Dan Smith - The Child Thief

Petro stared at the flames as he listened. He would be remembering how Dimitri had called to us as he died.

‘I was ordered to find him.’

‘Why you?’ Viktor asked.

‘Because I was a sharpshooter. Three men were sent out to act as decoys while I looked for him. Three men, my brothers, all shot dead so he wouldn’t see me coming, but I found him. A German, lying prone on the roof of a half-demolished building. He’d made a barrier of bricks around himself, leaving just enough room for the barrel of his rifle and the height of his scope. He was firing at us from so far away it was almost impossible to imagine how he could hit his target, but when I was close enough, I put a bullet right here.’ I touched the side of my head once more. ‘Just one. With that rifle you’ve been carrying all day.’

Viktor glanced at his Russian-made Mosin-Nagant.

‘This was the first telescopic sight I ever looked through,’ I said. ‘And my officer gave it to me as a reward.’ I tapped the weapon on my knee and looked at my sons, seeing their different reactions. Viktor was entranced by the story, seeing the heroism and the adventure, while Petro saw the suffering and the loss of life. One story, two different interpretations. For me the events of that July were neither one thing nor another; they were just a part of my past told now so the words could evaporate by the fire.

‘This man, though,’ I said, ‘the one who shot at us today – I’ve not seen shooting like that before. And he was so well hidden. He’s very dangerous.’

No one spoke. Petro and Viktor stared into the fire, dry sticks popping and crackling in the flames that rose and fell, rose and fell, snapping and twisting in the wind. Somewhere out in the darkness a wolf howled, but none of us reacted to the sound. We had heard wolves before.

‘So what are we going to do?’ Viktor asked, breaking the silence. ‘Are we going back?’

Both sons were watching me again, waiting for an answer.

I sighed and looked down at the cigarette in my fingers, as if I’d forgotten it was there. I wished I had something to drink. A mouthful of horilka to take the edge off my thoughts.

‘Yes,’ I said.

Petro was surprised. ‘Yes? You mean we’re going to leave Dariya?’

‘That’s not what I said.’

Now Petro was confused. ‘What then?’

I passed the cigarette to Viktor.

‘We can’t leave her,’ Petro said.

‘She’s not your responsibility,’ I told him. ‘It’s not your fault.’

Petro shook his head. ‘I should have brought her back with me.’

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself Viktor passed him the cigarette. ‘No one blames you.’

Petro snatched it from his brother without looking at him and sat for a while with it between his finger and thumb before lifting it to his mouth. ‘If I had—’

‘If you had nothing,’ Viktor told him. ‘Papa said it isn’t your’ fault and he’s right. You didn’t know what was going to happen. We all thought the man we found did… that to those children.’

‘You too?’ I asked, looking up.

Viktor shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to. You were so sure about him, but…’ He searched for the words. ‘There was no one else.’

‘You thought I was wrong?’

Viktor nodded. ‘Yes, Papa.’

I smiled at that. I put my head back and laughed, releasing some tension.

‘What’s funny?’ Viktor asked.

I patted his shoulder. ‘You’re a good boy.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you stood by me anyway. You thought I was wrong but you stood by me.’ I smiled and wondered how many years, maybe months or days, it would be before Viktor would no longer trust my judgement or respect my decisions. What would it have taken for him to tell me he thought I was wrong?

Petro stood and leaned over to hand me the cigarette. I took it with cold fingers, and while Petro was leaning towards me like that, I spoke, saying, ‘What about you, Petro? What did you think?’

‘I thought you were right.’

I waited for him to sit down again, put his hands towards the fire for warmth. I finished what was left of the cigarette and threw it into the flames. ‘I want you two to go back,’ I said. ‘I want you to go home. I’ll find Dariya.’

‘Alone?’ Viktor looked up.

‘It’s better that way.’

‘Better?’

‘Safer. It doesn’t make sense for all of us to head on.’

‘I want to come with you,’ Petro said. ‘Viktor can go back if he wants to, but I’m coming with you.’

‘You have nothing to prove to me, Petro. You’re a good boy. A good man . You already make me proud.’

Petro looked away.

‘I can’t take you with me. Not with things as they are. That shot might have hit either of you today and I don’t want to have to take that back to your mother. It’ll be bad enough seeing Svetlana’s face.’

Petro stared at the fire. He was listening but he didn’t want to hear.

‘I’m coming too,’ Viktor said.

‘No. You need to get away from here. Go back to the shelter we saw. Stay there until first light, then make your way home. You know the way?’

‘Of course.’

‘So wait for me at home. And if anyone comes to the village, give them what they want.’

‘You mean communists?’ Viktor asked.

‘We’re all communists,’ Petro said.

‘Communists, Chekists, Bolsheviks, whatever you want to call them.’

‘Whoever it is, don’t put yourselves in any danger,’ I said. ‘Just give them what they want, and when I come home we’re going to leave this damn country.’

‘We’re not going to leave you alone.’ Viktor looked at his brother, and I knew they both wanted to come for different reasons. Petro felt responsible. He thought it was his fault Dariya was missing and he felt a duty to her. He had failed to bring her back once, and he was determined not to do it again. Viktor, on the other hand, was drawn to the fight. He wanted to find Dariya and he wanted to help his father, and the promise of action excited him.

‘I’ve already told you, it’s safer for me alone. Don’t argue with me.’

‘What about you, then?’ Petro said. ‘If we go back, what will you do?’

‘I’ll cross the fields tonight, when it’s dark. I’ll find his trail in the morning and follow him.’

‘And if he’s waiting?’

‘I don’t think he will be. Not there, anyway.’

‘But later. In the forest. Or maybe when you come out into another field. He’ll be waiting then, won’t he?’ Viktor said.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ll be alone.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it’s better to have us to help you.’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I’ll move faster on my own. I know what I’m looking for.’

‘Then teach us,’ said Viktor.

‘And I’ll be harder to see if I’m alone. If we’re together, we’re easier prey.’

‘We’ll keep apart.’

‘Stop.’ I held up a hand and raised my voice. ‘I said no and I mean no. I’m not taking you out there for that man to put a bullet in your belly like he did with Dimitri. I’m not going to listen to your screams. I can’t do that. I won’t go home to your mother to tell her I couldn’t keep you safe.’ I closed my eyes and remembered the times I had done the same as the child thief had done that day. The times I had waited for the moment to take the shot. I had dropped a man alive so his comrades would try to help him, and I had taken them too, when they came into the open.

‘Everything has changed,’ I said, my voice quiet. ‘We’re not just hunting him now; he’s hunting us.’

By the time the wind dropped and the snowfall subsided, night had come to the steppe. We huddled by the fire, our clothes more or less dry now, our stomachs empty and grumbling.