The Children's War

by Stroyar, J. N.

  “Oh, I don’t think I could sit still that long.”

  “Aw, come on. You’ve got a great face. Come on, please?”

  “Okay, if you make it worth my while.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Give me something to look at while I sit for you. Get naked for me.”

  “It’s a deal!” she had agreed, laughing, and began then and there peeling off her clothes.

  What would his little artist think if she could see him now? Without knowing why, he reached out to touch the face in the mirror. The cold surface of the glass offered no comfort, no answers. He brought his hand unsteadily back and probed his face, trying to match sensation with image. Was it his imagination or did the darkened skin feel fragile, like old paper ready to crumble at the slightest disturbance? He looked haunted. Or hunted. Like an animal caught in a leg trap. Stay? Or gnaw the leg off? Either way the result was death.

  With a sudden flash of recognition he thought, They’re killing me. They’re killing me, and I don’t even know what to do about it.

  “You’ll never get anything done like that,” Elspeth stated from the doorway.

  He looked at her in surprise and studied her face, but he could detect no emotions there, not pity, not regret. Nothing at all. They’re killing me, he thought, and I don’t even know what to do to stop them.

  48

  “YOU’REKILLING ME, you’re killing me. Ah, stop, stop!” Adam gasped, rolling on the floor.

  Joanna did not give up. With the intensity of a nearly three-year-old she tickledher father mercilessly and giggled uncontrollably at the sight of his abject surrender to her skills.

  “You better stop before you pee your pants,” Zosia advised.

  “Aw, she’s all right,” Adam laughed, grabbing his little girl and swinging her up and holding her over his head as he lay on his back.

  “I was talking about you,” Zosia replied.

  Joanna stretched out her arms and made airplane noises as her father rocked her back and forth. “I’m a plane. Look, Mama, I’m an airplane.”

  Zosia nodded. “I see.”

  “I’m going to drop bombs on you!” Joanna threatened her father. “Boom, boom, boom! You’re dead!”

  “That’s not nice!” Adam lowered her so that she was sitting, straddling his stomach.“How about a kiss instead?”

  Joanna leaned forward to kiss him, but just as he puckered up to receive her kiss, she pulled back and giggled. “Fooled you!”

  “Yes, you did. Now come on, give me a kiss.”

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Joanna giggled. “I’m all out of kisses!”

  “All out? Oh, no!” Adam moaned. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get one from your mommy instead.” He removed Joanna from his stomach and stood to fulfill his threat.

  “Ah, always second choice,” Zosia grumbled as Adam gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Adam got back down on the floor. “Now, at last, to finish my push-ups!” He began, but before he had reached five, Joanna crawled onto his back.

  “Sweetie!” Adam chided.

  “Go ahead and do it with her as a weight,” Zosia suggested.

  “One, oof, two, oof,” Adam began. “I know—you count, Joanna. I’ll go as high as you can count.”

  Joanna giggled. “Mama taught me up to one hundred! Jeden, dwa, trzy . . . ,” she counted as Adam pushed himself up and down.

  “Hey, how about eins, zwei, drei?” Adam asked.

  “I only know up to forty that way,” Joanna admitted.

  “We’ll do German then,” he panted.

  “Coward,” Zosia commented. As Adam worked to Joanna’s count, Zosia watched how his arm and back muscles tensed, how a sweat broke on his skin, how handsome he looked.

  Joanna had begun smacking her father’s arm, yelling, “Gee-up! Gee-up!” as Adam labored under her weight.

  Zosia giggled at the sight.“By the way, I sent that paperwork through that you were asking about.”

  “Good. What about the books?” Adam panted.

  “Downloaded. They’re in printing now.”

  “What books?” Marysia asked from the doorway.

  “Adam wanted some material for his history class, so I pulled it out of a library and am having it duplicated for him.”

  “Duplicated? What are you going to do, pass it out to your class?”

  “Of course,” Adam wheezed. “Or do you think I should keep it all here under my bed?” he teased his mother.

  “Well, what I want to know is how you’re going to get it to them.”

  “I’ll carry it, on my back!” he teased.

  “Adam! If you’re caught with illegal printing like that—”

  “Oh, Mother, stop sounding like Julia!”

  Marysia’s face darkened at her daughter’s name. “She was right about one thing, Son. You don’t take the risks seriously enough.”

  “And she did and look what happened!” Adam responded breathlessly. “What’s the point in worrying? There are people out there who’ve done absolutely nothing, and they’re getting the shit kicked out of them. If I were cautious, I’d be paralyzed, I wouldn’t be able to do anything. At least I know if something happens to me, it was for a reason!”

  “There’s a difference between taking sensible risks and being careless.”

  “I think it’s a sensible risk,” Zosia opined. “After all, the printed material will be shown to other people. Adam’s effectiveness could be doubled if each student shows these documents to just one other person. Just one!”

  “Word of mouth would suffice,” Marysia advised.

  “Enough!” Adam dropped to the floor as Joanna reached forty. “Let your horsie rest, okay, sweetie?”

  “Okay,” Joanna nobly agreed, climbing off her father. “I’ll go find you some straw to eat.”

  “Oats,” Adam suggested. “Better yet, a steak.”

  As Joanna rooted around under the sink, apparently looking for oats or a steak, Adam rolled over and looked up at Zosia. Something in her demeanor inspired him.“Hey, Ma. Would you feel safer if I just ran those documents down to the border and had some couriers ferry them into the city for me?”

  “And in exchange?” Marysia asked.

  “Well, I thought Zosia and I could take a horseback ride with the stuff; I’ve got to take care of some business down that way anyway, but, you know, what with the snow and all, we won’t be back till tomorrow at the earliest.”

  “All right. I’m sure Joanna would love spending the night at my place, wouldn’t you, sweetie?”

  Joanna poked her head out from under the sink. “I can stay with you and Olek? Siwa can sleep in bed with me?” she asked excitedly.

  “Ugh! How can anyone want to sleep with that stupid cat!” Adam groaned.

  Marysia, grinning at her granddaughter’s enthusiasm, ignored him. “Yes, we’ll all have fun together.”

  “Yippee!”

  “Thanks, Ma.” Zosia beamed at Marysia. “You’re a gem.”

  “I expect another grandchild out of it.”

  “Give us time,” Adam remarked. “We need to practice a bit more first!”

  “So, have you heard anything from your father?” Adam asked as they bounced up and down, sitting hunched together in the back of the delivery vehicle as it made its way over the rough terrain. Two workmen sat opposite them, one reading a book, the other resting with his head back and his eyes closed. After a particularly bad bump, the one with his eyes closed opened them, surveyed his companions, and closed his eyes again. Adam put his arm around Zosia to steady her.

  “On those chemicals?” Zosia asked as she snuggled into Adam’s embrace.“Hehasn’t managed to arrange anything yet, but when he does, he wants you to go along, did you know that?”

  “Yeah,”Adam replied somewhat dourly.“Did you have anything to do with that?”

  “Yes. It was my suggestion.”

  “My little schemer. Why don’t you go? You’re much more charming a witnes
s,” Adam suggested.

  “No, I think you should go. I believe we need to personalize this stuff more. We keep giving them dry facts and figures, and we get nowhere with them. I think you should testify directly about what you saw, give it that flavor of authenticity. Add some color to the facts.”

  “Hmm. I suppose it’s worth a try.”

  “Yes, and that reminds me,” Zosia said. “Remember that worker that Tadek tripped and what happened to him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Include that. Watch the faces when you talk about that. I want to know if they’re affected at all.”

  “But they know that sort of stuff goes on all the time! Hell, we keep telling them!” Adam protested.

  “But we don’t give it a face. Give this guy a face. Describe him, describe the situation, describe his thoughts.”

  “His thoughts? Oh, he was so dehumanized I doubt he was capable of thinking-anything at all.”

  “Pretend, then.”

  “All right. I’ll try,” Adam agreed. “I still think you should be the one to go.”

  “I thought you liked visiting America,” Zosia said, twisting her head around so she could see his face.

  “Oh, I do.” He smiled at her and kissed her. “The place fascinates me. It’s so odd going from a war zone to a land that is essentially at peace. All their priorities are so different. It’s really weird watching the news there. You would think we don’t even exist.”

  “I know. That’s a problem.” Zosia relaxed and leaned back into his strong embrace.

  “I mean, it’s not surprising, after all, the geopolitical reality is the status quo. What does surprise me is what they do consider news. Such trivia! They seem absolutely enamored of one subject on one visit, then when I return, they’re onto something completely different, and if you ask about the first topic—”

  “It’s as if they never heard of it,” Zosia finished for him.

  “Exactly!”

  “We have to use that tendency to our advantage.”

  “How could we do that?”

  “We need to put some of our trivia in their limelight. If we could do that, we could get some attention and maybe have a bit more political clout,” Zosia suggested.

  “Not to mention money.” Adam wrapped his arms more securely around her and let his hands stray a bit, trying to find her curves under her winter clothing.

  “Indeed, and arms,” Zosia replied as Adam undid one of her coat buttons and his hand slipped inside. “The shipments are being hindered. Customs is starting to ask awkward questions. It’s really hampering our efforts, and it’s not clear why they’re doing that.”

  “Isolationism,” Adam guessed. He carefully worked his way deeper through her clothing and finally felt her warm flesh. “I think they’re going to pull out of this thing altogether. There’s more and more chatter about acknowledging the Reich as the rightful government of Europe and dealing with them as such.”

  “Oh, God!” Zosia moaned. “Do they have any idea what that would mean?”

  “I don’t know. They don’t care about the murdered millions. What’s past is past, they say. Some of these people even say that if the governments sign a peace accord, then the Reich might be pressured into behaving itself.”

  “Not with the current regime! For heaven’s sake it would be a magnificent gift to the hard-liners! It would be like rewarding them for all the recent crackdowns and purges!” Zosia exclaimed. Adam’s hand stroked her skin absently. She felt a stirring between her legs.

  “I know,” Adam sighed. “But they’re bored with our fight. They wish we’d get it over with or die already.”

  Zosia looked out the back of the truck into the deep forest green. They were almost in the borderlands already. There was so little free land, and the thought that they might lose even their tiny enclave of liberty to American realpolitik was more than she could bear to think about.

  Adam stroked her fondly, and she huddled in his embrace, enjoying the closeness. With the two workmen riding opposite them, hunched among the boxes, there was little more they could do, and they continued the journey in silence.

  They abandoned the delivery truck at a baseline partisan encampment since their intended route diverged from the mainline delivery route at that point. Zosia stopped to discuss some business with the camp’s communications officer, and Adam busied himself by doing an ad hoc inspection of the camp and its organization.

  “Sloppy,” he commented to Zosia as they rode away from the camp afterward. “They all get sloppy after a long enough time without action.”

  The horse picked its way carefully along the path, and Zosia was enjoying the sensation of warm, strong muscles between her legs and Adam’s arms around her waist too much to be seriously concerned about sloppy security.

  “We should have brought our skis,” Adam commented. “Stretch our legs a bit.”

  “It’s too rough for skis,” Zosia murmured, feeling sleepy and relaxed and not at all in the mood for physical exertion. The up-and-down rhythm of the horse’s movements were making her feel horny as well, and she wished Adam would concentrate more on the way her back pressed against him rather than thinkabout their mode of transportation. She snuggled in closer to him and murmured provocatively, “Do you know I love you?”

  “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”

  “I’ve always loved you,” Zosia said as a romantic spirit inhabited her.

  “Then why were you so hesitant to marry me, hmm?” Adam asked just to tease her.

  “Oh, you know me, I’m not the marrying type!”

  “You were afraid that once you tied the knot, I’d tie you down?”

  “Well, yes, if you want honesty,” Zosia answered. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t my soul mate. Anyway, I did marry you!”

  “After prodding and blackmail and my having to pout! Do you know how many girls would have leapt at the chance to have me?”

  “No, how many?” Zosia reached behind herself so she could touch Adam.

  “Millions, my dear. Millions.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, aren’t you glad you waited for me?” Zosia asked as a clump of snow descended lightly on their heads.

  “Yes, and aren’t you glad we did marry? Hasn’t it been wonderful?” Adam gently brushed the snow from Zosia’s hair.

  “Yes, it has. Joanna has been more fun than I ever imagined a child could be, and you’re such a loving father.”

  “Halt!” a voice called out. “Who goes there?”

  Adam stopped the horse and called out the day’s password. “We’re from Central,” he added.

  The patrol emerged from the woods and checked their passes. Adam and Zosia did not offer identifications and were not asked: the patrols knew that the inhabitants of the Central region guarded their anonymity and only carried a general pass when traversing the borderlands.

  Zosia looked from her lofty height at the young kids who surrounded the only slightly older corporal who was their leader. So young! she thought. They were all so young nowadays.

  As the corporal handed them their passes, Adam asked, “Is there a shelter nearby where my wife and I might have an hour or so of privacy?”

  One of the younger soldiers giggled.

  The corporal pointed into the woods. “It’s about a mile in that direction, sir. I’ll lead you there and then I will personally”—and at that he turned to look at the offending soldier—“personally guarantee your privacy.”

  “We’d appreciate that,” Adam responded with a grin. “Wouldn’t we, Colonel?” he added, nuzzling her neck.

  Zosia blushed with pride at Adam’s use of her title even though it was, technically, a breach of security. It was typical of him. Though he had a reputation of being levelheaded and she had long ago been branded as impetuous, he was the more reckless of the two of them. He just pulled off a better act, first in front of their elders, and later before their political and military bosses. In fact, she had,out of love and because she was alrea
dy labeled as reckless, taken the blame for some of his more foolhardy actions, just as he had often withstood a great deal of pressure by defending hers. It was one of those bonds of love that was all the stronger because no one knew about it.

  “In fact,” Adam said, “I think we’ll stay the night there. We’ll take the afternoon off and finish the trip to the camp tomorrow. Would there be a problem with that?”

  “No, sir. I’ll inform the relevant authorities, sir,” the corporal replied respectfully.

  “Would that be all right with you, love?” Adam asked.

  “Yes,” Zosia murmured.

  “Shall we go?”

  “Yes, we should,” she said as Adam turned the horse to follow the path the corporal was taking. “I feel so incredibly alive,” she whispered to the trees. “I wish this day would last forever.”

  49

  IF ONLY THE NIGHT would last forever, he thought, as he stared up at the beams of the attic. He could just rest, in darkness, like in death. Peter turned his head languidly to look at the window, and though he lay drenched in sweat, he saw, shimmering enticingly in the cold dawn light, a patina of frost on the panes. He climbed to his feet and stood for a moment, shivering convulsively. A sudden nausea caused him to retch, but he did not vomit. And his head ached. God Almighty, so now, on top of everything else, he was ill! Just great. With the back of his hand he wiped the sweat from his forehead, then he pulled on his clothes and left the attic. After opening the blinds and drapes on the ground floor, he went down into the cellar and washed thoroughly, including his hair. Still shivering, he dried himself, pulled on the rest of his clothes, and looked for something to eat.

  By the time he trudged off to the bakery he was already covered again in a slick sheen of sweat. Each bakery was open only one Sunday per month, so the location of the open bakery changed each week. This week’s was the farthest away—almost certainly outside the limit of his pass. This had never been a problem before, but he suspected that if there was ever a day it would be a problem, today would be it.