Page 96 - LEIBY

96 Leiby – Border Smuggler 3

“But we have to report any ill patient who comes here.”

“I’m not ill, I’m injured,” Leiby tried to convince her.

The doctor looked at him in indecision. Leiby pleaded with her
again. “Please, not the police.”

“We’ll report you to the police, but we’ll wait until tomorrow,”
the doctor finally decided.

Leiby did not sleep all that night. He just lay in the bed that he
had been given and let his body begin to recuperate. The doctor
brought him some fresh bread and fruit, and he ate voraciously.
Towards morning, even before sunrise, Leiby got up and left
the hospital. It was child’s play after his escape from the prison.
He brushed down his crumpled clothing, combed his unruly
hair, and spread the cream that the doctor had given him on
the scratches on his face. Slowly, he left the ward, nodded to
the guard stationed at the hospital entrance, and in a minute, he
was outside. He walked slowly, filling his lungs with the fresh
air that he had been missing for so long, and wondered what
to do. It was clear that he could not risk returning to any of
the secret apartments owned by the organization that he had
worked for. Besides, the members of the organization changed
addresses and identities all the time, and even if he would try
to look for them, it was entirely uncertain that he would find
them.

To change identity! The idea suddenly exploded in Leiby’s
brain, like the pleasant spring sun that had just appeared in the
sky. How had he not thought of it before? His picture was sure
to be publicized and disseminated to all the border patrols and
police – he definitely had to change identity! But how would
he do it? Leiby stared at his reflection in a windowpane, damp
from dew. His light-colored hair was a sure giveaway, and the
bruises and lacerations on his face were very eye-catching too.

He looked all around. There was a large billboard nearby, and
Leiby was surprised to notice one of the signs written in Hebrew
letters. He ran his finger wistfully over the familiar letters…
it was an advertisement for a special performance in Yiddish,