The guide swallowed hard. He had hoped to avoid that topic.
“Tell me, please,” Herzl continued. “Are they buried here as well?”
The guide grasped at the shred of positivity. “Yes, they are. Over there.”
Herzl gripped the guide by the shoulders. “Show me!”
This was a very bad idea but how could he refuse the Father of the Jewish State?
He led the newly resurrected visionary along another stony path. He needed to call the Dry Bones Society to arrange a pickup but stopped himself. The instructor had warned against using modern technology such as mobile phones, which might disorientate the new arrival.
He stopped before a row of three plaques. “Here they are. Paulina, Trude, and Hans.”
Herzl appraised the markers in solemn silence. “The dates,” he said, startled. “Paulina and Hans died in the same year—and so young!”
The guide hesitated. “Paulina suffered from depression. She overdosed on heroin. Hans shot himself on the day of her funeral.”
“Depression,” Herzl muttered. “The scourge of our family. And little Trude? Died 1943. Did she, at least, live a happy life? And why does she not have a gravestone?”
He was right. Behind the plaque with Trude’s details, and between the two large rectangular gravestones of her siblings, lay a gaping empty space.
The guide shook his head. He had already said too much.
“Tell me!” Veins throbbed on the forehead of the resurrected statesman.
“We don’t have her remains. She died in the Holocaust.”
“Holocaust? What Holocaust?”
“During World War Two.”
“A world war—and two of them? Please continue. I must know.”
There was no holding back now. “The Germans and their collaborators systematically murdered Jews throughout Europe.”
“The Germans? If you had told me the French I would have believed you, but the Germans? How many Jews died?”
“A great many.”
“Tell me, boy—a thousand, ten thousand?”
“Six million.”
Herzl ran his fingers through his mane of hair. “Dear God. 1943. But you said that the State was established in 1948—only five years later. Five years too late! We didn’t work fast enough.”
He lurched backward and the guide steadied him. He called on two of the Japanese who had followed them to support the distraught man. He should never have shown him the Herzl family plot.
“Wait here, sir. I’m going to call for help and I’ll get you something to eat.”
He dashed off toward the snack store and called the Dry Bones Society on his way. A team of their volunteers was on the way.
Theodore Herzl himself! The guide’s skin prickled all over. The recent resurrection had raised hopes for the dawn of a new utopian era, and who better to lead the nation into a brighter future than the spiritual father of the modern Jewish State? The Visionary of the State had returned with perfect timing.
When the guide returned to the Herzl family plot with a handful of Mars bars and a covered paper cup of sugared tea, however, Herzl had vanished.
The Japanese chattered excitedly and pointed toward the forest. The guide shielded his eyes with his hand and scanned the thick press of trees. In the distance, between the tall trunks, a bearded man in a white gown sprinted and disappeared.
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Table of Contents
Titles
Copyright
Dedication
Bonus Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Author Notes
Bonus Content
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