“Good morning to you too, Alexei,” she said, flashing Bogdan a grin. She felt a safe enough distance away, and with enough people in between them, to give him a gentle taunt. After rummaging about, she pulled out two small onions, frozen solid, and rolled them over to Alexei. He carved them up too and handed out the breakfast: a slice each of black bread topped with a chunk of the frozen raw onion.
Lina looked at her and Bogdan’s portions. They had easily half the amount the others did. “Hey!” she protested. “Why do we get less?” The men totally ignored her. Lina scowled but, still, she wasn’t too bothered. It was the same as, if not better than, they’d get at the camp.
“We’ll head to the meeting point with Katya after this,” said Vadim. Lina’s stomach turned at the mention of her mother’s name. How she hoped she’d be there. Then Vadim added, “Gleb and I have discussed it. We think the mine is a mile or two that way, so we’ll need to be careful as we pass.”
Lina choked on her onion and bread. “What?” she said. “You mean we went through all that last night, and we’re not even past the mine?” Most of the camp prisoners — like Bogdan — went to work there every day, escorted by armed guards first thing, and brought back again by them later. They didn’t want to get spotted by that procession.
For the first time ever, Vadim actually looked sheepish and as young as his sixteen years, despite the tattoos. He flushed and glanced away. “I thought we’d make more headway on the first night,” he mumbled. “The storm was worse than I anticipated.”
“Someone slowed us down,” barked Alexei, glaring at Bogdan. His pale-blue eyes flashed like sheer ice.
If there’d been an edge of self-consciousness to Vadim’s tone before, he was back to his usual self in an instant. “Why did you follow us?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at Bogdan in that way that made him look like he was working out a complicated sum. Lina thought she actually preferred Alexei’s brutishness to Vadim’s slipperiness. At least Alexei was up-front.
Bogdan sat up straight. “I couldn’t let Lina go alone,” he said loudly. “She’s my best friend.”
“I see.” Vadim turned back to Lina. “Well. He can’t go back now because he’ll give us away. Maybe he’ll last the day, in those clothes. Maybe he’ll even last another night. Either way, it makes no difference to me — but he’s not having any of our food. You’ll have to share yours or let him starve.” He smiled.
That explained their half rations, then.
“He’ll be fine,” said Lina through a mouthful of bread, acting casual. “You’ll see.” She slapped Bogdan’s shoulder.
Bogdan glared at Vadim defiantly and took a big, loud bite of his share of onion. “I’ve made it through worse than this,” he said once he’d swallowed it.
Vadim only sneered.
They’d show him, Lina thought, but her gut turned. However much she and Bogdan bluffed, what Vadim said was true. Bogdan’s clothes would be useless out in this exposed wilderness. Again she had the nagging feeling that keeping her jacket and the stone was wrong. But would the stone be enough on its own to keep her from freezing? It wasn’t like she could turn it on and off at will. As far as she could tell, it decided when to heat up and cool down. Her head felt clouded and confused.
Behind Alexei, Old Gleb bumbled about, humming to himself as he filled a small pot with snow. He took out some matches — he was going to melt snow for them to drink.
“Where are we going to, anyway?” asked Lina warily. “I assume you’ve planned that far, Vadim Ivanov, O great and sage leader?”
Hearing his own familiar jibe, Old Gleb glanced up from his work, then spluttered a laugh into his chest.
Vadim went pink.
Suddenly Lina could see why Gleb did it. Baiting Vadim was fun.
“We’re meeting my associates at an abandoned peasant house,” Vadim said gruffly. “They’re bringing supplies. Clothes. New identities. So we can ‘disappear.’ ”
“Where is it?” asked Bogdan.
“West of here. We should reach it in three weeks, at a good pace.”
“Three weeks!” Lina couldn’t believe it. Even if Alexei’s sack contained nothing but bread, and even with all her vegetables, they had nowhere near enough food to keep them all going for three weeks. And who were these “associates” of Vadim’s? No doubt members of his criminal gang. Could they even be trusted to turn up?
Opposite her, Alexei cleaned the stench of onion off his hunting blade with the snow, drying both sides on sackcloth before slipping it back in its sheath. What choice did they have but to go along with Vadim’s plan?
Lina would be twelve tomorrow. Today was her first day of freedom, her chance to start a new life in Moscow — just as she’d always dreamed. She should’ve been happy. Overjoyed. Except that Moscow was likely thousands of miles away across frozen tundra, and they were going to run out of food long before then.
It felt stupid now, but in her most private daydreams, pieced together from photographs and stories of other people’s lives, Lina had imagined herself into an apartment overlooking her grandfather’s famous gardens in Moscow — the luscious fruits, the exquisite Georgian palms. They would be her gardens too, where she would carry on his work.
She could picture the communal kitchen of her made-up building the most clearly. The food. The warmth. She’d share vast meals with her neighbors there — produced, as if by magic, from a small but hardy Soviet stove, because people could do all sorts of things when they pulled together. She may have spent her life in a forced labor camp because of their Great Leader’s purges, but the Soviet ideal — of every person being equal, and each one working together for the greater good — still felt right to her.
Her grandmother was in the daydreams, of course. A typical silver-haired babushka at the center of it all, ladling out stew and barking cheerful orders. A small woman with a big heart, who’d stroll with her in the gardens and listen keenly as Lina spoke about plants.
Lina brushed tiny flecks of snow from her collar and looked at the frozen wasteland around her. Moscow felt a long way off. After last night’s storm, deep snow covered everything, though on the horizon, its whiteness faded into shades of cream and gray. The sky itself stretched cloudless and pale, like a flawless frozen lake. It all felt upside down, as if the sky had switched places with the earth while they slept and now they were wading through yesterday’s storm clouds.
In an odd way, they were. The contents of them, at least.
Now every trudge became a greater effort for Lina than the last. Even so, she had to keep going. Until they reached the meeting point, she wouldn’t know if her mother had made it out last night. Whether she was even alive.
The less she thought about it, Lina decided, the better. Instead, she considered asking the boy of maps, Bogdan, how many miles away he reckoned Moscow was. Right away she knew that was a terrible idea. His answer could easily shatter the last of her hope. All her dreams were starting to look fragile and thin in this upturned place.
She glanced over at Bogdan a few paces in front, his shoulders hunched against the cold. No matter what, she thought, at least I have Bogey.
Now, in the kitchen scene she daydreamed about, she imagined Bogdan there too. Sitting next to her, digging in to the delicious stew and chatting between mouthfuls with a grin.
They trudged on until Vadim turned back and raised a finger to his lips. Lina shuddered to think that they were so close to the mine. It would be swarming with people by now. As if that wasn’t bad enough, according to Vadim they would have to pass right by it if they were to make good time.
Vadim signaled for them to crawl, and they did. It would be safest that way. They might just be able to edge around behind the snowdrifts without being seen. The natural rise of the land should provide cover too.
Lina hoped so, at least.
Lina hadn’t seen the mine in years — luckily for her. She held her breath as they passed over it. She was so close she could hear the guards below maki
ng casual chit chat over the prisoners’ bent backs while they worked to clear the paths that had been buried by last night’s snow.
Lina and the others kept low as they circumnavigated the lip of land overlooking the mine’s entranceways.
Ahead of her, Gleb scooted along at a good pace. He was pretty nimble for an old man — surprisingly so, on all fours. Alexei, however? He wasn’t exactly built for stealth. Those giant feet of his vibrated across the roof of the mine as if a bear were crossing. Any minute, he was going to get them all caught.
It got worse. As they passed over one of the mine’s many busy entrances, Alexei barged a bank of snow with his elbow. It tumbled down toward the guards and prisoners. Lina and the others froze, listening. Forever seemed to go by before they heard it patter onto the ground — perhaps onto people’s heads.
Lina remained still. So did the others. They all watched Vadim’s face — whiter than usual, his neck tattoos prickled all over with goose bumps as he peered down. Finally he gave them the signal to carry on.
Lina let out her breath. “Does that idiot Alexei actually want to get us caught?” she hissed to Bogdan.
She risked peering over the edge herself.
A new wave of prisoners had arrived with picks slung over their shoulders. They were being funneled into a line by armed guards.
“Looks no different than any other day,” Bogdan mumbled next to Lina’s ear. He was right. There was no clue to suggest that anyone knew about last night’s breakout. Neither the guards nor the prisoners seemed to be behaving any differently.
But they must know. By now, they had to.
From the lip of land, Lina scanned their faces. In a way, all these people were her family. Was it fair that they should still be suffering while she was free? Lina tried to shrug the thought off. It was too painful to dwell on when there was nothing she could do to help them. And yet, the question of fairness sank its claws in and refused to let go so easily. She’d put her own survival above the lives of her comrades. There was no escaping that.
She shook herself, focused on moving and nothing more. She could push her thoughts out that way. For now. She hoped the chilly breeze would carry her guilt far away.
Once Vadim felt they were far enough past the mine to stop crawling, all Lina could think about was her mother. When would they get to this meeting point? What if her mother hadn’t made it out of the camp? What would Commandant Zima do to her if he caught her? He must’ve discovered the greenhouse by now — and Lina’s absence. A chill ran through her.
High above, a falcon screeched. It was the largest Lina had ever seen. It circled them three times and flew off. Had it been sizing them up for a meal?
Next to her, Old Gleb spat. Lina hadn’t noticed him sidle up. His saliva hissed into the snow like acid as he gave the distant mine a final glare.
“Know where to go, kid, to find this grandmother? If we make it past this abandoned house of Vadim’s . . .” He glanced ahead at Vadim and Alexei walking side by side, heads bent close together as if plotting — again.
Lina found she could barely lift her spirits enough to open her mouth. “My grandmother might be in Moscow,” she managed to say. “She doesn’t know about me, though.”
Might be in Moscow. Doesn’t know about me. Her chances looked worse with every word. All she really had to go on were her mother’s stories. A petite woman who came from the mountains of the Caucasus, she’d said. A woman who’d spent much of her time away from her family on some private, but no doubt important, business.
In truth, her mother had been cagey with certain details.
Still, the odds of finding her were better now than they would have been if Lina had remained at the camp. And at least she had her grandmother’s old address committed to memory. A place to begin her search.
Old Gleb scowled. “What — no other family out there?”
Lina shook her head. “No. I was born in the camp. When my grandfather was arrested, so were my mama and uncle. But my grandfather and uncle are both dead now.”
“Sorry, kid.” Old Gleb gritted his teeth.
Lina squinted at the clouds. “Commandant Zima wouldn’t allow my grandfather in the greenhouse, even though he was a skilled gardener. Kind of a botanist really. He got sick working in the mine and died before I was born, so I don’t remember him. My uncle was shot in an argument with the guards when I was a baby. I don’t remember him either.”
Old Gleb nodded. “Commandant Zima is a cruel man.”
Lina didn’t answer. She retreated into her own thoughts. She found Gleb’s new, sympathetic way of speaking to her unsettling, and she wished he’d go back to sarcastic wisecracks. Worse, though, was what he had said. Her mother had never named Commandant Zima as the one who had killed Lina’s uncle. But it made sense.
That meant the commandant was responsible for two deaths in her family.
“What did he do to end up at the camp, anyway, your grandad?” asked Gleb.
Her cheeks flushed. “Nothing. He did everything he was supposed to do.” It was true. According to her mother, Lina’s grandfather had labored as hard as any Stakhanovite: role-model workers who always far surpassed their targets. He’d grown the most amazing gardens imaginable, ready for the grand opening of the All-Union Agricultural Exhibition — a vast park dedicated to the achievements of Russia and all of the countries that made up the Soviet Union. He had grown plants from his native Georgia that no one had even seen in Moscow.
“So what happened, then?” asked Gleb.
Lina gazed across the snow-covered plains. “My grandfather criticized the Great Leader. He claimed people were being sold a fairy-tale lie — about everything being perfect in the new society, while really others were starving, or worse. He was among friends. Except one of them wasn’t a friend, because they must have told the authorities . . .”
Lina trailed off. There’d been something else that went against him during his “trial” — if you could call it that. Her mother had mentioned it to her once but refused to talk about it ever again. It was too dangerous. Like Old Gleb, it seemed her grandfather had believed in real magic. Spirits. Sorcery. He would tell his stories to some of the schoolchildren who came to visit his gardens. Fairy tales were not allowed in Soviet Russia. At least not the telling of them to children.
“That’s our dear ‘Comrade Stalin’ and his ‘merciful’ secret police for you.” Old Gleb spat again, then grabbed Lina’s sleeve in a panic and spun right around. As if he feared that, even here, Stalin’s secret police might overhear him.
Lina couldn’t blame Old Gleb for his paranoia this time. Judging by how many of the prisoners were in the camp because of the secret police, they had to be pretty good at sneaking around.
“Anyway,” Gleb went on in a hushed voice, “you don’t have to convince me he didn’t deserve it, kid. I make no judgment either way. I was a farmer, but officials from the city took everything. Bullies, they were. They accused me of hiding some grain. And you know what? I did — so my family wouldn’t starve. I’d do it again too.”
Lina stared at Gleb. He gazed off at the horizon with damp eyes, as if remembering that day. “Never mind,” he said, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “When they took me to the camp, at least they spared my sons.”
Was this what the escape had all been about for Old Gleb? The longing to see his sons again? Lina felt for him. She had been away from her mother for a matter of hours and she already missed her like mad. What must it be like to have not seen your own children in years? Or, like Bogdan, to have spent months away from your parents, not knowing if they’re OK?
Lina touched Gleb’s sleeve. “I hope you find them,” she said quietly. “Your sons.”
Gleb’s mouth twitched in what looked like an attempted smile. He gave her a nod instead, before pacing off a little ways ahead, his shoulders hunched against the wind.
Bogdan had been quiet throughout this conversation, stopping every now and then to check his map. Now Lina re
alized he was shaking. His beige skin had gotten goose bumps in the freezing air, and his teeth chattered.
Both of Bogdan’s parents were political prisoners in another, faraway camp. Lina knew he dreamed about seeing them again. At this rate, he wouldn’t see the end of the day.
“Here,” said Lina. “Bogey. Take this.” She slipped off her jacket and offered it to him.
He stared. A mixture of relief, embarrassment, and even anger flashed in his eyes. At first, she thought he was going to say no. Instead, he said, “You sure?”
“’Course. Anyway”— she lowered her voice — “I’ve got the stone to keep me warm, don’t I?”
Bogdan put the jacket on, and Lina took his old one. Hers was a bit short in the arms for Bogdan. It would do the trick, though.
“Where will you go, d’you think?” asked Lina, quickly changing the subject in case he tried to give the jacket back again. “Will you go back to Leningrad?” She winced a little, waiting for the answer. If he went to Leningrad, her vision of them in the same apartment block together would never come true.
Bogdan just shrugged. “Hmm. Maybe.”
“Is it weird, me dreaming about a home I’ve never been to? Like Moscow?” Lina said. She didn’t know what had made her say it, except that she trusted Bogdan more than anyone. “I mean, I’ve only ever known the camp, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, but who’d want to stay there?” said Bogdan. “Anyway, it’s not weird. I grew up in Leningrad, but I think about Tuva sometimes, where my papa was born. I’ve never been there, but I might like to go one day. I think about the Western friends my mama had too and wish I could see their countries. Seems strange to me, just staying in one place.”
Lina nodded. “Think I sort of know what you mean.”
A shadow fell over them. Lina glanced up in time to see the outline of a giant winged creature disappear behind the clouds. That strange falcon again.
Bogdan smoothed out the map against his palm with great care and went on. “Sometimes I think home is wherever you’re happiest, mind you. Like with family.” Lina rubbed her arms for warmth and looked at the snow. When she looked around again, he met her eye. “And friends,” he said. “Obviously.”
Nevertell Page 5
