Рута Шепетис - Ashes in the Snow [aka Between Shades of Gray]

“Where’s your doll?” I asked.

“Dead,” said the girl, with a hollow look in her eyes.

“Oh.”

“The NKVD killed her. Remember how they shot the woman with the baby? That’s what they did to Liale, except they threw her in the air and shot her head off. Kind of like a pigeon.”

“You must miss her a lot,” I said.

“Well, I missed her at first. I kept crying and crying. A guard told me to stop crying. I tried, but I couldn’t. He clobbered me in the head. See my scar?” she said, pointing to a thick red fold on her forehead.

Bastards. She was only a child.

“You couldn’t stop crying either?” she asked.

“What?”

She pointed to the scar above my eyebrow.

“No, they hit me with a can of sardines,” I said.

“Because you were crying?” she said.

“No, just for fun,” I answered.

She curled her finger toward me, beckoning me closer. “Want to know a big secret?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

She leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Mama says the NKVD are going to hell.” She leaned back. “But you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret, okay? You see, Liale, my dolly, she’s up in heaven. She talks to me. She tells me things. So that’s a secret, but Liale said I could tell you.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Lina,” I said.

“And your brother?”

“Jonas.”

“My name is Janina,” she said, continuing to chatter. “Your mama, she looks old now. My mama does, too. And you like the boy who was waiting near the truck.”

“What?”

“The one who put something into your pocket. I saw. What did he give you?”

I showed her the stone.

“It’s so sparkly. I think Liale would like it. Maybe you could give it to me.”

“No, it was a present. I think I better hold on to it for a while,” I said.

Mother sat down next to me.

“Did you see the present Lina’s boyfriend gave her?” asked Janina.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Was he my boyfriend? I wanted him to be my boyfriend. I showed Mother the stone.

“I see it made its way back to you,” she said. “That’s good luck.”

“My dolly’s dead,” announced Janina. “She’s in heaven.”

Mother nodded and patted Janina’s arm.

“Someone shut that kid up,” said the bald man. “You, the tall one. What do you know of the war?”

“The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, they bombed,” said the man.

“Pearl Harbor? They bombed America?” said Mrs. Rimas.

“When?” asked the bald man.

“Months ago. Around Christmas, yes, Christmas.” He repeated his words, a nervous tic.

“So the United States has declared war on Japan?” asked Mother.

“Yes, along with Britain. Britain has also declared war.”

“Where did you come from?” asked the bald man.

“Lithuania,” said the man.

“I know that, idiot. Where did you come from today?”

“Kalmanka,” said the man. “Yes, Kalmanka.”

“Kalmanka, eh? Was it a prison or a camp?” asked the bald man.

“A camp, hmm, a camp. A potato farm. You?”

“A beet farm near Turaciak,” replied Mother. “Were there all Lithuanians in your camp?”

“No, mostly Latvians,” said the man. “And Finns. Yes, Finns.”

Finns. I had forgotten about Finland. I remembered the night Dr. Seltzer came to the house looking for Papa. The Soviets had invaded Finland.

“It’s only thirty kilometers from Leningrad, Elena,” Dr. Seltzer had told Mother. “Stalin wants to protect himself from the West.”

“Will the Finns negotiate?” asked Mother.

“The Finns are strong people. They’ll fight,” said Dr. Seltzer.

THE TRAIN CHURNED forward. The rhythm of the rails tormented me, screeching and banging. They pulled me away from Andrius, further into an unknown. The metal lamp swayed above like a pendulum, illuminating hollow faces, throwing shadows throughout the carriage. Janina whispered to the ghost of her dead doll, giggling.

The yellow girl hacked and wheezed next to Jonas. She spit up blood all over his back. Mother snatched Jonas off the plank. She tore off his shirt and threw it down the bathroom hole. It didn’t seem necessary. We were all breathing the same air as the yellow girl. Phlegm and blood on a shirt couldn’t be any more contagious.

“I’m so sorry,” sobbed the girl. “I’ve ruined your shirt.”

“It’s okay,” said Jonas, hugging his naked torso. His scurvy spots hadn’t entirely disappeared. Pink blotches dotted his emaciated rib cage.

The tall man, the repeater, spoke sprightly, convinced of America, America. I wasn’t convinced of anything, except my yearning to see Papa, Andrius, and home.

On the third night, I woke up. Something tapped on my chest. I opened my eyes. Janina’s face hovered above mine, her eyes wide. The light swung back and forth behind her head.

“Janina? What is it?”

“It’s Liale.”

“Tell Liale it’s time to sleep,” I said, closing my eyes.

“She can’t sleep. She says the yellow girl is dead.”

“What?”

“Liale says she’s dead. Can you check if her eyes are open? I’m scared to look.”

I pulled Janina against me, laying her head on my chest. “Shh. Go to sleep.” She trembled in my arms. I listened. The coughing had stopped. “Shh. Time to sleep, Janina.” I rocked her gently.

I thought of Andrius. What was he doing back at the camp? Had he looked at my drawings? I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the stone. I saw him smiling, tugging my hat in the ration line.

The yellow girl was dead. Streaks of dried blood ran from the corners of her mouth to her chin. The next day, the guards dragged her stiff body out of the train. Her mother jumped down after her, crying. A gunshot fired. A thud hit the dirt. A grieving mother was an annoyance.

Ulyushka, the woman I despised, kept us alive on the train. We lived off the food she had given Mother. We shared it with others. I drew Ulyushka’s wide face and stalks of black hair, trying to steady my hand through the train’s vibration.

No one refused the water or gray slop in the buckets. We ate greedily, licking our palms and sucking under our dirty fingernails. Janina’s mother slept often. I could barely sleep even though I was exhausted. The noise and movement from the train kept me awake. I sat, wondering where they were taking us and how I would let Papa know.

Janina tapped the bald man on the shoulder. “I heard you’re a Jew,” she said.

“That’s what you heard, eh?” said the bald man.

“Is it true?” asked Janina.

“Yes. I heard you’re a little brat, is that true?”

Janina paused, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. Did you know Hitler and the Nazis might kill the Jews? My mama said that.”

“Your mother’s wrong. Hitler is killing the Jews.”

“But why?” asked Jonas.

“The Jews are the scapegoat for all of Germany’s problems,” said the bald man. “Hitler’s convinced racial purity is the answer. It’s too complicated for children to understand.”

“So you’re here with us, rather than with the Nazis?” asked Jonas.

“You think I’d choose this? Under Hitler or Stalin, this war will end us all. Lithuania is caught in the middle. You heard the man. The Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor. The United States may already be allied with the Soviets. Enough talk. Be quiet,” said the bald man.

“We’re going to America,” said the repeater. “America.”

AFTER A WEEK, the train stopped late at night. Mrs. Rimas said she saw a sign that said Makarov. They herded us out of the carriages. The open air swirled around my face, clean, fresh. I breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my dry lips. The guards directed us toward a large building four hundred yards away. We dragged our filthy belongings from the train. Mother collapsed in the dirt.