Romanov(69)

But with the train, we had no other plan. We had no way to avoid the Bolsheviks or board the train without arousing suspicion. We needed to get on it while it was moving because if one whisper of our presence made its way to the conductor, he would stop the locomotive. We would be caught.

And killed.

Zash’s plan was all we had, and I didn’t like it one bit.

He and I hoisted Alexei up on the stretcher and headed through the forest up the tracks. As we walked the steam engine pulled into the Revda platform and stopped with a deafening hiss. We walked until we were several train lengths up the tracks.

“You will have to run to board,” Zash said. “We will load Alexei and Joy first and then I will help you, Nastya.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, as we eased Alexei to the ground. Then Zash walked away from us. Back toward the platform to risk his neck. I couldn’t find my bitterness in this moment, not when I thought of all he’d been doing for us and the things Alexei said.

Instead of seeing the mental picture of Zash pulling the trigger on me, now I saw a flash of him holding Ivan’s dead body and weeping. He wanted to save us as badly as we wanted to be saved.

Perhaps I’d been clinging to my bitterness because it felt like a betrayal to my family to forgive Zash. To thank him. To enjoy his company. I wasn’t ready to let go yet, but something inside me was softening. Was growing thankful that he had these ideas to go buy us tickets and risk being recognized.

I remembered him on his knees, the pistol under his chin. He really must have changed. Because to help Alexei and me was to turn against his duties as a soldier. To turn against his very country—at least in the eyes of the Bolsheviks.

Time passed slowly. I stared along the tree line long after Zash had disappeared beyond a curve of the tracks. I couldn’t see the train. I couldn’t see the platform. I felt blind and foolish and endangered.

“Nastya . . .” Alexei’s soft plea startled me. Joy rushed to his side and licked his face.

“What do you need?”

“The spell.” His whisper barely rose above the soft breath of wind. “Please.”

I peered back down the tracks. “Soon, Alexei. Any moment.” I pulled the spell from Zash’s pack. He said to use it when the train released its first whistle. But Alexei didn’t ask for relief unless he truly needed it.

I picked at the folded piece of paper that held the numbing spell. Alexei would need to be able to help us load him into the train. The spell needed time to assuage the pain. And the last time I had waited to use a spell—per the request of Papa—my family had been shot.

So I unpeeled the piece of paper, slipped the spell from the parchment with my finger, and pressed it to Alexei’s skin. The effects were immediate, just like last time. A balm to my heart as his tense form relaxed.

No sooner had he pushed himself upright than the train whistle blew. I shot to my feet. Did that mean it would be leaving? Where was Zash? I peered down the way, but no steam rose over the trees. Soon, though, it would.

We needed to be ready to board that train with or without Zash. If he had been caught . . . My throat closed. We couldn’t leave without him. I couldn’t abandon him to be murdered by an angry Bolshevik. That realization frightened me.

“Where’s Zash?” Alexei asked through deep breaths.

“He’ll be here soon.” I bounced on my toes and kept to the tree line, sticking my head out as far as I dared. It didn’t provide me with much more view.

The train whistle blew again, and this time an explosion of steam burst into the sky.

“Where is he?” Alexei pushed himself to his feet, testing his movements. “You can’t lift me into the train on your own.”

“I will have to.”

“We don’t even have to board. We’ll wait for the next one.”

“Yurovsky could be close behind us. We have to take this chance.” But what if Zash didn’t make it? Was Alexei’s safety worth sacrificing for the sake of Zash’s? What was my duty here?

Then I knew.

It was Alexei. It would always be Alexei. “Come. Let’s get ready.”

I grabbed what packs I could—the ones with the food and a bedroll. I left the stretcher. It would be useless without Zash to help me carry it. Still, I prayed he would appear. I wasn’t ready to face survival alone. And we needed those train tickets.

The chug of the locomotive started slow. Distant. Then it grew closer.

We stepped up to the edge of the trees, ready to run. Alexei held Joy tight in his arms. The very moment the train engine crawled into view around the distant curve, Zash burst through the underbrush.

“Spasibo, Iisus!” I gasped. “Where have you been?”

He barely paused but snatched up the remaining belongings. “They were selling no tickets,” he panted. “We will have to board anyway and bribe the conductor.”

The train came closer. Louder. Drowning out sound and thought until Zash’s voice cut the air. “Nastya.”

I turned to him. He already had Alexei in his arms, but his face was pale. “Yurovsky’s here.”

The train crawled past us and Zash began to run. I stood stunned for a long moment, car after car passing me. Then panic sent me running after him.

Yurovsky. Here. He knew we were here. What good was boarding the train now? He’d only come after it and stop it! He’d send Bolsheviks after us. He’d telegram the next station. There was nothing we could do.