I could not say it, because saying it would make it real. It was one thing to see distant, putrid smoke and guess at what was happening in those buildings. It was another to know that a dead woman had been pressed up against me the entire night.
Darija leaned over and closed Agnat's eyes. Then she grabbed her arm, which was already stiffening. "Don't just stand there," Darija muttered, and I leaned over the bunk and took Agnat's other arm. It was not hard to maneuver her down; she weighed next to nothing. We put her arms around our necks, as if we were school chums posing for a photograph. Then we dragged Agnat's upright body between us to the courtyard, so that it could still be counted, because if the number was off even by one prisoner they would start over again. We held her upright for the two and a half hours of Appell, as flies buzzed around her eyes and mouth.
"Why is God doing this to us?" I murmured.
"God's not doing anything to us," Darija said. "It's the Germans."
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