I finally found a saucepan behind the stove. It was dirty and blackened, and it had probably been used to empty the ashes. Whoever had been here had taken everything with them except for this saucepan. What would they have done with it? Looking at it now, I felt sure that it had always been used to empty the firebox. I showed it to Bauer and Emmerich, told them to hurry up, and went out to find some snow.
~ ~ ~
I WALKED AWAY from the house. I was looking for good, unmarked snow, where no one had walked for a long time before us.
I could see as much snow in the grey and white sky as here on the ground. It was the cold that kept it from falling. That would have been the best snow to melt — no dirt in the water — but of course there was no way of getting it.
I walked past a fence. It was taller than me. Maybe there was a vegetable garden behind it, or maybe I was treading on one at the moment? The wind had blown the snow against it. There was so much, I could use it to wash the saucepan without even bending down. I looked over at the house while I did it. I was waiting for smoke to rise. I was hoping to see flames in the stove when I got back. I threw out the dirty snow and started again. I kept doing it until what I was throwing out was more or less clean. Once again I looked over at the house. Still nothing was coming out of the chimney. What a lot of kindling they must be making! They wanted to be sure that the fire would take with the first match.
I reached the end of the fence. I wanted to go further to collect snow for making the soup. My glove was wet, from having been rubbed against the saucepan. It would freeze soon, and so would my hand.
I turned the corner of the fence, and that was where I saw him, rifle on his shoulder, coming towards me. The Pole halted, and so did I. I hesitated for a moment, but I wasn’t scared. If it came down to it, my uniform was at least equal to his rifle. All I could see of him were his eyes; everything else was covered. Those eyes never left me. His dog had joined him, and now it was bounding towards me. It sank in the snow up to its chest and then, with a single thrust, jumped out again. It was incredible, as though something were pushing it up from below. The Pole whistled and the dog stopped moving. It lifted its face towards me. It looked like a nice dog. I noticed little balls of frozen snow hanging from its neck. They were so round, so perfect, that they looked like sleighbells that had been made to decorate its collar. The man whistled again. The dog jumped up — again, it was incredible — and, when it got back to its master, the Pole turned away and retraced his footsteps.
I waited until they’d gone away, and then I collected snow for the soup. I put it in the saucepan, packed it down tightly, and put more in. Snow is bulky. You need a lot of it to make a little water. Experience had taught us that it takes at least five pans of snow to make one of water.
I did not rush. I wanted to give Emmerich and Bauer time to finish their kindling and put it all in the stove. I was still hoping to see smoke rising from the chimney before I went back in the house. But when I turned around, there was nothing to see. If they were waiting for me before lighting it, I had no idea why. I rushed back to the house, giving a yell so they’d know it was me.
Just as I was arriving, the door opened and Emmerich and Bauer came out, running as if pursued by the devil. In fact, they were being smoked out. The smoke poured through the open door and rose up the wall, thick as a wave.
‘It’s the snow,’ Emmerich said with tears in his eyes. ‘It’s blocked the chimney.’
He walked backwards until he could see the top of the chimney, then said: ‘No, it’s not the snow.’
‘So what is it?’ Bauer asked.
‘No idea,’ Emmerich replied irritably. ‘We’ll have to look.’
‘Go and look,’ said Bauer.
Emmerich spat the smoke he’d swallowed on the ground and said, ‘And then what?’
The idea suddenly came to me that the people who used to live in this house had blocked the chimney when they left. Permanently, I mean, with cement. It wouldn’t be the first time. So what choice would that leave us? We could make a hole in the roof, or we could go away. We would go, there was no doubt about it. We didn’t have the strength to set about doing anything like that.
‘What about the Jew?’ I asked. ‘What shall we do with him?’
‘Let’s wait till the smoke’s cleared a bit,’ Bauer replied.
But there was still plenty coming out. Amazing how much smoke a single chair can make!
‘Better not wait too long,’ I said. ‘It’ll get in there.’
‘Go and fetch him,’ Bauer told me.
Emmerich told me the same thing, with his hand. They reckoned they had already swallowed their share of smoke, and now it was my turn. So I went in, and while I was emptying my saucepan of snow into the stove, I called out to the Jew. But I didn’t know if he’d heard me, or what he was doing. I couldn’t see the storeroom door through all the smoke. When I went out again, my eyes were watering.
After a while, the snow melting in the stove put out the fire. Now it was steam coming out of the house. I went back in. The storeroom door was closed. The Jew had managed to pull it shut. It took all of my strength to open it again. He was crouched in the back corner. There was some smoke here in the storeroom, but not much. It was bearable. He’d taken off one of his mittens and was breathing through it. He looked up at me. I gestured to him, and he stood up and walked out of the storeroom.
Emmerich and Bauer had just come back in and were standing close to the stove. It was still a bit difficult to breathe, but it was better inside than outside. The enamel of the stove had warmed up from the bit of wood it had burned, and the temperature had risen. Not much — one or two degrees — but it made a difference.
Behind us, the Jew started coughing. He couldn’t stop. Bauer took him outside while Emmerich and I got to work on emptying the firebox. We took the bits of chair that were still burning and threw them outside, then we examined inside. We were hoping that the chimney was blocked at the bottom, within reach. But everything seemed fine here. I was able to put my arm through the hole, so the smoke could go through it as well.
We had to look higher up. Emmerich helped me to climb on top of the stove.
‘You’d better pray that the blockage is here,’ I told him.
He closed his eyes. He looked as though he was really praying. I kicked the base of the pipe with my heel a few times. Years of heat and soot had soldered it to the stove. Or maybe it was here that they’d poured the cement. I kicked harder, and the base began to move. I crouched down, grabbed hold of it, twisted it, and lifted it in a single motion. Then, frightened, I let go of it and took a step back, almost falling off the stove. Emmerich caught me, and we looked at one another. He was like me: glad to have found out what the problem was, but disgusted too, and amazed. Of all the things we might have found, I don’t think we would ever have guessed at this. A dead cat, head down: that was what had caused the blockage. For a moment, we were mystified, and then we understood. It must have slid in headfirst from the top of the chimney.
I jumped off the stove, and said to Emmerich: ‘Take this and toss it outside.’
He grimaced behind his scarf. We were frozen and we were starving, but we were scared of a cat that had been dead for ages.
‘Oh, Emmerich!’ I said, as if to myself.
He looked at me, but said nothing. Then suddenly he smiled behind his scarf and said, ‘You go. I said the prayer.’
His eyes smiled too. The rings beneath them looked smaller and less grey. That was what we’d been missing — a few jokes. Out of gratitude, I picked up the cat in one hand. It was hard and dry as wood, although its fur was still silky. It was a strange, unpleasant feeling, even through the glove. I went outside and threw it a long way to the side of the house, without waiting to show it to Bauer.