Child Thief

by Dan Smith

  He was still alive, but the life was leaving him quickly, spilling inside him somewhere; there was little sign of it in the snow. His chest barely moved, nothing more than a slight rise and fall. Erratic and laboured. His eyes were glazed and unseeing. His mouth open, his lips dry, his tongue just visible.

  I pulled my hand from Dariya’s and crouched beside him, putting it to his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ I told him.

  A blink was the only acknowledgement he could make. His chest continued to hitch with each failing breath.

  It’s Andrei?’

  Again just a blink.

  I removed the boy’s glove so that my skin could touch his, and I watched him. I looked into his eyes as his life left him, so that he was not alone and he was not any more afraid than he had to be. And when he was gone I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see Dariya beside me, looking down at the dead man.

  I stood, taking her hand again, and turned to my sons and the zeks gathered there.

  The huddle of prisoners remained silent. They didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know what sound to make. The women didn’t gasp, the men didn’t cheer, the children didn’t cry. They just stood and watched. No one knew if this was a good thing or a bad thing. For now they had been spared the Stolypin cars, the endless journey in crowded wagons without food or water. They had escaped, for now, the prospect of a short life of forced labour in a distant forest or mine. But they couldn’t see a future in which they all walked away from this. From the shooting of a Red Army soldier. They couldn’t see a future at all.

  But I saw one. In the eyes of my son I saw myself returning home. I saw myself with my family once again, and I pushed movement into my legs, forcing one step after another, going to where my son stood.

  ‘You came,’ I said.

  Petro nodded. He managed something close to a smile and looked down at Dariya. ‘You found her.’

  ‘Yes.’

  And then Petro seemed to shake himself, remind himself what he was doing here, what his plan was. He prodded the soldier and told him to move to the front of the column. The prisoners were beginning to mutter a few words now. There was an increase in the volume of their voices. Above all of them I heard a man say, ‘Bless you.’

  I went with Petro and Aleksandra, going to where Yakov’s body lay. And there, at the head of the column, Viktor stood holding the reins of the two horses in one hand. In his other hand he held the pistol which I had taken from the sled of the man who had come to Vyriv just a few days ago.

  ‘Papa.’

  ‘Viktor.’

  He passed the reins to Aleksandra, and we stripped the soldiers of their rifles, laying them across Yakov’s body to keep them out of the snow. When that was done, Viktor pushed the first of the soldiers away from him, then the other. ‘Go on,’ he ordered them. ‘Into the trees.’

  I felt Petro tense. ‘No, wait.’

  Viktor turned to his brother. ‘It’s the only way.’

  I glanced at the small group of zeks. Evgeni and Dimitri had stepped away from them, coming closer to where we stood. I could see in their faces what I knew I would see in my own if I were to look in a mirror.

  ‘Viktor is right,’ I said to Petro. ‘It’s the only way.’

  ‘We can tie them,’ he said. ‘Leave them here for—’

  ‘They’d die from the cold,’ I told him.

  ‘Then let them walk back to the village.’

  ‘For them to send help?’

  ‘They’ll send people to search for them anyway. As soon as they don’t reach wherever they’re supposed to be.’

  ‘Not until tomorrow.’ I went to my son and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘But you already know this, Petro. You knew it would have to be this way.’

  Petro looked at the ground and I put both arms around him.

  ‘Please, Papa,’ Petro said, his voice muffled against my cheek. ‘We’re not barbarians.’

  I released him and put my hands on either side of his face, looking into his eyes, seeing something that reminded me who I was. I wasn’t just the man who had been arrested for no reason and thrown into a dark room. I wasn’t just the man beaten by a policeman who had lost his soul somewhere in the darkness of our times. I was the soldier who had deserted his army because he refused to force young men to dig their own graves, and because he turned his back on shooting uniformed boys who ran scared in the face of a fierce and experienced enemy. I was a husband and a father, and I was the man who had made a promise to find a stolen child. I had killed in the name of freedom and defence and protection and what I believed to be right, but I was not a murderer. I had never been a murderer.

  I took a deep breath and nodded. ‘You’re right. This isn’t even a war.’ I turned to Viktor. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Viktor. ‘We let them run for help?’

  I stepped back from Petro and looked around. The zeks were watching. Expecting.

  ‘I think he’s right,’ Evgeni said. ‘You should shoot them. It’s too much of a risk. What if they come after us?’

  ‘They’re just boys,’ I said. ‘You think they’ll come after us without rifles?’

  ‘They’ll get help.’ Evgeni came close and lowered his voice. ‘These people are angry. After everything that’s been done to them, they want to see some justice.’

  ‘I’m not sure shooting these boys would be any kind of justice.’

  ‘They killed my brother.’ He spoke through gritted teeth.

  ‘And you think killing these boys will avenge that? It will make you feel better?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You really think so?’ I bent at the knees and put a hand in the snow to retrieve the pistol Yakov had dropped. The steel was icy cold, but I gripped it hard and took it to Evgeni, putting it into his hand and curling his fingers around the handle. ‘Then you should kill them. It’ll make the revenge even better.’

  Evgeni looked at the weapon in his hand.

  ‘Shoot,’ I said. ‘Why not shoot?’ I held Evgeni’s hand in my own and lifted it to point at the two soldiers, making Viktor step aside, moving away from us.

  ‘Into the trees,’ Evgeni said.

  The soldiers both raised their hands in useless defence, shaking their heads. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not right here?’ I said. ‘Where everyone can see.’

  I thumbed back the hammer for Evgeni, pulled it back until it clicked and forced the cylinder forwards to create the gas seal. ‘Shoot them.’

  I felt Evgeni take the weight of the pistol. I sensed the contraction in the muscles of Evgeni’s arm as he steadied the gun himself.

  ‘But before you do,’ I said, ‘let me ask them something.’

  I went to stand beside the guards, feeling the panic coming off them. Their faces set tight, their eyes wide, the almost imperceptible shaking of their heads. Their throats contracted, tightening in anticipation.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked the first of them.

  ‘Sasha.’ His words were laboured, his tongue lazy with fear.

  ‘How old are you, Sasha?’

  ‘Nineteen.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Kharkiv.’

  ‘And why did you join the army?’

  He looked at me as if I’d said something that didn’t make sense.

  ‘Why did you join?’ I asked again.

  ‘I had to.’

  ‘No choice?’

  ‘No choice.’

  ‘And you?’ I asked the second of them. ‘Your name?’

  ‘Anatoly.’

  ‘And your age?’

  ‘Twenty-one.’

  ‘You had to join too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you have a family?’

  ‘A wife. Irina.’

  ‘Children?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Good. That should make it easier for Evgeni.’

  ‘Please. We had only a short time together before I had to join the army,’ A
natoly said. ‘I don’t even have a photograph. I can hardly remember what she looks like.’

  I stayed with them a moment, looking at them, studying their faces, then I walked back to Evgeni and stood beside him. ‘OK, now you can shoot them. Shoot Sasha and Anatoly.’

  Evgeni remained as he was, arm outstretched, weapon cocked.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked him.

  Evgeni released his breath and looked to one side as he lowered the pistol until it was hanging by his side.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘You can’t.’ I took the pistol from him and eased down the hammer. ‘Because you know it’s wrong. When it’s right, you know it’s right. But when it’s wrong, Evgeni, the trigger is a heavy thing to pull. These men don’t need to die. My son Petro is right. We’re not barbarians.’

  ‘Then what do we do with them?’ Viktor asked.

  ‘We let them go,’ I said, looking down at Yakov lying close to my feet. He was on his back, one arm outstretched, the other twisted under his body as if it had broken when he fell. There was blood across one side of his face where one of Viktor’s bullets had caught him in the neck. He had leaked into the snow, and already the blood had started to thicken and freeze. His eyes were wide open, staring at the few wisps of cloud.

  ‘Let them go?’ said Viktor. ‘We can’t just let them go. They’ll come after us before we—’

  ‘It’s the only way,’ I said.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ Evgeni asked. He was standing with his shoulders hunched, the weight of his situation weighing him down. He glanced back at the group of prisoners huddled behind him. ‘What do any of us do now?’

  ‘My sons and I are going to take these horses and we’re going to go to my village. My wife is there. My home too, but that is lost. I think, perhaps, your homes are lost too.’

  None of them spoke.

  ‘I know they’ve found my village. They’ve stripped the food, taken anything of any value, arrested or shot the men. I’m going to find my wife and then I’m going to head for Poland.’

  ‘You think you’d make it?’ Evgeni asked. ‘In the winter? With the borders closed and the villages occupied? Even if you can take your wife from the village, you really think you can make it to Poland? On a horse?’

  ‘I’m going to try,’ I said. ‘There are many ways to get into Poland, and I know how to live when the weather is bad. It’ll be hard, but I have to try. You people are free to do whatever you like. You can risk returning to your homes, or you can go somewhere else; it’s up to you.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘What else can I do?’

  ‘What about them?’ He gestured at the soldiers.

  ‘What about them?’ I asked. ‘They’re in the same position as we are. You really think they can go back? Do you know what the Red Army does to men who retreat? Men who lose their rifles and their prisoners? If these men go back to Sushne, they’ll be shot. They can’t go back there any more than you can.’

  Evgeni looked at me for a long while. Beside him Dimitri was silent. The scene was like a photograph, no one moving, no one making a sound.

  After a moment, Evgeni nodded and that simple gesture broke the scene. Dimitri spoke quietly to him before they went to the group of prisoners.

  ‘Strip him,’ I said to Viktor, pointing to Yakov’s body.

  While Viktor did as I instructed, I removed Andrei’s coat and gloves. I took his shirt and his boots and swapped everything for my own. I pulled on Andrei’s budenovka hat, dropping the flaps over my ears, and dragged the young soldier from the road into the trees. Viktor pulled Yakov in beside him, and while Alek-sandra and Petro watched the soldiers and the horses, we threw snow over the bodies.

  ‘You should have gone home,’ I told Viktor as we worked.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘But I’m glad you didn’t. And it’s good to see you looking strong. You did well.’

  Viktor nodded.

  ‘You have the things I left in the cabin?’ I asked.

  ‘In the woods.’

  ‘Everything? You have the rifle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’

  When we were done, we piled Yakov’s clothes together with the soldiers’ rifles by the roadside. I could see Evgeni and the others in conversation. They were still in a huddle, and they reminded me of sheep, the way they’d come together for mutual protection. Even Yuri had lost himself among the others. It surprised me he hadn’t stepped forward, a soldier with his experience. It had never seemed as if his spirit had been broken, yet he remained huddled among the others, looking to Evgeni and Dimitri for leadership.

  As Viktor and I approached the place where Petro stood with the horses, so the huddle became silent and Evgeni and Dimitri came to join us.

  ‘None of us has anything to return to,’ Evgeni said. ‘Nowhere to go.’

  I waited. Beside me one of the horses began scraping the ground with its hoof, nuzzling the area, looking for something edible.

  ‘They want to follow you to Poland.’

  I almost laughed at the thought of leading this rabble to Poland. ‘We’ll be on horseback,’ I said. ‘They’d never keep up. And I can’t be responsible for these people. I already have enough.’

  Evgeni looked down. ‘They’re afraid. Cold. They have nothing to eat.’

  ‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘You can take them.’

  ‘I’m not skilled enough.’

  ‘You’ll have Yuri with you. He has enough experience. He said he was a soldier; he’ll know how to survive. Let him help lead you to Poland.’

  ‘We’ve spoken to him; he’s not coming.’

  ‘What?’ I looked back at the huddle of prisoners but couldn’t see Yuri.

  ‘He said he’ll be safer alone, that he’s going east.’

  ‘East to where?’

  ‘He wouldn’t say.’ Evgeni shook his head. ‘He’s afraid of informers.’

  ‘Everyone’s afraid,’ Dimitri said to me. ‘That’s why we’re looking to you.’

  ‘You know how to use a rifle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. There are rifles there for you.’ I pointed to the small pile of belongings. ‘Take them and whatever you need of the clothes; it’s all I can do. You can make it. Yuri will see sense if you talk to him. He’ll go with you.’

  ‘I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to manage. I haven’t time to stand here talking, and you won’t be able to follow us when we’re gone. We’ll move too quickly on the horses.’

  Evgeni nodded once to Dimitri, then took my arm and walked me away from the others.

  ‘You must be very proud of your sons.’

  ‘There’s no time for pride,’ I told him. ‘There’s only time for doing what we can.’

  ‘And what about these people here?’

  ‘I’ve no time for them either – I told you that. I have enough responsibility already.’

  ‘These people have seen what you can do,’ Evgeni said. ‘You and your sons. They see what kind of men you are, and now they want to follow you. They won’t follow me like that.’

  ‘And what do you think?’

  He shrugged. ‘I think if I want to stay alive, I need to be with you.’

  I looked Evgeni in the eye and ran a gloved hand across my face. I had watched his brother die in the belfry, and he had given me warmth and the last scraps of bread and water. ‘You know Vyriv?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ve heard of it.’

  ‘You know how to get there?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘That’s where I’m going. On horseback I think we can make it by tomorrow morning, but I don’t know how long I’ll be there. There’s a ridge to the north-west that overlooks the village. Head there and I’ll try to meet you, and we’ll travel together. But I won’t wait. As soon as I have my wife and daughter, I’ll move on and I’ll try to leave no tracks.’

  Evgeni nodded and turned as if to go back to the othe
rs, but I stopped him.

  ‘There are enough rifles, so you should split into two groups.

  You take some of the people; Yuri and Dimitri take the others. Try to cover your tracks, but if someone finds them, you’ll be harder to follow if there are two trails.’ I glanced up at the sky. ‘And it looks like someone is finally looking out for us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s starting to snow again.’ I smiled. ‘With a bit of luck it’ll cover our tracks anyway. It’s about time we had some help from up there, don’t you think? Maybe we haven’t been abandoned after all.’

  Evgeni stared for a moment. Thick flakes were beginning to drift around us, not many, but the sky was turning grey, and somewhere far away there was the long rolling sound of thunder.

  ‘How can you smile?’ he asked.

  ‘Last night I was freezing to death in a bell tower. Today I have a good coat and boots; I’ve found Dariya; I’m with my sons, and the snow is falling to cover our escape. I have a lot to smile about. We need to look for the good in what we have, Evgeni; it’s the only way to survive.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can find good in anything any more.’

  ‘You’re free, aren’t you? You’re no longer on your way to a labour camp. You could’ve been mining coal, building a railway, but now you have your freedom.’

  ‘For now.’

  ‘Then we must keep it that way.’ Evgeni and his friends had given me bread and water when I needed it. They had offered me warmth and solidarity. I could see that Evgeni was afraid, just as I had been before, but now for different reasons. Now Evgeni had the responsibility of the others and he faced the possibility of being followed by soldiers. I wanted to do more to help, but there was nothing left for me to do other than reassure him.

  ‘The way it’s falling now, the snow will be your friend. It will cover those bodies and maybe no one will even come looking for you,’ I told him. ‘They won’t care that much about a few old men and women going missing. I’ve met people like Lermentov, and I’m sure he wouldn’t follow us even if he knew we’d gone; he can’t spare men to the wilderness. He has other things to keep him occupied. No, he’ll just hope the weather kills us.’