. Then the third officer turned and shut, then bolted, the door. The cruel smile on his face left a hard stone in her belly. She began to shake.
The first officer took a step forward, looking down at the bag she had placed on the table, the other still in her hands. “Where are you going, young lady? There is a curfew, you know. We are performing bed checks!”
The other two chuckled at his choice of words, and an icy cold stab spread out from the stone in her stomach. They took a step closer and she took one backwards, dropping her bag between herself and the officers. They came forward, menacing.
“Where are you going, pociągający?”
Her heart was slamming against her chest as she continued stepping backwards until finally, her back was against the window, her mind racing, trying to think of an escape. There was none; she considered jumping, but she knew she could not survive such a fall. Katrina was only 15, but she knew from their expressions what they intended to take. Just like a cornered, frightened dog that bites his attacker, she came after the first officer, trying to hit him, but her punches were ineffectual against his uniformed chest, and she was not tall enough to reach his face. She then changed tactics, and kicked him in the groin. That was better, and his lecherous smile turned into an O of surprise as he clutched at his aching organs. His partner came forward and smacked her in the face, hard, and she fell against the wall of their kitchen. She looked toward the counter, estimating the distance to reach the knives, but it was too late; the two remaining officers were upon her. The first dragged her up and the second scooped one of her breasts and squeezed, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. She struggled mightily, but was losing the battle. Despair and tears began to cloud her vision.
Her mother was staring up at the window but there was not enough ambient light for her to see the encounter. She had seen the officers making their rounds for curfew and enter their tenement, and she gripped the trim beneath the window to keep herself from falling to the floor. Ever since martial law had been declared, there had been ebb and flow on its enforcement. Tonight was nothing but flow. Yehuda came up behind her, watching her strangely, then following her gaze out the window.
“Where is Katrina?”
As her mother watched, as Yehuda reached out to grab her arm, there was a scream from within the temple. Before they could turn her head from the window, they both saw something very strange. Across from the temple, by their tenement, was a small grassy area. Usually, people used it for their dogs to use the bathroom; it was not big enough for anything else. As they watched in the slowly approaching dusk, the grass in one spot began flying into the air, as if several terriers in a line were digging feverishly for an escaping rat. Within a few seconds, a mound appeared to grow forth from the ground. It reminded Yehuda of a time when she was a child and watched a mole covering his tracks in the grass, leaving something very similar. The similarities ended there, however, for a few moments later, the mound took the form of a round ball, then con
tinued to rise on a column of earth. Elisheva let out gasp as the mound became the figure of a man. It was Katrina’s Golem. It formed fully from the earth of her tenement and moved quickly toward the door. In the quickly approaching night, there was nobody else around to see him, and to Elisheva and Yehuda, their vision gave them only an image of a large hulking figure. In seconds, Golem was inside and gone from view.
There were quickly running footsteps coming toward the kitchen, and they turned in time to see Rabbi Cejtlin enter, a strange look on his face.
“Where is Katrina?”
Her mother pointed toward the door of the temple, realization hitting her. There would only be one reason why the Golem had come to life. She tried to push past Yehuda, but she held her close.
“She will be fine, Elisheva, do not make things more complicated. She will be fine.”
The two women held each other, and her mother began to cry in fear. Rabbi Cejtlin approached the window, looked out briefly, then began davening. The words were too soft for Elisheva to hear.
Inside their apartment, the third officer had recovered enough to right himself, and, standing, watched his partners drag her, kicking and fighting, toward the bedroom. Katrina tried to bite, claw, and occasionally was rewarded with a curse or grunt. The third officer, his anatomy still grinding in pain, turned toward the kitchen, looking around for some food. The police were hungry, too, and there was nowhere in this part of town to get any food. One consequence of abusing the people was having none of their support or charity. He opened the pantry and was rooting when a shadow came upon his back. He did not bother turning around.
“Go have your turn, I will wait. I’m hungry.”
Before he could find anything to eat, the Golem reached out with fingers each the size of the P-64 on the officer’s belt. They circled around the officer’s neck and squeezed until there was a loud crunch. Golem let go as the body slumped forward onto the counter, then crumpled to the floor. Golem turned toward the bedroom.
The officers had forced her onto the bed and were trying to hold her down to remove her dress when Golem entered. The officer nearest her face slapped her, hard, and Katrina was left in a daze, the fight virtually gone, beaten out of her. The other officer finally managed to spread her legs apart and chortled in success. The officer nearest her face felt the shadow upon them and turned to see a very large figure in the darkening doorway. He drew his weapon and fired without thinking. He shot several times, hitting Golem each time, center of mass, but Golem had no organs, nothing but soil, and the shots had no effect.
Golem reached the other officer first, who was so surprised by the shooting that he was still grabbing Katrina’s thighs with his hands. He never had a chance to turn to see Golem before he grabbed the officer and twisted him like a maid twisting a wet towel dry. Golem twisted him to death, tearing him into pieces, silently. The third officer watched, transfixed by fear. Finally, as Golem pulverized the second officer’s body beyond all recognition, the last officer tried to pass around him and escape.
Golem continued working on what had been the second officer as the last one tried to escape. Just as he passed by, a third limb seemed to spring forth from Golem’s side and capture the man. Golem held him there as he finished working on the second officer. His grip was so strong that the man could not breathe or scream. Finally, Golem let go of the wet, unrecognizable remains of the second officer, and grabbed the last one with his two sinewy arms. The third limb retracted back into Golem’s trunk. It was not long before the third officer was a mass of parts like his partner.
Katrina watched silently from the bed, approvingly, the blood lust cutting through the pain of her beating. The adrenaline of the attack combined with the relief of seeing Golem come to her aid The adrenaline of fighting the men had mixed with her relief to see Golem. This must be what the Torah calls righteous vengeance, she thought to herself.
She watched as he absorbed the bodies, like last time, and finally returned to her, at attention, waiting for further command. The warnings of the Rabbi were still ringing in her ears. Has she angered God? Did she commit a sin merely by bringing him to life?
She stared at this creature, alone with it for the first time. She stood from the bed, smoothing her dress, ignoring the blood soaking the sheets and carpet, sprayed against the walls, and padded toward her Golem. No breath escaped his chest, no fidgeting, he was completely still. She walked around him, basking in the power she felt with him near. She dimly thought of the gunshots and the fact that they would likely create trouble, but for the time being, she was too engrossed in Golem to think deeply about it.
“My, you are quite a creature, Golem,” she whispered to herself. She reached out and stroked his barrel chest, his arms that ended in well formed finger-like indentions, like a marble sculpture, the illusion of life. The illusion was getting stronger. His features were becoming truly human. Again, the words of the Rabbi crept into her conscious, and she considered them again, while appraising this creature before her.
Even if she wanted him to go away, forever, how could she do it? Rabbi Cjetlin did not tell her how, and she had not read the book. She knew nothing of how one creates, let alone destroys. She had a blasphemous thought of God and what it must have felt like the first time he gazed upon Adam, and tried to put the thought out of her mind.
“They want me to kill you, my znajomy.”
She continued to walk around him, not bothering to shut the door to the apartment, heedless of the movement out in the streets, the whispering in the neighboring apartments about the gunfire.
“What do you think I should do, my friend?”
Full night descended upon Lodz, and outside, the loud clicks of bright track lights at the barricade finally shook her out of her reverie. She walked into the kitchen and gathered her things. She turned backwards and looked toward Golem, still standing in the bedroom.
“Come, Golem, time to come home.”
Silently, Golem turned toward the doorway and followed her out of the apartment. It was late, and the hall was deserted. The gunshots guaranteed the halls would be clear. Down the stairs, to the exit, Golem followed her. Finally, opening the door, she could see the small temple kitchen window. It was too dark, but she was certain her mother’s face was pressed against the pane, anxiously awaiting Katrina’s return. Katrina stepped outside, looking both ways first.
Elisheva was looking from the window and saw her emerge. Her heart felt like it would burst to see her alive and safe, but that look of relief twisted into fear again as something very large and dark crept behind Katrina. Katrina held open the door, and Golem ducked to pass through the doorway to the outside, oblivious to his surroundings, and he turned right and lumbered toward the grassy side of the tenement. Katrina had not seen him appear so was confused at his change of direction. She watched as he walked toward a hole in the earth, and as he stepped into the hole, it looked as if he was descending into a staircase, or a small swimming pool; in any event, he was soon gone, back into the earth. Katrina returned home by herself.
CHAPTER 9
The next morning Yehuda shook Katrina and her mother awake.
“They are leaving! They are leaving!”
The group all woke up to her loud voice, too bewildered to make sense of her cries.
“It was on the news. Martial law has been lifted! The police have already broken down the barricades. They’re leaving!”
The Jews that had been hiding within the temple these last several days began to cry out in relief, clapping their hands, hugging each other. Katrina was happy too, but it was bittersweet. As soon as she was able, she disappeared down the stairs, past the makeshift sleeping quarters in the basement, and stooped to get through the small door in the back wall. She lit her candle, still stowed in her apron, and approached the wall. The book was gone, now in the Rabbi’s study, but that was not what she came to see. She walked gingerly across the earth until she reached the depression, the area where
she had tripped and fell just days before. It seemed like years. The depression was just as she remembered, except there were small bits of grass mixed in with the earth.
She knelt before the depression and ran her hand along that sand. Golem would be safe here. She left her hand on that earth as the questions started to surface. Would I be safe without him? Will he hear me cry out if I am far away from Lodz? Did magic bring him to life, or was it truly God’s power that gave life to his limbs?
Katrina knelt in the dark, alone, and began to shake her head. If God truly was omnipotent, she reasoned, then He would not allow someone to create something like the Golem. No, she thought to herself, this was the work of God. The Rabbi was wrong. She snorted quietly when she thought of the example the Rabbi used of the leaky pipe. Humans could not sneak around and tap into God’s power. It made no sense. Golem was a vessel, and Katrina did nothing more than ask for God’s help. Golem was a blessing; a miracle.
Katrina stood, brushing the dirt off her dress, and turned to go up the stairs to her mother.
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