Child Thief

by Dan Smith

  ‘How many men?’ I asked her.

  Aleksandra shook her head and I gave her a moment to settle her feelings. ‘Four or five, I don’t know. They came on horses, went to every house and searched them. Took everything. Lermentov.’ She spat the word out like it tasted bad in her mouth.

  ‘Lermentov?’

  ‘The leader. That was his name.’

  I looked at my sons. Petro was listening to what the girl was saying, but he had one eye on his brother, who was leaning against a tree with his head bowed. Viktor was still disturbed by what he’d done, turning inwards now, keeping his thoughts to himself. I knew he needed something to take his mind from it. Keeping him busy wouldn’t erase what had happened, but it would make him less numb. He needed to get back on the trail as soon as possible. The longer we waited, the further away Dariya would be, and the more Viktor would retreat into himself if he had nothing to occupy him. And with soldiers already in Uroz, it was only a matter of time before they discovered Vyriv. I had to find her and return home.

  ‘Communists,’ I said, turning back to Aleksandra. ‘There’ll be more of them somewhere. This man Lermentov, he’ll be the party man, or the police. The others will be Red Army. Were they armed?’

  Aleksandra nodded.

  ‘And what did they do?’

  ‘There were meetings. My father went to them. He said they wanted to take our land and our cow. For the glory of the collective, he said, but he refused.’

  ‘And where’s your father now?’

  Aleksandra looked away. She hung her head in the same way that Viktor was doing, and I couldn’t help feeling impatient. I didn’t need this. I wanted only to be on the trail, closing the gap between me and the man who had taken Dariya. I didn’t want to be dealing with disturbed girls and a boy who couldn’t face the fact that he’d killed a man. Viktor’s reaction was disappointing, and I needed to bury that too.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The longer this took, the further away Dariya would be. But I had to know everything before we could go on. If someone was looking for Aleksandra, following her as we were following Dariya, we may need to leave her behind.

  I put a hand on her chin and lifted her face to look at me. ‘I need to know where your father is.’ The bruises were more obvious now, whether from the light or from their further development. Purple-red, angry marks on her right cheekbone and just below her eyes.

  She pushed my hand away. ‘What do you care? Who are you anyway?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘And what are you doing out here, shooting at people? How can I trust you?’

  ‘How can we trust you? How do we know you’re who you say you are?’

  ‘Look at me.’

  ‘Look at us. We’re just like you. And you have to trust us -what choice do you have?’

  She sighed and looked away.

  ‘What happened to your father?’

  ‘I don’t know. They used Pavlo Kostyshn’s house as a prison, took my father there and beat him with sticks and revolvers until he was swollen and blue before they released him. Then they demanded grain we didn’t have, so they took him away again. They came in the night when we were asleep and … I tried to stop them, but they hit me.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Three, no, four nights ago.’

  I felt no guilt at being firm with her, but I knew she would never see her father again. He was either dead or had been loaded onto a cattle truck and shipped to a labour camp.

  ‘They took others too,’ she said. ‘And when I asked where he was, what they had done with him, they just pushed me away. And they came to our houses and took everything we had. They took the food from our cellars and our cupboards and loaded it onto carts. Left me with nothing but a spoon and a saucer.’

  ‘You have anyone else?’ I asked her. ‘Family?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘And when did you last eat?’

  She shook her head. ‘Yesterday, I think.’

  ‘You think?’ Petro spoke now, coming closer, looking at Aleksandra and then giving me a questioning glance. ‘You don’t know when you last ate?’

  ‘They kept me in the dark,’ she said. ‘I don’t know for how long. And they hit me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They think I know who slaughtered the animals.’

  ‘Your animals were slaughtered?’

  She nodded. ‘And many things were burned. Food, seed grain. People from the village did it to stop the soldiers from taking them. They said if they couldn’t keep their own animals, they would rather cut their throats. And the soldiers thought I knew who did it.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Of course. Everyone knew. I think they even knew it themselves, but they wanted to shame us, make an example. But I wouldn’t tell them, so now they make me walk to the next village. In the snow. Without shoes or a coat.’

  ‘What about Roman? What did he do?’

  ‘Hid food.’

  I thought about the horse tracks on the road. ‘And they’ve gone ahead to wait for you,’ I said. ‘Two men on horseback. They’re expecting you.’

  ‘Yes. So they can ask me more questions. But I don’t think they want any answers. I think they just want me to die.’

  ‘How far away is your village from here? Two kilometres?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And to the next one?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘Four or five kilometres?’

  ‘About that,’ she said.

  ‘That gives us a while before they’re expecting you,’ I thought aloud.

  Petro shifted. ‘And when she doesn’t arrive, Papa? Will they think she died on the road?’

  ‘Maybe. Or maybe they’ll come looking for her.’

  I walked away and fumbled a cigarette from the packet, only three left, and lit it with a match. The phosphorus smell was tangy, but it lasted only a second or two before the tobacco smoke smothered it. I stood for a while, just looking at the trees, seeing the snow, letting my eyes drift out of focus so all I could see was white.

  ‘What is it?’ Petro spoke from just behind me.

  I took a long drag on the cigarette, long enough for me to have to stifle a cough, and blew the smoke out, letting it mingle with the heat of my breath.

  ‘We should leave,’ Petro said. ‘Go after Dariya; get away from here in case those men come looking. We can take Aleksandra with us.’

  ‘Or we could leave her here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If they come looking for her, maybe we should make sure they find her.’

  Petro opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words.

  ‘We could put her back on the road and let her walk.’

  ‘And if she tells them about us?’ Petro finally found his voice. ‘If they ask about the coat and boots? And when the old man doesn’t show up?’

  I offered Petro the cigarette and he looked at it for a second before shaking his head.

  ‘We could take the clothes from her,’ I shrugged. ‘Let her walk barefoot—’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or we could kill her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just possibilities, Petro, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s not an option. I couldn’t … we couldn’t do that.’ He looked at me, probably persuading himself I would never do that – murder someone to cover my tracks – but at the same time he doubted his own thoughts. ‘It would be so wrong.’

  ‘Would it?’ I hadn’t given much thought to killing Aleksandra – I had spoken the words aloud as they came to mind – but now I was asking myself if I would do it. And it made me feel sick to realise I would. If I thought it would help our situation, I really would consider it.

  ‘Of course it would be wrong. How can you even think—’

  ‘Don’t worry; we’ll take her with us. We’ll just have to hope no one follows.’

  Petro shifted where he stood, moving from one foot to the other, breaking the stillness. ‘I don�
�t know what it’s like,’ he said.

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘To be like you. To fight like you have. I can’t imagine what you must have done, how you must have felt.’

  ‘Where’s this coming from?’

  ‘I think you pretend it hasn’t happened.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You harden yourself and pretend it hasn’t happened, and that’s how you live with it. And that’s what you expect from Viktor, isn’t it?’

  ‘We should go.’

  ‘Am I right?’

  I stood where I was, cigarette in hand.

  ‘Am I right, Papa? Is that how you live with it? Is that what Viktor must do?’

  ‘Viktor must do whatever he can.’

  ‘And you? You do things and then make yourself believe they haven’t happened? Is that how you could leave Aleksandra behind?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it now.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Come on, let’s get moving. We can’t waste any more time.’ I went back to Viktor, sensing Petro’s eyes on my back. Petro knew I’d been thinking about what I was going to do, and he knew that if I thought we had to leave Aleksandra behind, I would do it.

  ‘You all right?’ I asked Viktor.

  He nodded.

  ‘I need you to say it.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Good. One more thing to do and then we’re leaving. Come and help me with this.’ I went to the body of the old man and took his arms, starting to drag him deeper into the woods. ‘Help me, Viktor. I can’t do it on my own.’

  But Viktor remained where he was, looking away.

  ‘Viktor,’ I called again. ‘Help me.’

  Still he remained.

  I felt my impatience rise. I was disappointed by my son’s reaction. I thought him stronger. I called him once more, louder this time, but again he didn’t move. Instead, Aleksandra turned towards me. She seemed to harden herself as she took a step forward, only to be stopped by Petro.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ he said, putting a hand on her arm, holding her back. ‘It’s all right.’

  So Petro helped me drag the old man further into the trees, and together we piled snow over him.

  Once the body was hidden, I took Petro back to the road, casting a glance at Viktor. I told Petro to take off his boots and socks.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We need to make more tracks,’ I said, crouching to remove my own boots, looking across once more at Viktor.

  ‘He’ll be all right,’ Petro said. ‘He just needs a moment.’

  ‘He’s had a moment. We don’t have many more left.’

  ‘He’ll be fine.’

  ‘Right.’ I took off my boots, blocking out the pain when I put my naked feet in the snow. ‘When Aleksandra and …’

  ‘… Roman.’

  ‘Mm. When Aleksandra and Roman don’t arrive in Sushne, they’ll come to look for them, and we don’t want them to find a body. If they find tracks ending here, they’ll go into the trees, maybe find where we buried him.’

  ‘So we make more tracks,’ Petro said. ‘Further down the road.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Petro nodded and removed his boots, wincing when his bare feet touched the snow. ‘It hurts,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s do it quickly then.’

  With our boots in our hands, we walked barefoot, trying to continue from the place where Aleksandra and Roman had been walking. At first the cold was painful, then it began to feel more like burning, as if we were walking over hot coals.

  ‘Some people can do this for a long time,’ I said, trying to keep my mind off the feeling in my feet.

  ‘How long?’ There was tension in Petro’s voice.

  ‘Half an hour, maybe.’

  ‘Half an hour? What about frostbite?’

  I clenched my teeth. ‘We’ll stop soon. Walk faster.’

  ‘Will we get frostbite?’

  ‘No. If your toes go white, we’ll stop and rub them. As long as they’re pink you’re fine.’

  ‘That’s the rule?’

  I shrugged and looked at Petro. ‘I don’t know.’

  Petro had pulled his scarf away from his face and I could see the redness of his cheeks, the mud smeared beneath his dark eyes. His features were contorted with pain and determination. Like some kind of twisted clown. And, despite our situation, I felt myself smile.

  ‘What?’ Petro asked.

  ‘If someone could see us now, they’d think …’ I began to laugh.

  ‘What?’ Petro started to smile, his expression turning to one of confusion. ‘They’d think what?’

  ‘That we’re mad,’ I said, laughing out loud.

  Petro began to laugh with me as we hurried along the road, barefoot, like two insane vagabonds, and when I finally signalled to Petro to stop, we rubbed warmth back into our feet and put on our socks and boots.

  We left the road, heading back into the trees, covering our tracks as we went, then doubled back to where Viktor and Aleksandra were waiting.

  ‘You think it’ll be enough?’ Petro asked.

  ‘We’ll have to hope so,’ I told him. ‘A fresh fall would help cover it better.’

  ‘But then we’d have no way of following Dariya.’

  ‘I think we’ll be able to follow her whatever happens. It’s part of his game.’

  ‘You really think this is a game to him?’

  I nodded. ‘Take a child, provoke a hunting party and turn the tables on them. I’d bet the stranger who came into Vyriv wasn’t alone when he started out to rescue his children. I’d bet this man killed them one by one, just like he wants to do with us.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s exciting? Maybe he enjoys it.’ I looked at my son. ‘But this time it’s different. This time it’s me who’s after him – and he won’t get away.’

  Coming to where the others were waiting, I took up my pack and handed Viktor’s to him, saying it was time to be strong again. Beside him, Aleksandra was swamped by the coat we had given her, the warmth bringing colour to her face and hardening the intent in her eyes. She no longer looked cold and afraid, but had the air of a woman who was watching closely, assessing her options, deciding what she had to do to survive. There was something almost animal-like in the intensity of her expressions. I had told Petro that we did not breed weak women, and the look in Aleksandra’s eyes proved it to me.

  Viktor took the pack from me and put it over his back. He hesitated when he was about to pick up the rifle, but he grasped it tight, fighting his guilt as he slung it over his shoulder.

  ‘I would have done the same thing,’ I said, glancing at Aleksandra, looking for a reaction.

  Viktor turned to look at me.

  ‘I would have shot him the way you did.’ I gave him my full attention now. Aleksandra had not reacted to my comment, but she was watching us closely.

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you wouldn’t have.’

  ‘I just hesitated a little longer than you, that’s all. It’s experience.’ I shrugged. ‘Or maybe it’s age, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just slower than I used to be.’

  Viktor said nothing.

  ‘It’s no small thing, killing a man. Taking a life. Taking away everything someone is.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Viktor said.

  ‘What then?’

  ‘It’s taking the wrong life. If it had been him, if I had been right, I would be pleased.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘I’m certain.’

  I nodded. ‘Good. Then I need you to take care of Aleksandra. She’s your responsibility now.’

  ‘I’m not anybody’s responsibility,’ Aleksandra said. ‘If you take me with you, I won’t slow you down. I’m strong.’

  I looked her up and down, seeing how much her demeanour had changed since we first saw her. ‘Yes, you are. But back there you were afraid.’

  ‘Of course.’

&
nbsp; ‘There will be more of that,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you want to come with us? You don’t even know where we’re going.’

  ‘What choice do I have?’

  ‘You could stay here. Try to go home.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s up to you now.’

  ‘You’d just let me go?’

  ‘If it’s what you want.’

  ‘But you know I’m going to come with you. That’s why you hid Roman. That’s why you made the tracks. What else can I do?’

  I looked directly at her and saw that she knew her father was gone. She had accepted it as a fact because it was the only way she could move on and survive. Aleksandra had nothing to go back to; she had already told us she had no other family. The only thing waiting for her in Uroz was death or exile. Perhaps both. We were the only hope she had now.

  I reached out and put a hand on her arm. I said nothing, but I let her see what was in my face, in my eyes. We were together now. She was with us now.

  Aleksandra nodded gently. ‘I won’t be a burden.’

  ‘I’ know.’

  And with that we began walking again.

  17

  Noon came and went. We sat to make a small fire and brew tea to warm us but there was nothing to eat. Aleksandra was weak and hungry, but we had nothing to give her. If we were still tracking Dariya by nightfall, I’d set more snares, but otherwise there was little we could do for her. Even so, true to her word, she did not slow us down. She walked as strong and hard as any one of us.

  For the most part we were silent until Petro aired his worries once more.

  ‘You think they’ll find Vyriv like they found Uroz?’ he asked. It was an hour or so since we had left the place where Viktor killed the old man. None of us had spoken in all that time, each of us lost in our thoughts and exhaustion.

  ‘That’s where you’re from?’ Aleksandra asked. ‘Vyriv?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They’ll find it,’ she said.

  Petro looked across at her, sitting an arm’s length from Viktor. ‘Maybe not. We’re small and remote. It was hardly touched during the civil war. Even during the famine there was enough to eat.’