2019 by Shel Pais. All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Please contact publisher for permission to make copies of any part of this work.
Windy City Publishers
2118 Plum Grove Road, #349
Rolling Meadows, IL 60008
www.windycitypublishers.com
Published in the United States of America
eBook ISBN:
978-1-941478-77-6
Paperback ISBN:
978-1-941478-70-7
Library of Congress Control Number:
2018951078
Cover Design by Nicole Hutton of Cover Shot Creations
WINDY CITY PUBLISHERS
CHICAGO
MY SINCERE THANKS TO MY wonderful family for their incredible love and support throughout this journey from inception to publication. In particular, special thanks to my son Matthew, a professional journalist, for his invaluable assistance. I also want to thank my many friends for their enthusiastic encouragement as well.
A special thanks to Lise and Dawn of Windy City Publishers. Working with them has been a joy, and I am looking forward to a long and mutually successful relationship together.
This book is dedicated to the memory of my beloved mother and father. My father was a Holocaust survivor, and my mothers family fled Russia at the end of the nineteenth century due to persecution.
I also dedicate this book to my late mother-in-law, a Holocaust survivor, who miraculously survived the horrors of Auschwitz, and my late father-in-law, a decorated U.S. medic in WWII.
Finally, a very special dedication in memory of my best friend for almost fifty years, Les Pock, who never got to read the story he was so excited about.
IT ALWAYS STARTED WITH MEN yelling in the street. The crash of broken-down doors and smashed furniture. The screams of frightened women and children. The smell of smoke, and the all-too-familiar smell of death.
Sarah quickly got out of bed and ran to her children in the next room. Get up, get up. Everyone to Jerusalem!
David raised his head, understanding the urgency of his mothers cries. He leapt out of bed and pulled back a corner of the curtain covering the second-story window of the bedroom he shared with his brother Benjamin to glimpse the commotion outside. His friend Samuels house was on fire, so close David could feel the heat. Groups of men moved wildly from house to house. Right now, the mob was three homes away.
Benjamin, get downstairs NOW! he yelled. Benjamin obeyed, running past his brother to get to the first floor. David hurried to the next room where his sister Rachel slept. She was already awake, a frightened look on her face.
David, are they coming for us, too?
David picked her up and carried her down the stairs without saying a word. There was one possible place of safety. Mordecai, Davids father, had built a small shelter underneath the floor in the rear of their house. He secretly had dug it out himself, careful not to let anyone know what he was doing. He had discreetly dispersed the dirt and ensured the family understood the magnitude of this secret. He called the underground haven Jerusalem.
The tumult outside was growing louder. There was no time to lose. David put Rachel down. Help me, David, his mother said. She was trying to keep calm for Benjamin and Rachel, but David knew inside she was panicking.
The opening to Jerusalem was covered by a carpet underneath their dining table. The table was heavy, but David and Sarah somehow found the strength to pick it up and move it just enough to access the opening. David pulled back the carpet and found the indentation his father had cut to be able to lift it up. It sat on pegs that kept it level and secure.
Hurry, his mother said. Down the ladder.
The shelter was small, about six feet deep and eight feet across. It was only designed to hide Sarah and the children. Mordecai always figured he would be home if something happened, and he would get them to safety. This time, however, he had gone to London, believing the quiet in Northamptonit had been a year without incident since Jacob had been beaten and robbedwould continue.
Suddenly, a bang on the door. Sarah, its Meir. Let me in.
Meir was Mordecais best friend and the only one outside the family who knew about Jerusalemthe only one Mordecai trusted to know. Sarah could not put back the table by herself, so Meir had come to help her.
Sarah removed the wooden bar from the door, let him in, and replaced the bar. Blood from Meirs nose and cheek dripped onto the floor.
What happened to you?
Its nothing. Im all right. Two of them jumped me, but I managed to get away when they left me and ran after a girl.
Did you see who it was?
Yes. It was Miriam, Joshuas daughter. I couldnt help her. Lets get the children hidden.
Benjamin went down the narrow ladder first and waited as David lowered Rachel into his arms. Then David started down.
Mother, you cant stay up there.
I have to. They wont hurt me. Now let me cover the shelter, and Meir and I will put the table back. I cant do it by myself.
I love you, Mother. May God protect you.
I love all of you. I will see you soon after everything calms down.
Sarah hoped her children could not hear the fear in her voice. To her it was deafening. The mob was enraged, and she expected the worst.
Mordecai had a blacksmith make four hollow tubes that extended outside the rear of the house. One had to look very hard to find them. They not only brought fresh air into the shelter, but permitted a candle to remain lit. Otherwise, Jerusalem would be in total darkness.
David lit the candle as Rachel hugged Benjamin. The eldest sibling heard the top of the shelter being replaced, and the table moved back into position.
David, Im so scared. I want Mother, Rachel sobbed.
Dont worry. Well be safe down here, and she will be fine. We must remain quiet.
The shouts of the mob were getting louder. It sounded like they were inside Ashers house next door. His family had no shelter. David heard shrieking, and then suddenly it stopped. The mob had moved on. They were next.
Table of Contents
PEOPLE BEGAN TO STIR AS the town, its noises and smells, sprang to life. Fresh milk from the cowherd, fresh bread from the baker, and fresh eggs from the egg seller were all typical. A few women came out to make some purchases, but otherwise activity was limited. The sun beamed, and only a few clouds interrupted the skys endless deep blue. A light breeze rustled the leaves in an isolated tree. It was a Friday spring morning like any other.
