‘But Papa said—’
‘Enough, Dariya,’ Natalia stopped her. ‘We have other things to think about right now.’
‘You need to go home.’ I went to where Dariya was sitting and squatted in front of the chair. ‘Your mama and papa will be worried about you.’
‘Please, Uncle Luka.’
I shook my head.
Dariya pouted, but when I tickled her ribs she laughed and knew she was beaten. I went to the door with her and waited for her to put on her boots before letting her out. ‘Straight home,’ I told her as she ran out into the cold.
I watched her go, then closed the door and headed to the room where we slept.
It was dark in there, but I could see well enough to find the chest of drawers that had once been white but was now a greyish colour. I opened the bottom drawer and looked at the few clothes folded into neat piles. Lara had one dress, the one she was wearing now, and there was another in here, ready for her when she grew into it. Beside it there were some clothes my boys had outgrown long ago, in a time when I hadn’t even known their faces; a time of bloodshed and filth.
I picked up a shirt, the material worn so thin I could barely feel it between my hardened fingers. There was still use in the clothes, but I needed something and they could be spared, so I took a pair of trousers to go with the shirt, tucked them both inside my coat, then slipped back into the adjoining room.
As I headed to the front door, Natalia spoke to me, asking, ‘Where are you going?’
She was leaning over the man by the fire. Lara was beside her, taking his clothes as her mother passed them back to her. He was wrapped in many layers, each one a surprise, as if, when they had all been peeled back, the man beneath would be nothing but a skeleton robed in slack skin and matted hair.
‘I have something to do,’ I said. ‘Outside.’
Natalia continued to watch me for a moment and I looked away so she couldn’t read me. When our gaze met again, I knew she had seen something in my eyes, stored it in her memory, ready to bring it out at a more appropriate moment. I nodded once to her, an understanding passing between us, then forced a smile and turned to the front door.
Outside, I dragged the sled around to the small barn behind the house. The sky was heavy with cloud, the moon failing to do much more than break the odd patch, but the ground was white and reflected what little light there was.
Pulling the barn doors wide, the smell of animals came out on a waft of warm air, and I hauled the sled inside. The cow watched from its stall, its dark eyes like glass.
I studied the tarpaulin, seeing its shape, knowing what was beneath the ice-encrusted material.
‘I can help,’ Viktor said, surprising me.
‘I didn’t hear you coming. You better close the doors,’ I told him.
While Viktor pulled the doors shut, I lit a lamp and hung it from a nail on one of the supports. ‘You spoke to the others,’ I said.
Viktor came back and pulled down his scarf. ‘They wanted to see him, but I told them to wait until tomorrow.’
‘And they listened to you?’
‘Of course.’
I showed my son a rueful smile. ‘They listen to you. It’s good.’
Viktor gestured in the direction of the sled. ‘What are you going to do?’
I replied by taking the clothes from beneath my coat. ‘I need to cover her.’
‘You want me to do it?’ Viktor asked.
‘We’ll do it together.’
Viktor hesitated before reaching down to take the corner of the tarpaulin and peel it back. I took the corner nearest to me and did the same, both of us moving the length of the sled so we could draw back the covering and whip it off.
I had to force myself to look at what lay beneath.
4
The low light was a blessing; it cast a gentler hue on what we were seeing. The sled was packed with the man’s few belongings. A bale of clothes, rolled and tied with rope. A couple of waterproof coverings. A leather satchel and a Mosin-Nagant rifle like the one Viktor had been carrying on the steppe. There was also a wooden case for a Mauser pistol.
And there were the two bodies. A boy and a girl.
It wasn’t so easy to make it out in the incomplete darkness, but I had seen the boy’s face when we were on the hillside, I had seen the precise laceration on the naked girl’s leg, and I saw those things now, just as clearly in my mind.
Looking at the two bodies lying in shadow, I closed my eyes and thanked God I couldn’t see better in the dark.
‘We have to cover her,’ I said. ‘Give her some dignity. And nobody else needs to see this. You understand that, don’t you? People have enough to scare them. They hide in their homes and pray for deliverance, and something like this…’
‘I understand, ‘Viktor said. ‘But how do we keep it from them?’
‘We’ll bury them tomorrow. In the right place.’
‘The graveyard? People will see.’
‘We’ll go early.’
‘They’ll see where we’ve been digging.’
‘By then it won’t matter. We’ll tell them something they’ll believe.’
Viktor reached out to take the clothes, but I tightened my grip. Viktor tugged once. ‘Let me.’
‘No.’ I pulled them back and opened them out, laying them beside the girl.
I gritted my teeth and leaned down to slip the trousers over her feet. My hands were dumb inside thick gloves, and I fumbled and failed. I shifted, straightened the trousers once more, and tried again, but her feet were at right angles to her ankles and they refused to slide into the legs of the material. I cursed and breathed out hard, preparing myself for another attempt, this time jamming the child’s feet in the trousers so hard I had to tug to remove them for another try.
‘Damn it.’ I put the trousers aside, knowing I’d have to break the joints.
‘I’ll do it,’ Viktor said, but his voice was weak, almost a whisper.
‘No.’ I took off my gloves and stuffed them into my pockets. I put my left hand on the girl’s frozen shin and looked up at the ceiling of the barn.
My hands were still warm from having been inside the gloves, but I felt the heat draining away when I touched the girl. Her skin was smooth and cold as stone.
I put my right hand on her foot and squeezed my eyes tight before I leaned all my weight down and felt the ankle crack. And as it did, a lump rose to my throat and I fought hard to retain my composure in front of my son. Our world was not a world for weakness. It was a world for strength and survival. Those were the most important lessons I could teach my son. And yet I couldn’t bring myself to look at the girl as I felt for her other foot and prepared to do the same the thing again.
With the second crack, I turned away and bent over, putting my hands on my knees and breathing hard. I fought the urge to vomit, swallowing hard, drawing on all my reserves of strength. ‘Damn.’ I punched my own leg. ‘Damn, damn, damn.’
I had been in terrible places and I had seen terrible things. As a soldier I had been responsible for many deaths, and in my life as a farmer I slaughtered animals and I butchered them. I had broken bones many times over, but nothing had ever sickened me like this. The sound was close to that of snapping away a lamb’s leg, and I knew I would never be able to do that again without thinking of this moment.
‘Let me finish,’ Viktor said, putting his hand on my back.
I straightened and looked my son in the eye. ‘No, I—’
‘You don’t have to do it all yourself.’
I wanted to tell him how much that meant. ‘Dry that. It’ll freeze.’