The Cheka agents raised their revolvers and fired. The shots echoed through Nadia’s soul. Sokolov and Fedorov fell to the frozen surface of the river, and the guards kicked their bodies through the hole into the rushing black water below.
They’d survived five and a half years of war only to end their lives in the predawn gray of a Siberian winter, shot by misguided guards trying to protect a revolution that had brought their country nothing but misery.
Nikolai took Nadia’s hand and squeezed it. “I wish it hadn’t come to this for any of us, but especially for you.”
The guards grabbed them and hauled them closer to the opening in the river. Smears of blood from her slain friends stained the ice.
“I suppose we’ll see each other again soon.” Nadia filled her lungs with frigid air. “And our parents.”
“Yes. And it won’t be so cold in heaven.”
“When they shot Mama and Papa, I felt like a frightened little mouse. But I’m not scared this time.” And she wasn’t. Sad, yes. But not scared.
Nikolai took her hand again. “You may have been a mouse before. But now you’re a tiger. And though a tiger might be cornered, the hunter is still frightened.” Nikolai scowled at Orlov. The Cheka agent didn’t look frightened, not in the least. Even so, Nadia was ready to die bravely. Soon it would all be over. She could be brave for a few more seconds.
“Ready.” Orlov ignored Nikolai’s glare and focused on his men.
Two raised their revolvers, one aiming at Nikolai, the other at Nadia.
A shot sounded, a headlight blinked out, and Nadia flinched. Nikolai jerked on her hand, pulling her behind him so he could shield her with his body.
Another shot and one of the guards fell. Then another.
“Shoot them!” Orlov shouted.
Nikolai fell to the ice. She went down after him, hoping he was simply diving for cover. Only one headlight shone, but it was enough for her to see red spreading across Nikolai’s chest.
She’d known it would happen, but seeing her brother struggle for breath still tore at her heart. She’d already mourned for him once, but the hurt came back just as strong as when she’d been told of his death in battle.
Something painful snarled into her arm, throwing her away from her brother. Moments before, she’d taken comfort in the fact that her execution would be quick. She’d been mistaken. It seemed they would kill her a piece at a time.
The guards were all shadows, dark shapes highlighted by the automobile’s light, but there weren’t so many of them now. What had happened?
“Nadia!”
Her mind was playing tricks on her. Or maybe Filip was dead, and his voice was calling to her from the other side.
Another shot sounded, then another. Filip’s voice called to her again, but it wasn’t his face she saw when a shadow stepped closer and stood over her. It was Orlov. He pointed his pistol at her brain.
She had wanted to die bravely, standing tall until her life was snuffed out. Now she would be shot like a wounded animal.
“No!” That voice again. It couldn’t be Filip. She just wished it were him, wished she could see him one last time.
Orlov jerked, and his revolver fell onto the ice, then slid through the hole and into the water below. He glared at her, then lurched forward with erratic movements. He fell to his knees beside the hole in the ice.
Gravity, or perhaps vengeful ghosts, pulled him toward the exposed river. At the last moment, he lunged at her, grabbed her ankle, and dragged her with him.
She screamed and tried to grasp the ice, but the frozen surface offered no handholds. She went over the edge and into the black river below.
The icy water was like a physical blow, and it swallowed her whole. She gasped without meaning to and choked, and her lungs filled with water. She clawed at the edge of the cut ice, and when she kicked in a panic, she felt Orlov’s grip fall away. Something yanked on her injured arm, sending jolts of anguish all along the limb. Her sleeve was caught in a fissure, holding her while the frigid current buffeted her body and aggravating her pain.
Solid ice lay above her, and the river’s pull was too strong for her to fight. Everything was swallowed up in a cold, dark agony.
***
Filip dropped his rifle and dove across the ice.
The hole showed the ice’s thickness. No one could break it from below. He doubted he could break it from above. And the current was swift enough to carry away anyone who fell in.
He reached in anyway and grasped for anything solid. The water was so cold it burned. He prayed, begging God for a miracle. He’d come so close to saving her. Could she really be gone, swept away only seconds before he could reach her?
He shimmied forward so he could reach farther, using both arms. Only Anton’s weight as his friend gripped his legs kept him from going in after her.
There. He clenched a bit of fabric and held. He tugged it closer, then grabbed an arm.
“I’ve got her!” He hoped it was Nadia and not one of the other bodies that had been shoved under the ice. He pulled and scooted, trying to draw her out.
Nadia. But her eyes were closed, and her waterlogged clothing was unbelievably heavy. It took both of them to haul her from the river.
She coughed and sputtered as they laid her on the ice. Filip supported her as her body expelled the liquid from her lungs. He could barely feel his hands after plunging them into the river. She’d been completely immersed—what would that type of exposure do to her?
“The wet clothes have to come off.” Anton pulled at her boots. “And we have to get out of here. Quickly.”
Filip yanked at the fur coat she wore. It was already frozen onto the ice. He pulled her out of the coat, put his hat on her head, and started on the rest of her clothes. His chilled fingers were clumsy and couldn’t manage buttons, so he tore. Her eyes fluttered open, and her hands went to the front of her blouse, trying to fight him.
“Nadia, we have to get the wet things off you.” In her current state, she didn’t have the strength to stop him, but it felt wrong to take a woman’s clothes off when she wanted them on, no matter the circumstances.
Filip removed his thick coat and rolled her into that. The sleeves were wet, but the rest was dry. “She’s been shot.” There wasn’t much blood, but that might have been because of the dip in the river, not because it wasn’t serious. He scooped her up and took her to the back seat of the automobile.
“Rub her torso and keep her awake,” Anton ordered. Filip knew that, but it was hard to think straight when it was his wife he was desperately fighting to save.
“Nadia, say something.” He held her face in his hands. Her skin was discolored and felt like ice, her lips were blue, and her eyes were only open a fraction. “Stay with me.”
A blanket lay on the back seat of the automobile, and he used it as a towel. Anton brought clothes stripped from one of the bodies still on the ice, and Filip grabbed a shirt to use as a bandage on her arm, then rubbed her back and shoulders. Her body shook in violent waves.
“We can’t leave any evidence that we were here,” Filip said. Anton would know what to do. All the bodies had to go through the ice. Then they’d drive the automobile to the train and hope no one recognized it. The sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon, and the lack of light would be their ally.
“Nadia?” She didn’t respond, but her lungs still pulled air into her body. She was so thin, almost skeletal. As his hands moved over her skin, trying to keep the blood moving, he felt the difference from all his memories. Wherever she’d been the last year, she hadn’t been eating enough.
Anton slipped behind the wheel, and the automobile lurched forward. “All the men were dead. I couldn’t get her coat because it’s frozen onto the ice, but everything else is gone.” Everything but their rifles and the rest of Nadia’s frozen clothes, which Anton had put on the seat beside him. Not so long ago, Filip wouldn’t have relinquished his rifle for anything. Here, he’d almost forgotten about it.