Cilka's Journey(61)

“I said shut your mouth. I’ll do the talking.”

“Just do as he says,” the doctor whimpers.

“That’s good advice,” the big man says. “We can all leave here happy if you listen to the good doctor and do as I say.”

As he pushes the knife under the doctor’s chin, a trickle of blood flows and the man smiles a toothless grin. “Now give me the fucking drugs; the ones I got last time.”

Cilka is incredulous. She stares from the man to the doctor.

“All right, all right, but you need to put the knife down,” Yury Petrovich says.

The man looks from the doctor to Cilka. In a flash, the knife is now at Cilka’s throat.

“In case you thought of making a run for it,” he chuckles.

The doctor takes several pill containers from the shelves. With the hand that is not across Cilka’s neck, the man holds open a large pocket sewn in his coat and the doctor stuffs them in there.

“Keep them coming; I’ve got another pocket on this side.”

The doctor places more drugs in the other pocket.

“That’s all, if I gave you any more there wouldn’t be enough for the patients.”

“I don’t care about the patients! When’s the next delivery coming in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.” The man presses the knife against Cilka’s throat. She gasps.

“Don’t hurt her! In two weeks, not for another two weeks.”

“Well, I’ll see you in two weeks, then.”

He lets Cilka go, keeping the knife raised. He looks her up and down. “And maybe I’ll see you too; you’re not bad.”

“You should get out of here before someone comes looking for me,” Cilka says, bravely.

“Yeah, you’re right.” The big man points the knife at the doctor. “He knows the drill—don’t leave here until you know I will have cleared the building.”

Cilka and the doctor watch as the big man calmly walks to the door, tucking his knife inside his coat, opens it, pulls it shut quietly behind him.

Cilka turns on the doctor. “Who is he? We need to get the guards, get someone and stop him.” She wants to say, “How could you just hand over medicine to him?” But how can she ask such a thing when she has taken some here and there to protect herself?

“Slow down, Cilka.”

Cilka waits while he takes a moment, appearing to calm himself before he speaks further.

“He is one of the criminal trusties. He’s a powerful person in the camp, with a lot of very strong friends. They cornered me a few months back when I was leaving one night and threatened to kill me if I didn’t give them regular supplies of medicine.”

This may be where Hannah is getting them from now. Through the network.

“Why didn’t you—”

“Tell someone? Who? Who do you think is running this place? It’s not the guards, Cilka, they’re outnumbered. You should know that. It’s the trusties, and as long as the work is done here, the fighting and killing kept to a minimum, no one is going to challenge them.”

Cilka feels foolish to have been here so long and not have realized the extent of the trusties’ involvement in running the camp. But she supposes stumbling across such knowledge is partly luck in a place like this—it depends on where you are and what you can overhear, find out. It is better not to be so close to power, to not know too much.

She is still incredulous about what this means for the patients—that quantity going missing. “I don’t believe that they can just walk in here and demand you hand over whatever they want.”

“Afraid so,” he sighs, leaning against a bench as the color slowly returns to his face. “They did it to my predecessor, and I’m just the next person for them to threaten and intimidate. And they will kill me, I have no doubt about that.”

“Then I’ll—”

“No, you won’t. You won’t say anything, you hear me? Not a word. Or it will be the last thing you say. They know I won’t say anything, and if something happens to that bastard who was just in here, they know it will have been you that talked and they’ll be waiting for you.”

Cilka won’t say anything, for now, but she does need to think about this.

“Promise me you won’t say anything—”

“There you are.” Raisa appears in the doorway. “I was wondering what was taking you so long.” She looks at the pale-faced doctor. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Cilka and the doctor chorus together.

“I’m sorry, Raisa, I shouldn’t have kept Cilka from her work. She was just helping me out.”

“You need to get some of the medication to the patients right away, Cilka; they’re asking for it.”

Cilka looks at the scrunched-up piece of paper in her hand; she had forgotten she was holding it. Straightening it out, she tries to read what she needs. She quickly locates the medications and hurries from the room, leaving Raisa looking at the doctor in disbelief.

As Cilka is handing medication to a patient Raisa steps up beside her, whispering, “Are you all right? Was he trying something on with you?”

“What? No, no, nothing like that. I’m fine.”