The April Manifest

The train's ghostly whistle howled in the cool, damp night. After several hours, the nerve-cutting screech of the cattle car's wheels had left a sharp hum in Jacob's ears.
After more uncountable minutes that became hours, the train finally came to a halt. He could hear the sounds of doors slamming on their railings as they were opened. Many commands were being shouted, and the vicious barking of dogs echoed from outside the car. He could see lights through the slits of the confine. When the door to their car slid open, the same locking slam of it on its railings cut through him. The sounds from the outside became much clearer and coldly more frightening.
He clutched his violin tightly and felt the rush of the crisp night air. For a moment, it cleared the stench of the confining car where they'd been locked into and hauled. An old woman asked the most poignant question that stuck out in his mind.
"Where are we?"
He didn't know who answered her.
"We are at death's doors," someone whispered.