Blue as a Fedora

Chapter 12: The Blue Among the Flames

The voice that had just issued out of the loudspeaker, broadcasted all over the camp, seemed to echo and reverberate upon the air itself, so that it was still speaking to Malia in her ears, the ghost of a voice. The ghost of the voice. The ghost of Ella's voice. For who else would phrase a message like that. Who else had that voice?

"Ella?" Malia gasped into the night, leaning weakly upon the fence, hardly daring to believe that what had just happened truly happened.

"Was that Ella?" Zavier said in confusion, from across the fence. "That – voice that just came out the loudspeaker? That was Ella?"

"Ça – devait être," Malia responded, her brain switching unconsciously to French. It had been days since she had heard her mother-language. Days since she had heard her little sister's voice, speaking to her, trying desperately to tell her something...

Even from where they sat, Malia could hear gunshots firing from not too far away. German shouts filled the air and every inch of Malia seemed to freeze in fear.

"Wohin sind sie gegangen? Wohin sind sie gegangen?" the guards were screeching.

"Oh no," she gasped. "They – they might've gotten –"

"They didn't," Zavier said quickly. "Don't worry, I think your sister's okay."

"Why?" said Malia.

"'Wohin sind sie gegangen?'" said Zavier. "They don't know where she's gone. Actually, they used plural, I'm pretty sure. It's not just Ella."

"I heard that too!" Malia said, pointing at Zavier. "In the message, I mean to say. Ella said nous, 'we,' so she's with somebody else. Malvina!" Malia exclaimed. "Malvina's with her! They're okay!"

It was more refreshing than being given food after a full day of hunger, more satisfying than soothing a dry throat with water; complete, absolute proof that her sisters were alive, that the battle was still being fought, gave Malia a new light. It gave her a new strength. Not only were her sisters alive, but they were giving her a message. A message. But – what message?

"So, your sister hijacked the loudspeaker," said Zavier, "to say something. To you? Was that directed to you?"

Malia nodded, still smiling broadly.

"I think she wants me to find 'er," Malia said. "To find them."

"Did she tell you where she is?"

"Um – not really," Malia said hesitantly. "Now that I think about ze message, it sounds more like a... a clue..."

"A clue," Zavier repeated blankly, scratching his head. "She gave you a clue?"

"To her whereabouts, I zink."

"Do you think you can translate it?"

"I can try..."

So then Malia recounted the message in her brain, trying to remember each word, first in French. Then, when she was quite sure that she'd memorised it, she translated it slowly in English for Zavier to hear. It was a little tricky, especially with words like 'window room,' but after roughly ten minutes she managed to translate it word for word.

"That's one strange clue," Zavier noted, once Malia had finally finished translating it. "But – it can't be too difficult to crack, can it?"

"I don't know," Malia admitted. "Ella's quite unpredictable. Let's try and solve it now. Then I'll... should I wait until morning to go to her?"

"Sounds smarter than going out at night," Zavier agreed. "Alright, let's try the clue. So, she said she's between the 'window room' and the 'first course.' What's 'window room?' Do you have a building with lots of windows on your side?"

"None that stand out," Malia shrugged. "'Window room'... it stirs something in my memory... oh! That's eet! 'Window room!' That's what she used to call our keetchin!"

"She used to call your kitchen the 'window room?'" Zavier asked, half-laughing.

"There's a lot of windows in our kitchen," explained Malia. "When she was younger zat's what she called it. I wonder why she put eet in the clue..."

"Kitchen," said Zavier. "Food. Malia, isn't there a food place on your side?"

"Yes! It's the really big building!" Malia exclaimed. "Zat's where we get our food! Do you think that's what she means by 'window room'?"

"Probably," said Zavier. "She's talking about the café."

"Ha, the café," Malia laughed, for the building with all the food was absolutely nothing like a café.

"I'm sure they serve with five-star quality on your side," Zavier said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I love 'ow zere's no tables or seats and 'ow they give you porridge with rotten fruit. Eet's great."

They laughed once again, but Malia attempted to steer the conversation back to Ella's clue.

"So, we know 'window room,'" she said, putting her hand to her chin. "She's referring to ze big building with ze food. So, she's between that building and... and the 'first course...' what does she mean by 'first course'?"

"First course," repeated Zavier. "Maybe she means food again."

"Maybe," Malia said slowly. "But... isn't that just window room? I think that 'first course' is a reference to another location somewhere. I just can't zink where..."

Zavier seemed unable to answer the riddle either and, for five long minutes, both were wrapped in their own thoughts, trying to figure out what Ella was trying to say.

"Think about the locations around the window room," Zavier told Malia after a heavy silence. "She said she's in between the window room and the first course. Are there any locations around the window room that may be somehow connected to 'first course'?"

"I – I honestly do not know zis place very well," Malia said weakly. She put her hands to her head and tried to think. "Well – I know ze guards' office is near the window room... but – but first course? That doesn't make sense..."

"No, it doesn't," agreed Zavier. "Anywhere else?"

"There's this big place in the middle of our side," Malia said, picturing the large circular location in her mind. "It's where they do the slave labour..."

"Anything to do with first course?"

"No... I can't see the connection...."

Zavier shifted himself into a more comfortable position. Malia felt like this was a sign that they were going to be here for a while.

"Is 'first course' a code-word, like window room? Did Ella use to call something first course?"

"No, definitely not," Malia said, feeling certain that she was right. "Not that I remember, anyway..."

And on and on it went. They kept throwing possibilities to one another, but each one seemed as fruitless as the last. Malia refused to give up, because she knew that when she solved the clue she would be given her sisters, which was all she really wanted in this place. Zavier wasn't giving up either, but both of them were beginning to show signs of weakness.

Perhaps it referred to a specific time?

No, that made no sense whatsoever.

Or maybe 'first course' was actually a person?

Even if it was (which it undoubtedly wasn't) how would that information help them?

Maybe they had to think smaller. It maybe wasn't a location or structure, but just an object.

That made even less sense than the person idea...

It had been one hour. One entire hour, and they still didn't understand what that part of the clue meant. They attempted solving the last part of the riddle, the part that said they were hiding underneath the floor, but they still couldn't get any sense out of it.

"Why was 'window room' so easy," Malia groaned, "but the rest of it is complete gibberish? Why did she make it so 'ard?"

Zavier did not respond, because he was staring at the ground, clearly thinking hard about the riddle and whatever the heck it meant. It wasn't long after when he gazed up from the ground and looked steadily into Malia's eyes.

"I think I know what the problem is," he said slowly. "The clue is French. We're trying to solve it in English. I think it's time to switch languages."

"But you can't speak French," Malia pointed out stubbornly.

"Hmmm," said Zavier. "What does 'first course' mean in French again?"

"Le premier cours," Malia replied. "Doesn't really 'elp, does it?"

"What are some other words for 'first course' in French?"

"Well, there's déjeuner I suppose," Malia said unenthusiastically. "Premier repas, though that's practically the same thing... there's las entrée –"

"Entrée?" Zavier intervened suddenly. "That's – that's right! It's the same in English and French!"

"Um, excuse me," Malia laughed, "but ze English pronunciation of 'entrée' is awful."

"No – Malia, entrée," Zavier said, smiling for the first time in the past half hour. "Entrée."

"Yeah, it's a word," Malia said, not understanding what Zavier was trying to say.

"What does it sound like?"

"Entrée? It – it sounds like 'entry,' I suppose? But I don't see 'ow that will..."

Malia paused, then put her hand up, and drew it through her hair. Then, she gave a deep breath.

"Entrée... entry... entrance?"

"I think we got it," Zavier said happily.

"Oui!" Malia cried out. "Yes! She meant entrance! She's hiding beneath the floors between ze window room and ze entrance!"

"But what does 'under the floors' mean?" Zavier said.

"I know what's between the window room and entrance!" Malia exclaimed. "Eet's a bunch of leetle buildings! She's hiding underneath one of them! Underneath the floor!"

"Malia that's – that's it!" Zavier said. "So that's where she's hiding."

"We did it!" Malia said happily. "We cracked ze code!"

"Hey, not too loud," laughed Zavier, but he was also grinning broadly. "Of course, you couldn't have done it without me."

"Oh, yes, obviously, you carried ze entire sky for me," Malia grinned.

"Hi-five," Zavier said, putting his hand up upon the fence's wire.

"Hi-five," and, as best they could, they hi-fived with the fence between them, both beaming at one another.

"So, I suppose you'll see her in the morning," Zavier said, once they had calmed down.

"See them," Malia corrected him. "Yeah, I have to, don't I? Ella wants me to see 'er, for whatever reason."

"Yeah, that's true..."

For a few moments neither of them talked, but for some reason there was an uneasy feeling in the air, like something was being undiscussed. Before Malia could address this, she heard a sudden movement from behind her. She whipped around very quickly, then her eyes lay upon a sight she never expected to see.

Behind her was the building she hid behind, but next to that, behind the wired fence not unlike the one in front of Malia right now, were prisoners. A lot of prisoners. Dead prisoners. Dead prisoners being wheelbarrowed to a large, broad crater in the ground that looked almost freshly dug. It took a moment to register, but Malia finally recognised this 'crater' as the hole that she, Malvina and hundreds of other starved prisoners were forced to dig on their first day here.

There were lampposts and torches surrounding the crater, bringing their yellow, fluorescent light upon the scene so Malia could see the horrid sight. Hundreds of thin, yellowing, rotting, naked corpses already lay in the large hole. Other prisoners, by either wheelbarrowing or by dragging, were throwing even more bodies into the hole. Guards stood by, watching the scene, some also throwing in more bodies as if it were an everyday job. They worked much faster than the weak, slow skeletons trying to help. Even as she watched, Malia saw a woman who was dragging a dead body fall to the ground and retch in tears. The bullet was through her head before she could make more noise and her body fell noiselessly into the ground with the others. There were old bodies and young alike in the hole, and plenty of children. A surprising number of the bodies were children.

"Oh, my goodness," Malia whispered, watching as a dead child was shoved into the hole with the other bodies. "I – what are zey doing?"

"You haven't seen that before?" Zavier asked in surprise. "Malia, they're burning all the bodies."

"Burning? Burning what bodies?"

"The dead ones Malia. What else?"

"But – but that's so many bodies!" Malia cried. "I knew that a lot of people were dying but... but this just seems so... unless they're..."

The thought reached her mind and left her lips before she could stop it.

"Genocide. They're wiping out the Jews."

At first, the statement seemed completely foolish to Malia. Wiping out all the Jews? Perhaps in a fictional story, where people do horrific things for no reason at all. But then she thought, and thought... and realised... it had been quite obvious. People being sent to the thin building with the chimneys, and never being seen again? They were obviously being killed one way or another. It just never really came to Malia like that. The thought was just too confusing.

"And I was quite certain you knew that," Zavier said, looking even more perplexed. "You've seen them take children away. They kill them, and they end up in a ditch, and then they get burned. It's like a huge fire, but it only lasts for half an hour or so. I guess we don't have a choice but to watch..."

Malia knew that what he said was true. She could try to ignore the sight, but she doubted that would last long. Horror and confusion kept her rooted to the spot, kept her eyes upon the hideous, frightening sight in front of her. The smell of death hung plainly in the air, along with German shouting and pleading in every language in Europe. It could all be heard, in this little place.

Malia had never been the emotional type, but she could start to feel something behind her eyes and in her heart. She could feel the tears that were sure to come soon.

"Look at – look at all the kids," she whispered, as three rotted, unrecognisable children were thrown into the death hole, their faces thrown into clarity as the light from the lamps shone upon their scabbed faces. "There's too many... too many..."

"I know..." Zavier muttered back. He sounded very grim.

"How are they killing them so quickly?" Malia said aloud. "So many people in so little time?"

Although Malia had her back to him, she felt that Zavier was about to respond but didn't. She ignored this. The sight in front of her was too ghastly.

It continued for almost half an hour. More bodies were shoved into the broad hole and the sound of gunshots racked at the air like foghorns. The more Malia watched, the darker the world seemed to become. The stars seemed to have paused their twinkling and winking, gradually fading out as dark clouds overshadowed them. The bright light emitted from torches and lampposts appeared more dark-blue than yellow all of a sudden. The ground beneath Malia's bony feet was filled with more bones than ever, no life, not even a mouse or a rat, willing to show itself.

Malia heard as one of the German guards shouted something into the chilly night air.

"Das ist alles! Starten Sie das Brennen!"

"They're about to start," Zavier whispered to Malia from across the fence. "They're about to set fire to them..."

The next thing that happened seemed to happen in the tiniest fraction of a second. The tiniest space of time possible. Malia turned her head to the bodies. A large torch turned towards the bodies, and there it lay. A tiny, innocent body, completely naked. Completely naked except for a cute, little, dark blue fedora perched upon her head, abstract from the pale bodies around it.

Malia gasped in absolute, disgusted and fearful horror. It was a noise she didn't think she'd ever make. Zavier said something, but she didn't hear, because everything was blocked out. A flame was chucked into the hole and everything was aflame. Everything was on fire, and suddenly everything was boiling hot. The beautiful fedora was still barely visible, perched innocently among a sea of fire. But next second, more flames erupted, and the fedora was gone.

"NO!" Malia shouted into the night, "NO THIS CAN'T BE! NO! WHAT HAVE I DONE? WHAT HAVE I DONE!"

She broke down into hysterical, noisy, hopeless tears, and fell down onto the floor, laying by the fence. Zavier was saying something once again, but her ears weren't working. Her mind wasn't working. Nothing was working. The only thing her brain seemed to know was that it was her fault. The innocent, little girl, that only wanted help, was thrown into flames, and it was all because of Malia.

"NO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" she was sobbing. Her screams were of someone being tortured on a level of mentality barely understood. "IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I KNOW IT, I KNOW IT!"

"Malia," Zavier shouted loudly. Her brain finally recognised his voice, and took meaning from his words. She forced herself to stop yelling, but she was sobbing so horribly that this didn't change much. She felt like she was among the flames, like she was being burned. Only she was alive, and could feel the pain of it all. She was alive, and it was horrible. She was guilty. She had to live with this guilt. It was all her fault. Every time she tried to help someone, it just made things worse. So, so much worse.

And for the first time in so long, for the first time since she was four years old, she wanted to be hugged, to be cradled, like a child trapped in the dark. She wanted to hear re-assuring words that would whisper to her things that weren't true. She didn't care if they weren't true. She just wanted to be soothed. The flames inside her needed to be wiped out, but they were only getting worse and worse.

"Zavier," she sobbed, crying harder than ever. "Tout est de ma faute, tout est de ma faute..."

"I know," he whispered soothingly. He put a long, thin finger through the wired fence and stroked Malia's hair softly where she lay, still sobbing, tears spilling down upon the dirt-filled floor. "I know..."

"J'aurais dû faire quelque chose..." she whimpered, sounding like a dog suffering from a horrid injury.

"It's going to be okay," Zavier said more quietly still. "Everything's going to be okay..."

And then suddenly a new emotion played in Malia's death-filled heart. More than anything in that moment, she wanted Zavier to hug her, to comfort her. To come across the stupid fence and hold her in his arms. She sought comfort, but not just anyone's. His. His comfort. And it was something she'd never get.

The flames, both in the corpse hole and inside Malia, climbed steadily taller, the smoke blinding and choking. Any sound that anyone made would've been swallowed by the sound of the erupting flames. The image flashed before Malia's eyes, stronger and more detailed each and every time. An innocent girl. A lovely fedora, surrounded by an atmosphere of red, yellow and orange. A drop of blue upon an everlasting fire. Almost a symbol of innocence, surrounded by all the hate, evil and horror of the reality of the world. A world that Malia wanted to leave forever. A world that was so wrong, so horribly wrong, that it was a wonder that there was still happiness out there, somewhere.

"Zavier..." she whispered, raising a weak, trembling hand and placing it somewhere upon the wired surface of the fence. She felt that if he left the entire world would cave in and nothing would ever be happy again. She felt that she'd turn insane if he wasn't by her side.

"I'm still here," he whispered back, gently placing his head where Malia's hand lay on the fence. He was no longer stroking her hair, and was instead just sitting next to her, giving her company. Perhaps giving her hope. "I'm not going anywhere..."

Malia closed her eyes, but nothing could block out the sound of the erupting, furious flames, licking the air around them and burning the bodies of the dead and innocent. This was a place of absolute, pure terror. She could never last another day here. She could never last another hour here. Another minute. But she was going to, because she didn't have a choice. Childishly, she hoped that there were people out there, trying to save them, but that was impossible. No-one knew about this place. They were stuck here forever.

It seemed to take an entire lifetime: Malia lay there with Zavier, feeling as if the sound of the flames was actually piercing into her skin and setting all her nerves on fire. Zavier stood by, even though he couldn't possibly understand what had just happened. How could he? Malia never told him about the little girl. But finally, oh finally, the noise began to slow down to a halt. It began to cease and, gradually, the bright light seeping through Malia's closed eyelids became darker and darker, until it was pitch black. Malia opened her eyes.

There were no more bodies in front of her. Just ash. No fedora. No little girl. Nothing. It was all gone.

"Malia..."

"I know."

She was breathing rather heavily, but she was no longer crying. Her mind felt oddly blank, but yet she still felt the pain of what she'd just witnessed.

With an extreme amount of energy, Malia lifted herself off the ground and sat next to the fence, face to face with Zavier. He was looking desperately at Malia, clearly hoping for some sort of explanation.

"Are... are you alright?" he said.

"Yes," Malia nodded, not telling the truth, but not really knowing if she'd be able to put her emotions into words. "I'm... better."

Zavier sighed deeply, then said, "Could you explain what just happened? Or is it too hard?"

"Um..." Malia said. "I think I can tell you. It – it happened a few days ago. Before I met you..."

And so Malia began re-living the day she had met the little girl to Zavier. She told him how she had spotted the girl's blue fedora, and how it confused her, since all clothes were given straight to the guards. She explained how a stern woman and a Nazi guard appeared and ordered that the girl be sent to the showers.

"'Showers' must be some kind of code-word, or something," Malia said weakly. "I just thought I was helping the leetle girl."

"Showers is a code-word," Zavier muttered very grimly. He had both hands on the fence and was looking downward. "There are no showers here. They meant gas-chambers."

Malia was quite certain that she had misheard him.

"They meant what?" Malia said.

"Gas-chambers," Zavier said again. "Remember how you wondered how they're killing everyone so quickly? That's how. With the gas-chambers."

"How do they work?" Malia said quickly, leaning in closer and giving Zavier her fullest attention.

"You don't want to know," he said, shaking his head.

"Zavier," said Malia harshly. "Tell me."

He looked up with a strange darkness in his eyes. Something Malia hadn't ever seen before. He usually had a soothing, calm, bright look in his eyes, but this time Malia could only see dark tunnels.

"Alright, I'll tell you," he muttered. "They say they're sending prisoners to the showers and they take them to the 'thin building' instead. They take all the prisoners' clothes and belongings, then they put them in a chamber and then they pelt down toxic gasses into the chamber. Then the prisoners are poisoned to death from breathing in the air."

He had said it in such a monotone, dead voice, and as he said it Malia felt like something inside her was dying. She felt her body shivering and her heart beating so fast it was bound to explode. Her mind whizzed in all directions as disturbing images flashed all over her mind. So that's where she sent the innocent little girl. That's where so many people were being sent right now.

"They just die?" Malia whispered. "Just like that?"

"It takes a while," Zavier said quietly. "I told you – twenty minutes or so. They don't always do that though. Sometimes they suck all the oxygen out the room, and everyone suffocates to death."

"Stop!" Malia said. "Stop! I can't 'ear it anymore! It's my fault! It's my fault that the little girl is dead!"

"Malia, if you tried to hide her, both of you would've been murdered," Zavier said. "It doesn't change anything. We're all meant to die here in the end. There aren't meant to be any survivors."

It was the cold, hard truth. This place wasn't designed for any survivors. Anyone that was sent here was supposed to die. That's how it worked. No mistakes. No errors. No flaw in any system. Except...

"'Ow did she keep the fedora?" Malia said quietly to herself.

"What?"

"Her fedora," Malia said again. "You just said – all the prisoners' clothes are given to ze guards. Not 'er fedora. She somehow took it in the – the chambers with 'er."

"Why does it matter?" Zavier asked rather harshly. "She's dead either way."

"It matters," Malia said clearly, "because eet's a flaw in the system. She wasn't supposed to have that fedora when she entered zis place, and she most certainly wasn't supposed to die with it. It's proof. It's proof that ze system isn't perfect."

"I don't understand you," Zavier said, but Malia wasn't listening. Finally, finally, she understood Ella's words. Ella was right. What seems impossible is only impossible because that's how it's perceived. Nothing is perfect. An escape, a full-fledged escape, was not impossible. Why did it have to take watching an innocent girl burn in flames for Malia to see that? The fedora, the blue fedora, was proof that resistance wasn't impossible.

"Ella wants me to meet her," Malia said, "because she wants to escape from here. And she knows 'ow as well. I know eet. She's going to get us out of here," she turned to Zavier, who was looking suddenly alone on his side of the fence. "You're coming too," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't care what Ella says, you're coming as well," said Malia. "I don't care if she needs to re-write whatever plan she may have, you're coming with us."

"I, Malia, I don't think –"

"We just saw hundreds of innocent people be burned to ashes," Malia said. "'Ow can we stay after zat? 'Ow are you going to survive here? You won't. That's why you must come with us."

Zavier smiled a small smile.

"I'm flattered, Malia."

"This is supposed to happen," Malia said with dead certainty. "You'll come with us to Albas and you'll live with us."

Zavier's smile grew a little bigger.

"Stop, you're making me blush."

"Oh sorry," Malia said sarcastically. Again, they both laughed, both lost in their own thoughts.

The thought of leaving this place, with Zavier, was exceptional, but it suddenly became so much more defined and realistic after hearing Ella's voice. Because Malia was certain that her little sister was cooking up a plan, and she was even more certain that this plan was going to work.

Just then, Zavier yawned, but attempted to stifle it by putting his hand in his mouth.

"Are you tired?" Malia said quickly, not very easily fooled.

"No, I – it's okay –" he began.

"Don't worry," said Malia. "You should probably get some sleep. I won't be 'ere in ze morning, but I should be back by... I suppose midday, give or take. Be sure to meet me here. Hopefully Ella would have told me the plan by then..."

"I... okay Malia," he grinned. "See you then."

He got up to leave, but Malia suddenly got a desire to do something she'd never had a desire to do before.

"Zavier!" she called. Zavier turned, a metre away from the fence. She beckoned him to come with her finger. He returned and sat on the ground, an expression of curiosity playing on his face.

"What is it?"

"Lean in," she said. Zavier leaned towards the fence and, when his face was close enough, Malia gave him a little kiss on the cheek, only just managing with the fence in the way. Malia pulled back, beaming at him.

"Without you I wouldn't 'ave ever solved that clue," she said. "We're going to get out of 'ere. Together"

She got up from the ground and turned back towards her hiding spot, Zavier rooted to the spot where he sat. From the darkness she said, "I promise. If it's the last thing we do. Now get some sleep."

She ran into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness, Zavier not moving an inch from where he sat.