Page 83 - Devil's Arithmetic by Jane Yolen

Gitl shoved her in the back. "Lie down," she whis-
pered. "Lie down, quickly."
Hannah fell to the ground on her stomach and didn't
stir. When she finally forced herself to open her eyes,
there was a pair of large boots by her head. She could
hear children whimpering and somewhere, off to her
left, a woman was crying. There was a low undercurrent
of men's voices. It took a moment before she realized
they were praying.

Hours later—or so it seemed—they were allowed to
stand up again. Gitl had her hand up to her neck. There
was a red mark that ran around it as if a necklace had
been torn from her. Fayge's beaded headdress and her
earrings were gone. Her dress was smudged and torn.
Several men were bleeding from their noses and Shmuel
had a dark bruise starting at his temple. But except for
the quiet snuffling of the children, a man's persistent
hacking cough, and Rachel's labored breathing, no one
made a sound.
"Now," the officer said, smiling down at them and
showing his rotten teeth, "now, Jews, you are ready for
resettlement."
"Where?" a tremulous voice called out.
"Wherever we choose to send you," he answered.
"Get up."
They stood raggedly, and. the soldiers herded them
toward the two stationary boxcars. They went silently,
almost willingly, eager to be as far from the officer and
the soldiers' guns as they could.

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