Red Winter

by Smith, Dan

  ‘Stay back, everyone,’ the commander said without taking his eyes off me. ‘Sit down. Stay where you are.’

  Two or three of the other able-bodied soldiers were coming to the commander’s aid, pushing into the gathering crowd, telling the men to get back. They forced some of them away, shoving them against other men, so they were falling over one another, but already the hope of treatment had lodged itself in the minds of the wounded men. Commander Orlov said that they had been promised doctors and now they thought the promise was being fulfilled, so they stood and they came, joining the growing mob of injured men coming towards me, jostling each other, surging around the guards, approaching the place where the commander and I stood.

  ‘Back!’ he shouted, but the men paid him no attention. They were dying. Their comrades were dying. They were in pain. They wanted help. And so they shambled on, swarming around the guards who tried to stop them, hemming them in, crushing them with the force of their number.

  The commander came closer to me, stepping over the dying, keeping the pistol level, saying, ‘Get back on the train.’

  But the first of the wounded men had already reached us. This young soldier wore a bandage at an angle round his head, covering one eye, and he forced his way past the commander, reaching out his hands to touch me, to beg me to help him. Just behind him, another man pushed through, this one holding a bloodied arm to his chest, and then others shoved in from all sides. Men horded about us, bloody and dazed and sick, so that we were surrounded by them, in danger of being crushed by them, the commander becoming frantic as he tried to turn me and force me back onto the train. At the top of the steps, one of the guards had come out to see what was happening, and as I looked up at him, a sound came from within the carriage that stopped everything.

  A single, muffled gunshot.

  It was as if someone had frozen time. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. We stood in the mist, our minds cleared by that single report, and for a brief few heartbeats, no one thought of anything else. Except for me. Because I knew who had fired that shot, and I knew that Commander Orlov had taken his leave of the war.

  I seized the distraction, grabbing the commander’s pistol and twisting it from his grip with my right hand while slamming my left elbow into his jaw as hard as I could. His legs buckled underneath him, and as he dropped, I pushed him hard into the crowd of wounded men. He looked at me in surprise as he staggered backwards, putting out his arms for balance, but he only succeeded in taking more men down with him. The soldiers behind him were weak with injury and provided no support at all, falling into others, pushing the whole crowd back, smothering the guards who had come to the commander’s aid.

  As they collapsed onto one another, I identified the clearest route and began pushing my way through the men. Hands clawed at me and I dropped the commander’s pistol as they grabbed at my coat, snatched at my arms, tried to grasp my legs, and I shoved and kicked and slapped them away as I broke through.

  Some of the men called for me, shouting, ‘Doctor, please,’ but I had to get away from this hell.

  Bursting free from the clutching hands, stumbling away from the men, I raced towards Lev and Anna.

  Only one of the guards remained with them, but he was confused by the surge of bodies in front of him, everybody desperate to follow me, and I was on him before he could react. I grabbed him by the front of his coat and used all my strength to turn and throw him back into the crowd.

  ‘Get on your horse,’ I shouted to Lev and Anna, who were struck dumb by what they were witnessing. Although Lev had moved to stand in front of his daughter, he watched in horror, as if hypnotised by the crowd of walking dead that surged towards us.

  ‘Get on your horse,’ I shouted again, snapping him out of his trance as I came to his side. ‘Now.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, gripping Anna with one hand and turning to his horse. ‘Yes.’

  Every second was valuable now. The wounded men were closer, and the guards were recovering, preparing their weapons.

  Kashtan had begun to retreat from the advancing horde, but Lev’s horse was terrified. Her eyes were wide, her teeth bared and her ears pinned back. Her hindquarters were tensed, the muscles knotting under her coat, and she tried to bolt. The reins jerked in Lev’s hand and he tried to keep hold of them, losing his footing and stumbling as the leather tore from his grip.

  Seeing her father’s struggle and watching the advancing horde of men, Anna backed away, wanting to be with her father. She saw him as her protector, but he was preoccupied with taking control of his horse and she didn’t know what to do. Her distress was clear, her mouth opening and closing, her head turning from side to side as she looked for a way out.

  I knew Lev would struggle to settle his horse and climb onto her, and with Anna to consider, it would be even more difficult for him, so I went straight to her, sweeping her off the ground and swinging her high, lifting her onto Kashtan.

  ‘Papa!’ she called out to him, struggling against me, reaching out as if she would be able to touch him. ‘Papa!’

  Lev spun round when he heard her cry, his face contorted with panic.

  ‘I’ve got her,’ I told him, and when he saw that she was safe with me, he shouted to us, saying, ‘Go!’ then turned back to the horse that was trying to escape the mayhem.

  Anna squirmed in the saddle, still leaning out towards Lev, still shouting for him, saying, ‘Papa! Papa!’ Her voice rose in pitch as she became more and more afraid for him.

  I held her tight with one hand to keep her from slipping out of the saddle, controlling Kashtan with the other.

  ‘Stay there,’ I pleaded with Anna as I encouraged Kashtan to turn. ‘There’s nothing you can do. He’ll be fine. He’s coming. Don’t worry.’

  Kashtan knew me like we were part of one another and she responded well to my instruction, turning to face into the forest, no longer staring into the mob of soldiers. She prepared to run.

  With only himself to consider, Lev managed to grasp the reins of his own horse and hold her steady enough to climb up, the animal rearing as the men surged around us. The horse’s actions deterred the wounded soldiers for a moment, giving Lev a chance to spur his animal on towards the trees, but then they were coming forward again, so I kicked the man closest to me, pushing others away, clearing enough space for me to put my foot in the stirrup.

  Kashtan didn’t wait any longer. She was forging into the undergrowth, just behind Lev’s horse, even as I was swinging myself up into the saddle.

  I held Anna tight, feeling the tension in her, hearing her sobs as I glanced back to see the commander standing in the crowd, holding a rifle to his shoulder. Further along the train, other soldiers were also raising weapons. The commander leaned this way, then that, trying to find a shot at us, but he was frustrated by the men obscuring his line of sight, and when he finally chose to fire, his bullet struck one of his own soldiers from behind. The man’s head snapped forward and he went down as the gunshot echoed in the mist, but the commander didn’t stop. He worked the bolt and fired again, his second shot crackling into the undergrowth to one side as Kashtan carried us away.

  And then we were out of sight, among the trees, running from the barrage of gunfire that erupted behind us.

  Bullets ripped through the brushwood. They sang in the air, whistled and whined, thudded as they tore into the trees, powdering bark and ice. The sound of the shooting was accompanied by the shouts of the soldiers, the calls of help from the wounded, and then a single long blast from the train’s whistle as a call to arms for all men.

  I gripped Kashtan’s reins with both hands, leaning into Anna to press myself against her and stop her from falling. She, in turn, had taken fistfuls of Kashtan’s mane and was holding tight. We thumped together with every step Kashtan took.

  Lev’s horse crashed through the forest ahead of us. She was out of control, bumping into low-hanging branches, her hind legs throwing up broken twigs and dead leaves as she careered among the dark trunks. Lev w
as bent low, leaning right down along her neck to protect himself from the tree limbs that whipped and snatched at him, and I could see he was trying to calm the horse, pulling the reins hard, but to no effect.

  I spurred Kashtan on, thinking I might be able to catch up with Lev, somehow help to bring his horse under control, but as we came closer, a bullet smacked into the horse’s right shoulder with a loud slap. The animal let out an awful scream as her front legs twisted beneath her, then she crumpled to her knees, her head going down as she skidded forwards, throwing Lev from the saddle.

  Lev was in the air for less than a second before he hit a frosted tree, crashing through a low branch, striking the trunk and showering a white cloud of ice around him.

  His body was limp when it hit the ground.

  20

  Anna called for him. She screamed for him.

  ‘Papa!’

  It was the single most terrible thing I had ever heard.

  Behind us, the soldiers continued to shoot. They didn’t know who they were shooting at or what they might hit, but they shot anyway, over and over again, their bullets peppering the forest.

  ‘Papa!’

  Lev’s horse writhed and kicked in the undergrowth, the black hide around her shoulder glistening with the dampness of her blood. She screamed and rolled her eyes, adding to the already nightmarish sounds that enveloped us.

  ‘Papa!’

  Kashtan tried to choose a new route to avoid the fallen animal, so I resisted her, slowing her as we approached the spot where Lev had fallen. It was the most natural thing in the world for me to want to reunite Anna with her father, but as soon as we were close enough to see him, I knew there was nothing to be gained from it. We couldn’t help Lev now, and if we stopped, we would be in greater danger from the soldiers behind us who might already be advancing into the forest.

  I spurred Kashtan on and put one hand around Anna, pulling her to me as we passed the place where her father now lay.

  Lev wasn’t moving.

  He was on his front, his head turned at an awkward angle, his face pressed against the base of the tree he had struck. Underneath him, a fallen branch, one of its broken fingers piercing his neck just under the chin.

  There was no doubt that he was dead.

  21

  As soon as she realised I wasn’t going to stop, Anna began to struggle. She wriggled to get away from me, calling for her papa, trying to turn and look back, but I held her firm. Strong and wild though she was, she couldn’t match my strength, and even when she bit down on me, her teeth crushing through the cloth of my coat, all she succeeded in doing was pinching the skin of my forearm. So she took to pummelling my arms with her fists, begging me to stop, crying out again and again for her papa, but I resisted her. I focused my thoughts on what lay ahead and concentrated on leaving the train behind us, on keeping Anna safe.

  There was nothing for me to take Anna back to except the pain of seeing her broken father once more. The soldiers would have reached the place where he fell and they would shoot at us on sight, but I doubted they would come after us. Even if there were horses on the train, they wouldn’t use them to chase us. They had instructions to go to Tambov, so someone would bring order to them and slip into Commander Orlov’s role quickly enough.

  There were other riders to think about, though. The seven men on our trail.

  And we had delayed long enough, so I kept on.

  I held Anna, wishing I had the words to soothe her, and I turned Kashtan north and kept on.

  She moved quickly. The forest passed us by, tree after tree after tree. The mist showed no sign of clearing and we pressed further into it. Disappearing further and further into the forest, on and on until Kashtan grew tired and could run no more.

  She slowed her pace to a trot, and eventually we were walking through the forest.

  Anna was silent now. She had exhausted herself and no longer fought against me. She had ceased calling for her papa too, but I still held her tight, my arm aching, and she swayed with Kashtan’s movement. When I spoke her name, there was no response and I suspected she had descended into shock.

  I wanted so much to be able to return her father to her. I wanted to rewind time and somehow save him from his fate, but I had to content myself with Anna’s safety. I considered how lucky it was that I had put her onto Kashtan’s back, otherwise she too would be lying dead in the forest behind me. And, thinking that, I held her even tighter.

  We had been travelling for an hour, maybe more, when we stopped. Kashtan was too tired to carry us much further without rest, and we had come to a small stream, which was a good place for her to drink.

  I dismounted and lifted Anna down, telling her to sit at the base of a nearby oak. She complied without a word, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them as if she were curling herself into a ball. She looked even smaller like that.

  I put two of the blankets around her, making sure she was well covered, then hitched Kashtan close to the stream and broke the surface ice with my boot heel. While she drank the chilly water, I took a few things from the saddlebag and returned to Anna’s side.

  I stood for a moment, wondering what to say to her. I wanted to give her some words of comfort, tell her something that might alleviate at least some of her pain, but there was nothing I could say. No words could make her feel better about what had happened. The only thing I could do was be with her. Protect her and keep her safe.

  ‘You should eat something,’ I said, kneeling beside her and unfolding a piece of cloth containing a few strips of dried meat – the last of a deer my brother and I had cured over a fire when we were heading for Belev.

  Looking at those strips of meat reminded me of Alek and the loss I had felt. My brother and I had been close, and his passing had been hard, but what Anna was feeling would be worse.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, staring at the thin, dark pieces of dried venison. ‘About your papa. We couldn’t have stopped for him, though, you know that, don’t you?’

  It was important to me that she understood. Not for selfish reasons – it wasn’t because I didn’t want her to think ill of me – but because I wanted her to know I hadn’t let her down. That I wouldn’t let her down. That I would keep her safe.

  ‘It was too dangerous to stop, and he was already . . .’ I sighed. ‘It was quick. There wasn’t anything we could do.’

  ‘You could have let me stay with him.’

  ‘No. It wasn’t safe for you there.’

  ‘Will he be with Mama now?’ Her voice was almost inaudible and she seemed so small and vulnerable.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ I refolded the cloth without taking any of the venison. Neither of us could face the thought of food.

  The forest was quiet, the mist still hanging in the air, the sky darkening. The days were short now, the sun quickly falling below the horizon.

  Anna looked up as though she’d had a sudden revelation. ‘We should go back. Maybe Papa is all right. Maybe he’s—’

  ‘No, Anna, you saw him,’ I spoke gently. ‘Your papa is dead.’ It was a cruel thing to say, and I felt terrible saying it, but she had to accept what had happened. I didn’t want her to persuade herself that we had left him to die alone instead of helping him, or that he would somehow survive and come for her. I knew men who had let themselves believe they had left wounded friends behind rather than dead ones, and the guilt they suffered for the thoughts of not going back was a heavy burden to them. She had to know he was gone and that there was no coming back.

  Better to suffer the grief and move forward.

  ‘Will they come after us now?’ she asked, looking up at me. Her skin was ashen, her eyes red from her tears.

  ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t see any horses, and they won’t follow on foot. We should be safe here for now.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ she said.

  ‘No. It was an accident. You can’t—’

  ‘Papa said you’d been gone too long.’
Her lips hardly moved as she spoke. ‘He said that something must have happened and that we should leave, just like you told us to.’

  Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

  ‘But I wouldn’t let him. I said you helped us, so we should help you. I made him bring the rifle.’

  My heart almost broke for this brave little girl.

  ‘You came to look,’ I said.

  She nodded.

  ‘And the soldiers saw you.’

  ‘He did it for me.’ Her face crumpled, her shoulders hitched, and she sobbed in silence, tears falling down her cheeks.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I said, putting my arms around her. ‘We should never have stopped there. Blame me. Blame me for what happened. I should never have made you stop there. It was my fault.’

  She could hate me if she wanted something to hate, so I gave her a reason, but while I was angry and upset about what had happened to Lev, I wasn’t angry with myself for going to the train. I had come away from there knowing that Koschei had taken prisoners. I now had some hope that Marianna and Misha and Pavel were still alive, even if that hope was tainted by what had happened to Lev.

  I pulled Anna to my chest, as I had done with my own children when they needed comfort, and I lowered my head so it was touching hers. I closed my eyes to the world and felt her pain, wanting to make it go away, but knowing I was helpless.

  ‘I’ll take care of you,’ I told her, but the words sounded weak when I spoke them. I was no replacement for her father.

  I don’t know how long we stayed there by the tree. An hour, perhaps, maybe more. We hardly moved. I kept my arms around Anna as her sobbing slowed and finally stopped, and then we just sat together, watching and listening to the forest. We stayed close, huddled together for warmth and comfort, and my exhausted mind wandered, drifting close to sleep. We might have been the only two people in the world.

  A slight wind stirred in the treetops, swaying the weaker branches, rubbing them against one another. There came the creak of ancient trees, the swirl and hush of the breeze spiriting through the undergrowth, stirring the amber and red blaze of fallen leaves. The gentle trickle of the stream. The pull and tear of Kashtan’s grazing, the clink of her tack. All these things just at the edge of my consciousness as I came closer and closer to sleep.