Alexander Altmann A10567 by Suzy Zail

boot. He saw the shiny black leather grow slick with blood, heard the crack of bone, saw bits of cloth cling to the heel. The breeder’s son cried out every time the commander drove the boot into his back but the commander kept kicking until the boy’s shirt hung in shreds and a river of dark blood leaked from his wounds, and then he kicked him some more. His face didn’t grow plum-coloured with exertion or grow slack with the effort of breaking another man’s bones. His face remained hard and unbending from the first kick to the last. Alexander watched it all with dry eyes, hypnotised by the commander’s easy cruelty, aware that the men beside him were blinking away tears.
You’re a brick wall
, he said to himself through gritted teeth.
Nothing gets through
.
    The commander looked down at his boots. “I need someone to clean this.” He stuck out a smeared shoe and crossed his arms over his chest. The kapo pointed at Alexander.
    “But I don’t have a …” Alexander meant to say rag, but a guard dragged him from the line and thrust him forwards. Alexander dropped to his knees in front of the commander and stared down at the man’s boot.
Think
, he said to himself, rubbing his brow. His fingers skimmed the fabric of his cap, then closed over it. He pulled the hat from his head and dragged it across the commander’s blood-spattered boot, back and forth until the leather gleamed.
    The commander kicked Alexander’s hand away, jerked his boot free and asked for his horse. Alexander shuffled back into line, pulling the sticky cap back onto his head.
    “These are not your horses. You don’t get to sit on them.” The commander grabbed a handful of mane, shoved his foot into a stirrup and swung up onto his saddle. He glanced at Nussbaum, lying curled on the ground. “Your job is to feed, groom and exercise them.” He paused. “And you do this by walking them to the paddock and letting them loose.” He scanned the stablehands assembled before him. “Those of you who have served here for some time know your position. Riding is not part of the job.” He ran his hand over his horse’s flank. “You’re lucky to be caring for such noble animals.” He scanned the group. “You might learn something from them. Like hard work.”
    Alexander wanted to punch him between the eyes. He wanted to pull the commander’s gun from his holster and aim a bullet through his head. Instead he was forced to watch the man circle the yard on his horse while Nussbaum bled.
    “Send him back to Birkenau,” he said eventually, sliding from his horse and pointing to Nussbaum.
    Two guards dragged the boy to his feet and hauled him away.
    The commander spun around and pointed to Alexander. “
He
can have Serafin.”

Chapter 6
    Serafin snorted and tossed his mane.
    “You don’t scare me,” Alexander hissed, taking the reins and stepping into the stable. “You’re a horse, and I know horses.” He turned to the stallion. In truth he’d never worked with a creature quite as fine. His father’s horses were good horses – strong, able, kind horses – but none of them looked like Serafin. None were as sleek and strong. None had a head as delicately chiselled or a coat quite as silken. Alexander reached out to pat the horse, to rub his neck and feel the velvet of his muzzle but before his fingers had even grazed Serafin’s skin, the horse bared his teeth.
    Alexander grabbed the reins and hurried to find the horse’s stall, dragging the animal after him. The stall was easy to find; it was the one closest to the stable door and twice as large as the others. It was as big as his classroom back home. He bolted the door behind them and fell back against the hard wood.
    “I’ll cut you a deal. I won’t pat you.” He stared into Serafin’s hard, grey eyes. “As long as you do as I say.” He hoped to God the horse was smart. He could handle a cold horse but a dumb one would get him killed. “If the commander thinks I can’t handle