Chapter 1 The Camp
The winter wind bit my skin as tiny flecks of snow battered against my face. The temperature was unknown since there were no thermometers to be seen, but it was cold enough to take away all feeling in my hands and feet. As I shoveled coal from the endless mound into the mine cart, I looked around me at the miserable faces of the prisoners of the camp. They were sunken, shallow faces, without purpose, without the colour of life. The camp guards watching over our work had faces of stone, blocking emotion and compassion from ever being glimpsed. All around us, the snowy mountains loomed overhead, my home town a few miles on the other side. I knew of only one place to escape, a small hole in the fence that only a few prisoners knew of and it was just behind the guard barracks; impossible to get to. Even if someone managed to get through, there was no escaping the wild. My younger brother Omri, staring blankly at his work was laboring beside me. To get into this working section of the camp, he had to lie about his age or else he would have been of no use... like our parents who had become old and frail from being overworked. He said, on our first day, that he was eighteen, when he was not yet fifteen; still a child.
At ten o'clock in the morning, after working for five hours, the breakfast bell rang. "Move, you dogs!" shouted the guards from all angles of the compound. We did as we were told, and ran to the entrance in the food hall to be counted before entering. Our names were read off a long list. Today, no one was missing, which was good because that meant we were allowed to eat. Single file, we shuffled into the large, ominous hall, lit by quivering ceiling lamps, to receive our meal; a slice of bread and a small bowl of soup. We had been spoiled that day and were given a full slice of bread, instead of a half. "Eat up," I said to Omri. "What's the use?" he replied, "There is selection tomorrow and I can barely lift a shovel. I have no chance". It was true that his strength was waning noticeably, but I would not allow him to lose hope. I embraced him tightly and spoke into his ear, "You must never give up hope. That is the one thing father told us never to allow each other to do".
After another tiring day of work, I lay in my bunk beside Omri and stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet moans of sleeping prisoners, perhaps dreaming of life before the war. A time when one was paid for their work, a time where food was abundant and happiness was seen in almost every face in town, a time where families sat together and talked not of survival, but of life and the joy it brings with it. But that seemed so long ago. "What time do you think it is?" whispered Omri. "I don't know. Maybe ten or eleven," I whispered back. "It doesn't matter, just try to get some sleep. You will need your energy tomorrow." There was a minutes silence, then Omri said quietly, "Do you think mother and father are happy? Wherever they are"? It took me a moment to collect myself and, on the verge of bursting into tears, to give him my answer, "Yes, they are happy. They are in a good place". Omri sniffled back, "I want to be somewhere good, like them". I turned to face him, "We will be with them someday Omri, but not yet. Not yet".
Chapter 2 The selection
The next morning was full of arduous work again, just as it always was. The weather was in a bad mood, whipping up snow and slicing the air with ferocious strength. Perhaps it knew of the horrible happenings just after breakfast. I wish I had known, for then I would have been better prepared. At nine o'clock the assembly bell rang, earlier than usual. The guards must have been anxious to get "the selection" over sooner so they could get on with their day. Each name was read off the same list as yesterday but this time, instead of going inside to receive our ration of food, we formed a single file line heading to the hospital tent. When someone was called, he would walk to the end of the line, just behind the one who was called before him. I saw a man, maybe fifty or sixty walk up just before us. He was small and withered, eyes sunken, with a skeletal face. I knew he would not pass the selection. I had to forget him, my only focus was on making sure that Omri and I passed. We had to stick together at all costs.
The wind stirred up harder than ever and at one point I almost hoped I could get to the medical tent to keep warm. I immediately forgot that wish when I remembered what we were here for. When it was a prisoner's turn to be called up, he would walk forward to the doctors to be examined, trying to look as big and strong as possible all the while. If you passed and were deemed fit to continue work you were ticked off of the list and sent to the right, out of the tent. If you were too weak, and too small in the doctor's eyes, you were sent to the left, to stand in the corner of the tent and await instruction. No one needed to be told what was going to happen to them, they already knew. If you were unfit to work, the camp had no more use for you, and you would be executed; sometimes by firing squad; sometimes in the crematorium. I shuddered to think of either of these fates and couldn't bear to think of how Omri must feel.
As our turn neared, we entered the tent and I could see the crowd of poor souls in the left corner. Some were crying, some were shaking uncontrollably, and some were staring at nothing, already lost. Our turn was only a few away. I watched an old man become separated from his son as he was sent to the left, his son to the right. "No!" he cried, "Don't send me away, I can still work! I am healthy, see"? His ranting was pointless and after a few more seconds of shouting he was hit on the back of the head by a guard's rifle butt, knocked out. His son was weeping as he was dragged to the right by his fellow prisoners, knowing that he too would receive the same treatment if he didn't calm down.
The wind became even stronger now, lifting up the entrance flaps of the tent, sending a rush of cold air inside. I didn't feel the change at all. My heart was too weak and tired to be focusing on anything other than the next selection, for it was... "Omri"! My younger brother stepped forward, shaking with fear. "Don't quiver, look strong," I told him quietly, to no use, he was terrified beyond reasoning. After a minutes examination, the doctor proclaimed, "Too weak, to the left," as an X was drawn beside his name. "No!" I shouted. My heart was pounding. What was I to do? I would not let Omri be taken from me, that was certain. I took a hard step toward him, unsure of my plan entirely. A rifle was jammed into my face, "Get back, dog!" barked the guard holding the gun. I didn't care about rules, or safety or my life anymore, I needed to get to my brother. Just before I was about to leap at the man, an enormous gust of wind tore the tent right up from the ground! Cries and shouts arose from all angles, as pandemonium struck. A large tent peg came hurtling toward the guard in front of me and hit him in the face with the force of baseball bat, sending him and his weapon sprawling to the ground. In those few second my life came to a standstill, as I stood frozen in shock. Only for a second though, as I ran to get to Omri. "Take my hand!" I shouted above the noise and confusion and together we ran, rifle fire following us through the snow storm. After about twenty yards, I took a quick glance behind me, to check that no one was chasing us. The snow was so thick that I couldn't even see the group from the selection. I wondered if a higher power was aiding our escape, for that is what it had become. If we went back, my brother and I would both be shot. We stood, immobilized in the storm, adrenaline the only thing keeping the two of us from freezing. I weighed my options. Where were we to go? Then I remembered, the hole in the fence by the guard barracks! It was risky but most of the guards were out at the selection, caught in the storm, and it was the only way out. We ran on, toward the north end of the camp, toward our chance of escape.
It was a miracle we were able to find it in the flurry of snow all around us. A few times I had to stop and think about where we were since there was no chance of seeing the barracks at a long distance. Omri and I crept around the side of the concrete building, our footsteps muffled by the sound of the raging wind. When we reached the back I saw the small hole. No wonder no one knew about it, it was going to be a challenge to fit through, without hitting the electric fence. I took a quick look around to make sure no one was nearby, and that is when I saw a big brown bag, leaning against the back wall of the barracks. "Hold on," I told Omri, as I made my way over to the bag. My fingers shaking from the cold, I untied the knot holding the bag shut and looked inside. Old prisoner uniforms. Why would there be prison uniforms back here? They were definitely not new for I could see the dirt covering them. This was odd because we were told on arrival, while being handed our uniforms, that these clothes would be the only ones we would get and there were no extras. Who, on this camp had no need for their uniform? Then it hit me. And a tear fell from my face as I realized that these belonged to the ones who had left this place, but not out the front gate. These belonged to the dead. It sickened my stomach, but I reached into the bag and grabbed a large handful of the tattered black and white striped uniforms. They would be the difference of our death or survival. "Alright, you first," I told Omri. I needed to make sure he was out before I began worrying about my safety. He wriggled his small frame under the fence, careful not to touch the sides. "Take these," I told him, handing him the uniforms through the gap. "Good thinking," he said as he took the bundle. I crouched down and moved forward on my hands and knees, my fingers freezing on the icy-cold ground. With just my feet to bring through, I heard shouts from the other side of the barracks. Then three soldiers came around to the back, where we were! "There they are!" one of them exclaimed, the same guard who had confronted me at the selection. "GO!", I screamed at my brother. He scrambled to his feet and ran off into the trees, taking the bundle of uniforms with him. I took off after him as fast as my legs would take me. The first guard was trying to fit through the gap in the fence but his insulated jacket was too bulky to let him pass. The other two took aim with their rifles and began firing shots after me. I felt the air of a bullet pass by my ear and another rip a hole in my baggy pant leg. With bullets ricocheting ahead of me and the shouts of the guards and Omri's cries of desperate encouragement, I reached the safety of the trees. I took a quick look back to see the furious guards shouting at each other. We had escaped the camp, but our survival in the unforgiving wild had begun.
Chapter 3 Nature, the Unforgiving Foe
We trudged on through the thick snow, the gentle wind nipping our heels. I was thankful that the storm had died down enough, to allow us to see where we were going. We must have been walking for the entire day because dusk had fallen, blanketing us in darkness. I knew if we kept heading North we would reach the mountains and home on the other side. Finally I said, "Alright, let's rest here a minute". We huddled together beneath a low hanging tree to figure out what we were going to do. "Lets see those uniforms; some of them might be in good condition," I said to Omri with my hand outstretched. I was wrong, for not a single one was left without at least three rips and tears. A fine way to respect the last possessions of the dead. There were four in total, so I gave two to Omri, leaving two for myself to squeeze into. I had trouble putting the second uniform on because it was so small. It didn't matter to me then, but looking back, I realize that it must have belonged to someone very small, a young child... "What are we going to do?" asked Omri. I honestly had no idea of what we were to do from there. We had some warmth, but not enough, Omri's lips were turning blue. "We need to make a fire," I stated. "You go find some sticks and some rocks and I will prepare the fire pit".
The fire pit turned out to be only about a foot and a half in diameter with rocks surrounding the small twigs that were to be the pitiful kindling. It took two hours of Omri and I taking turns smacking rocks together to create a spark, that only sputtered and died within a few seconds. My brother began to cry softly. His sobbing would be barely audible above the wind to any person to pass by, but that night, it was all I could hear.
The sun was just making its way over the snow-peaked mountains when I awoke. Omri was next to me, curled up into a ball, sleeping. His face was drained of colour and his breath was becoming shaky and weak. "Omri, its time to go," I said quietly. He stirred and finally got up. Now that he was awake, it became clearer to me that he was not well at all. "Have some snow, it will be your water on our trip," I told him, trying to cheer him up. Idiot, he doesn't need snow, he needs food! I thought angrily to myself. In these woods, at this time of year, there was little hope of finding any. "C'mon," I encouraged, "let's get moving".
We continued our journey through the wild, occasionally stopping to sit, eat snow and catch our breath. What I wouldn't have given to be back at the camp, with a warm bowl of soup and a piece of bread. After walking for a few hours, we came upon a river, about fifty yards long. The water was completely frozen, a giant sheet of ice stretching as far as we could see. "There's no other way around," I said, "The mountains are straight ahead". I took a precautionary step onto the ice to test its sturdiness; it seemed to hold my weight. I took another step; and another. The ice creaked like an old wooden chair under too much strain, but there was no other way. We began to cross the river. The wind chilled my bones, stiffening my every movement. When we were about halfway there, my foot slipped and struck the ice hard enough to break the surface. I quickly brought it back up, the shock of the icy temperature paralyzing me for a moment. Luckily, I had not gone in after my foot. Omri was not so lucky. "Are you alright?" he asked and came running over to me, which is when the ice underneath him gave way and he plunged down into the water. "Omri!" I screamed as I slid over to him on my belly, just in time to grab his hand before he was shot away downstream. I struggled with all my might to bring him back above the surface, but the current was incredibly strong. At last I saw his other hand shoot up out of the water and I grabbed it. I pulled as hard as I could to bring his head above the water, but he was in shock, unable to breathe, face turning purple. I heaved again and brought his body out of the water entirely. He was shaking uncontrollably. "Calm yourself," I said in the most soothing voice I could manage. Together, we walked carefully but quickly to the other side of the river. "Here Omri," I said, giving him my extra uniforms, for his would now only make him even colder if he left them on. I helped him to change, for he was barely able to move. "I know you're not going to like this," I said, "but we need to keep moving so you don't freeze." Omri replied with chattering teeth, "You're right, I don't like it".
It was nearly nightfall by the time we reached the foot of the mountain. We were both exhausted and Omri looked half frozen already. We took shelter under a clump of trees, that allowed a small dry spot where the snow had not yet penetrated through the branches. It seemed like a good spot for a fire, with the dry moss and twigs lying about. Within thirty minutes, there was a small fire popping and sizzling away in the dark, enough to warm our hands and toes at least. Perhaps even big enough to cook some meat, if we had any. I was hungry beyond belief and was sure Omri felt the same. "I'm sorry, Omri," I croaked out, "I should never have led us away from the camp." Omri replied weakly, "I would rather be with you, starving and freezing to death than back at that camp".
Chapter 4 The Climb
Daybreak came at last, bringing with it the subtle warmth of the sun. I clutched at my stomach, groaning with the pain of going without food for so long. I shook Omri to try and wake him... But he didn't stir. When he gave no response on the second nudge, I began to get worried. "Omri, get up!" I pleaded to no avail. I slowly crept over to him, not wanting the likely to be true. After all, we hadn't eaten in two days and the cold of the river must have slowed his heart down to almost no beat at all... There was a pulse, as faint as a feather hitting the ground, but better than nothing. If he would not rise, then I would carry him. We would make it home over this mountain. I lifted his arms and swung them over my shoulder to carry him, with his head and torso slumped over to my right side, his feet over my left. I knew that this could be accomplished, I just had to will myself to do it. I had to climb this mountain. For my parents. For Omri.
The steady incline over the snowy mountain range was not treacherous or steep, just incredibly long, made longer by hunger, fatigue, the cold and a little voice in the back of my head saying over and over that I would not make it, I would fail. The snow hugged my heels, dragging me down harder with every step. The wind had begun to pick up again, pushing me back even further. Omri's weight, slight as it was, was becoming heavier all the while. Out of breath, energy and the will to push forward, I collapsed at the foot of a tree, blocking the wind. Lying there, face down, freezing, everything went black.
The sun was shining brightly above, heating the top of my head where I stood. Surrounding me were stalks of corn, glittering gold and green. I was back home, on the farm where my grandfather and grandmother still lived. A small wooden house stood about fifty yards away, where my grandparents were sitting, watching me with their kind, concerned eyes. "Shall we go home now?" a small voice asked behind me. I turned around to see Omri, still wearing his tattered prison uniform, body all skin and bone. I took his hand in mine and we made our way home through the corn fields. The only problem was that as we walked toward the house, it only got further and further away. "Come on home boys," called our grandparents, almost a hundred yards away. We were running now, desperate to get inside the warm house, to see our family, to eat a warm meal. "We must get home!" I shouted, running flat out, but just then, I felt myself being lifted off the ground, pulled away from my home, my family, my life. "Bring me back!" Omri pleaded, left stranded on the ground, not knowing what to do, helpless. I flailed my body trying to claw my way back to the earth, to no use. I shot into the sky, above the clouds, and out of the world entirely.
I was back on the mountain, my face in the snow. Scrambling to my feet, I hoisted Omri up over my shoulders and continued my climb. I would get us home. All day, I walked steadily up the mountain, only stopping to look down to see my progress. The ground was getting further and further away, meaning I was getting closer and closer to the top. My legs urged me to rest awhile, but I knew that if I stopped now, I would never get up again. After walking almost all day, I could see the sky beyond the next ridge. I was almost there. Just a few more steps, just a few more, I kept telling myself. Omri had become an elephant on my back, crushing me, but I would not let him go. The tips of the frosty trees were in sight. Almost there. With the final steps that my body would allow, I stepped up onto the ridge and looked out onto the valley where I knew our family would be waiting. "Look Omri, we are home," I said. I felt a movement on my back and set my brother down beside me. As I smiled for the first time in two years, we gazed together at our goal that we had fought to reach. We had made it. We were home.
The winter wind bit my skin as tiny flecks of snow battered against my face. The temperature was unknown since there were no thermometers to be seen, but it was cold enough to take away all feeling in my hands and feet. As I shoveled coal from the endless mound into the mine cart, I looked around me at the miserable faces of the prisoners of the camp. They were sunken, shallow faces, without purpose, without the colour of life. The camp guards watching over our work had faces of stone, blocking emotion and compassion from ever being glimpsed. All around us, the snowy mountains loomed overhead, my home town a few miles on the other side. I knew of only one place to escape, a small hole in the fence that only a few prisoners knew of and it was just behind the guard barracks; impossible to get to. Even if someone managed to get through, there was no escaping the wild. My younger brother Omri, staring blankly at his work was laboring beside me. To get into this working section of the camp, he had to lie about his age or else he would have been of no use... like our parents who had become old and frail from being overworked. He said, on our first day, that he was eighteen, when he was not yet fifteen; still a child.
At ten o'clock in the morning, after working for five hours, the breakfast bell rang. "Move, you dogs!" shouted the guards from all angles of the compound. We did as we were told, and ran to the entrance in the food hall to be counted before entering. Our names were read off a long list. Today, no one was missing, which was good because that meant we were allowed to eat. Single file, we shuffled into the large, ominous hall, lit by quivering ceiling lamps, to receive our meal; a slice of bread and a small bowl of soup. We had been spoiled that day and were given a full slice of bread, instead of a half. "Eat up," I said to Omri. "What's the use?" he replied, "There is selection tomorrow and I can barely lift a shovel. I have no chance". It was true that his strength was waning noticeably, but I would not allow him to lose hope. I embraced him tightly and spoke into his ear, "You must never give up hope. That is the one thing father told us never to allow each other to do".
After another tiring day of work, I lay in my bunk beside Omri and stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet moans of sleeping prisoners, perhaps dreaming of life before the war. A time when one was paid for their work, a time where food was abundant and happiness was seen in almost every face in town, a time where families sat together and talked not of survival, but of life and the joy it brings with it. But that seemed so long ago. "What time do you think it is?" whispered Omri. "I don't know. Maybe ten or eleven," I whispered back. "It doesn't matter, just try to get some sleep. You will need your energy tomorrow." There was a minutes silence, then Omri said quietly, "Do you think mother and father are happy? Wherever they are"? It took me a moment to collect myself and, on the verge of bursting into tears, to give him my answer, "Yes, they are happy. They are in a good place". Omri sniffled back, "I want to be somewhere good, like them". I turned to face him, "We will be with them someday Omri, but not yet. Not yet".
Chapter 2 The selection
The next morning was full of arduous work again, just as it always was. The weather was in a bad mood, whipping up snow and slicing the air with ferocious strength. Perhaps it knew of the horrible happenings just after breakfast. I wish I had known, for then I would have been better prepared. At nine o'clock the assembly bell rang, earlier than usual. The guards must have been anxious to get "the selection" over sooner so they could get on with their day. Each name was read off the same list as yesterday but this time, instead of going inside to receive our ration of food, we formed a single file line heading to the hospital tent. When someone was called, he would walk to the end of the line, just behind the one who was called before him. I saw a man, maybe fifty or sixty walk up just before us. He was small and withered, eyes sunken, with a skeletal face. I knew he would not pass the selection. I had to forget him, my only focus was on making sure that Omri and I passed. We had to stick together at all costs.
The wind stirred up harder than ever and at one point I almost hoped I could get to the medical tent to keep warm. I immediately forgot that wish when I remembered what we were here for. When it was a prisoner's turn to be called up, he would walk forward to the doctors to be examined, trying to look as big and strong as possible all the while. If you passed and were deemed fit to continue work you were ticked off of the list and sent to the right, out of the tent. If you were too weak, and too small in the doctor's eyes, you were sent to the left, to stand in the corner of the tent and await instruction. No one needed to be told what was going to happen to them, they already knew. If you were unfit to work, the camp had no more use for you, and you would be executed; sometimes by firing squad; sometimes in the crematorium. I shuddered to think of either of these fates and couldn't bear to think of how Omri must feel.
As our turn neared, we entered the tent and I could see the crowd of poor souls in the left corner. Some were crying, some were shaking uncontrollably, and some were staring at nothing, already lost. Our turn was only a few away. I watched an old man become separated from his son as he was sent to the left, his son to the right. "No!" he cried, "Don't send me away, I can still work! I am healthy, see"? His ranting was pointless and after a few more seconds of shouting he was hit on the back of the head by a guard's rifle butt, knocked out. His son was weeping as he was dragged to the right by his fellow prisoners, knowing that he too would receive the same treatment if he didn't calm down.
The wind became even stronger now, lifting up the entrance flaps of the tent, sending a rush of cold air inside. I didn't feel the change at all. My heart was too weak and tired to be focusing on anything other than the next selection, for it was... "Omri"! My younger brother stepped forward, shaking with fear. "Don't quiver, look strong," I told him quietly, to no use, he was terrified beyond reasoning. After a minutes examination, the doctor proclaimed, "Too weak, to the left," as an X was drawn beside his name. "No!" I shouted. My heart was pounding. What was I to do? I would not let Omri be taken from me, that was certain. I took a hard step toward him, unsure of my plan entirely. A rifle was jammed into my face, "Get back, dog!" barked the guard holding the gun. I didn't care about rules, or safety or my life anymore, I needed to get to my brother. Just before I was about to leap at the man, an enormous gust of wind tore the tent right up from the ground! Cries and shouts arose from all angles, as pandemonium struck. A large tent peg came hurtling toward the guard in front of me and hit him in the face with the force of baseball bat, sending him and his weapon sprawling to the ground. In those few second my life came to a standstill, as I stood frozen in shock. Only for a second though, as I ran to get to Omri. "Take my hand!" I shouted above the noise and confusion and together we ran, rifle fire following us through the snow storm. After about twenty yards, I took a quick glance behind me, to check that no one was chasing us. The snow was so thick that I couldn't even see the group from the selection. I wondered if a higher power was aiding our escape, for that is what it had become. If we went back, my brother and I would both be shot. We stood, immobilized in the storm, adrenaline the only thing keeping the two of us from freezing. I weighed my options. Where were we to go? Then I remembered, the hole in the fence by the guard barracks! It was risky but most of the guards were out at the selection, caught in the storm, and it was the only way out. We ran on, toward the north end of the camp, toward our chance of escape.
It was a miracle we were able to find it in the flurry of snow all around us. A few times I had to stop and think about where we were since there was no chance of seeing the barracks at a long distance. Omri and I crept around the side of the concrete building, our footsteps muffled by the sound of the raging wind. When we reached the back I saw the small hole. No wonder no one knew about it, it was going to be a challenge to fit through, without hitting the electric fence. I took a quick look around to make sure no one was nearby, and that is when I saw a big brown bag, leaning against the back wall of the barracks. "Hold on," I told Omri, as I made my way over to the bag. My fingers shaking from the cold, I untied the knot holding the bag shut and looked inside. Old prisoner uniforms. Why would there be prison uniforms back here? They were definitely not new for I could see the dirt covering them. This was odd because we were told on arrival, while being handed our uniforms, that these clothes would be the only ones we would get and there were no extras. Who, on this camp had no need for their uniform? Then it hit me. And a tear fell from my face as I realized that these belonged to the ones who had left this place, but not out the front gate. These belonged to the dead. It sickened my stomach, but I reached into the bag and grabbed a large handful of the tattered black and white striped uniforms. They would be the difference of our death or survival. "Alright, you first," I told Omri. I needed to make sure he was out before I began worrying about my safety. He wriggled his small frame under the fence, careful not to touch the sides. "Take these," I told him, handing him the uniforms through the gap. "Good thinking," he said as he took the bundle. I crouched down and moved forward on my hands and knees, my fingers freezing on the icy-cold ground. With just my feet to bring through, I heard shouts from the other side of the barracks. Then three soldiers came around to the back, where we were! "There they are!" one of them exclaimed, the same guard who had confronted me at the selection. "GO!", I screamed at my brother. He scrambled to his feet and ran off into the trees, taking the bundle of uniforms with him. I took off after him as fast as my legs would take me. The first guard was trying to fit through the gap in the fence but his insulated jacket was too bulky to let him pass. The other two took aim with their rifles and began firing shots after me. I felt the air of a bullet pass by my ear and another rip a hole in my baggy pant leg. With bullets ricocheting ahead of me and the shouts of the guards and Omri's cries of desperate encouragement, I reached the safety of the trees. I took a quick look back to see the furious guards shouting at each other. We had escaped the camp, but our survival in the unforgiving wild had begun.
Chapter 3 Nature, the Unforgiving Foe
We trudged on through the thick snow, the gentle wind nipping our heels. I was thankful that the storm had died down enough, to allow us to see where we were going. We must have been walking for the entire day because dusk had fallen, blanketing us in darkness. I knew if we kept heading North we would reach the mountains and home on the other side. Finally I said, "Alright, let's rest here a minute". We huddled together beneath a low hanging tree to figure out what we were going to do. "Lets see those uniforms; some of them might be in good condition," I said to Omri with my hand outstretched. I was wrong, for not a single one was left without at least three rips and tears. A fine way to respect the last possessions of the dead. There were four in total, so I gave two to Omri, leaving two for myself to squeeze into. I had trouble putting the second uniform on because it was so small. It didn't matter to me then, but looking back, I realize that it must have belonged to someone very small, a young child... "What are we going to do?" asked Omri. I honestly had no idea of what we were to do from there. We had some warmth, but not enough, Omri's lips were turning blue. "We need to make a fire," I stated. "You go find some sticks and some rocks and I will prepare the fire pit".
The fire pit turned out to be only about a foot and a half in diameter with rocks surrounding the small twigs that were to be the pitiful kindling. It took two hours of Omri and I taking turns smacking rocks together to create a spark, that only sputtered and died within a few seconds. My brother began to cry softly. His sobbing would be barely audible above the wind to any person to pass by, but that night, it was all I could hear.
The sun was just making its way over the snow-peaked mountains when I awoke. Omri was next to me, curled up into a ball, sleeping. His face was drained of colour and his breath was becoming shaky and weak. "Omri, its time to go," I said quietly. He stirred and finally got up. Now that he was awake, it became clearer to me that he was not well at all. "Have some snow, it will be your water on our trip," I told him, trying to cheer him up. Idiot, he doesn't need snow, he needs food! I thought angrily to myself. In these woods, at this time of year, there was little hope of finding any. "C'mon," I encouraged, "let's get moving".
We continued our journey through the wild, occasionally stopping to sit, eat snow and catch our breath. What I wouldn't have given to be back at the camp, with a warm bowl of soup and a piece of bread. After walking for a few hours, we came upon a river, about fifty yards long. The water was completely frozen, a giant sheet of ice stretching as far as we could see. "There's no other way around," I said, "The mountains are straight ahead". I took a precautionary step onto the ice to test its sturdiness; it seemed to hold my weight. I took another step; and another. The ice creaked like an old wooden chair under too much strain, but there was no other way. We began to cross the river. The wind chilled my bones, stiffening my every movement. When we were about halfway there, my foot slipped and struck the ice hard enough to break the surface. I quickly brought it back up, the shock of the icy temperature paralyzing me for a moment. Luckily, I had not gone in after my foot. Omri was not so lucky. "Are you alright?" he asked and came running over to me, which is when the ice underneath him gave way and he plunged down into the water. "Omri!" I screamed as I slid over to him on my belly, just in time to grab his hand before he was shot away downstream. I struggled with all my might to bring him back above the surface, but the current was incredibly strong. At last I saw his other hand shoot up out of the water and I grabbed it. I pulled as hard as I could to bring his head above the water, but he was in shock, unable to breathe, face turning purple. I heaved again and brought his body out of the water entirely. He was shaking uncontrollably. "Calm yourself," I said in the most soothing voice I could manage. Together, we walked carefully but quickly to the other side of the river. "Here Omri," I said, giving him my extra uniforms, for his would now only make him even colder if he left them on. I helped him to change, for he was barely able to move. "I know you're not going to like this," I said, "but we need to keep moving so you don't freeze." Omri replied with chattering teeth, "You're right, I don't like it".
It was nearly nightfall by the time we reached the foot of the mountain. We were both exhausted and Omri looked half frozen already. We took shelter under a clump of trees, that allowed a small dry spot where the snow had not yet penetrated through the branches. It seemed like a good spot for a fire, with the dry moss and twigs lying about. Within thirty minutes, there was a small fire popping and sizzling away in the dark, enough to warm our hands and toes at least. Perhaps even big enough to cook some meat, if we had any. I was hungry beyond belief and was sure Omri felt the same. "I'm sorry, Omri," I croaked out, "I should never have led us away from the camp." Omri replied weakly, "I would rather be with you, starving and freezing to death than back at that camp".
Chapter 4 The Climb
Daybreak came at last, bringing with it the subtle warmth of the sun. I clutched at my stomach, groaning with the pain of going without food for so long. I shook Omri to try and wake him... But he didn't stir. When he gave no response on the second nudge, I began to get worried. "Omri, get up!" I pleaded to no avail. I slowly crept over to him, not wanting the likely to be true. After all, we hadn't eaten in two days and the cold of the river must have slowed his heart down to almost no beat at all... There was a pulse, as faint as a feather hitting the ground, but better than nothing. If he would not rise, then I would carry him. We would make it home over this mountain. I lifted his arms and swung them over my shoulder to carry him, with his head and torso slumped over to my right side, his feet over my left. I knew that this could be accomplished, I just had to will myself to do it. I had to climb this mountain. For my parents. For Omri.
The steady incline over the snowy mountain range was not treacherous or steep, just incredibly long, made longer by hunger, fatigue, the cold and a little voice in the back of my head saying over and over that I would not make it, I would fail. The snow hugged my heels, dragging me down harder with every step. The wind had begun to pick up again, pushing me back even further. Omri's weight, slight as it was, was becoming heavier all the while. Out of breath, energy and the will to push forward, I collapsed at the foot of a tree, blocking the wind. Lying there, face down, freezing, everything went black.
The sun was shining brightly above, heating the top of my head where I stood. Surrounding me were stalks of corn, glittering gold and green. I was back home, on the farm where my grandfather and grandmother still lived. A small wooden house stood about fifty yards away, where my grandparents were sitting, watching me with their kind, concerned eyes. "Shall we go home now?" a small voice asked behind me. I turned around to see Omri, still wearing his tattered prison uniform, body all skin and bone. I took his hand in mine and we made our way home through the corn fields. The only problem was that as we walked toward the house, it only got further and further away. "Come on home boys," called our grandparents, almost a hundred yards away. We were running now, desperate to get inside the warm house, to see our family, to eat a warm meal. "We must get home!" I shouted, running flat out, but just then, I felt myself being lifted off the ground, pulled away from my home, my family, my life. "Bring me back!" Omri pleaded, left stranded on the ground, not knowing what to do, helpless. I flailed my body trying to claw my way back to the earth, to no use. I shot into the sky, above the clouds, and out of the world entirely.
I was back on the mountain, my face in the snow. Scrambling to my feet, I hoisted Omri up over my shoulders and continued my climb. I would get us home. All day, I walked steadily up the mountain, only stopping to look down to see my progress. The ground was getting further and further away, meaning I was getting closer and closer to the top. My legs urged me to rest awhile, but I knew that if I stopped now, I would never get up again. After walking almost all day, I could see the sky beyond the next ridge. I was almost there. Just a few more steps, just a few more, I kept telling myself. Omri had become an elephant on my back, crushing me, but I would not let him go. The tips of the frosty trees were in sight. Almost there. With the final steps that my body would allow, I stepped up onto the ridge and looked out onto the valley where I knew our family would be waiting. "Look Omri, we are home," I said. I felt a movement on my back and set my brother down beside me. As I smiled for the first time in two years, we gazed together at our goal that we had fought to reach. We had made it. We were home.