I Must Betray You(46)

I threw a glance over my shoulder. “In school, no one mentioned it.”

“Of course not,” said Luca. “They’re terrified. Can you blame them? What do you think your bunu would say?”

“I wish he was here to help.”

“If he was, what would he tell us?”

I thought for a moment, trying to think like my philosophical grandfather. “He’d say . . . this is bigger than the ‘I’ or the ‘me.’ This must be ‘we.’?”

“Exactly!” said Luca, his feet slowing. “Wait, the university students are probably mobilizing.”

Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “I bet you’re right.”

“I’ll ask around,” said Luca. “You too.”

I nodded.

We arrived on our street. Luca paused before heading to his building. “If you have an update, call my house and let it ring once. That’ll be our signal. I’ll meet you in the street,” he said.

“Okay. You do the same.”

Luca nodded, and we went our separate ways. And then I heard his voice.

“Hey, Cristian,” he called.

I looked across the street. Luca smiled at me. He raised his hand and flashed a signal.

The peace sign.

Before I could signal back, Starfish appeared, our block dogs beside him. “The English papers I mentioned. I’ll have them tomorrow.”

“Okay. You have any updates?”

“Waiting for tonight’s radio reports like everyone else,” he said. “I heard they blocked the borders. But things must be quieting down. They say Ceau?escu left for meetings in Iran.”

If Ceau?escu left for Iran, did that mean he didn’t take the protests seriously? What had happened to the people in Timi?oara?

“Find me tomorrow for the papers. Bring your money,” said Starfish.



* * *



? ? ?

That night, all of Romania sat by their radios. Was Mr. Van Dorn listening? Had he found my notebook?

My father stood with his hand on the radio, as if to protect it.

“Gabriel, step away. What if the regime sends an electric shock of some sort?”

“You think they’ll blow up the radio?” I said.

“Well, the transmitter for Radio Free Europe must be powerful if it can broadcast all the way from Munich,” whispered Mama.

The transmitter was powerful. Over a thousand kilowatts. I thought of Bunu, trading the Kents to repair our radio. It was our main source of information, but only if the electricity was on. When would it snap off?

At 10:00 p.m. the announcer’s voice appeared through the static. I jumped from the couch.

    ??Tensions escalated yesterday in Timi?oara. It’s been reported that thousands have been killed. The recording you’re about to hear was smuggled out of Romania by a German tourist and delivered to us at Radio Free Europe.??



I stepped closer to the radio. Audible static—and then the sounds came through.

Chaos. Screaming. Crowd noise.

A woman’s pleading voice. “Stop! Shame on you, they’re Romanians, just like you!”

A man’s voice, “Shoot, you bastards. Shoot!”

A breath of silence.

A wave of gunfire.

Children screaming.

“They’re shooting them,” I gasped.

“The sound could be misleading,” said Cici. “Please, let’s hope it’s wrong.”

“I don’t care if it’s three people or three thousand. Our country is murdering its citizens!” I exclaimed. “We can’t just stand here and do nothing!”

“You’re right.”

The voice, it startled me.

“You’re right,” repeated my father. “They’ve blocked the borders. They’re trapping us.” He quickly began gathering things in the kitchen. Knives, broom and mop handles.

“Gabriel, what are on earth are you doing?” asked Mama.

“Preparing,” said my father. “When it’s time, we have to be ready.”

“For what?” asked Cici.

“To fight,” he replied.





58


    CINCIZECI ?I OPT




The next morning I sat alone in our apartment, alone with my thoughts.

Would the protests continue? Had Mr. Van Dorn read my notebook? Was Dan back in America? What time did the Secu generally come to our apartment?

The phone rang. One ring. The code from Luca.

I ran downstairs to meet him. Oddly, the weather had warmed. Nature was joining our crusade, inviting Romanians to take to the street.

I passed the Reporters, dutifully stationed on their balconied perches.

“University dorms are under surveillance,” Luca whispered.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Overheard it in the stairwell. The Reporters heard rumors that Beloved Leader will give a TV address tonight.”

“Luca, he’s not beloved.”

“Sorry, habit.”

Luca’s eyes drifted over my shoulder. I turned to look.

Liliana stood on the sidewalk, staring at us.

“Hey, there’s Starfish,” said Luca, pointing in the opposite direction. “See if he knows anything. I’ll be around. Call me and use the signal if you hear something.”