Antanas Sileika - Underground

“Listen to the sound of my voice.”

“You do sound a little familiar, but it’s a voice I haven’t heard for a very long time.”

“Elena,” he said. “It’s me, Lukas.”

She turned away at the sound of her name. “Many people show up here. They confuse me with other people and they tell all kinds of stories, trying to turn the head of a poor invalid. I don’t know why they should be so interested in someone like me. I was in a terrible accident and I’m afraid I don’t remember very much from before that time. If you can leave a ruble or two on the table I’ll be grateful, but if you want to ask me anything, I’m afraid there’s nothing I know.”

This was what remained of the woman who had joked with him, the woman who had bucked up his courage the night he had to kill those people in Marijampole.

The room where they were standing had a low ceiling and a narrow window up by the sidewalk outside. Even now they were still underground, half buried. The room had a table, two chairs and a cot. There was a door to another room.

“Elena, we were married in a church by moonlight. We drank French brandy on our honeymoon. I’ve come to take you away from this place. I’ve come to take you to America.”

Even at this, she kept away from him and laughed. “You must be thinking of someone else. Why would you want to take me to America? It’s dangerous there, with gangsters. I’m much better off where I am. But if you want, you can go yourself. First, though, let me make you a cup of tea.”

“I don’t need tea. I want to talk to you.”

“Tea will help us talk.”

She put a kettle on a gas ring, set out a pot and heaped in two spoonfuls of tea, put out a bowl of sugar and two cups.

“You have both sugar and real tea,” he said.

“I’m very lucky. I also have a radio. Let me turn it on. There is often music from Warsaw at this hour.”

She turned on the radio and indeed a foxtrot was playing. When the water boiled, she put a little in the small teapot to make esensia , a very strong, concentrated tea. She let this brew for a couple of minutes and then added hot water to the cups and topped them up with esensia .

“Please sit down,” she said.

He did as she asked and she passed him a cup. Then she sat down across from him, took her cup in both hands and leaned forward.

“Why did you come back?” she whispered.

“Who is listening?”

“I don’t know. I can’t be sure. But I’m fairly certain I’m being watched, and maybe I’m being listened to as well. You haven’t answered my question.”

“I came back for you.”

“Why?”

“I never would have left you if I’d known you were alive.”

“You’re a fool to do this. If you’d loved me, you would have stayed away and saved yourself.”

“I’m going to get you out of here. I’ve fought my way across the border before—we can do it again. There are others who will help me.”

“Or lose their lives trying.”

“Yes, that’s right. All of us are ready to lose our lives, but we don’t give them up cheaply.” He made to reach for her hand, but she pulled it back.

“Don’t appear too familiar with me. Someone may be watching.” He felt her foot against the side of his leg under the table. This was all the touch she could give him.

“Couldn’t I hold your hand under the table?”

“They might see it.”

He longed to touch her, but he could not. She looked down at the table, avoiding his eyes, ashamed, he guessed, by her looks. He didn’t care.

“Did they take you?” Lukas asked. “Did they hurt you?”

“You can see the scars well enough, but Flint got me out before I’d healed so much that they could begin to torture me. But how long can I last in hiding? Look at me. I’m disfigured, and the authorities know it—my wounds were thoroughly described on my hospital chart. This little paradise won’t last.”

“All the more reason to come with me. We’ve escaped before. Maybe we can do it again.”

“It’s no good. It’s over.”

“Don’t give up hope. I can help you.”

“You can, but not in the way you think. They’re outside, waiting for you.”

“Now? Are you sure?”

“I don’t know anything for sure. There’s been a strange atmosphere in this town over the last few days. More cars pass through than usual. They may have found me already, or they may have found you and followed you here. And if neither is true, it will be soon.”

“Why didn’t you run?”

“I couldn’t. They have me where they want me.”

“This talk is all confusing. Why won’t you go with me?”

“Wait here.”

She rose and went into the other room but did not illuminate a lamp there. Lukas heard the wail of a child being awoken. She came back with a very small boy on her hip, not much more than a toddler, a cranky child with curly brown hair very much like hers. She no sooner sat down than the boy snuggled into her shoulder and fell back to sleep.

A hand seized his throat. “He’s ours?”

She nodded.

“How is that possible?”

“Small miracles happen. Not often, but sometimes they do.”

He wished he could see the child a little better, but he was so tightly tucked into his mother’s side that Lukas did not want to tear him away.

“If you had stayed away,” said Elena, “you might have been able to do him some good. One day maybe they will permit people to send packages from America. But what good are you to him here and now?”

“I didn’t know.”

“No. There’ll be no fighting our way out of this place, and there’ll be no flight to America. Everything has changed now.”

Everything had changed. She was right. He looked at the boy and was overcome with the wonder of him.

Elena let him look at the boy a long time.

“Is there anything I can do for you both?” asked Lukas.

“There is something. But it’s very terrible. I’m afraid to ask it.”

“What?”

“If you go outside and they are there, and if they try to seize you, let them take you alive.”

Lukas had not touched his tea. He looked at the cup and drank it all down. He considered what she said. If he did as she asked, they would torture him and might make him tell what he knew. He was not sure he could withstand torture.

“What good would it do?”

“They will have their prize. You are it. I’m not so foolish as to think I’ll get off. But if I’m lucky they’ll give me ten years for collusion if you don’t tell them about me, our past.”

What she asked was very hard. To give himself up to torture would be bad enough; to try to hold something back under torture would make the pain go on longer.

“What’s the boy’s name?” Lukas asked.

“Jonas. I wanted a simple name, with no history, no subtexts. I couldn’t call him after you.”

“No.”

Lukas looked at the child. He had never had quite this experience before, the sense of being able to look for a long time and feeling unflagging delight.

“What if there is no one waiting for me outside? Couldn’t I just walk away?”

“Yes, of course. You might be able to survive for a while and so might I, but I need to keep the child. It’s the first thing they’ll use against me. If I confess to being a courier, they’ll send both the child and me to Siberia. Maybe things will not be so bad in the camps for mothers and children. They don’t separate mothers and children anymore. Maybe we could stay alive. But if they really do discover all I’ve done, they’ll torture me too. And they’ll put him in an orphanage. You have to do whatever is right. I’m not sure what that is, but I do know he’d be better off with me in Siberia than in an orphanage here.”