Jason Overstreet - Beneath the Darkest Sky

“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.

“Come in and sit, Comrade Sweet. I will call you that when it’s just the two of us. Yes?”

“Yes,” I said, sitting across from him, the frost on my eyelashes already melting.

“The men from Lagpunkt Seventy-Nine will be leaving next week for the mines. You will be staying here with your son. You have pleased me. I want you to take these drawings.” He picked up the roll from his desk and handed it to me. “And I want to give you this cost sheet.” He put it in my other hand. “I want you to determine how much lumber, steel, cement, tar, etcetera, will be needed based on those measurements, and then I want you to cost it out. Yes?”

“Yes, Commander Koskinen,” I said, surveying the books covering the shelves along the right and left walls, a large picture of Stalin hanging directly behind him.

“Then I want to meet with you and the other engineers and compare your estimates. Maybe you zeks will give better estimates than the free hires.” He gave a wry smile. “We are all just Dalstroi employees waiting to be zeks !” He put his finger to his mouth. “Shh! It is only between you and me. Many of my comrades have disappeared. None of us can do the right thing for too long. Please! You can speak. Please!”

“Thank you.” His demeanor confused me because it felt genuine, like he was sure he would die, perhaps sooner than later. I carefully continued. “When I was at a place called Camp Z in the forest well north of Vladivostok, I was told my sentence would be reduced.”

“I can find out more about that. Continue.”

“My wife and daughter are in the prisons.”

He picked up a pencil. “When and where were you all arrested, and what are their names?”

“Just back in August, in Moscow. My wife’s name is Loretta Sweet, my daughter, Ginger Sweet.”

“Is your wife a Negro, too?” he said, writing down their names.

“Yes.”

“My sister is married to a Negro from Nairobi, Kenya. They live in Toronto, Canada. He is a medical doctor. I have not seen her in five years.”

“That’s a long time.”

“The five months you’ve been away from your wife and daughter feels much longer, I’m sure.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t speak of any of this. You would be shot. I will look into it.” He leaned in over his desk. “Of course,” he whispered, “it would be easier to predict how my request might be received if my beloved Trotsky were our leader and not Stalin. Like Lenin before him, Trotsky is a brilliant man with much foresight and creativity. He would most certainly be able to outsmart this Hitler. We are all going to be zeks when that powerful man takes over the world. I know such things. Do I sound like it?”