The Children’s Train

A Nazi officer with narrow dark eyes stomped onto the train filled with frightened children. The nametag on his uniform read Becker. He swung his club randomly, pounding the seats and the walls. The children started and froze with the tension of terror infused in the very air they breathed when a Nazi officer was nearby.

The club landed hard against a suitcase and hit Noah, hidden amongst the baggage. A startled, muffled groan erupted.

Becker slowly stepped back. The silence of the train amplified his footsteps. He glanced around the luggage. Then he reached up and yanked Noah out from behind the bags. “Sneaky Jew, huh? Can’t be trusted. You’re off this train!”

As the children watched, Becker dragged Noah down the aisle by his collar. Marla, who had stepped onto the train, ran over. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Tried to stow away,” Becker said, holding Noah out like a wayward dog caught in a spilled garbage bin.

Marla reached for Noah. “I’ll take care of him.”

“No, this little swine needs to be taught a lesson,” Becker said.

Marla panicked. She looked over at Noah, so tiny, but standing so straight, his eyes clear and brimming with defiance. He was a boy with nothing left but his courage.