Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 "No!" Max screamed. A strange new feeling boiled inside him, furious and black and powerful. It didn't matter that the soldier was big as an ox, that he had a rifle. Max's body seemed to move on its own, fueled by a mix of terror and fury. With all of his might, Max threw himself against the man. The soldier teetered for a second, and then fell with a furious grunt. The rifle flew out of his hands, sailing through the air. When it landed, the rifle butt hit a rock.

Crack! The rifle fired! The soldier shouted out in pain and grabbed his leg. He'd been hit by his own bullet! Max stood there, stunned, as he stared at the blood oozing through the soldier's fingers. The man's eyes bulged with rage as he spat out German curses. He crawled toward his rifle, clawing the dirt with his fingers, dragging his bloody leg behind him. Zena shrieked. "Max, come on!" Her voice snapped Max out of his trance. He ran to her. They joined hands and took off through the brush, away from the soldier and the ghetto. He had no idea where they could go. But neither of them looked back, and they moved so quickly it seemed as if they were flying. They pushed aside branches, dodged trees, and jumped over roots and rocks. Thorns raked their legs and

snagged their clothes. But they ran and ran until finally their bodies gave out. "I need to rest," Zena gasped, reaching for Max's arm. "Up there," Max wheezed. "We'll hide in that wheat field."

They staggered into the field, wading through the golden stalks until at last they collapsed to the ground. They lay there, gulping at the air, trying to catch their breaths. It was a long time before Max's body stopped shaking, before either of them could speak. Finally Zena turned to him. "We beat them," she whispered. Max looked at his sister, not sure what she meant. But then he understood: Here they were, still alive, not shivering in a jail cell or surrounded by barbed wire. Zena was right. They'd fought their own battle against the Nazis. And they'd won. Max smiled a little, feeling a small burst of power. But it soon faded.

Because he had no idea what they would do next. Where could they go? The Nazis had invaded every country around Poland, and that blood-red swastika flag now flew over more than ten countries in Europe. For a Jew, there was no safe place for thousands of miles in any direction. And it wasn't only the Nazis from Germany who wanted to hurt them. Some people in Esties had joined the Nazis in their terror. This had shocked Max, even though he'd always known there were those in their town who looked down on Jewish people. Max remembered one night when he and Zena and Papa were heading to synagogue. They had passed two young men who cursed and spat at them as they walked by. "Hey!" Max had shouted to them. But Papa grabbed his arm, hurrying him along. "Why did they do that?" Max asked.

"There is no reason," Papa answered. "Why do they hate us?" Zena asked. "Because they have small minds" was Papa's impatient reply. "It's as simple as that." But Max had pushed back. "I don't understand, Papa. What did we do to them?" "We did nothing," Papa said. "It's always been this way. Jews are different. And some people are suspicious of what they don't understand." It made no sense. Why be cruel to someone just because they were different? And were Jews really so different from everyone else? Max thought of his best friends at school. Those boys were just like him! They loved baseball. Tarzan was their favorite comic. They stared at pretty girls but were afraid to talk to them. True, his friends went to church on Sundays and Max went to synagogue on Fridays and Saturdays. But it seemed like they were all learning the same