Fall

 

The mercilessly pounding headache was unbearable. It dug into his skull like a woodpecker tapping a rotten branch. The headache was the only feeling stronger than the fear Janek felt. The third was probably the cold. A piercing cold that seemed to transcend his physical limits and affect his psyche. This terrible condition and the feverish hallucinations had already rendered him indifferent to everything. He stood leaning against the wooden wall of the building he was in, shivering and slowly shaking his head. He was emaciated and pale. He opened his blue, cracked lips. His breathing was shallow and irregular. It was cold... he saw his breath turning into a rapidly disappearing mist. He was still conscious, but he knew it was the end. The image before his eyes: the dingy interior of the musty barracks, seemed to be moving ever slower. He felt as if he were sinking in on himself, deeper and deeper into nothingness. This nothingness, however, seemed much more pleasant than the past two months. Suddenly, he heard what seemed to him to be a distant sound of a door being violently opened. Everything happened so quickly now, but he was aware of events in fragments; his mind couldn't process all the stimuli flowing from outside. Someone had entered, hit him, and he had fallen. The pain, however, was distant, as if only its faint shadow remained. He saw several men in uniforms above him... He knew those uniforms... he hated them more than anything else in the world. The soldiers said something in a foreign language, laughed horribly, and dragged him outside by his old, torn overcoat. They pushed him until he fell. He fell onto the white snow. It was cold... but not as cold as the piercing cold that had been tormenting him for two days. For a moment, he lay limp, face upturned, watching the thick snowflakes falling all around him. Some of them were illuminated by one of the camp lamps, old and dim. He saw a captivating beauty in the sight. He wanted to express his delight, but he didn't have the strength. He only opened his mouth. The soldiers approached him and began laughing again, while one of them hurled some exceptionally hateful single words at Janek, which the boy didn't understand. Besides... all this was already happening so far away. He lay there for a brief moment, until someone grabbed him by the collar of his coat and bluntly dragged him behind them. His clothes tightened around his throat, making it impossible to breathe. He felt a searing pain in his throat, deeply reddened by the cold. But he didn't have the strength to cough; he accepted it all passively. Someone dragged him to a brick wall and forcibly placed him against it, supporting him. He somehow managed to maintain this position. The wall he was leaning against was made of red brick. It was long, obscured by the shadows of night, and only the spot where Janek stood was lit by a lamp attached to the barbed wire hanging above the wall. The layer of snow beneath his feet felt as if it had been trampled,Red marks stained it here and there. Only now did he realize what was happening. Everything was slowing down more and more. He made an effort and raised his head slightly. Before him, in the semi-darkness, stood two soldiers. He could only see their silhouettes, but they were definitely soldiers. They held machine guns. He was eight, maybe ten meters away from them. Fear passed... indifference came. Time stretched on and on. Janek felt himself close to fainting. Some secret energy, however, compelled him to remain at least semi-conscious. He didn't want to die unconscious. Perhaps this was some last spurt of dignity? Dignity that had been so trampled and destroyed lately. Yet he had been taught that, despite everything, he still possessed dignity. The dignity of a Pole... Poland... He took a desperate step, considering his condition. He took a deep breath, causing himself pain comparable to swallowing pins, and a strange sound came from his throat, like an attempt to scream:

"Pol..." After three letters, his throat fell silent, suddenly cut off. He was brutally interrupted by the roar of five gunshots in quick succession. Janek slowly sank to the ground... everything began to slow down, slower and slower... the rumbling pain and cold receded. He was drifting away. Deep within himself. He felt warmth. He lay limp, like a rag doll on the packed snow. He looked at the swirling snowflakes for the last time. How beautiful... the snow suddenly began to disappear, and Janek saw light and colors... colors he had never seen before...