Between Shades of Gray(70)

“Please, don’t tell,” they pleaded. “We want to bury them once the storm ends. If the NKVD discover they’re dead, they’ll throw them out into the snow.”

“I won’t tell,” I assured them.

The storm raged. The sound of the wind echoed between my stinging ears. The wind blew so cold, like white fire. I fought my way back to our jurta. Bodies, stacked like firewood, were covered in snow outside the huts. The man who wound his watch hadn’t returned.

“I’ll go look for him,” I said to Mrs. Rimas.

“He could barely walk,” said the bald man. “He probably went to the closest jurta when the winds came. Don’t risk it.”

“We have to help one another!” I told him. But how could I expect him, of all people, to understand?

“You need to stay here. Jonas is not well.” Mrs. Rimas looked over to Janina.

“Her mother?” I asked.

“I took her to the typhus hut,” whispered Mrs. Rimas.

I sat next to my brother. I rearranged the rags and fishing nets he was covered with.

“I’m so tired, Lina,” he said. “My gums hurt and my teeth ache.”

“I know. As soon as the storm ends, I’ll search for some food. You need fish. There’s plenty of it, barrels. I just need to steal some.”

“I’m s-so cold,” said Jonas, shivering. “And I can’t straighten my legs.”

I heated chunks of brick and put them under his feet. I took a brick to Janina. Scurvy bruisings spotted her face and neck. The tip of her tiny nose was black with frostbite.

I kept the fire going. It did little to help. I could use only a small amount of wood, to save what we had. I didn’t know how long this storm would last. I looked at the empty spot where my mother had lain, Janina’s mother, the man who wound his watch, the repeater. Large gaps had appeared on the floor of the jurta.

I lay next to Jonas, covering him with my body as we had done for Mother. I wrapped my arms around him, holding his hands in mine. The wind slapped against our disintegrating jurta. Snow blew in around us.

It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. What was life asking of me? How could I respond when I didn’t know the question?

“I love you,” I whispered to Jonas.





84


THE STORM DREW back a day later. Jonas could barely speak. My joints were locked, as if frozen.

“We have to work today,” said Mrs. Rimas. “We need rations, wood.”

“Yes,” agreed the bald man.

I knew they were right. But I wasn’t sure I had the strength. I looked over at Jonas. He lay completely still on a plank, his cheeks hollow, his mouth agape. Suddenly, his eyes opened with a void stare.

“Jonas?” I said, sitting up quickly.

A loud commotion stirred outside. I heard male voices and shouting. Jonas’s legs moved slightly. “It’s okay,” I told him, trying to warm his feet.

The door to our jurta flew open. A man leaned in. He wore civilian clothing—a fur-lined coat and a thick, full hat.

“Any sick in here?” he said in Russian.

“Yes!” said Mrs. Rimas. “We’re sick. We need help.”

The man walked in. He carried a lantern.

“Please,” I said. “My brother and this little girl have scurvy. And we can’t find one of our friends.”

The man made his way over to Jonas and Janina. He exhaled, letting out a string of Russian expletives. He yelled something. An NKVD stuck his head in the door.

“Fish!” he commanded. “Raw fish for these little ones, immediately. Who else is sick?” He looked at me.

“I’m okay,” I said.

“What’s your name?”

“Lina Vilkas.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

He surveyed the situation. “I’m going to help you, but there are hundreds sick and dead. I need assistance. Are there any doctors or nurses in camp?”

“No, only a veterinarian. But—” I stopped. Maybe he was dead.

“A veterinarian? That’s all?” He looked down, shaking his head.

“We can help,” said Mrs. Rimas. “We can walk.”

“What about you, old man? I need teams of people to make soup and cut fish. These children need ascorbic acid.”

He had asked the wrong person. The bald man wouldn’t help anyone. Not even himself.

He raised his head. “Yes, I will help,” said the bald man.

I looked at him. He stood up.

“I will help, as long as we tend to these children first,” said the bald man, pointing to Jonas and Janina.

The doctor nodded, kneeling to Jonas.

“Will the NKVD allow you to help us?” I asked the doctor.

“They have to. I am an inspection officer. I could make a report to the tribunal. They want me to leave and report that everything is fine here, that I saw nothing out of the ordinary. That’s what they expect.”

His hand moved quickly toward me. I put up my palms, shielding myself.

“I am Dr. Samodurov.” His hand was extended, for a handshake. I stared at it, stunned by his show of respect.

We worked under his supervision. That day we each had a bowl of pea soup and half a kilo of fish. He helped us store fish for the upcoming storms and plot out a burial yard for more than a hundred bodies, including the man who wound his watch. He had frozen to death. The doctor enlisted the help of Evenks, native hunters and fishermen, who lived less than thirty kilometers away. They came on sleds with dogs and brought coats, boots, and supplies.