Between Shades of Gray(18)

People tried to communicate with the other groups, looking for family members and loved ones. The man who wound his watch approached me.

“Do you have a handkerchief I could borrow?” he asked.

I nodded and quickly handed him the hankie, neatly folded to conceal my writing.

“Thank you,” he said, dabbing his nose. He turned his back to me and walked amongst the crowd of people. I watched as he shook hands with a man he obviously recognized, passing the fabric within palms. The man patted his brow with the handkerchief before putting it in his pocket. Pass it along, I thought, imagining the hankie traveling hand to hand until it reached Papa.

“Elena, look,” said Mrs. Rimas. “There are horse-drawn carts.”

Mother stood up and looked down the row of groups. “There are men with the NKVD. They’re walking amongst the people.”

Andrius combed through his wavy hair with his fingers. He looked around constantly, watching the guards yet keeping his head down. He had to be nervous. His face had healed but was still sallow with remnants of yellow bruises. Would they recognize him? Would they haul him away or kill him right in front of us? I moved near him, trying to position my body to conceal his. But he was taller, his shoulders wide. I looked at the sharp blades of the bayonets and felt my stomach pitch with fear.

Ona began weeping loudly. “Pipe down,” ordered the bald man. “You’ll draw attention to us.”

“Please, don’t cry,” said Andrius, shooting glances from Ona down to the guards.

A group near the front of the train was herded into two horse-drawn wagons. They drove away. I watched as the NKVD walked with men from cluster to cluster. The men looked strange, certainly not Lithuanian or Russian. They had darker skin and black hair, and their general appearance was disheveled, primitive. They stopped at the group of people next to us and began talking with the NKVD.

“Elena, what are they saying?” asked Mrs. Rimas.

Mother didn’t answer.

“Elena? ”

“They’re ...” She stopped.

“What?” said Mrs. Rimas.

“They’re selling us,” she whispered.





23


I WATCHED THE MEN walking amongst the groups, surveying the merchandise. They made people stand, turn around, and show them their hands.

“Mother, why are they selling us?” asked Jonas. “Where are we going?”

“Elena,” said Mrs. Arvydas, “you must tell them that Andrius is a simpleton. Please. If not, they’ll take him from me. Andrius, put your head down.”

“They’re selling us in groups,” reported Mother.

I looked around our cluster. We were mostly women and children, with only two old men. But we had Andrius. Despite his injuries, he looked strong and able.

“Do we want to be bought?” asked Jonas. No one answered. A guard approached with a man. They stopped in front of our group. Everyone looked down, except me. I couldn’t help myself. I stared at the guard, who appeared well rested, clean, and fed. I saw Mother cough into her hand and discreetly try to wipe off her lipstick. The disheveled man pointed at her and said something to the guard. The guard shook his head and waved a circular motion around our group. The man pointed at Mother once again and then made an obscene gesture. The guard laughed and began muttering. The man surveyed our group, and then, he pointed at Andrius.

The guard walked over to Andrius and barked a command. Andrius did not move. My stomach braided up into my throat.

“He’s slow—leave him alone,” said Mrs. Arvydas. “Elena, tell them.”

Mother spoke one word in Russian. The guard grabbed Andrius by the hair and raised his face. Andrius stared blankly. Ona cried and rocked back and forth. Mr. Stalas moaned and grumbled. The man waved his hands in disgust at our group and walked away.

Other groups were purchased, loaded into wagons, and driven off through the valley to disappear through the V at the base of the hills. We finished the last drops of slop and water, debating whether we wanted to be bought.

Someone mentioned escaping. Running away was briefly discussed until a gunshot rang out, followed by screams near the front of the train. The little girl with the dolly began to cry.

“Elena,” said Mrs. Rimas. “Ask one of the guards where they’re taking the people.”

Mother tried to speak with a guard, but he ignored her. For the moment, I didn’t care what happened. The grass smelled like fresh chives, and the sunshine filled me with strength. I stood up and stretched.

The children spread out a bit, and the guards didn’t seem to care. The NKVD inspected the train cars, stopping only to scream that we were filthy pigs who disrespected the train. The engine hissed, readying for departure.

“They’re going back for more,” said Andrius.

“You think so?” asked Jonas.

“They won’t stop,” said Andrius, “until they’ve gotten rid of all of us.”





24


HOURS PASSED and the sun began to sink. Only two groups remained. The grouchy woman stomped around and yelled at us. She said Mother made our group appear weak and that now they would probably shoot everyone.

“Let them shoot us,” said the bald man. “I’m telling you, we’ll be better off.”