Radio Underground

by Alison Littman

  “Yes, what do you need?” I held the phone so close to my mouth, it became moist.

  “This is classified. Not even Laszlo can know what I am going to tell you.”

  “I understand.”

  “We need you to deliver a message to the military leader of the Freedom Fighters—Boldiszar Balasz.”

  I almost tripped over the cord.

  “Who?”

  “Boldiszar. Balasz.”

  That was the name of Boldiszar. Our Boldiszar.

  “There is no way he is the leader of the Freedom Fighters.”

  “He is in charge of a major contingency of students fighting in district five,” Anya said.

  “No … no … no… this is all my fault.”

  “What?”

  “I did this to him.”

  It was only two years ago that I first started slipping Boldiszar anti-regime pamphlets, the ones that his parents and Ivan hid from him, but that sometimes were dropped from balloons into the countryside. I also saved a copy of Realitás for him every week, folding it in the envelope we gave him as payment for taking care of Dora. While I knew Boldiszar wouldn’t be so careless as to discuss the paper with me in our home, within the vicinity of Ivan, Boldiszar always gave my hand an extra squeeze when I handed him his payment.

  Once, I even asked him to contribute to Realitás to give the paper a young person’s perspective. When Ivan saw that copy, he made sure I never spoke to Boldiszar again. Anytime I stepped near the boy, Ivan would swoop in between us, rest his arm on Boldiszar’s shoulder, and usher him away.

  I tried to understand how it could be true that, over the course of that time, Boldiszar had become a leader of the Freedom Fighters. I remembered some of Boldiszar’s classmates used to tease him for taking care of Dora every day after school. Their jeers failed to dissuade him from his duties, the happiness of a little girl more important than his popularity. Maybe the students saw Boldiszar’s kindness as radical and noble, a relief from the regime’s incessant cruelty.

  “I know him,” I finally said to Anya. “He’s a good boy.”

  “We know. That’s why we’re asking you to do this favor for us. We’re scared he wouldn’t trust anyone else. We need you.”

  “For what?”

  “The U.S. is on their way to Hungary as we speak. We need their troops to connect with Boldiszar immediately.”

  “The U.S. is coming to Hungary?” I asked, shocked that they would actually heed our call.

  “You’re surprised? You’re the one who suggested this in the first place.”

  “Right. I’m just … relieved they are following through.”

  I couldn’t believe I had predicted the course of the revolution so accurately—the U.S. was coming to our aid. I no longer felt like a journalist, but a driver of news. I felt manic and powerful, like the country needed me to get to work immediately. I also felt a deep sense of relief knowing Boldiszar would have one of the most powerful militaries in the world behind him.

  “We need you to tell Boldiszar where to meet them,” Anya said.

  “Where is that?”

  “Antal will explain more. I have to go now.”

  “Okay ….”

  “Oh, and Eszter, this won’t be easy.”

  “I know, but he trusts me.”

  “He’s a commander now, Eszter. He trusts no one.”

  Now that, I couldn’t believe. Boldiszar might be acting tough, but I knew his sense of loyalty and connection to my family would supersede the limits of his new role. He wouldn’t rebuff me.

  Antal gave me detailed instructions on how to prove that Boldiszar could rely on our information and reiterated that he would reveal the exact meeting point for the rendezvous before we got to Boldiszar. They didn’t want to transmit it over the phone or within the vicinity of Laszlo, which I could certainly understand.

  Taking advantage of the last minutes I had in the office, I crept over to Laszlo. He had fallen asleep at his desk, a habit of his whenever editing stories. I scribbled a note to him, telling him I had a very important mission to see through. I included instructions on what to do if I didn’t return, in part to make him feel like I was doing something bold and noble, and also because I knew the second I stepped outside, my survival was no longer guaranteed. I placed the note under his hand and kissed his forehead.

  “I’ll need your help getting there,” Antal said. He slumped against the back wall of the office, his dried blood forming a crusty ring around his neck. His shoulder hung at an awkward angle, much lower than his other one.

  “I have to ask you one thing before we go,” I said.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you know she was going to ask me that?”

  Antal jerked a little, avoiding eye contact with me.

  “I did, Eszter.”

  “But, why couldn’t you just ask me yourself?”

  “I thought it would be better coming directly from Anya.”

  “I would have believed you. I’m not like him …,” I looked at Laszlo. “I trust you.”

  “Thank you, Eszter. That means a lot. We should really get going.”

  “Can you even walk?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure ….”

  Resting his weight on my shoulder, I dragged Antal out of the office. I wished that I could have left him sleeping with Laszlo.

  “We need to get to the edge of the river,” Antal said.

  “Why the river?”

  “It’s where he is.”

  “But, that’s not where all the students are fighting,” I said, thinking of Corvin Cinema, the movie theater-turned-rebel stronghold in the middle of the city.

  “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s a commander. He needs to be where it’s safe,” Antal reasoned with me.

  Boldiszar did always have a fondness for water, I remembered. On weekends, he used to beg me to take them to Lake Balaton. I never agreed, too busy with the paper to spend the weekend out of town. Last year for Dora’s birthday, Boldiszar ended up taking her to the lake himself. I remember after their trip, I would discover Dora smiling at random intervals of the day, like when she ate her breakfast or even when she was fixing her hair. She actually said hello to me, and goodbye. She spent less time doing her homework in her room or in Ivan’s office, and more time in the living room. I wondered what happened that weekend on the lake.

  I never asked—too fearful to disturb this new daughter. Dora’s glee only lasted a few weeks, though, and Boldiszar stopped visiting us so frequently. Now I knew what he was doing.

  As Antal and I lumbered toward the Danube, we passed patches of destruction and violence, each one more unique and gut-wrenching than the last. Near the radio building, I saw a boy walking around with a lantern, shining it on the dead as he tried to identify the students, forever asleep in their shattered innocence. On Váci út, broken glass and graffiti marred the storefronts. In front of the butcher shop, a man hung tied up on a pole like the pig carcasses being displayed in the windows behind him. A crowd of young and old people surrounded him, taking turns striking the dead man. I watched as a hunched-back, frail old lady shoved her way to the front of the group, jerked her head back, and spat on the man. I started walking toward the crowd, determined to untie this poor man, but Antal reprimanded me. I knew he was right. I had to stay focused on the task at hand. If I wanted to alleviate our country from this pain, we had to get at the root cause. This mission was my fate. It chose me yesterday, when my intuition told me we needed to do something to make this revolution pick up speed. Western aid was really coming, and our forces would be stronger for it.

  I felt Antal’s body give in to his injuries as he grew heavier on my shoulder. My muscles started to cramp, as if they were trying to grab on to Antal themselves. My lungs demanded air at increasingly shorter intervals, and I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or exhaustion, or both. I closed my eyes and plodded on, trying to ignore my weakening body, Antal’s wheezing, and the random bursts of
gunfire nearby.

  “We’re here,” I finally heard Antal whisper. “We made it.”

  “We made it,” I repeated, as we collapsed onto a bench.

  We sat at the very edge of the Danube, allowing the river’s earthy, familiar breeze to wash over us for a few brief seconds. A line of tugboats swayed in the tide, letting in and out gentle, measured breaths as if they were sleeping. The serenity felt misplaced, and because of that, unnerving.

  “It’s time, Eszter,” Antal said.

  “Okay,” I took a deep breath. “I’m ready. What should we do?”

  “You have to make it to that small dock.” Antal pointed toward a wooden structure far off in the distance. If I squinted, I could see the outlines of boats next to it. “Go to the second largest boat there, the one with the blue stripe on it. Tell them Jedidiah sent you. That’s the code.”

  “Why didn’t we just walk there in the first place? We could go together ….”

  “I can’t,” Antal said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they won’t trust me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve played both sides for too long, Eszter. I can’t risk it.”

  Antal’s explanation made sense, but I didn’t want to go alone or leave him alone, in his state. We agreed that he’d wait in the doorway of an apartment building one block away from the river.

  The boat I headed toward seemed heavier than the rest, sinking an inch or two deeper into the water, which lapped against the dock with a taunting softness. Nearing the boat, I smelled smoke recklessly seeping from its door. Was my Boldiszar really that careless? When I knocked, no one answered. Knocking again, I put my lips to the door and whispered, “Jedidiah sent me.”

  I heard a lock unlatch and feet walking away. I pressed on the door, but it didn’t move. I pressed again, yet still, nothing. Turning sideways, I rammed my shoulder into the door, pushing with all the energy I had left. On my third attempt, it flung open and spat me out into a cramped, wooden cabin. I tried to make out my surroundings as thick plumes of cigarette smoke curled around me. Squinting, I saw a card table. A group of young people surrounded it, their heads cocked to the side. They looked no more than twenty years old.

  “Who are you?” one of them roused.

  “I was sent to you by Jedidiah at Radio Free Europe. My name is Eszter Turján,” I mechanically clucked the words Antal crafted for me. “I am here to inform Boldiszar about something important. Tell him Eszter Turján is here. He knows me.”

  The blond girl to my right let out a guffaw. Her friends followed suit, and soon they were all laughing, talking to each other and ignoring me.

  The obese boy at the table, who wore army fatigues and kept combing his brown, greasy hair, raised his voice above the others.

  “What do you want?”

  “U.S. troops are coming. I have to tell Boldiszar where to meet them.”

  They quieted in unison.

  “That can’t be true,” the boy said.

  “It is, and I need to speak to Boldiszar immediately.”

  “Well, you used the code. Wait here,” he commanded.

  I nodded.

  The boy slipped inside a back room. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, comforting myself with the notion that, at the very least, my feet were prepared to launch into action. I wondered if Boldiszar was scared. Was he hurt? Did he know what he was doing?

  I still had a hard time believing he had the tenacity to lead this revolution. In the face of conflict, he always acted so tenderly. When Dora misbehaved, Boldiszar would just wait for her to calm down. He never lectured her. Instead, he asked her questions, prompting her to understand her motivations and, ultimately, her errors. She usually reached the conclusion that she was wrong on her own, and the conversation ended in an apology. How would our gentle Boldiszar last an entire revolution? I wanted to know, and at the same time, I didn’t.

  “He will see you now,” the boy said, returning. “But you only have ten minutes.”

  “Thank you.”

  Patting me up and down, the boy searched for weapons. Finding nothing, he sighed and opened the door to Boldiszar’s office.

  Boldiszar was sitting in a large, leather chair examining something on his desk. I stopped for a second to admire how grown up he looked. He wore a beautifully tailored, olive green military uniform, though you could tell where Hungary’s official military ornaments had been ripped off the woolen jacket and sewn over. His hair was slicked back, the only relic of his wild curls by his ears, where a few strands escaped the wrath of hair gel. When he stood up, I swear he looked taller than I remembered. But when our eyes met, he gave me that same toothy, eager smile that made everyone adore him.

  “Eszter! It’s good to see you,” he said, kissing me on both cheeks.

  “Boldiszar, hello.”

  “Come, sit down. Tell me why you’re here.”

  “Well, I’m sure your … comrades … already told you. I was sent here by Jedidiah.”

  Boldiszar nodded, as if he was personally acquainted with someone named Jedidiah. I almost laughed, he seemed so eager to act like a seasoned professional. Instead, he just reminded me of someone listening to an assignment on his first day of work.

  “And what news does Jedidiah have for us today?”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, we get intelligence from Jedidiah regularly.”

  “Oh, I had no idea.” I wondered who else Anya used to relay intelligence to Boldiszar, and felt a pang of jealousy. Why didn’t they trust me sooner?

  “The U.S. is here. They want to meet to coordinate resistance efforts.”

  “Where?”

  “In Buda. I can show you.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  Boldiszar curled his fingers in and out of his palms, making small fists and releasing them over and over. He stared at me, his tar-colored eyes resting on mine. He started nodding his head, and I couldn’t tell if he was thinking, or pretending to think, or basking in the immense responsibility before him.

  “Eszter,” Boldiszar sighed. “I want to listen to you. I want to believe you. I know you are telling me everything you heard, but how do we know that wasn’t a saboteur calling? How do we know it was really Jedidiah? This is the most extreme thing he has asked me to do ….”

  “She.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind, just turn up the radio. I can prove to you I’m not lying.”

  Anya and Antal had prepared me for this very situation.

  “Sure,” Boldiszar said, reaching for the nob.

  On air, Zultán Thury delivered the news in a quieter, more subdued voice. He recounted the day’s horrors and named the students and other Freedom Fighters who had been killed. I didn’t recognize any of the names, thankfully. Boldiszar kept a straight face, though I could hear the soft, nervous tapping of his foot against the desk. Thury instructed us to help the wounded now lining the streets and offered a cursory lesson on wound care and CPR. He discussed rebel movements outside of the city. Workers in the villages had taken over factories, standing up to their dictatorial bosses.

  Looking at the radio, then me, then at the radio, Boldiszar finally said, “What are we waiting to hear?”

  “Just wait.”

  “With the help of our intelligence operatives in the field,” Thury began, “our troops will be aligned with military efforts from the United States.”

  Boldiszar’s eyes perked up. I placed my finger to my lips, hoping to ensure his silence.

  “And that wraps up the news,” the reporter continued. “But, we have an important message for the Freedom Fighters. First, listen to Eszter. Second, Feri is in the tunnel. And third, light will lead the way.”

  Boldiszar’s lips, thin and pale, parted for a second, then snapped back shut. He examined me from the corner of his eye.

  “So you are the Eszter, then? I heard those codes earlier this evening, but I didn’t even think
it was you ….”

  “It is. Now will you believe me?”

  “I can imagine,” Boldiszar said, more to himself than me, “that it would be hard to fight off the Soviets without knowing someone like me to get the U.S. connected to the right people and place the guns in the hands of those who want victory the most … who can be trusted ….”

  “Exactly, now we really don’t have much time. We need to get to work.”

  “Wait, Eszter ….”

  “What?”

  “Why aren’t they giving us any time to fight on our own? We deserve that, at the very least.”

  “You know we can’t win on our own, Boldiszar. There is no way we have enough resources or people to take on the Soviets. And the U.S. wants to see the Soviets lose as much as we do.”

  Boldiszar looked down and studied the document on his desk.

  “I know,” he said quietly. “You’re right.”

  “Can I show you where they are now?”

  “Yes, you might as well.”

  I rushed over to the map. Pins marking demonstration spots and battlegrounds pierced the sprawling city. A red pin sat on the radio building, where the first young deaths of the revolution occurred, and another on Bem Square, where students protested at the feet of Józef Bem, a hero of the 1848 Hungarian Revolution. Blue pins marked Kossuth Square and the Ministry of Agriculture, all of which had yet to see conflict, as far as I knew. I wondered what offensives the Freedom Fighters planned to launch at those sites. Perhaps Antal wanted me to go on this mission so I could gather some intelligence too. If Laszlo and I monitored these areas, we could send out calls for troops and arms.

  I ran my fingers along the map until I found the meeting point with the Americans. It lay nestled far away, miles past Batthyány Square on the other side of the bridge, in the hills of Buda.

  “This is where we have to go,” I said.

  “That is far, almost too far.” Boldiszar studied the map.

  “I assume they needed somewhere safe.”

  “But once I’m there,” Boldiszar shook his head. “I’m theirs.”

  I refused to say anything. I started to back away from him, toward my chair. I had seen many men, even men as compassionate as Boldiszar, turn on me in times like these. The second their doubts took hold of them, I became an unwelcome witness to weakness.