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CHAPTER 4

  Katrina was awakened before sunrise by the sound of more trucks. She rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed to look out her window. This time there were police trucks. They came with more barricades, and more barbed wire, and plain clothed men began stringing the wire together with the barricades, improving yesterday’s minimal setup. Now these fortifications controlled all pedestrian and vehicular traffic on the main road in and out of Lodz. The Milicja Obywatelska, or “Citizen's Militia,” had emerged during the War and quickly earned the reputation of being heartless automatons of the Security Bureau. Those posted in Lodz were born and raised there, and Katrina recognized many of them by their faces. These officers were at least tolerable. The visitors from the Highway Patrol, however, dressed smartly in their grey jackets and black pants, were an angry lot that cared nothing for the citizens of Lodz.

  The sounds of construction had already attracted a throng of people who began jeering at the uniformed Milicja. As the sun struggled to break past the horizon, the checkpoint was completed. The throngs that had been freely traveling downtown to shout their criticisms of the weak government now had to justify their passage. Many began exploring alternative paths out of the area, but the majority was huddled before the new impediments, angry with the dour faced guards with their crossed arms. The message was clear; Solidarity would no longer have free travel rights in Lodz.

  The situation devolved quickly. Several of the women from her tenement attempted to push past the guards in frustration, testing the Milicja’s resolve; that resolve was confirmed when one, rifle in both hands, pushed the lead woman backwards with the long side of that rifle. The woman tumbled backwards into two others, and all three fell to the earth. One of the officers nearby chuckled, and it was that chuckle, even more than the shove, that sent the villagers berserk. The police were looking for a fight, and before the men could reach, another woman standing near the barriers was shoved roughly backwards. This woman’s husband watched the incident and cursed loudly to his partners, and launched himself at the officer. This attack was the catalyst for action, and the husbands and brothers gathered and attacked. The men attacked the armed officers with bare fists, and to the credit of the officers, no shots were fired.

  Katrina looked on in horror as the men attacked, fists swinging, and were driven back by the officers with shields and clubs. The officers continued to march forward, on the offensive until the men ran or crawled away. The world had gone mad. Katrina’s eyes clouded with tears as she turned away from the window, pacing back and forth and picking at her fingers. A few minutes later she heard sirens, and looked out the window just in time to see several more police cars racing toward the steadily increasing number of angry Poles. Katrina watched the two sides square off, then looked up and out, toward the ancient oaks beyond their village, the foliage almost glowing with the first white sparkles of sunrise. Somewhere within those oaks was the Golem. If only she had a team of them, she thought, to send out into the streets to keep the peace. The thought cheered her, providing at least some degree of well intentioned but irrational comfort.