Nevertell

by Katharine Orton

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  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  In the depths of Siberia, in the harshest cold, an eleven-year-old girl dressed in gray overalls crossed the assembly square on the way to her prison quarters. She walked alone. She blew on her hands for warmth and left her breath behind her. It made white whirligigs through air laced with ice.

  Lina neared the barbed-wire prison fence. There, she stopped. The wind played in the tufts of her sand-colored hair; her eyes glinted like varnished wood. If she’d been a fox, her ears would’ve been pricked. Voices? Out here? At this hour of dusk?

  This wasn’t good. Besides her, the only other prisoners who would be lingering about now were the ruthless kind. Thugs. Robbers. The ones that would hold a blade to your throat and strip you of everything you owned, soon as look at you. Boots, overalls, and all. They’d leave you to freeze.

  That’s if they didn’t do you in first.

  Lina glanced around. On one side stretched the back of the barracks complex: the sleeping quarters. Half a winter’s worth of snow towered next to her on the other side. Prisoners shoveled it off the path and dumped it every morning as their first job of the day, before they set out to work in the mine. It was gray-brown at its base and peaked white at the top — the closest thing to a mountain Lina had ever seen.

  Every winter of her life since she could walk, she’d trudged back and forth in its shadow. Tonight, as if things weren’t bad enough, it had voices leaking through it. Voices she now recognized.

  It had to be mad Old Gleb, Alexei the Butcher — and someone else. Probably Vadim.

  The thought of Vadim sent a shudder through her. At sixteen, he already had the tattoos of the criminal underworld. He had quick eyes and no patience for work — as if he felt he had somewhere else to be. Lina had seen it before, all too often. Denial. It made people hard to predict — which also made them dangerous.

  “And supplies? We’ll need more food than this, Vadim Ivanov, O great and sage leader. Much more, if we’re to —”

  “Shut your mouth, Gleb.” That was Alexei’s voice: deep — and blunt as a shovel. Enormous, dark-haired Alexei, always with his eyebrows knitted and always with coldness in his pale glare. He was Vadim’s muscle — twice Vadim’s age and double his size, known to act first and let others do the thinking later.

  “Quiet, both of you.” Vadim. “The kid will be here. Katya said this is the way she always comes. The best place for ‘a quiet word,’ away from the guards, she said.”

  Lina gasped. Katya was her mother’s name. They were talking about her. Why would her mother tell them, of all people, where to find her? Lina was confused for a moment — but only a moment. Her mother was brave. And smart. Lina trusted her. If Mama had told this group where to find her, there must have been a very good reason.

  Still, Lina hesitated. These men were dangerous. Maybe they’d only overheard her mother saying she’d be here. Maybe they were planning something . . . Lina began to back away.

  “Shh. What was that?”

  Heavy, crunching footsteps sounded, and Alexei loomed around the snowbank. Fear set in Lina’s bones.

  Alexei reached out. To grab her. Lina sprang into action. She ducked under his arms at the last second and scrambled to get away. Too late. Alexei’s ice-cold hands clamped down in an instant. Lina was small for her age, and he lifted her up like a bundle of twigs and whisked her behind the snowbank.

  Vadim narrowed his eyes when he saw her and smiled. To the other two, he said: “See. I told you the kid would come.”

  “Let me go,” Lina said through clenched teeth. But Alexei held her fast. No escape. She could kick, however. She drove her heel hard into his shin. He grunted in pain, though his grip didn’t falter.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Old Gleb. “Look at him. How is he going to help us? He’s so small, he’ll barely be able to carry his own supplies! Hardly any muscle on him at all. And listen. He sounds just like a girl.”

  “Idiot!” said Alexei. “She is a girl.”

  Lina smirked. “I’m stronger than I look. And I have more meat on my bones than you, old man.” Hurt flashed in Old Gleb’s eyes. Lina bit her bottom lip. Starvation wasn’t something to joke about in a forced labor camp — and Old Gleb was painfully thin. Almost what people here called a goner. “And anyway,” she barked, recovering. “What do you want? Why are you looking for me? Shouldn’t you be getting your rations, quick, before someone else eats them?”

  Vadim sneered. He was good-looking in a certain light. Not when he sneered, though — then he looked ugly and cruel. “Rations are exactly what we’re after, but not the measly ones served up here. Can you be trusted to keep a secret, as Katya insists? You understand there’s no going back if I tell you this, don’t you?”

  Lina tried to shrug the chills out of her spine and stand tall. “I can be trusted. Can you?”

  Alexei and Old Gleb glanced at each other. Old Gleb’s cheeks puffed with a barely contained laugh. “Well, Vadim Ivanov, O great and sage leader. She’ll be good entertainment on the other side of the wire, at the very least.”

  Lina’s eyes grew wide and round. “You’re planning to cross the wire? To escape! Are you mad?” Hardly anyone got past the outer fence. Those who did . . . If the cold didn’t get them, or the lack of food, then the wolves would. Or, if you believed that sort of thing, the spirits.

  Even so, awe rang in her voice. She gazed at the sliver of horizon, just visible through the wire and beyond the outer fence. By some trick of the fading light, when she squinted, she could see tiny, dark shapes out there, slanted and bracing against the wind.

  She imagined she was one.

  “Surely, we’d die,” she said.

  Vadim didn’t appear to see any folly in his idea, however. Not judging by that stare. His eyes seemed to search inside her, as if trying to strike a deal with her soul.

  Lina stared back just as hard. Vadim may think he’s clever, but could his plan, whatever it was, really be good enough? In two days’ time, Lina would be twelve. She didn’t intend to celebrate by freezing to death in the Siberian frost. No way.

  Then again, how many hundreds of hours had she spent dreaming of going beyond the wire? Not just to the mine, where the prisoners hacked out precious metal every day. Beyond even that. She fixed her gaze on the horizon, and a smile crept over her face.

  She’d go to Moscow. Find her grandmother. Her mother’s stories of this amazing woman were one thing. But to actually find her, to finally meet her, to be with her . . . Lina had to come too.

  Vadim smiled as if he read the resolve in Lina’s eyes. “Good,” he said.

  A strong wind whipped through the wire fence
with a howl, flinging ice crystals that scratched at their faces like needle-sharp claws. The rising storm would only get worse.

  “Better find your mother,” Vadim said to Lina with another nasty sneer, “and put on your warmest boots. But first, we need you to do something for us.”

  If I say no?” Lina asked Vadim cautiously. It wouldn’t be wise to look too keen. Not right away.

  Old Gleb hooted with laughter and slapped his thigh.

  Alexei wasn’t as impressed. He shook her. “Stay here then, runt, and see where it gets you. You’ll only slow us down anyway.”

  Vadim held up his hand. “That was Alexei’s lack of patience talking. Alexei?” Alexei grunted and let her go. The sudden release made her arms tingle. She rubbed them as Vadim spoke again. “What Alexei means is that, of course, if you and your mother choose to stay, there’s nothing I can do. But think of this: freedom. I know it’s what you want, Lina. It’s what we all want. But we need you to do something for us first, to prove you’ll be useful to us beyond the wire, as your mother claims. Or will you, perhaps, be more trouble than you’re worth?”

  “No, I can help,” piped up Lina. So much for not looking too keen. “Whatever it is, I can do it. Try me.”

  Vadim raised an eyebrow. “Food,” he said. “We need food if we’re going to survive out there.”

  And now Lina understood what they wanted from her and why her mother had told them to meet her here in the dark. She was one of Commandant Zima’s greenhouse assistants — although assistant implied he worked too, instead of just barking his orders at them. Some — like Vadim — presumed this meant she had the favor of the camp’s chief officer. It meant nothing. Lina had seen the commandant turn on the people he apparently favored. Working in his greenhouse did spare her the toil of the mine, though, and she was lucky she’d inherited her grandfather’s talent for gardening. But it meant being under the commandant’s nose. Always. And Commandant Zima hated people. He didn’t care about the plants either — not the way she did, about nurturing them or helping them grow. The only thing he cared about was the prestige they would bring him at the annual officers’ banquet.

  Lina feared Zima as much as everyone else. Anyone with any sense would.

  She couldn’t let her fear get in the way, though. “Listen. I can get you supplies. Vegetables — from the greenhouse. I’ve got a key, remember.”

  Alexei grunted. “A handful of rotten onions. We don’t need that rubbish.”

  Vadim glowered at Alexei. “I’ve told you. We need everything we can get.”

  “Honestly,” said Old Gleb, smiling and wiping his eye. “A greenhouse. In this!” He gestured at the snow. “That commandant is truly unhinged.”

  Alexei snorted. “Says you. You believe in children’s fairy tales. Sorcerers and spirits who roam around with ghost hounds, capturing men’s souls.”

  Old Gleb set his teeth in a grimace. “Don’t,” he whispered, barely moving his jaw. “It’s dangerous to even speak their names. They —”

  Vadim glowered at Gleb this time, then turned back to Lina. “Are you brave enough to do it, Lina? Commandant Zima cares more about those plants in his precious greenhouse than any human being. Even you.”

  Lina scowled at “even you.” She’d heard the rumors. Everyone had. But her mother refused to say who her father was — and Lina couldn’t believe that it was the commandant.

  “I can get you supplies,” Lina said. “Much more than just rotten onions.” She shot a pointed look at Alexei as she said it. “I grew most of it myself. If it’s good enough for the commandant’s banquet, it’ll be good enough for all of you.”

  “I knew you’d be able to help us,” Vadim said. He looked self-satisfied, as if everything was happening according to his plan. Lina didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  A sudden gust of wind from the rising storm started a mini avalanche from the top of the snowbank, and the tumbledown lumps pattered at their feet. Lina shifted out of the way.

  “It’s settled, then,” said Vadim. “We’ll meet back here come the dead of night, when everyone is asleep.”

  Lina felt her stomach twist, though she couldn’t tell if it was with fear or excitement. This was actually happening. She really was going beyond the wire.

  It was dusk by the time Lina emerged from behind the snowbank. Only the violet-white glare from the snow still battled against the settling gloom. She glanced over her shoulder, but the others were still hiding. Vadim didn’t want them to raise suspicion by arriving at the mess hall in a group, so they would take off once she was out of sight.

  Years of trudging had worn patches out of the path, so she navigated the ridges. Today’s faint sole scuffs marked the journey of other prisoners to and from their day’s work at the mine, over-trodden in places by the cut of the guards’ hard-heeled boots.

  Normally Lina would go back to her quarters before dinner to put on cleaner overalls. Her mother, Katya, always arrived at the mess hall early from the camp hospital and collected her rations for her, so she wouldn’t lose them. But she’d wasted enough time already tonight, and a sense of urgency now drove her. She desperately needed to talk to her mother about what had happened with Vadim and the others.

  However, when she sat down at the long wooden bench, worn smooth by elbows and hands, her mother said: “You should’ve gotten changed as usual, Lina. Someone might notice.”

  Lina stared at her in surprise. “Mama,” she whispered. Her mind was full of the escape. They were going beyond the wire. Really. “I —”

  “Don’t,” said her mother. “Not here. Save it till we’re back at our quarters. It’s safer to talk there.” She looked at Lina for the first time since she’d taken her seat and nodded toward one of the guards patrolling the benches.

  Lina understood. The guards were always close by in here. Always listening. The fact that Vadim and the others had dragged her behind a snowbank just to let her in on the plan said it all.

  “Here,” said her mother, looking away. “Eat up.” She pushed a bowl along the bench. A hunk of black bread was poking out of the top. “I’ve soaked the bread for you. It’s like trying to gnaw on a rock today.”

  “Thank you, Mama.” The soup looked watered-down, even by the usual standards, and it smelled putrid — but that may have just been the lingering stench of the mess hall. Lina felt sick with nerves, but she was hungry too. She took several fast slurps of soup.

  “Perhaps they’ve decided that slow starvation isn’t working,” said her mother, “so now they’re going to try choking us with the bread.”

  Katya radiated tension tonight — which wasn’t surprising, given their plan to escape — but Lina felt it was more than that. Perhaps there’d been patients at the hospital who were beyond her help: goners, or even people who’d died. No doubt it reminded her of Lina’s grandfather and his slow spiral into illness inside the camp — no, because of the camp.

  Lina wished she’d known him.

  When someone died at the hospital, which was all too frequently, her mother’s rage grew so volatile it could spill onto anything and anyone at any moment and turn to a blistering wrath. On days like these, she could play a ruthless game of poker. She almost always won, even against the guards. The prisoners all despised the guards — none more so than Lina’s mother. But there were benefits for those willing to play them: more food rations and extra clothes to begin with, as well as other coveted goods. In the camp’s world of forbidden card games, there were just two types of people. Those who played and those who didn’t.

  Between the benches and the stalking guards in their woolen winter uniforms, many dirt-streaked prisoners still lined up for their evening rations. As always, there were three lines. One for those who’d earned the largest portion through their work in the mine. This line was the shortest — and no wonder: The targets set by the officers were all but impossible. The second one was for a moderate portion. The third was for everyone else. This was the longest line — for “starvation
rations.” No one lasted long on those alone.

  As Lina watched, Vadim and Alexei crossed the hall and joined the short line. There were other ways to get a full meal, of course. Their ways — like bribing and bullying. They didn’t call Alexei “the Butcher” for nothing, and everyone knew about Vadim’s criminal connections on the outside.

  Old Gleb, the last to arrive, skulked to the end of the longest line. Clearly hanging around with those thugs didn’t bring the payoff he might’ve hoped for.

  Lina scanned the hall and soaked in its sounds as her bread soaked up soup. A hundred different conversations murmured on in a hundred different tongues. Russian. Hungarian. English. Japanese. It amazed her how people from every corner of Russia — and beyond — had ended up in the same place, all together, their stories becoming entwined with hers.

  Prisoners collected their portions. The lines shuffled on. The crisscross of bodies opened a space in front of her, and for an instant, Lina caught sight of her best friend, Bogdan Buyan, the only other person her age in the whole camp. She glimpsed him just before his line moved forward and more adults got in the way. She bit her lip. Looked like starvation rations for him again.

  “Less daydreaming, more eating,” said her mother. “It looks odd otherwise.”

  Lina came back to herself and her soup. Little was more urgent for a hungry prisoner than eating. To ignore food after a long day was to basically admit you were up to something.

  Act normal, Vadim had said. She owed it to her mother too. She shoveled in her soup as fast as she could. Besides, she’d need strength for what would come.

  When she’d finished eating and the prisoners began to be dismissed, Lina and her mother shared a look — they both knew it was time for Lina to carry out her part of the plan. With a solemn nod from her mother, Lina left her side and made her way toward the greenhouse. A lump sat in her throat, like dry black bread that hadn’t been soaked — impossible to swallow.

  She’d grown to love the greenhouse. She’d worked hard tending the soil with her fellow prisoners, whispering encouragement to every buried seed until they dared poke their curious green heads out of the earth to look at her. And now here she was, about to destroy it all.