Gone by Nightfall

by Dee Garretson

  “Got it,” Hap said. “Elder Red, here we come, ready or not.” He punched Miles on the arm.

  The faintest of smiles crossed Miles’s face. They’d be all right, the two of them together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I GRABBED A piece of bread and ate it as I went upstairs to change my clothes.

  When I came back down, Osip wasn’t at the door, but he appeared as I was opening it to leave.

  “Wait, Lottie! You shouldn’t go out now,” he said, hurrying toward me. “It’s not safe. Vladislav says there is going to be a general strike and everyone will be out on the streets.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be any worse than yesterday,” I said as I pulled on my gloves.

  He moved so that he was in front of the door, as if he wasn’t going to let me out. “It could be much worse. The workers at one of the munitions factories are already on strike, and there is a rumor that the government is mounting machine guns on rooftops to fire on any crowds.”

  The words machine guns gave me pause. That had to be mere rumor. “I don’t believe they’d do that,” I said. “The people just want to get out and protest. I have to go out. I won’t be gone for long, and I’ll avoid the crowds. You remember what I told you about the baron? We’re in real danger from him. I need to do something to make us safer.” I didn’t want to tell Osip about our plans. If the baron came to the house, it would be better for Osip not to know what was going on. “If the baron or anyone else comes who wants to know where Miles is, say he isn’t home.”

  Osip nodded and sighed, then moved away from the door.

  No one was out on our block, but that wasn’t so unusual. The air was frigid even for Petrograd, the type of cold that Miles had labeled dagger breath because it hurt so much to breathe in.

  When I got to the end of the block and turned the corner, a gust of wind stirred up the snow and blew it into my face. I blinked and brushed it off my eyelashes so I could see. I blinked a few more times until I could understand what I was seeing, or rather what I wasn’t seeing. This street was empty too, and that was unusual. I felt a little prickle on the back of my neck that wasn’t due to the cold. There was a tram, but it wasn’t moving, and the windows were covered with snow. As I got closer, I saw that some of the windows had been smashed.

  The prickling spread down my back. Snow was drifting across the sidewalks. Petrograd normally had so many street cleaners; they were out every day clearing off enough of the new snow to get around, and packing down the lower layers enough for the sleighs to operate. From the depth of the snow in front of me, no one had cleared them for many hours.

  The city seemed abandoned. I shivered, feeling the cold cutting into me. A voice in my head told me to turn around and go home, back to the warmth, where it was safe.

  I made myself go on, slogging through the snow, watching and hoping for some sign that the city hadn’t emptied out overnight.

  I heard an odd thumping noise behind me and whirled around, nearly falling as my foot came down on something solid underneath the snow, unbalancing me. A company of Cossacks came down the street, the thumping sound the horses’ hooves muffled by the snow. I moved out of the way, and they passed by as if they hadn’t seen me, except for one young man at the end, who turned to look at me as he rode past.

  The sight of people should have made me feel better, but the looks on the men’s faces only made me more anxious. It was getting harder to make myself take in the cold air. I felt dizzy, so I stopped and tried to adjust my scarf around my mouth, forcing myself to breathe.

  I made myself go on, walking until I heard sounds coming from the next block: voices and sleigh bells and what sounded like the normal shouts of the izvoschiks. I hurried up, eager to be among people again. The air seemed warmer, and I thought maybe the sun was trying to come out from under the clouds.

  The noise grew, and as I turned the next corner, I saw why. The streets were packed, full of people wearing red armbands or carrying sticks with bits of red fabric tied to the ends of them. Placards had been placed everywhere, warning people not to gather in groups larger than three or they’d be fired upon. From the size of the crowds I saw, the signs were being completely ignored. At several different street corners, men stood on crates giving speeches to the people gathered around them.

  There was an energy in the crowds I’d never seen before. I felt excitement running through me, but fear, too. This was a different city.

  I stopped to listen to a slight man with wire-framed glasses, his voice loud and deep for such a small person. “This is the time to be brave!” he shouted. “The government doesn’t care about us, so it has to go. We can do better! Let your voices be heard!” He pumped his fist in the air, and the people around me cheered.

  I didn’t cheer. My mind was in too much of a whirl. Was Raisa out in the crowd somewhere? I looked around for her and then caught myself. “Focus, focus,” I whispered to myself. I had to think about my family first.

  As I got closer to the bank, the number of mounted troops patrolling the streets grew. They weren’t giving orders, but people parted anyway when they rode through.

  There was no line in front of the bakery. The door had a CLOSED sign on it and there were no lights on, but a group of women stood in front of it, shouting as if the baker was inside. One woman pounded on the door while the rest chanted, “Give us bread!”

  The bank was closed. I stood there in front of the door, staring at it, trying to think what to do next. Panic began to rise up. The boys had to have money. As I was trying to work out who I could borrow some from, I remembered the lockbox at the hospital. It had rubles in it. We kept some for emergencies. I pushed my way through the crowds, trying to remember how much was in it. If there wasn’t enough, I’d have to see if Papa had any on hand. I remembered his words at the grand duke’s party: Tell Sasha I’ll pay him tomorrow. I hoped that didn’t mean there wasn’t any at home, either.

  A policeman rode up and shouted at me. “Get off the street!” I didn’t know why he was focusing on me. There were people everywhere. He shouted at me again, calling me redhead in Russian. That explained it. He thought I was a troublemaker because of my hair. I pretended I was going into a building, but came right back out as soon as he rode off.

  On Mikhail Street the crowds were just as big and seemed to be made up mostly of women. A large group of them linked arms, pushing their way down the street and forcing the policemen to the side, all the while singing and chanting. “No more food shortages! No more war!”

  I’d thought the Cossack troops would joke with them again, but all of a sudden the troops charged the women. They scattered out of the way and then cheered as if it were all part of a game.

  I didn’t feel like it was a game. If someone stumbled, they’d be trampled.

  “Charlotte! Charlotte Mason!”

  I recognized Carter’s voice, and I looked around until I saw him waving his arm frantically at me. He had on his ridiculous hat, and he towered over the crowd around him.

  The newsman made his way to me, his eyes wide and a big smile plastered on his face. “Isn’t this something! Patrick and I have been out all morning.” He waved in the direction he’d come from but I didn’t see whoever Patrick was. The crowd was too thick.

  I felt jittery with nerves and a little sick to my stomach. The authorities wouldn’t let this continue, but if people refused to get off the streets, I had no idea what the troops would do.

  “Patrick is getting some great photographs. It’s really happening. These people aren’t going to back down now. The crowd is too fired up. Watch out there, fellow!” Carter said to a man who jostled me. Since he spoke in English, the man ignored him.

  Carter waved his arms around, nearly knocking his own hat off. “I only hope I can get this story out. I tried to file one yesterday about the ugly mood in the city, but the woman at the telegraph office told me not to waste my money. The censors aren’t letting any real news out. They don’t want t
he Germans to know how bad the situation is.”

  His news shook me. If the censors were blocking information, the situation must be very bad. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what that meant for us.

  He looked down at me as if he’d just realized who he was talking to. “Say, what are you doing out in this crowd anyway? The streets certainly aren’t going to be safe for the next few days.”

  “I’m on my way to the hospital. I should keep going.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll see you later. Wait, would you like to go to the ballet with me sometime? I’ve never been to one, but everyone says since I’m here, I have to go.” He didn’t seem to realize it was completely bizarre to be talking about going to a performance in the midst of what actually seemed like the start of a revolution.

  “Maybe,” I said. “We can talk later at a better time.” He didn’t reply, too busy listening to a new chant the crowd had taken up.

  When I finally reached the hospital, Galina stopped me before I could get to the office. “Any news?” she said. “I’ve heard all kinds of rumors, and we’ve had more patients leave early when their husbands came to get them. There are only three here now. Is the czar coming back to the city?”

  “I didn’t know he wasn’t here already.” Papa hadn’t said anything, and he was my only source of news about the czar.

  “He’s at the front with the troops. A nurse who was there told me. She says she thinks the czar and his men have no idea what’s happening here.”

  “I haven’t heard anything,” I said. “When I see my stepfather, I’ll ask him. He’s sure to know.”

  I went into the office and took off my coat. Galina came in as I was taking the lockbox out of the cupboard. She had a greenish cast to her face as if she was about to throw up.

  “Are you coming down with something?” I asked.

  “There are more visitors,” she said, her voice shaky, which was not something I’d heard before.

  I sighed. “Which husband is it now?”

  She shook her head, but before she could speak, two men pushed their way around her.

  They were policemen. My heart began to pound so loud I thought they’d be able to hear it.

  One of them was Irina Igorneeva’s husband. I remembered from her chart that his last name was Blok. The other was bigger, with a walrus mustache and a large, crooked nose.

  “I believe you are Charlotte Danielovna Masonaya?” Blok said in an official-sounding voice.

  I put the lockbox back in the cupboard, hoping they hadn’t noticed what it was. “Yes. What can I do for you?” I thought I managed to keep my voice from wavering, though my jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt.

  “We are here to inspect the facilities,” he announced. “We’ve had reports of black-market activities. Show us to your food storerooms.”

  I should have foreseen it. I should have realized a toad like Blok would find a way to take revenge for having to give way to a girl.

  I thought of my mother and what she’d do in such a situation. “There must be some mistake,” I said. “We are a hospital, and the food we have stored here is for our patients.”

  “Show us,” he ordered.

  I hesitated, wondering if I could refuse. The other man chuckled. “I know what you are thinking, but you should realize people don’t say no to us, not even foreigners. If you don’t like this, complain to your embassy later, but now do what we say.”

  “Yes,” Blok added. “We can find reasons to arrest everyone who works here if you refuse.”

  I knew they probably would, just out of spite. I couldn’t let them arrest the nurses. “This way,” I said, and led them to the kitchen in the back, my mind racing.

  The cook, Tanya, dropped a spoon when she saw the policemen and then grabbed the ends of her apron, clenching them between her hands. She was Galina’s grandmother, a tiny elderly woman who, when she wasn’t cooking, loved sitting in a chair in the nursery rocking the babies.

  “It’s all right, Tanya.” I tried to smile. “These men won’t be here long.” She picked up the spoon and held it in front of her as if it would be some kind of protection. I hated to see the fear on her face.

  “In here.” I pointed to the pantry. It was only about a third full, and I hoped that the other policeman would see that it was a normal amount for a small hospital.

  “Where did you get all this food?” Blok demanded.

  I clasped my hands together and tried to sound as if I were one of my former teachers patiently lecturing something to us ignorant students. “We buy it at locations all over the city. Some of this we have had for a long time, since before there were so many shortages. My mother, who founded the hospital, believed that we should keep a stock of basic supplies on hand all the time because we never know how many patients we are going to have in any given week. Patients need good food to recover their strength and go home to their families.”

  Blok slapped his hand down on one of the empty shelves. “Hoarding food is unpatriotic. You should be ashamed. Our men at the front go hungry while you let women feast on all this.”

  “They aren’t feasting!” I realized I had raised my voice, so when I spoke again, I tried to go back to sounding calm and reasonable. “And many of these women are the wives of our soldiers. I’m sure the soldiers wouldn’t want their families going hungry. We send bundles of food home with each patient when she is released, so she can feed her other children.”

  “Be quiet!” Blok moved so he was only inches from me. “You can talk and talk, but it doesn’t change the situation.” He turned to the other man. “I think we should arrest her, don’t you?”

  He was trying to scare me. I sucked in a breath, weighing what to say. The wrong thing might make the situation worse.

  “Perhaps,” the other policeman said as he walked over to one of the sugar tins and opened it up. He dipped his fingers in and brought up a pinch of sugar, which he put in his mouth.

  “This is not illegal!” I said. “The patrons of the hospital are well-respected and well-known supporters of the czar. They will tell you we run the hospital according to the rules.” I didn’t want to draw my stepfather into this, even though I suspected they already knew all about him.

  “Can you prove where you got all this?” the other man asked.

  I’d thought about writing up some fake receipts before, but I hadn’t carried through with the plan. We did have some legitimate receipts, since we still bought what we could from local merchants, but they weren’t enough to account for all the food.

  I decided to try to bluff my way around the question. “I can give you some boxes of our paperwork. We don’t have a bookkeeper at the moment so they aren’t very well organized, but if you want to go through them, you are more than welcome to.”

  “Dealing on the black market is quite a serious offense,” Blok said. “You could be put in prison for many years. It would be a shame for a young girl like you to waste the best years of her life.” He paused. I clasped my hands together so they wouldn’t shake, though they were slick with sweat. I didn’t know if it was better to stay silent or keep talking. A terrible feeling was growing in me that it wouldn’t matter what I did.

  The corners of Blok’s mouth turned up into a smirk. “Though perhaps we can find a way to overlook this. Of course, if we do, you’ll have to swear to never do this again. We could see that all this food gets donated to a worthier cause. The hospitals for our soldiers always need food.”

  I realized what he was saying. They wanted it for themselves. They’d take it, claiming it would go to another hospital, but it wouldn’t. It would go to the police.

  I wished I could wipe the smirks off their faces. My fear disappeared, replaced by anger. How low could a person sink to take food from a hospital? I decided I wasn’t going to make it easy for them. “Every hospital needs food,” I said. “If you know of one that has a shortage, then of course we will let our supplies go to them. I’m afraid you’ll have to arrange a way t
o get it moved, though. We have very little help here besides the nurses, and they must stay with the patients. You saw yourself, the cook is an elderly woman.”

  I’d hoped they’d both leave temporarily to get a cart or something so we could at least hide some of the food. If we were clever, they wouldn’t be able to tell anything was missing.

  “Fine,” the other man said. “We’ll arrange to transport it immediately. You stay here and help load it up. Blok will stay to oversee the transfer.”

  I gritted my teeth together. “I need to get back to work,” I said. “Perhaps the policeman would like some tea while he waits. There is tea in our little sitting room, and it’s the warmest room in the building.” If I could get him up there, we could get back into the storeroom without him seeing and move some of the food into a hiding place.

  Blok rubbed his hands together. “Yes, I will have tea.” I took him to the sitting room and motioned at the samovar, not trusting myself to speak, and then hurried back to the kitchen.

  I explained to Tanya what I was going to do and asked her to find some hiding place while I went into the pantry. I took a large piece of cheese and one of the baskets of eggs, trying to figure out how much I could take before they’d notice.

  Tanya cried out. I whirled around and ran right into Blok.

  “Foolish girl.” He snorted and then added, “I knew what you were going to do. You aren’t so clever.”

  “These are for the patients’ lunch and dinner,” I said. “You have to leave us enough to feed them today until we can get more food.”

  “You’ll have to find another way to manage, or they can go without.” He grabbed the basket of eggs out of my hand but it tipped. One fell out and broke, spattering both of us. I wished I could throw the rest at him.

  I heard a sharp, loud sound from the front of the building, and then another and another from the square. Blok’s face went pale. He dropped the basket and ran toward the front of the building. More sounds, a clattering type of noise, and I realized it was gunfire. My mouth went dry. Tanya wailed. “In here,” I said, grabbing her and shoving her into the pantry. “Stay here where it’s safe.”