Blood seeped from a wound on the man’s forehead, snaking down his face and into his eyes. A pair of cracked glasses were perched on his nose. He struggled against the iron grip of the soldier.
‘Let me go!’ Ripping one arm free, he staggered forward until his face was pressed against the fence.
‘Partorg Volkov! I know you are in there!’ The man’s voice was so loud it was as if he had stepped into the room with us.
Etti took an involuntary step backwards. I could not move. I was frozen in place, transfixed by the desperation in the man’s voice.
‘Captain Volkov! Please! They are dragging us out of our homes. My wife, my son; you have to help! I said let go,’ he snarled at the guard, shaking his arm in a useless effort. The woman behind him had begun to sob. ‘I used to work for you!’ The man was struggling now, his face straining against the bars. ‘I drove your car last year, you remember? Captain Volkov! Captain Volkov!’
His cries were cut short as the guard brought the butt of his pistol down on the man’s skull. Blood spurted from his head and he sagged, a lifeless ragdoll. If not for the guard clutching his arm, he would have tumbled to the pavement in a heap.
The soldier turned to the man’s wife, still struggling to quieten her son. ‘Shut that child up!’
The woman whimpered, hugging the shrieking boy so hard I thought he might suffocate. The guard began to drag the man towards a police wagon that waited on the other side of the street. The woman followed, holding her child. The guard thrust the man’s body into the wagon and pushed the woman and the boy in, too. The doors of the wagon banged shut and a moment later, the car was gone.
A figure dashed past the gate, no more than a grey blur, head bowed.
‘What was that?’ Olga appeared on the stairs, knotting a bathrobe around her waist. Her white hair was still damp, hanging loosely around her face. ‘I heard shouting.’
Neither Etti or I answered straightaway. Eventually Etti spoke. ‘I’ve seen this before, when the Soviets arrived last year.’ She hugged herself and drew in a ragged breath. ‘It’s a deportation. It’s begun.’
She sat down suddenly.
Lieutenant Lubov’s voice echoed in my head. Relocation of undesirables.
In the silence, I heard the distant rumble of approaching trucks.
Twig Pattern
Kati
Pine needles stung my face. Jakob’s breath was hot and loud in my ears.
We kept running until we reached the river, where the water rushed over the stones in a great roaring gasp. Moonlight glimmered on the trees, gilding them a soft silver and poking through the bristled firs to pattern the ground. Jakob’s head was bowed, his hands resting on his knees as he fought for breath.
Despite the heat pounding in my head and soaking my body, I felt cold. My legs seemed to be frozen, now that we had come to a stop, my feet rooted to the earth.
Mama. Papa.
‘We need to find Oskar,’ Jakob said.
The whip crack of gunshots. The stench of cordite. Mama’s body crumpling to the ground.
‘Kati.’ Jakob shook my arm.
I shrank away. ‘We have to go back!’
Jakob’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. ‘No, Kati.’
I tried to make out his features. ‘She might be dying,’ I said. ‘She needs help.’
Jakob cursed. For a moment, I felt his whole body tense and then he softened, his shoulders slumping. ‘Kati, they’re gone. Do you hear me?’ His voice cracked. ‘Both of them. They’re gone.’
His arms snaked around me. His cheek pressed against my neck. I saw the moon, a glimmering pearl in the watery sky, and scattered stars like tiny fish, silver and gold.
Everything looked the same as it had always been. How could it be possible that my parents were gone?
‘We need to find Oskar and tell him,’ Jakob said. ‘There might be a way to save others. And we can’t wander around all night in the forest, alone.’
Why not, I wanted to ask. I felt strangely detached. An image came to me of my wolf, Elina, padding softly through the undergrowth. My wolf, with her moon eyes and soft, grey pelt.
She was always alone.
I will send you a sign. You will know it’s me. I will wear the pelt of a wolf, my grandmother had told me.
Was she watching us now? Had she heard the gunshots and seen us running for our lives? Had her presence last night not been a coincidence, but a warning?
‘There’s a bunker.’ Jakob drew back but did not let go of me. ‘It’s not far from here. Downriver. I’ve left messages there before in an old tin. That’s where we’ll go. Oskar will be there. Can you walk?’
I heard his words, but they came from far away. I looked slowly towards him and realised he was waiting for an answer. I made my lips move. ‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
Drawing in a deep breath, he let go of me and moved away, weaving through the trees on the shoreline. His boots crunched on the leafy undergrowth.
As I followed him my thoughts continued to spin, drifting like the seeds of a dandelion blown helter skelter by the wind. All the plans my parents had made for the farm, for Jakob, for me – in the end, everything had been for nothing. Papa’s assistance to the Partorg and the new Soviet state had been worthless. It had cost him his life and Mama’s.
I heard Jakob call my name, softly, in the dark.
I swallowed. I needed to bury this pain. I could grieve for my parents later. But a slow burning anger was moving up my legs as I followed my brother’s steps. I saw the Partorg’s face the first time he had visited our farmhouse. I had listened from my bedroom as he spoke to Papa, assuring him that there would be enough food for us to last the year, that what we were doing would help everyone.
He had lied. He had fed us the illusion of freedom, all the while knowing we were animals trapped in a cage.
I knew in my heart that if I saw the Partorg again, I would not hesitate to plunge a knife into his heart or send a bullet into his soft flesh. I already hated him for the rumours they had spread about Oskar being a murderer. My hands trembled, imagining the suffering they would cause him. I stilled them by gripping the straps of my knapsack until the canvas bit into my palms.
I flung my thoughts out into the universe. I would not be afraid of fighting, like Papa. I would hold tightly to the possibility of revenge. If Papa and Mama could not come back, perhaps this was the thing that would keep me alive.
*
We followed the river for some time, until Jakob stopped abruptly near a clearing of tall birches just visible.
‘It was here.’
His feet stirred up the dirt as he walked the perimeter of the line of trees. He peered into the darkness. It was pitch black. Impenetrable.
A breeze rustled through the trees. ‘Perhaps you’re wrong. It’s dark.’
‘No.’ He straightened up. ‘It was here. I know it was.’ He sent his foot into the leaves.
I took a step away, straining to see, and suddenly the point of something sharp pressed against the base of my spine.
A woman’s voice hissed in my ear. ‘Don’t move.’
‘Jakob!’ I called, and my brother whipped around. A torch glared in my brother’s face. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the dazzling light.
‘Please,’ I started to say, but the tip of the knife digging through my clothes silenced the rest of my words.
‘Hilja?’ Jakob dropped his hand and leaned forward, squinting. ‘Hilja, is that you? It’s me. Jakob Rebane.’
The knife quivered.
Jakob held up his hands. He hesitated then took a step towards us. ‘Do you remember me? From the meeting in Torvid’s dorm? I remember you. You helped us get the dye for the flags. Right?’
The woman behind me sniffed, but I felt the knife withdraw a little until only the faintest edge of it was touching my jumper. ‘So. I remember you. Jakob Rebane. What are you doing out here? You’re lucky I didn’t slice you open.’
The knife pulled away. My whole body was tingling.
Jakob grimaced. ‘We need to speak to Oskar.’
‘What do you want with Oskar? Nobody gave you a message to pass on, did they? I would have known about it.’ Her voice was accusing. ‘And who is this? You know what Oskar said, about bringing outsiders in. They have to be checked. Approved.’
The torch beam tracked over me. I could not see my interrogator, only her dark outline against the trees.
‘I know.’ Jakob shifted. ‘But there was no time. This is my sister. Kati. It’s important we find Oskar. We have some information he needs to hear.’
‘Information.’ The torch beam wavered. ‘It’s urgent?’
‘Yes. Why else would we be out here, in the dark?’
‘Maybe you’ve got nowhere else to go,’ she said. With a click the torch beam disappeared. ‘Fine. I’ll take you. He’s at the bunker. There are . . . others there, too. You will see.’
Her words made me shift uncomfortably. What if she led us into a trap? I remembered Papa speaking about the NKVD agents who paid informants to catch out resistance sympathisers. But then, Hilja would not have been so reluctant to help us if her intention was to trap us.
Understanding swept through me. ‘Germans,’ I said.
Hilja clucked her tongue. ‘Hush.’
I pressed my lips together.
The sound of rushing water faded a little, muffled by the trees as Hilja led us through the clearing.
‘Over here.’ She was bending in the dirt some feet away. The torch flicked on, making a puddle of light at my feet. Hilja pulled back a screen of shrubs that had been cleverly drawn down to conceal the bunker’s entrance.
Beneath the foliage, the entrance was a dark open maw, as narrow and damp smelling as the doorway of a crypt.
‘Don’t worry.’ I heard the smile in her voice. ‘It’s bigger inside than it looks.’
‘I’ll go first.’
I watched as Jakob scrambled inside, hunching over to fit his body into the space, moving forward on his knees.
‘Now you.’ Hilja jerked her head at the dark hole. ‘Quickly; it doesn’t do to hang around, waiting for patrols to find you.’
I nodded, trying to accept her reassurance, although every fibre of my body screamed at me to back away. What if there was no air in there? What if the supporting beams collapsed, crushing us into the earth below?
From somewhere behind me, blackbirds began to caw, beating their wings. An odd sound at night.
Hilja raised her head, like an animal sniffing the air.
‘Inside now,’ she barked. It was not an invitation but a command.
My knees scraped against the dirt floor. It was pitch black in the tunnel, but there was light ahead, a small golden circle. It was this light I focused on as I inched myself forward, trying to ignore the walls that seemed to press around me, squeezing what little breath was left from my lungs.
The tunnel widened suddenly into a room lined with timber bunks. A dirty oil lamp cast an amber glow over everything. Pushing myself up, I looked behind me to see Hilja emerging from the tunnel, the lamplight catching the glint of her dark eyes and the bare skin of her forearms collared by the rolled-up cuffs of her shirt. A grey handkerchief was knotted over her hair. She brushed the dust off her trousers then straightened up and pointed, unsmiling.
‘Oskar is in there.’
At the end of the room was another entrance, a door made of rough-hewn timber, hanging slightly ajar. It led into another space, a room no larger than our threshing room but containing at least fifteen men bent over a table made from crates pushed together to form a flat surface. A radio sat in the middle, a lump of black with wires poking out. Maps overlapped each other, their edges pinned down by rocks.
They all turned as we entered, the conversation dying. The light from the oil lamp transformed their faces into planes of yellow and grey. Most of them were young, hardly older than us. They wore uniforms like Oskar’s, made from mushroom-brown wool. Two were clad in grey and stood slightly apart. Small swastika emblems were emblazoned on their armbands. Nazis. My heart tapped out a staccato rhythm. I tried not to stare at them, but their presence unnerved me. These were not the Baltic Germans we had grown up hearing about, but foreigners from another land.
I tried to remember what my grandmother had told me about the Germans who had lived next door to her when she was growing up, in the little timber house in Haapsalu. She had told us they were Christians who prayed at the tiny Lutheran Church and chose to eat the crops grown in their own yard rather than slaughtering animals. Was it possible we would have no choice but to side with the Germans again now? The thought made me uneasy. What would life be like under the Germans? What conditions would they set down in exchange for helping us? Our old president Konstantin Päts had banned the National Socialist Magazine and forced the elected member of the Baltic German Party to resign after he made unsettling comments about Jews. But that had been before the Russians arrived. When they had, President Päts was placed under house arrest and eventually deported. There was nobody to protect the rights of the Jewish people now.
I had a terrible sense of foreboding and felt Jakob shift uncomfortably beside me. Perhaps he, too, understood the danger of this association. When I glanced at Hilja, I realised she had moved back, out of the lamplight, leaving us to speak for ourselves.
Somebody broke away from the group and came forward. A rush of relief made my legs tremble.
‘Kati?’ Oskar’s pale eyes widened. ‘What are you doing here? And Jakob.’ He turned to my brother. His eyes travelled down Jakob’s rumpled clothes and came up to rest on Jakob’s face. ‘You better explain.’
Jakob and I glanced at each other.
‘Is it your father?’ Oskar’s voice had hardened. ‘Did he send you out here to spy on us for him?’
‘He’s dead.’ The words turned to dust on my tongue. ‘He was killed tonight by the Partorg’s men. Mama too.’
Oskar’s mouth dropped open.
‘We’ve come to ask you for protection.’ Jakob’s eyes roved over the knot of men watching us. ‘And to warn you about an operation that is happening right now, as we stand here.’
Oskar moved so quickly I barely registered that he had grasped Jakob’s arm. ‘What kind of operation?’
‘A mass deportation.’ I cleared my throat. ‘That’s what Papa told us.’
Oskar’s eyes flashed. ‘How many?’
‘We’re not sure.’ Jakob prised Oskar’s fingers off his arm. ‘Perhaps thousands. Papa said he heard about railroad cars lined up at Tartu station.’
‘He was supposed to help them but he couldn’t.’ A lump burned in my throat. ‘He tried to run but they caught us in the yard. They shot him. And then they shot Mama.’ I stared hard at the ground, my vision swimming with unshed tears.
Silence filled the room.
Then everybody began to talk at once. German. Estonian. A little Russian thrown in.
A cacophony of voices clamouring to be heard.
Oskar moved towards me. Beneath the hubbub of noise, I heard the pain in his voice. ‘Kati, I’m so sorry.’
I squeezed my hands tightly. ‘You didn’t kill them. You tried to warn us.’
He grasped my shoulder. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t care. Your mother was dear to me. As for your father—’
He closed his mouth suddenly, as if afraid to say more. I could feel the pressure of his fingers squeezing in sympathy. I sniffed back my sobs. I wanted to hold him, but I was afraid that if I did, the last barrier of my composure would collapse. Mama and Papa’s faces rose up in my mind. Speaking about their deaths had made the pain of their loss seem suddenly raw and real. Oskar’s hand slid up to cup the back of my head. His eyes were wide, dark with grief, a reflection of my pain. He began to speak again, but the voices around us lifted and he released his hold on me, as if remembering where he was, his purpose.
I heard Jakob saying, ‘. . . but we must
do something!’
‘We’ll speak later, Kati,’ Oskar said softly, touching my arm. ‘This is not the place. Not the time. You understand?’
I nodded. I could feel Hilja watching us. When I turned to look at her, she glanced quickly away.
‘Quiet!’ Oskar banged his fist on the makeshift table. The Forest Brothers partisans fell silent, though the Germans continued to speak in low voices to each other. Oskar ran a hand across his cropped hair. He moistened his lips with his tongue. His broad shoulders lifted and fell. ‘We need to find out if the information about the deportations is accurate.’
Jakob took an angry step forward. ‘I just told you—’
‘I know, Jakob.’ Oskar frowned. ‘But they might have fed your father a lie. Perhaps they suspected he would run, or that he wasn’t loyal and they wanted to prove it.’ Jakob opened his mouth but stayed silent. ‘I’m not saying he was wrong. Only misinformed.’ Oskar jerked his head. ‘This is Officer Weber and Officer Geyer from the SS Cavalry Brigade. They were brought in across the border a few weeks ago. Gentlemen, this is Jakob Rebane and his sister, Katarina.’ His eyes lingered on me before darting away. ‘Kati has not yet taken the oath but I think we can trust that they are telling the truth. As they see it.’
The older German tugged at his collar. ‘It sounds as if the Russians are mobilising.’
‘If it’s true, they will take aim at the farmers. The people we rely on to help us,’ Oskar said. ‘They will deport anyone who is sympathetic to our cause. Soviet patrols will begin combing the forest before morning. Those who run will be shot.’ He glanced at me. ‘Like Kati’s father. This is how it goes.’
‘What would you advise?’ Weber mopped at his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘We don’t want to die like trapped rabbits down here.’
‘So, tell them.’ Oskar placed his hands on his hips. He nodded at the transistor radio on the table. ‘Tell your colleagues at the border.’
The Germans exchanged looks.
Lace Weaver Page 18