The Evening Bells

             

            The town bells chimed their six o’clock message and Noam knew it was time to go home. Dusk was already quietly falling over the square and soon the street lamps would be lit. Noam gathered up his ball, said good night to his playmates, and headed back down the narrow streets. He could already taste the dinner Mama was preparing; wurst with cabbage and maybe some potatoes too. The alley ways were still lit by the orange glow of the setting sun as Noam raced down them in eager flight towards his meal. He passed a couple of the uniformed men who seemed to pay no attention to him, nor he to them. Soon the little garden in front of his home came into view, and he could smell the sausage cooking inside, making his mouth water. His neighbor, Mr. Zimmermann, stood outside of his own house cleaning of a small rug. He gave a warm smile and little wave to Noam as he rushed inside.

              Within the small house the smells of dinner were even more overwhelming. A slight sting of salt cooking in the pan with the wurst floated through the warm air, mixing with the butter melting on the cabbage and potatoes. There was even a hint of freshly ground mustard for dipping. Noam could hear his mother in the kitchen pouring herself and his father two glasses of acrid smelling wine. He scrunched up his nose at the thought of its taste, since Mama had let him try a sip before. Turning the corner into the dining room, he saw that Papa was already sitting at the table reading the newspaper. Mama came in shortly after carrying the wine and dinner plates. Both she and Noam sat down, and Papa led the prayer before they ate.

              The meal passed in relative silence while Noam ate fiendishly. Mama only told him to slow down once, which he did for a few minutes before resuming his devouring pace. As Noam was finishing his food, Mama turned to Papa and asked how his day at work had been. Papa looked up from his plate, his eyes looking very tired through the thick, circular lenses of his glasses. He seemed to chew a little more slowly, as if trying to make whatever morsel was in his mouth last long enough that he wouldn’t have to answer. Finally, he swallowed and began to speak. “Things are changing. Today we were told that Abraham lost his position with the firm and that we should expect other layoffs soon too. There were also rumors that the city will be rezoning some…” He broke off and gave a sideways glance to Noam. Mama seemed to notice this and turned to Noam herself.

              “Go upstairs and start getting ready for bed dear.” Noam pouted but gave no verbal objection. That was what Mama always said when she and Papa wanted to talk about something alone. He had learned not talk back the hard way, but still felt indignant. He cleaned off his plate in the sink and headed upstairs, taking heavy stomps all the way up to voice his displeasure. Once in his room, Noam heard his parents start speaking again, but this time in German so that he couldn’t listen in, or at least not well enough to understand. He went to the window and looked out over the front garden to the streets beyond. Stone houses and large brick shops blocked his view but, in his mind, he could perfectly retrace the path back to the square where he played. He reminisced about the games he and the others had played that day and planned for those he would play tomorrow. Eventually, he changed into his night shirt and crawled into his bed. Mama came by later to kiss him good night, but he was already fast asleep.

              The next evening, after his reading and arithmetic lessons, Mama sent Noam into town to pick up onions for dinner. He went along his normal path, past his playing square, and into the middle of town where the grocery shop was. Inside, he saw Franz stocking some new items onto the shelves. Franz was always really nice to Noam even though Mama said he was a bad influence. Noam went up to him to get what he needed. “Hey kid. What can I help you with?”

              “Mama says she needs onions tonight.”

              “Onions ey? Well we have the freshest ones in town. Come on, I’ll help you get them.” Franz came down from the shelving ladder and led Noam down one of the grocery aisles. Just as they turned down it the bell over the front door rang and two of the uniformed men walked into the store. Franz looked back over his shoulder and gave a queer sort of sneer when he saw who it was. “Ich werde euch bald dienen.” Noam couldn’t understand what Franz said, but could tell his tone was not a pleasant one. They then continued down the aisle until they came to the onions. Franz picked up a small bag and handed it to Noam. “Not too heavy for you now, is it?” he asked. Noam shook his head. It was a lie, but he wasn’t going to let Franz know he was struggling. Franz just let out a little chuckle and took the money Noam offered. He then took small piece of chocolate off the self and gave it to Noam. “Don’t tell anyone, alright?” Franz gave him a little wink and then walked out of the aisle. Noam took up the bag of onions and walked out past the uniformed men.

              Once outside, Noam heard the town bells start their melodious choir, letting everyone know that it was six o’clock. Mustering all his strength, he shifted the bag into a great hug and started waddling down the streets towards home. He ducked past other folks walking about, shuffled down some cobblestone alleys, and looked both ways as he crossed the streets. When he came to his square and odd scene awaited him. All around were more of the uniformed men, looking at pieces of paper, pointing at certain buildings or places, and starting to dig up parts of the square. Accompanying them were several trucks filled with metal posts and chain-link wires. Since the evening bells had already rung, Noam continued through the square without stopping, but grew curious of what the men were doing. Some of them stared at him as he passed by, but no one said anything to him. Continuing through the cobblestone streets he saw even more uniformed men putting up flyers in German on every street lamp and storefront. All he could read from the signs were the big numbers “6:30.”

              Once back in the house, Noam studiously delivered the onions to his mother and started to help set the table for supper. As he placed the cutlery down on the table, he asked “Mama, what are the uniformed men doing in the square? And what do their papers say?” When he asked this, Mama’s hand slipped a little as she cut the onions. She very quickly resumed her cutting, as if hoping that Noam hadn’t seen her error.

              “Those men are doing some new construction around the neighborhood. There are going to be changes happening very soon. You must promise me that you will always be home at six now my love. When the bells ring you must come straight home, always.”

              “I already do Mama,” said Noam, proud that he could follow this rule before it was even set. His mother turned to him and gave a small smile. “Of course you do. Now go get your father and prepare for supper.”

***

              In the square the next day, the new fence cut the boy’s play area in half. It had sprung up over-night, at least twice as tall as the tallest boy and topped with a coil of barbed wire. Noam figured it was what the uniformed men had been building the previous day. It ran the entire length of the square, continuing down two adjacent alley ways. Some of the boys who had explored it before they met to play said it wrapped around the whole neighborhood with only two gates that had lots of the uniformed men around them. Noam wondered how he, Mama, and Franz would get to the store now, but these thoughts were soon driven out by the games. As the afternoon wore on the boys began heading home one by one, until only Noam and little Rudolf were left. Then came the chiming of the six o’clock bells. Noam bid his friend good night and started making his way back home.

              Noam slipped and ducked through the alleys with his usual ease. Tonight’s dinner was going to be some yucky liver and so his pace was not as swift as normal. Rounding the corner near the small candle shop, Noam suddenly saw Franz shuffling through one of the nearby side streets. He seemed to be carrying several boxes that were stacked awkwardly in his hands, nearly dropping them with every step. His walk was almost comical as he tried to keep the tower of boxes from tipping over. Noam remembered what his mother had said the previous night, but also remembered that her and Papa taught him to always help a friend in need. Knowing they would forgive him when he explained his reasons, Noam left his normal path and went over to Franz.

              “Do you need help with those?” Noam asked. At the sound of his voice, Franz jumped a little and whirled around wildly, dropping the topmost box as he did so. Noam bent to lift the box, which was much heavier than he expected, and said “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

              “You shouldn’t be out here kid. Get back home to your parents.” Franz put down the stack and readjusted the one he had dropped before lifting them all up again.

              “But I can help you carry your boxes.”

              “I don’t need your help right now Noam. Get home now before you get in trouble.”

              “I won’t get in trouble if I tell Mama I was helping you.”

              “You got a good heart kid, but now’s not the…” Franz suddenly stopped talking and looked up from the boxes as if listening for something. Noam soon heard it too; there were a few sets of footsteps echoing down one of the adjacent alleys. Turning back to Noam, Franz whispered very harshly “Go! Hide!” The intense look of fear on his face told Noam not to question him. Quickly, Noam ran into an alley opposite of where the footsteps were coming from and ducked down behind a garbage bin. His heart still racing, he slowly peered out to see what was happening.

              In the street, Franz was hastily trying to duck into an alley way as well but was too late. Three of the uniformed men came out of the alley way and one immediately yelled “HALT!” Franz tried to run again, but with the boxes he was much too slow, and the men grabbed him and forced the boxes from his hands. Two of the men held Franz by the arms while the third yelled at him in German. Noam couldn’t understand most of what was said but picked up the phrases “halb sieben,” and “boxen.” Throughout all of it, Franz remained silent, simply looking at the man with disdain. After yelling about the “boxen” twice the man in front unshouldered his rifle and hit Franz in the stomach with it so hard that Noam flinched where he was hiding. Franz doubled over from the blow, or at least would have if the other men didn’t continue to hold him up. The first man then took his bayonet and cut open one of the boxes, kicking it over to spill out its contents.

              Out of box fell a dozen or so books, all in different sizes and colors. The other boxes were given the same treatment, and again books poured out onto the street. Noam was too far away to tell what any of them were but thought there must have been a whole library’s worth lying there. The uniformed man picked one up and leafed through it quickly before tossing it back to the ground. He then turned back to Franz and resumed his questioning in German. Franz continued to remain silent, even when the man struck him with the rifle again.

Eventually, the man in front spoke to the other two men instead of Franz. After he finished speaking, he turned away and walked back down the alley they had come from. At the same time, the other two men started to savagely beat Franz. One punched him across the face while the other swiftly jammed a knee into his side. They both let go and Franz fell hard onto the street, gasping for breath. Both men then proceeded to kick him as he tried to curl into a fetal position. With each hard thwack from their boots, Franz’s groan and screams became louder. Finally, after he began to bleed through his shirt and onto the street, the men ceased their onslaught. One of the men then went over to the boxes and began putting the books back in them, gathering them in his arms once it was done. The other man lifted Franz’s limp body from under the arms and dragged him along the street. Both men took their respective loads down the same alley that the third man had left from and were soon out of sight.

Noam remained hidden behind the trash bin, warm tears streaming down his face, until he was absolutely certain he couldn’t hear their footsteps any more. Then and only then did he dare move. He got up from his hiding spot and immediately started sprinting back home. Tears still washed his cheeks, but he dared not make any sobbing or cry out as he flew over the cobblestones. Soon he could see the garden of his house and he threw himself through the door as fast as he could go.

Inside, his mother and father called out his name and ran to embrace him. He stood there crying in their arms, finally able to let out the wails that had been growing within him. His parents hugged him close and told him to never scare them like that again; that he must come home earlier than that. Through his tears, he managed to squeak out a quiet “Yes Mama.” That night, Noam lay awake for a very long time thinking about where his friend had been taken.

Playing with the boys the next day, Noam was very quiet and out of sorts. He didn’t join in the conversation or the game of ball nearly as much as normal. Hardly any of the others noticed though, they were too busy talking about some gossip. There was a rumor that Mr. Zimmermann was a secret government agent, that the fence was going to be electrified soon, and that one of the older boys had been abducted the previous night. Noam didn’t participate in any of the stories though. He simply heard without listening. The town bells chimed their six o’clock message and Noam knew it was time to go home.