To the Lake

by Yana Vagner

  I got out of the saggy bed, which creaked miserably again, stretching its rusty springs, and said:

  ‘Bloody hell. You know what? I’ve had enough of this.’ And they all looked at me, even the children playing on the floor, and I said: ‘I don’t understand why we’re arguing here. Tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, we’re going to leave. If somebody wants to stay, just stay.’ And I started making my way towards the door, to Sergey, and stopped near him, because it seemed he wasn’t going to leave yet. He stood by the door, holding his jacket, shifting his gaze from one face to another, and I could tell that this conversation wasn’t over for him.

  ‘You’ll come with us, Ira, won’t you?’ he finally said, and I quickly glanced at him. It was important for me to see who he was looking at – her or the boy, who was sitting on the floor near the stove. I even looked back at the room to trace the direction of his eyes, and my guess was wrong; the boy sat on the floor, playing, and she looked him straight in the eye and nodded slowly, without saying a word, just nodded, and I swear, I was only upset for one second, and was glad straight after that because I knew for sure that Sergey wouldn’t leave without her.

  ‘Dad?’ Sergey asked.

  ‘I’ve been arguing with these idiots for the past three days,’ Boris replied immediately. I hadn’t noticed him until then, maybe because he had been sitting so still and quietly, or maybe because I’d been concentrating on the others. ‘As soon as the cars are ready, we’ll leave. Even if Anya can’t drive yet, we’ll manage with three drivers for two cars. Mishka and I found a fantastic fishing net – I didn’t have time to tell you. We need to make some room in the boot, we found so much stuff here, and we’ll carry on looking for more tomorrow.’

  ‘Talking about stuff…’ Natasha said, and fell silent because Andrey, raising himself on one elbow, looked at her; she endured his gaze and continued about ten seconds later, defiant: ‘What, what? We talked about it yesterday. Let’s settle it once and for all, since it’s come up.’

  ‘Settle what?’ I asked, although I knew what she was going to say. Funny that; these people can’t surprise me any more, I can predict what’s on their minds, I can read them like a book.

  She lowered her head, looking at her feet in the darkness under the beds, and hurriedly continued, as if afraid that if she stopped she wouldn’t have the courage to finish her sentence.

  ‘We need to decide what we’re going to do about provisions. The food Andrey and I brought with us isn’t enough for five people.’ I raised my eyebrows and realised I was smiling, but decided not to interrupt her – there was a special pleasure in letting her finish. She wasn’t looking at any of us, as if the invisible interlocutor she wanted to convince was under the beds. ‘And as far as I understand, Marina and Lenny haven’t had a chance to stock up on everything that’s necessary.’ She stopped talking, and I caught myself thinking that I wanted her to carry on; in my mind I was pleading with her: Come on, tell us we need to leave you food, and probably medicine, and whatever else Sergey and Mishka bought on that last day while Lenny was opening the gate to those people in army uniform who killed his dog and frightened his wife to death. She didn’t say another word, though.

  Finally, Andrey sat up on his bed with an air of reluctance about him and looked at Sergey, carefully avoiding catching anyone else’s eye, or perhaps it just seemed that way to me, and said:

  ‘Sergey, we need at least a shotgun and some cartridges. Marina said you’ve got three of them.’

  I opened my mouth. I needed to breathe in but had a coughing fit, and while I was fighting it, Sergey, without looking at me, as he always did when making a decision I would never agree with, said, ‘Well, I don’t know, I suppose I could leave one of the guns behind—’ and suddenly, while I was still wrestling with my cough and tears were streaming from my eyes – stop it, stop it right now, I told myself, you should have coughed earlier, you must stop now – Ira began to speak. She had been silent ever since Sergey and I entered the house. She was talking very quietly, and that’s presumably why nobody interrupted her.

  ‘I don’t see any point in leaving a gun for them,’ she said, folding her arms, and looked at Sergey coldly and calmly. ‘If they think this place is safe, they don’t need a gun. And we will need all three of them where we’re going.’ Nobody interrupted, so she continued as quietly and impassively as before. ‘Even if we don’t meet anyone dangerous, we’ll have to go hunting during the winter. Our provisions’ – she stressed the word our – ‘are not enough for six people. Mishka can shoot, can’t he, Anya?’ She looked at me at this point, probably for the first time that day.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, suppressing my cough, hoping that my voice wouldn’t shake, because it was important to say everything I needed to say. ‘And I can shoot too, by the way, so really we have fewer guns than we need.’

  ‘And the same applies to food,’ Ira said, and smiled.

  It went quiet in the room again. We could hear Lenny behind the door, breathing evenly in his sleep. I knew that this conversation wasn’t finished, and I was ready to carry on. I wasn’t sure that Sergey was going to help me in the discussion, but I knew for sure how it would end, and stopped worrying. I looked for a place to sit down, because it was becoming difficult to stand, but inside I was completely calm. We actually have four guns, including Boris’s rifle, I thought, but decided not to mention it, because both Sergey and Boris knew how many guns we had. Boris, who was barely visible in the semi-darkness, gave out a short laugh.

  ‘You’re a dab hand when it comes to choosing women, Sergey,’ he said, and slapped himself on the knee.

  Somebody was definitely going to say something, and I began to wonder who it would be – Marina, who stood frozen in the middle of the room, or Natasha, with her mouth open, ready to speak, or Andrey, raising himself on one elbow again – when there was a loud, desperate rapping on the door and Mishka’s frightened voice said: ‘Come out quick! We’ve got visitors!’

  I don’t know why I rushed outside together with the men. Ira, Marina and Natasha stayed indoors with the kids. I did it automatically; I pushed the door with my shoulder and ran out, putting on my jacket as I ran ahead of Sergey, who for some reason had stayed put by the door. I even had to push him out of the way so I could open it; I was definitely out earlier than Boris and Andrey, who were further inside the room. Maybe I went first because I was standing near the exit and didn’t have time to think about it, or maybe because my son was out there alone, without a weapon. Whatever the reason, Mishka and I spent about half a minute outside on our own before we heard loud panicked talking from behind the door which I had left open, and then something crashed on the floor.

  I knew that they would all turn up any time soon, but Mishka had already started walking towards the gate, peering into the darkness of the street a few metres away, where the Land Cruiser and the silver hatchback were barely visible in the foggy November twilight. I couldn’t possibly let him go there on his own; I was convinced that it was pointless to call him, so I could only do one thing – run after him and put my hand on his shoulder. He stopped, startled, but didn’t say anything, just nodded towards the street. I looked the same way and saw a man standing behind the hatchback, near the trailer. It was as if he had materialised right in the middle of the street. He wore a khaki anorak with a massive fur-trimmed hood, a neat knitted beanie and ski gloves.

  Despite the noise from the house, which we could hear even near the gate, I thought the man hadn’t noticed us; or at least he was behaving as if he was completely alone on the narrow path obstructed by two big vehicles, between the silhouettes of silent houses looming against the greyish sky. He carefully walked around the trailer, paying close attention to it, and then reached over and, bending down, tried to open the cover and look inside. As soon as he did so we heard hurried footsteps behind us and a bright, dazzling shot of light flashed above my left shoulder, which made the man on the path stand up, turn to us and cover his eyes
with his hand, protecting himself from the bright light.

  ‘Hey!’ Sergey’s abrupt call disrupted the peaceful silence of the countryside, piercing the stillness. ‘Step away from the car!’

  Boris and Andrey started shouting, but the stranger, who had turned up out of nowhere, didn’t freeze on the spot with fright. He suddenly smiled, and, looking a bit unsure but friendly, started walking in our direction. ‘It’s OK, guys, don’t worry—’

  ‘Stop!’ Sergey shouted. Looking back, I realised why he had been delayed: in his right hand, near his hip, he held a rifle, and in the left was a long narrow torch.

  The newcomer in the anorak shrugged and then shook his head as if surprised, but stopped and raised his arms – mockingly, it seemed to me. He spoke in a calm voice, without any trace of fear, making everyone fall silent to hear what he was saying.

  ‘I’ve stopped, it’s OK, guys, we’re just looking for a house, a warm house for the night. We didn’t want to go further in, it’s all snowed up in there, and the wheels of our car aren’t as big as yours, so we saw this street and turned into it. There’s our car.’ He waved towards the end of the road, where we saw the front of a dark blue car; looking closer, I saw that it was a minibus. Sergey reacted to his movement straight away and lifted his rifle higher.

  ‘Stop flailing your arms about,’ he said, but not as harshly as before.

  ‘OK, I will,’ the newcomer said amicably and raised his arms again. ‘Don’t be cross. Enough shouting now, OK? My name is Igor.’ He made a movement as if he was going to shake Sergey’s hand, but changed his mind and left both arms in the air. ‘I’ve got a wife and two daughters and my wife’s parents in the car. We’ve driven from Cherepovets, we just need to stop somewhere for the night. We noticed this street from the road, and the house with a chimney. Your windows were dark, I didn’t see that it was occupied, and then I came up closer and saw your cars. We’ll find another warm house, there’s plenty here.’ He smiled again.

  Nobody said a word for a few seconds, and then Boris took a step forward so he stood in the beam of Sergey’s torch and said:

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Igor. There are only two warm houses on this street and they’re both taken. You need to go a bit further, the snow isn’t too deep there, you should be able to get through. We saw several houses with chimneys in the next road, you can take your pick.’ He pointed in that direction, and the newcomer, following Boris’s arm with his eyes, nodded gratefully. Noticing that he was still standing there, Boris continued: ‘OK, lower your arms now. You can go, your family’s probably expecting you. We’ll meet properly tomorrow.’

  The man in the anorak who called himself Igor nodded again and made a move to leave while we watched him silently, but then stopped and looked back once again.

  ‘How many of you are here?’

  ‘We’re many,’ Boris replied. ‘Just go, don’t delay.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ he said in a friendly voice. ‘The village is large, enough room for everyone.’

  He walked about ten steps when Boris called him again.

  ‘Hey, what’s your face, Igor! How are things in Cherepovets?’

  This time the man in the anorak didn’t look back but stopped walking, looking at his feet, as if cut in two by the beam of light. We could only see his back and the wide furry hood. He stood like that for a few seconds, and then, almost as a throwaway, said over his shoulder:

  ‘It’s bad. Things are bad in Cherepovets,’ and stepped into the darkness.

  Quiet panic reigned in the heated house when we came back. The kids were dressed, Ira and Natasha were busy sorting things out, hurriedly stuffing their belongings into the bags which they put on top of the beds; Lenny stood in the door frame of the furthest room, leaning heavily against it – he was pale, sweaty but also dressed ready to go, and next to him on the floor, Marina crouched, lacing his boots. When we came in they all stopped what they were doing and looked at us.

  ‘False alarm,’ Boris said from the door. ‘They’re running from Cherepovets, it’s a young guy and his wife, they’ve kids with them.’

  Marina stopped struggling with Lenny’s bootlaces and, hugging his leg, started sobbing silently, without getting up from the floor. He looked at us, helpless, and rested his hand on top of her head. We could see it was hard for him to stand, and Sergey, still with his coat on, hurried over to him and, slightly embarrassed, tried to lift Marina from the floor, but she clung to Lenny even harder and started sobbing aloud instead.

  ‘Come on, Marina, you’ll scare Dasha,’ Lenny said, but she didn’t seem to hear him.

  ‘Marina,’ Ira said sternly, ‘let him go, he needs to lie down, do you hear?’ Only then did she stand up. Without looking at anyone she turned to her daughter, who was standing by the stove, silent, with a finger in her mouth – her little face with a serene expression, her eyes unblinking, intent – and started unzipping her ski suit.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I didn’t like that Igor for some reason.’

  ‘And who do you like, I wonder,’ Natasha retorted, and I looked at her, surprised: for a second I had forgotten the unpleasant moment our conversation had been interrupted when the newcomer in the anorak turned up. One thing you can definitely be sure of, as far as you are concerned, I thought, is that I don’t like either of your faces. Not the old one, with a permanent fake smile, carefully masking what you’re thinking with your repertory of stinging remarks, nor this new one, not smiling at all; you’re right that I don’t like any of you. Not you, not your haughty, snobbish husband, who came out of the house twice in four days while Boris and Mishka ran around the village looking for something that might come in handy for us all but who was confident that we would share our provisions with him. Damn you both, I’ve been visiting you for so many years, been stung by your insincere comments so many times, sitting at your table and wanting only one thing – to pick up a heavy, expensive glass object from the table and smash it against the wall so the pieces scatter all over the place – in order to stop you smiling for good. Dear God, I’m so tired of pretending. Yes, it’s true, I don’t like you. I don’t like you.

  My ears were ringing. I couldn’t possibly have imagined I could be so angry when I was barely able to stand up after my illness. I enjoyed being angry, being worried, feeling anything that wasn’t a dull, indifferent doom, and I felt that the corners of my mouth were involuntary turning upwards, but if I laughed out loud they would think I had gone mad.

  ‘Why didn’t you like him, Anya?’ asked Boris. ‘I thought he was a good guy. They were just looking for a house, and it’s true that all the windows of ours were dark. That’s why they were looking.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I said. ‘But I thought he was interested in our cars, rather than the house. Talking of cars, isn’t it time we went back and checked ours?’

  As if in response to a command, we started getting ready. Somehow everyone realised that not all of us were going back to the big house – we didn’t even want to say it out loud. ‘It’s good that you’re ready,’ Sergey told Ira. ‘Take Anton and let’s go.’ Boris put on his rucksack, Mishka picked up Ira’s bag and we moved towards the door. Lenny was back in his bedroom and Marina was fussing around him, helping him to get undressed; Natasha was sitting on her bed again, with her legs crossed; and Andrey was standing by the door. He had been the last person to enter and didn’t have time to take off his jacket. Instead he stood aside, letting us pass, and spoke only when we were nearly gone.

  ‘Sergey,’ he said with a visible effort. ‘Shall I pop in for the gun a bit later?’ But Sergey was already outside and couldn’t hear him.

  I stopped at the door, turned my face to him and said, enjoying every word, with the sweetest Natasha-style smile I could muster:

  ‘Why do you need a gun? It’s safe here – not even a dog has run past in four days.’

  He didn’t answer, but looked straight at me, narrowing his eyes, and there was something in his expression
that made me stop smiling. I suddenly felt that I didn’t want to say anything, or try to prove anything. I felt terribly tired and the only thing I wanted was to reach the bed and lie down, but I lowered my head and said:

  ‘Lenny had an airgun. Ask him before he falls asleep.’ And then I hurried outside.

  ‌13

  Enter Dog

  It was no more than fifty steps from our house – in the light of Sergey’s torch we could see the Pajero and the Vitara by the fence – but as soon as I went through the gate, I felt dizzy; I missed the path and sank in the snow up to my knees. Before climbing out of the snow bank I breathed in the burning, frosty air and started coughing. Sergey stopped, looked over his shoulder and came back for me. Putting his arm around me, he walked me to the house, almost dragging me, quickly overtaking the others, and muttered into my ear:

  ‘We’ve been stupid, Anya, spent so long outside, what if you have a temperature again at night? Let’s get into the warmth quickly, come on!’

  When we had almost overtaken Ira with the little boy, who was walking slowly, sinking into the deep snow, she said:

  ‘Sergey, please pick Anton up, it’s difficult for him to walk.’

  Sergey stopped and for a few seconds watched Anton clumsily plod through the deep snow. Seeing him, the boy turned around and lifted his arms. Sergey crouched down, threw the rifle onto his back, picked up his son and said, ‘Hold me by the neck, Anton,’ and put his other arm around my shoulders. We walked a few more steps, the torch casting a jumping circle of light somewhere near us, in a gutter with the stalks of last year’s plants sticking up, blackened by the frost. You poor, poor man, I thought, trying to walk in step with him, you won’t have any peace now – every time you want to take my hand or see how you can help me along, she’ll ask you to pick up the boy, and I’ll be clinging to your other hand. We still walked fast, almost ran, trying to catch our breath. I’m not going to play these games, I thought, I won’t, I don’t want to do this to you. I carefully freed myself of his arm, said, ‘It’s OK, I can walk,’ and slowed down.