The only difference between me and the other zeks was that I was in charge of a work crew. But I still had to do the same labor. There were a few other zeks like me who’d come here recently and were highly skilled engineers. I could hear them barking orders to their men, too, across the frozen alleys at the other worksites, NKVD men patrolling the maze of barracks. But most of the engineers were free hires.
Even though I was still just a zek, there was something encouraging about Koskinen taking a bit of a liking to me. Of course, I assumed it was all because I was making him look good. I was still trying to gather up the courage to ask about my wife and daughter. Based on what the old man had said, I still figured they were in a camp all the way across the country.
Barracks five of our lagpunkt is where they’d quartered sixty of us off back on that first November day, after we’d been quarantined, Boris having been placed in nine. The only word I can use to describe my situation was lucky. It had all come down to good old-fashioned, pure luck—my being assigned to possibly remain in Magadan with my son whenever the rest of Lagpunkt Seventy-Nine headed for the mines.
The temperature here hovered around five below zero, a far cry from the horror that awaited the others inland. It was on Christmas day that we were allowed to remain in our barracks and not work, only because the officers wanted the day off. We’d been given our normal ration of gruel for lunch, but with this unforeseen rest, it tasted like ham, stuffing, and sweet potato pie.
I lay there on my middle bunk with no mattress, James above me, Yury below. All of our appearances had changed dramatically with the extreme weight loss. And besides James, we’d all grown heavy beards. My normal weight of 200 had dipped to maybe 180. But we were surviving, and if this were to be our lot for the next several years, we would live. It was the minus forty-degree Road of Bones that we all feared, including me, as one mistake would cost me.
“This doska is too hard to sleep on with no mattress,” said Yury.
“Sleeping on a sheet of wood is better than the floor,” I said.
“I wish I’d been assigned to your team, Prescott. The head contractor of my team acts blind. Too many of the zeks are getting away with being lazy. Plus, he’s a free hire and knows it will be us who pay for this, not him. As soon as we leave this lagpunkt and arrive at our worksite, the boss just stands at his worktable reading plans and smoking.”
“I need to talk to the top commander, Mr. Drugov,” I said, leaning down toward Yury. “I’m guessing you will be leaving here in no more than three months before the road turns into a quagmire. Trucks may not be able to deliver supplies then. And they’ll want you and Boris to reach the mines when the ice starts to melt in April so you can more easily explode new caves.”
“I see,” said Yury.
“Yeah, they’ll want you to walk that road for at least a month while it’s still frozen. I did the math. I’m guessing, of course, as I’m sure they walk along the sides in the summer, too. Who knows! I’m sure they mine year-round, but perhaps the winter months are spent digging inside already exploded caves rather than grappling with trying to survey rock that’s many feet below solid ice. I’ll bet they rinse the gold in the Kolyma River during the summer, too. Let me stop speculating.”
“What in God’s name can you possibly say to Drugov?” said Yury. “I haven’t even seen his face since the first day we arrived. Maybe he’s traveling. Besides, Commander Drugov only oversees this camp. The real boss is that madman I’ve heard about named K.A. Pavlov. He runs the entire Dalstroi. And every Sevvostlag camp official throughout the region answers to him. Still, what would you possibly say to this Drugov?”
“I want to ask him about my wife and daughter. They might be freezing to death somewhere. They might be starving. Maybe if he sees that I have done good work as an engineer, he’ll be inclined to listen. And maybe once he sees that I’m an American who speaks Russian, just as I’m easily doing to you right now, he’ll warm up to me. It will be a small request to ask about my wife and daughter’s whereabouts.”
“Forget that, Prescott! You can’t make any requests. Don’t even go meet with him. You will be shot. I promise. You can’t! Besides, it is much warmer on the western side of the country. Your family is okay.”
“I also want to ask about you and Boris staying with my crew once the others leave for the mines.”
I leaned down and called him closer with my index finger, noticing the missing tip of my thumb and the scarred webbing next to it. Yury sat up and got close.
“You will certainly die in that cold,” I whispered. “In a few months, not years! You will die in the taiga cutting timber or breaking apart rock along the Kolyma Highway. I must find a way.”
“I don’t even believe we can walk through those trees and mountains for weeks, Prescott. We are going to die in days just getting there.”
“No!” I whispered. “Keep your feet dry and just walk. That’s a simple thing. I was talking to the nurse back when they removed my cast and stitches. She is from Estonia. She and her husband were arrested five years ago and he was shot shortly after. She said Sevvostlag officials will no longer be issuing the fur and wool clothing we received upon arrival.”
“My God, Prescott! It is far too cold not to have such things.”
“No more rubber galoshes to cover the felt boots like those under our bunks right now. Apparently, because of the new regulation ordered by Stalin, they will begin issuing canvas shoes along with wadding jackets and trousers. No more coddling! And even though Koskinen claims James and I will remain here, I’ve been taking great care of our garments. You should do the same. We are lucky to have them.”
January 9th arrived and we’d been working seven days a week still, cutting wood and hammering cold nails, Magadan completely covered in ice and snow. Work never stopped because of weather. To say it was freezing cold would have hardly told the story. Chicago, Milwaukee, Vermont, and New York City could get cold, but this was an entirely different beast. It was sixteen below zero, but the ocean wind made it feel even colder.
I had never gone to visit Drugov, too worried about him putting a bullet through my head on the spot. There was simply no talking rationally to these bloodthirsty men.
The gray and brown shirts, pants, gloves, and socks that they’d distributed to us back in November were serving us well, and we were fortunate to still have the wool items. I kept reminding myself that the newer arrivals would have no such luck. And at least our old coats and ushankas were made of fur. Plus, I wasn’t worried about my feet getting frostbitten because they’d let us keep our felt boots. The Dalstroi heads weren’t ones to waste a thing, other than humans.
This was the day I was going to meet with Koskinen in his office. He wanted to go over the drawings for a massive storage facility they intended to construct. It would be used to house some new dump trucks, tractors, and cargo trucks that had been ordered. The Dalstroi was becoming more and more profitable it seemed.
I was called to his office during lunch. When I walked in, he was sitting at his desk eating a large, wooden bowl of fish soup that looked absolutely delicious. I eyed the glowing wood that was burning in the corner stove to his right.