by Dan Smith
‘Where?’
‘What does it matter? It’s all there is, but at least you’ll be together.’ He looked at me. ‘You asked how long you have been here.’
‘Yes.’
‘Two days. You’ve been here two days.’
‘It feels like longer.’
‘It always does.’ He turned and began to walk away, one of the soldiers coming to push me and Dariya into line with the others.
As he ascended the church steps, Lermentov stopped and looked back. ‘Someone give that man some socks and boots,’ he said.
Then he went into the church and closed the heavy door behind him.
28
They marched us out of the village in pairs, two lines of shuffling, bowed prisoners. Dariya held on to my hand as if she would never let it go, and we fell in at the rear of the pathetic column. Ahead of us Yuri and Evgeni and Dimitri were lost among the other zeks, who shambled like the walking wounded returning from battle. Men and women whose hope had deserted them. Twenty, twenty-five people, some of whom had already been marched from other villages, their own homes left far behind.
No one spoke. Four guards went with us, two at the head of the column, Yakov and Andrei on horseback – the two men who had arrested me on that very road – and two at the rear, dressed in good winter coats and warm boots.
I looked down at my own feet, almost to check they were still on the end of my legs, for there was barely any feeling in them at all now. Even with boots and thin socks, the cold had set so firmly into my flesh that I felt I would never be free of it. On my back I wore only a shirt, and the wind plucked at it as I crossed one arm over my chest to protect myself, but I was thankful that Dariya was better dressed than I was. She had suffered more than enough. With my other hand I grasped her small fingers, determined not to let go of them. I would keep her with me now, whatever was going to happen. She would not be alone again. But my body was reluctant to keep going. I had been beaten and left in the cold, and now my mind was closing and I fought to keep it open. My whole body was trembling, the shaking growing worse so that I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. I had to focus all my strength to stop from falling to my knees and giving up. Kostya had said it was easier to close his eyes and imagine a better place, and I had to concentrate hard not to do the same thing. I looked down at Dariya beside me and reminded myself she had endured as much as I had and more. She was only a child and yet here she was, still walking, still strong. If she could survive so much, then so could I. And as long as we were together, I had to make myself believe there was a chance for us. I couldn’t afford to think, even for one second, that our fate was now decided. But in the face of the crippling cold, the warmth of Kostya’s peace was inviting, almost overwhelming, and my eyes began to close and my legs ceased their walking.
The guards noticed straight away that one of their zeks had stopped. They shouted at me to get back in line, startling my eyes open in time to see one of them raising his rifle, coming towards me. But I was too tired even to move. All I wanted to do was to lie down in the snow and go to sleep.
Up ahead, the rest of the column was faltering. Some had turned to see what was happening, look for the source of the disturbance, while others continued in their bewilderment. Bodies bumped together; prisoners stumbled.
‘Keep walking.’
I raised one hand and looked at the guard. Tm so tired. So cold.’
He sighed and I saw a look of sorrow in his face before the soldier shook himself back into character and spoke to me. ‘Walk.’
I nodded.
‘Walk.’
Dariya squeezed my hand and looked up at me, pulling me on, encouraging me to quicken my pace and catch up with the others. I caught sight of Evgeni leaning out of the line and looking back, and I nodded to him, showed him a forced smile and mouthed to him that I was all right.
The walk was slow and painful, and I was not the only one to hinder the column. Ahead there were old men, women, people who were sicker from hunger than I was, more infused with the cold than I was. Some of these people had been walking for many hours already, and their stop in Sushne had been their only rest. And I had seen no sign of food.
As we came to the spot where I had been arrested by the two soldiers, I watched the trees, hoping my sons had made it home.
At times the line lagged, someone would fall to their knees, be dragged up by the guards, supported by their friends or walking partners. And from one of those occasions, from the misfortune of another, a little luck came to me.
We had been walking for less than half an hour when one of the prisoners in the middle of the line collapsed and was unable to get up. The guards called for us to stop and Andrei came from the head of the column. I shuffled to one side so I could see along the line of bodies, watching as the guard dismounted and tried to drag the man to his feet, but he was a deadweight.
Andrei called to one of the soldiers from the rear, the young man who had told me to keep walking, and together they tried to pull the old man to his feet, but each time he collapsed back into the snow.
The horses snickered, stepping back and forth on the road, their bridles clinking. Yakov, who was still mounted, controlled his own ride and came to take the reins of the other while the guards struggled with the prisoner. I glanced behind at the single soldier at the rear of the column, and then ahead at the other three, all of them watching the old man. I considered if I would be able to overpower the guard behind me. I was old and the guard was young. I was tired and weak and slow with cold, but perhaps I could take him by surprise.
I looked back at him again, seeing that he was focused on what was happening up ahead. He was distracted. But when I glanced along the line for a last check, Yakov had turned, pulling his horse’s head round, trotting the length of the line, shouting at us to get back into pairs and reform the column.
I moved back into the line, any hope of surprise now gone, and watched the soldiers struggle with the old man’s weight. He looked close to death. His bony frame was malnourished, and every time they pulled him to his feet, his knees buckled, his ankles twisted and he collapsed back onto the road. I wondered how long I could go on before I was the same.
The guards made the same assessment of the old man as I did, and Andrei squatted beside him and removed a glove. He put his naked fingers to the man’s neck and looked away while he felt for a pulse. After a moment or two he stood and replaced his glove. Then he and the other soldier each took an arm and dragged the old man to the side of the road, laying him in the snow. He was dead, or dying, and they were going to leave him behind.
When the order went out to continue walking, we began shuffling again. Andrei had remounted his horse, but instead of returning to the head of the pitiful column, he trotted back and turned his horse so he was alongside me.
‘I’m sorry for what happened to you,’ he said.
I looked up at him.
‘You found your daughter.’
‘Yes.’
‘Only she isn’t your daughter, she’s your niece.’
I gripped Dariya’s hand tighter. ‘Lermentov told me you were in Vyriv.’ I was almost afraid to ask, afraid to know what had happened in my village.
Andrei nodded. ‘I spoke to your wife. Natalia Ivanovna.’
For a moment it was as if there was no cold. The crippling temperature that clouded my thoughts was pushed aside and everything was clear. The mention of her was enough to remind me what I had to get home for, and I was encouraged that I was not too exhausted and too numb to feel uplifted by the sound of my wife’s name.
‘Is she all right?’ I asked.
Andrei’s face softened. ‘She was when I saw her. And your daughter. Larissa.’
‘My beautiful Lara.’ I had made her a promise. I had told her I would bring Dariya home. And now my heart was filled with both relief and fear. They were safe, but for how long I had no idea. ‘What will happen to them?’
Andrei glanced away. ‘I d
on’t know.’ Then he looked down at the girl beside me. ‘It’s good you found her.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’m sorry this happened to you,’ he said again, and as we came to the place where the old man had collapsed, I looked over at the body lying at the side of the road. Andrei halted his horse, making me turn to look up at him again, and when our eyes met, the young soldier nodded once.
At first I was confused, but then I understood what he wanted me to do.
I took a tentative step out of line, and the guard tightened his reins, pulling back the horse’s head, a slight turn. I could smell its sweet breath, the faint odour of its sweat.
‘Be quick,’ Andrei said.
Dariya refused to let go of my hand when I left the line of prisoners, and I had to yank it from her grip in order to get to the side of the road.
The old man’s skin was cold and lifeless, his glazed eyes staring, unseeing, at the clear sky. I pulled his arms from the sleeves of the coat, heaving his body to roll it over and slip the garment away. I dusted the snow from it and drew it around me, feeling the last of the old man’s warmth. I fastened it tight and looked down at the corpse.
‘Go,’ the soldier told me. ‘Get back in line.’
Ignoring the order, I bent down to roll the old man onto his back again, turning his face to the sky, thinking no man should be left face down at the side of the road. There was something like a smile on his lips. In the bell tower Kostya had been pleased to be leaving this place, and perhaps this old man too had found some peace in his last moments. A single, clear and pleasant thought to send him from this world to whatever might be waiting beyond. I thought about my own feelings not long ago when I had considered the peace of giving up. But I had something to live for. Natalia and Lara were safe for now, and Dariya needed me. I had promised to take her home, but if that was not to be, then at least I could stay with her, protect her. And seeing the old man with his dead blue eyes turned to the sky, the pupils widened in the relief of death, I knew there was no easy way out for me. My own relief would not yet come.
I closed the man’s eyes with my fingertips and thanked him for his coat.
Behind me Dariya stood silent, her hand outstretched for mine. I showed her a smile and took her hand, joining the back of the line with a new-found strength. I had boots on my feet and a coat on my back. I was better off now than I had been this morning. Today would not be a bad day. Something was watching over me.
I walked now with my head up and my eyes facing forward. Beside me Dariya continued without speaking, but from time to time her small hand squeezed mine as if to reassure herself of my presence. I no longer watched my feet and considered falling to my knees. I was still tired and I was still hungry, but my resolve had hardened like iron in the cold, and I was determined not to fall by the side of the road as the previous owner of my coat had done. We were at the back of the line, two soldiers on foot behind us. We were best placed and I was waiting for the right moment. And then we would make our escape.
Ahead of us the column continued to shuffle. Stopping and starting. The aggressive Yakov reined his horse back from time to time, shouting an order, waiting for the line to pass him so he could watch each prisoner. I didn’t look up to meet his eye, but I could feel his stare every time he was close.
We were on a straight stretch of the road now, the forest closing in on either side as if it intended to swallow us. The trees reaching out in places, stretching across the track like the dark fingers of forest spirits. There had been a fresh fall during the night, and the snow had piled in ridges along each branch. The sky was clear, brightening, with a tinge of orange just above the trees, only a few wisps of cloud. Yakov had halted his horse at the roadside so he could watch us shamble past, the animal stamping its hooves, moving from side to side. Its eyes rolled white and pale air blew from its flared nostrils.
And then a shout went up at the front of the line. Immediately we stopped, some of the prisoners bumping into those in front, their bodies closing together so there was almost no space between them. There was a moment of stillness before people began to move, leaning out to each side to see why we had come to a stop. Others leaned further to see past those in front, then Evgeni took a step to one side, a cue for others to do the same until everybody was shuffling out of line.
‘Get back!’ Yakov shouted, pulling his horse around and moving up the length of the column. ‘Get back in line!’ He slipped his foot from the stirrup and kicked one man in the shoulder, pushing him into his partner, the two of them stumbling but managing to stay on their feet.
‘What’s going on?’ Yakov said, nudging the horse into a trot, moving to the front of the column.
When he was past, I glanced back at the two guards behind, seeing they had stepped wide on either side, moving off the road and looking in the direction Yakov had ridden. They shared a glance, not noticing me watching them, then went back to looking along the broken line of zeks, moving wider still, taking a few steps forward to better see what was happening.
Keeping my hand clasped around Dariya’s small fingers, I began to edge out from the line. The perimeter of the forest was close. The trees were just a few metres from where I was standing. I scanned the dark sentinels, looking for a dense patch, searching for an escape route, trying to identify a place where the horses would find it hard to penetrate. But the trees were spaced too evenly, and I wouldn’t be able to outrun the mounted soldiers. Not with Dariya. Not without a weapon.
Behind me both soldiers still had their rifles over their shoulders. They had made no attempt to make their weapons ready; they saw no threat from whatever had stopped the column of prisoners. I took another step out from the line, moving back just a touch, thinking I would overpower the one closest to me. If I could get to him before he could react, there was a chance I’d be able to take his weapon from him. In the forest, armed, the three remaining soldiers would be no threat to me. Horses or not.
I moved out further until I could see the two mounted soldiers at the head of the line. They were inching forward, the flanks of their horses almost touching, their bodies alert, leaning forward in the saddle. Yakov had kept his rifle over his shoulder, but he had drawn and cocked his revolver.
A few metres in front of the column a muddled shape lay in the centre of the road. From where I was standing, I was sure the shape was a body. Dark and out of place, a light dusting of snow across it as if it had been there for some time.
Yakov spoke to Andrei. There was a pause and then Andrei nodded and dismounted. He took the rifle from his shoulder, but there was inexperience in the way he held it, muzzle to the ground, as he approached the body. The line of prisoners was silent. Watching. Even from the back, I could hear the squeak of the soldier’s boots in the snow.
When he was close to the shape, Andrei stopped. ‘Who is it?’ he asked. His voice was alien in this place. Muffled, as if the land wanted to quieten it, smother it. As if this place of calm and peace was not meant for humans.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, but still there was no reply. No movement.
I felt a surge of concern for Andrei but I knew this was my chance. There might not be another opportunity to escape. And yet I was transfixed by what was happening. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as Andrei stepped closer and put out his foot, touching the toe of his boot to the bundle and nudging it. I couldn’t help but watch as I saw a slight resistance in the shape, as if it were not completely frozen.
I saw Andrei turn to Yakov, lifting his arms in question, in anticipation of his next order, but as he did, the shape moved. Like a forest wraith, rising from a pile of clothes, materialising and making itself whole, the shape shifted and grew. It moved with speed, the dusting of snow showering and falling from it as it stood tall and wrapped itself around the young soldier.
But this was no wraith, this dark shape that now rose from the road. This was a man, wrapped well against the cold. He wore a full coat and a fur hat, his face covered w
ith scarves that were bound tight. Only his hands were not gloved. He rose up and grabbed the soldier, pinning his rifle arm to his side as he embraced him from behind, making the cumbersome weapon useless and using Andrei’s body as a shield. The attacker’s other hand rose up to point at Yakov, still astride his horse, and extending from that fist I could see the slim barrel of a pistol.
But it was Yakov who discharged his weapon first. Whether he did so because he was inexperienced and taken by surprise, or whether his actions were calculated, I don’t know, but Yakov’s revolver kicked hard in his hand, the first shot hitting the human shield. Before he could thumb back the hammer to fire again, his horse reared, lifting its front hooves from the ground, twisting to the left. Yakov pulled tight on the reins, but he was forced to lean hard to counter the movement of his ride. His aim was disturbed and his second shot went wide, thumping into the trees beyond. The man who had materialised from the dark shape on the road released his grip on Andrei and, as the body collapsed at his feet, he took aim and fired three quick shots, knocking Yakov from his horse.
And then the attacker was moving. Hurrying through the snow, the hem of his coat thumping against his boots, until he was standing over Yakov, his pistol pointing down at him. He fired again.
The attack had come with such speed and ferocity that I barely had time to react, and I suspected the same was true of the two guards behind me. When I turned to look at them, neither had even had time to unsling his rifle. Both soldiers were standing with their hands out in front of them, each with a gun barrel to his back. And behind them were tracks on either side of the road where two more men had come from the forest. But when they gripped their scarves and pulled them down to reveal their faces, I could see they weren’t two men at all. One of them was my son Petro, and the other was Aleksandra, the girl from Uroz.
29
I didn’t go to my sons straight away. Instead, I went to Andrei, the soldier who had waited for me to take the old man’s coat. When I’d looked at him earlier, I had seen something of my own sons in him. He was young like them, inexperienced like them. Out of his depth like them. And now he was lying in the snow, shot by his own comrade.