Child Thief (23 page)

Petro swallowed hard and helped with the other arm, pulling it from the sleeve of the jacket, keeping his eyes away from Roman's face, not wanting to see the trauma inflicted by Viktor's bullet.

We stripped the man naked, taking every scrap of clothing he had, and went to Aleksandra, giving her the shirt and trousers. ‘Your feet warm enough now?' I asked, and when she nodded, I told her the socks and boots were for her. ‘They'll be too big, but they're better than walking barefoot in the snow. And you can keep the coat.'

As she was dressing, I took my entrenching tool back to the road, shovelling away the bloody snow, throwing a fresh covering across it while Petro brushed it smooth with a branch broken from a tree.

Coming back to Aleksandra, she refused to make eye contact. She kept her head down, her hair falling over her face, keeping it hidden. Close by, Viktor remained silent, staring into the woods.

‘We don't have time to feel sorry for ourselves,' I said. ‘I need to know why you were out here dressed like that.'

She said nothing, so I went to her, took her shoulders and shook her until she looked up at me. ‘Why are you here?'

She stared at me, her eyes widening, then her muscles tensed and she raised her arms, trying to break my grip and push me away. I held her tight as she struggled, and when she began to weaken, I let go and stepped back.

‘Well, good luck,' I said, collecting my pack, slinging it over my back. I picked up my rifle and nodded to Petro. ‘Come on. Let's get your brother. We don't have time for this. The longer we wait, the further away they'll be.'

‘They came a week ago.' Her voice was hoarse.

I stopped and turned to look at Aleksandra. ‘OGPU?'

She shook her head, creased her brow like she didn't understand.

‘Soldiers?' I said. ‘Chekists.'

‘Yes.'

‘And they made you come out here like this?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did they … did they do anything else to you?'

‘It isn't enough they took my father? That they took our food?' There was anger in her eyes now, in her voice too, as if she was letting out something she'd kept inside. She saw we meant her no harm, and that had released the pressure inside her, but when she mentioned her father, her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes tight.

‘How many men?' I asked her.

Aleksandra shook her head and I gave her a moment to settle her feelings. ‘Four or five, I don't know. They came on horses, went to every house and searched them. Took everything. Lermentov.' She spat the word out like it tasted bad in her mouth.

‘Lermentov?'

‘The leader. That was his name.'

I looked at my sons. Petro was listening to what the girl was
saying, but he had one eye on his brother, who was leaning against a tree with his head bowed. Viktor was still disturbed by what he'd done, turning inwards now, keeping his thoughts to himself. I knew he needed something to take his mind from it. Keeping him busy wouldn't erase what had happened, but it would make him less numb. He needed to get back on the trail as soon as possible. The longer we waited, the further away Dariya would be, and the more Viktor would retreat into himself if he had nothing to occupy him. And with soldiers already in Uroz, it was only a matter of time before they discovered Vyriv. I had to find her and return home.

‘Communists,' I said, turning back to Aleksandra. ‘There'll be more of them somewhere. This man Lermentov, he'll be the party man, or the police. The others will be Red Army. Were they armed?'

Aleksandra nodded.

‘And what did they do?'

‘There were meetings. My father went to them. He said they wanted to take our land and our cow. For the glory of the collective, he said, but he refused.'

‘And where's your father now?'

Aleksandra looked away. She hung her head in the same way that Viktor was doing, and I couldn't help feeling impatient. I didn't need this. I wanted only to be on the trail, closing the gap between me and the man who had taken Dariya. I didn't want to be dealing with disturbed girls and a boy who couldn't face the fact that he'd killed a man. Viktor's reaction was disappointing, and I needed to bury that too.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The longer this took, the further away Dariya would be. But I had to know everything before we could go on. If someone was looking for Aleksandra, following her as we were following Dariya, we may need to leave her behind.

I put a hand on her chin and lifted her face to look at me. ‘I need to know where your father is.' The bruises were more obvious now, whether from the light or from their further
development. Purple-red, angry marks on her right cheekbone and just below her eyes.

She pushed my hand away. ‘What do you care? Who are you anyway?'

‘No one.'

‘And what are you doing out here, shooting at people? How can I trust you?'

‘How can we trust
you
? How do we know you're who you say you are?'

‘Look at me.'

‘Look at
us
. We're just like you. And you have to trust us -what choice do you have?'

She sighed and looked away.

‘What happened to your father?'

‘I don't know. They used Pavlo Kostyshn's house as a prison, took my father there and beat him with sticks and revolvers until he was swollen and blue before they released him. Then they demanded grain we didn't have, so they took him away again. They came in the night when we were asleep and … I tried to stop them, but they hit me.'

‘When?'

‘Three, no, four nights ago.'

I felt no guilt at being firm with her, but I knew she would never see her father again. He was either dead or had been loaded onto a cattle truck and shipped to a labour camp.

‘They took others too,' she said. ‘And when I asked where he was, what they had done with him, they just pushed me away. And they came to our houses and took everything we had. They took the food from our cellars and our cupboards and loaded it onto carts. Left me with nothing but a spoon and a saucer.'

‘You have anyone else?' I asked her. ‘Family?'

‘No one.'

‘And when did you last eat?'

She shook her head. ‘Yesterday, I think.'

‘You think?' Petro spoke now, coming closer, looking at
Aleksandra and then giving me a questioning glance. ‘You don't know when you last ate?'

‘They kept me in the dark,' she said. ‘I don't know for how long. And they hit me.'

‘Why?'

‘They think I know who slaughtered the animals.'

‘Your animals were slaughtered?'

She nodded. ‘And many things were burned. Food, seed grain. People from the village did it to stop the soldiers from taking them. They said if they couldn't keep their own animals, they would rather cut their throats. And the soldiers thought I knew who did it.'

‘Did you?'

‘Of course. Everyone knew. I think they even knew it themselves, but they wanted to shame us, make an example. But I wouldn't tell them, so now they make me walk to the next village. In the snow. Without shoes or a coat.'

‘What about Roman? What did he do?'

‘Hid food.'

I thought about the horse tracks on the road. ‘And they've gone ahead to wait for you,' I said. ‘Two men on horseback. They're expecting you.'

‘Yes. So they can ask me more questions. But I don't think they want any answers. I think they just want me to die.'

‘How far away is your village from here? Two kilometres?'

She nodded.

‘And to the next one?'

She shrugged.

‘Four or five kilometres?'

‘About that,' she said.

‘That gives us a while before they're expecting you,' I thought aloud.

Petro shifted. ‘And when she doesn't arrive, Papa? Will they think she died on the road?'

‘Maybe. Or maybe they'll come looking for her.'

I walked away and fumbled a cigarette from the packet, only three left, and lit it with a match. The phosphorus smell was tangy, but it lasted only a second or two before the tobacco smoke smothered it. I stood for a while, just looking at the trees, seeing the snow, letting my eyes drift out of focus so all I could see was white.

‘What is it?' Petro spoke from just behind me.

I took a long drag on the cigarette, long enough for me to have to stifle a cough, and blew the smoke out, letting it mingle with the heat of my breath.

‘We should leave,' Petro said. ‘Go after Dariya; get away from here in case those men come looking. We can take Aleksandra with us.'

‘Or we could leave her here.'

‘What?'

‘If they come looking for her, maybe we should make sure they find her.'

Petro opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words.

‘We could put her back on the road and let her walk.'

‘And if she tells them about us?' Petro finally found his voice. ‘If they ask about the coat and boots? And when the old man doesn't show up?'

I offered Petro the cigarette and he looked at it for a second before shaking his head.

‘We could take the clothes from her,' I shrugged. ‘Let her walk barefoot—'

‘No.'

‘Or we could kill her.'

‘
What
?'

‘Just possibilities, Petro, that's all.'

‘That's not an option. I couldn't …
we
couldn't do that.' He looked at me, probably persuading himself I would never do that – murder someone to cover my tracks – but at the same time he doubted his own thoughts. ‘It would be so wrong.'

‘Would it?' I hadn't given much thought to killing Aleksandra – I had spoken the words aloud as they came to mind – but now I
was asking myself if I would do it. And it made me feel sick to realise I would. If I thought it would help our situation, I really
would
consider it.

‘Of course it would be wrong. How can you even think—'

‘Don't worry; we'll take her with us. We'll just have to hope no one follows.'

Petro shifted where he stood, moving from one foot to the other, breaking the stillness. ‘I don't know what it's like,' he said.

‘Hm?'

‘To be like you. To fight like you have. I can't imagine what you must have done, how you must have felt.'

‘Where's this coming from?'

‘I think you pretend it hasn't happened.'

‘What?'

‘You harden yourself and pretend it hasn't happened, and that's how you live with it. And that's what you expect from Viktor, isn't it?'

‘We should go.'

‘Am I right?'

I stood where I was, cigarette in hand.

‘Am I right, Papa? Is that how you live with it? Is that what Viktor must do?'

‘Viktor must do whatever he can.'

‘And you? You do things and then make yourself believe they haven't happened? Is that how you could leave Aleksandra behind?'

‘I don't want to talk about it now.'

‘When?'

‘Come on, let's get moving. We can't waste any more time.' I went back to Viktor, sensing Petro's eyes on my back. Petro knew I'd been thinking about what I was going to do, and he knew that if I thought we had to leave Aleksandra behind, I would do it.

‘You all right?' I asked Viktor.

He nodded.

‘I need you to say it.'

‘I'm fine.'

‘Good. One more thing to do and then we're leaving. Come and help me with this.' I went to the body of the old man and took his arms, starting to drag him deeper into the woods. ‘Help me, Viktor. I can't do it on my own.'

But Viktor remained where he was, looking away.

‘Viktor,' I called again. ‘Help me.'

Still he remained.

I felt my impatience rise. I was disappointed by my son's reaction. I thought him stronger. I called him once more, louder this time, but again he didn't move. Instead, Aleksandra turned towards me. She seemed to harden herself as she took a step forward, only to be stopped by Petro.

‘I'll do it,' he said, putting a hand on her arm, holding her back. ‘It's all right.'

So Petro helped me drag the old man further into the trees, and together we piled snow over him.

Once the body was hidden, I took Petro back to the road, casting a glance at Viktor. I told Petro to take off his boots and socks.

‘Why?'

‘We need to make more tracks,' I said, crouching to remove my own boots, looking across once more at Viktor.

‘He'll be all right,' Petro said. ‘He just needs a moment.'

‘He's had a moment. We don't have many more left.'

‘He'll be fine.'

‘Right.' I took off my boots, blocking out the pain when I put my naked feet in the snow. ‘When Aleksandra and …'

‘… Roman.'

‘Mm. When Aleksandra and Roman don't arrive in Sushne, they'll come to look for them, and we don't want them to find a body. If they find tracks ending here, they'll go into the trees, maybe find where we buried him.'

‘So we make more tracks,' Petro said. ‘Further down the road.'

‘Exactly.'

Petro nodded and removed his boots, wincing when his bare feet touched the snow. ‘It hurts,' he said.

‘Let's do it quickly then.'

With our boots in our hands, we walked barefoot, trying to continue from the place where Aleksandra and Roman had been walking. At first the cold was painful, then it began to feel more like burning, as if we were walking over hot coals.

‘Some people can do this for a long time,' I said, trying to keep my mind off the feeling in my feet.

‘How long?' There was tension in Petro's voice.

‘Half an hour, maybe.'

‘Half an hour? What about frostbite?'

I clenched my teeth. ‘We'll stop soon. Walk faster.'