Aimie Runyan - Daughters of the Night Sky

“Quite,” Vanya said, his face lined with a scowl. “I worry for my wife’s well-being, Comrade Osin. She was injured in service to the country, but I fear the doctors are treating her injuries too lightly.”

“You wish for me to procure some medicines, perhaps? An examination with one of Moscow’s finest physicians?” he asked, head cocked sideways. His business had a scope I hadn’t imagined.

“No, I don’t want to be a drain on resources when there are soldiers in need. I am hoping to get her more adequate treatment elsewhere. If one were to venture as far as, say, Turkey, and then on to a friendly country in the west, then she would be able to find better medical help without harming the war effort.”

“Spoken like a true patriot.”

Vanya narrowed his eyes at the insinuation. “My father always taught me that, especially in a society such as ours, those who come to privilege must do everything in their power to avoid taking from the bounty of others. I am pleased my family is in such a position to make this possible.” A reminder: Father has money. I squeezed Vanya’s knee. The cover was a brilliant one. I doubted Antonin had said any such thing. It was far closer to Vanya’s own philosophies than his father’s.

“So you wish for me to secure passage to Turkey for your wife, then. That should be easy enough. I’m sure her papers are in order.”

“Myself as well. Given the current situation, I cannot allow her to go alone. I’m sure you understand.”

“And your regiment has given you leave? That’s highly unusual.”

Vanya, his hands clasped on the table and gaze fixed on Osin, said nothing.

“Ah. Now my involvement makes more sense. This does complicate things. I am a man of connections, but I have limited influence when it comes to military affairs.”

“If you can secure the papers, I’ll attend to the rest,” Vanya said, taking his packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lighting one as it rested between his lips, his fingers tapping against the table once he stowed his lighter.

Don’t show your nerves. It will only play to his advantage.

“Very good. The less I know on that end, the better.”

“Agreed,” Vanya said, offering Osin his packet. Osin waved it away with a flash of remarkably even teeth.

“I’ll see what I can manage, my dear boy. It won’t be an easy task these days, but Antonin is a dear friend. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure Father admires your conscientiousness and will make his appreciation known.”

“I have no doubt. It’s been a pleasure. We’ll meet again as soon as I can arrange for it.”

We sat silently until Osin had disappeared from view. I put my hand on Vanya’s free one as he finished his cigarette, his eyes scanning the hedges as though they contained answers to great mysteries.

“I’ll owe Father ten years of indentured servitude if Osin comes through,” he said without humor. “Thankfully I won’t be in the country anytime soon for him to collect on it.”

Mama. I was leaving her to her own devices. Though she’d been in that situation for years now, I had always been within reach.

“When do you think we’ll be able to return home?” I asked, eyeing his packet of cigarettes, wondering what pleasure he found in them.

“After the war. When things calm down.” Vanya took a long drag of his cigarette and caressed my hand. “It may be some time, but so long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”

“I feel like a coward.”

“It will pass.” He kissed the back of my hand where Osin had pressed his lips minutes before, causing me to shudder. “We’ll find ways to help from a distance. There is plenty we can do.”

I freed my hand from his and took one of the skinny white cylinders from the packet Vanya had left on the courtyard table.

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked.

“Since now.”

With an arched brow and flick of his wrist, he lit my cigarette in one deft motion of his lighter. I felt nothing but jitters as the smoke entered my lungs, but it was easier to concentrate on the foreign sensation than the fear that lapped from within.

“You’re a miracle worker, Osin,” Vanya said three days later. He examined the travel documents with exacting scrutiny. “I wouldn’t have thought to procure official government orders to show at the border.”

“And that is why my services come so highly recommended, my boy. One does not gain a reputation such as I have by cutting the proverbial corners.”

“I expect not,” Vanya said. “An envoy from the Kremlin. Genius.”

“No one will question it. Because your father is such an old and dear friend, I have a gift for you and your lovely bride as well.” Osin produced a map from his breast pocket. It was a map of the western part of the country and the countries along our borders. My side throbbed as I angled to get a better look at the document. There was one dark-red line that sprawled from Russia into Turkey, circling around the coast of the Black Sea. There were little side routes outlined in a paler shade of red, making the whole map look like a series of blood vessels sprawling out from our present location.

“The main route is faster by days but is the most heavily patrolled. You can use it for a while, but the closer you get to Turkey, take detours onto the back roads. I’ve also taken the liberty of securing you a truck that is equal to the task. Wear civilian clothes for the journey. Uniforms will just raise more questions. Once you’re in Turkey, I would disavow any military involvement if I were you.”

“Understood. Comrade Osin, we owe you our lives.”

“I wish you both the best, and I hope the next time we meet it will be under pleasanter circumstances.”

Vanya extended a hand, and Osin returned to the streets outside the hospital.

“We’re to be Nicola and Andrei Lipov while en route. Traveling on a confidential errand from the office of Stalin. We cannot say too much, because we are kept in the dark about the exact nature of our mission until we reach our destination. It’s a good cover.”

“When do we leave?” I asked, trying to find a more comfortable position in the chair. “And should I wire the regiment to resign before we go?”

“God, no. If word got back to my regiment that you’d been discharged, they’d call me back immediately. We leave at dawn. I’d say tonight, but we’d be pulled over for breaking curfew.”

I wanted to question him, to be sure he knew what he was doing, but I succeeded in holding my tongue. “You’ll get us through it all right, Comrade Lipov,” I said, smiling as I took another cigarette from his packet.

We packed our meager belongings, Vanya covertly transferring them to the cab of the truck so we would make less noise as we departed in the morning. During the preceding days, Vanya had spent his time acquiring rations, blankets, and plain clothing for us, all of which had left us at risk every moment the supplies lingered under my hospital bed.

At the first sign of light, Vanya motioned to wake me, but I had never fully entered sleep. German tanks. Russian guns. None would be our friend now. As we walked over the gravel in the courtyard that had been our sanctuary these past days, I felt each crunch of our feet betray our location and scream our treachery. The truck was a hulking green thing that looked as though it would travel reasonably well through uncertain terrain. It had a canvas top that extended over the bed, which would be our shelter at night. Our home for days until we reached neutral ground.

Vanya had us on the road leading away from the outskirts of Stalingrad. He followed Osin’s suggestions, keeping to the main road as often as he could but diverting onto the side roads whenever we encountered large numbers of army vehicles or patrols that might examine our papers too closely or question our orders.