C Taylor - Nadya's War

I sprinted toward her, calling to the others I’d found her and she’d survived. In a few days, maybe a week at the most, all this would be a painful memory we’d laugh at. We’d all tell our grandchildren about the day Valeriia danced with Death in an inferno, and the older ones would roll their eyes and complain about how many times they heard it before.

When I got to her, everything changed. She hadn’t been waving me over. It was just the sleeve of her leather jacket, torn and flapping in the wind. Her left arm was missing, and in the flickering light, I could see her skull had been caved in on one side and had a jagged piece of metal sticking out the other.

“Oh God, no! You’re going to be okay,” I said. The world seemed to close in darkness. All I could see were her lifeless eyes staring back at me, and all I could do was utter my denial and rock back and forth.

A spotlight hit her, brightening the patch of charred ground she was on. My eyes snapped right to see a couple of girls from the ground crew race off the truck. One of them knelt beside Valeriia’s body and shook her head. The other draped a heavy fire blanket over the body.

“Stop, you idiots! She won’t be able to breathe!” I started for the two of them, but someone grabbed me from behind.

“Don’t look, Nadya,” Alexandra said, spinning me around. “You don’t need to see this.”

I fought with my wingman, trying to get away, but she kept me in place. “Let me go!”

“She’s gone!”

“No, she’s not!”

Alexandra tightened her grip. “There’s nothing you can do. Don’t let this be how you remember her.”

“You’re wrong,” I said, jerking free. “I prayed. I prayed with all of my heart she’d live, and if she doesn’t…”

Alexandra’s face paled. Her eyes were wide, and despite the gloom surrounding us both, I could see her trembling. “It doesn’t mean anything, Nadya.”

“Yes, it does,” I said. My throat tightened, and I couldn’t get the words out.

“I’m a stupid girl,” she said. “I like to pretend I know things, that I’ve got it all figured out, but I don’t. So don’t you dare listen to what I said earlier. Don’t you dare lose it on my account.”

Losing it would be nice, I thought, to be anywhere but here, to be anyone else or nothing at all. The hairs on my body stood on end, and I felt as if I were being pulled out of my body. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or think.

“I want to sleep and wake from this nightmare,” I whispered. “And if I can’t do that, I don’t ever want to wake up.”

Alexandra slipped her arm around mine and led me away. My feet shuffled as we went, moving more out of reflex rather than conscious desires. I hadn’t the slightest clue as to where we were going until I found myself at the side of my bed.

“Lie down,” she said, easing me off my feet.

She started talking about something else, God or gods or something, but her voice faded to the background. It was nothing more than a gentle murmur, like a barely audible brook on the other side of a rise.

I stared at the empty bunk across from me. It was the same bunk Valeriia had slept in. I wondered if she knew what had happened to her, if it hurt, if she was in a better place or had just ceased to be. I wondered if Martyona had died in pain or fear. Had she been as terrified for herself as I had been for her? Or somehow in her last seconds did she know she was going to an eternal home and everything would be okay?

I didn’t know, and I feared that last thought was more foolishness than anything. All I was certain of was that for both girls, I’d flooded God’s ears with prayers to save them and those prayers went unanswered. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I held them in check until Alexandra put a hand on my shoulder. That one act pushed me off the cliff of detachment and into the sea of grief.

My body shook as I sobbed. My stomach knotted so tightly I was sure my insides were splitting apart. I don’t know how long I cried, but when I was done, I was exhausted with tear-stained cheeks, Alexandra was kneeling at the side of my bed, holding my hand, murdering a lullaby.

“You’re terrible,” I said.

Alexandra stopped. Her mouth twisted. “What?”

“You can’t hold a pitch to save your life,” I explained. I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve and cleared my eyes.

“I thought I was helping,” she said. “I know I’ll never be an opera star, but am I truly awful?”

I nodded. I tried to keep a straight face, but thinking about how clueless she was as to the sound of her own voice resulted in me laughing harder and longer than I ever should have. “Sorry, but I’d rather chew glass.”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” she said. “Do you feel any better?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I know you were hoping otherwise, but I’m too tired to cry anymore, too tired to sleep, and—” I stopped midsentence and winced. I held my right arm up in the air and flexed the hand a few times. “And my arm is killing me.”

She took my arm as she had so many times before and massaged the burns. “It’s probably stress. Your wounds have been so much better the last few days.”

“The burns aren’t the worst of it.” My voice trailed off. I knew what I wanted to say, but I could barely think it, let alone put those thoughts to words. No matter how painful something was inside my head, it always seemed as if once it was given breath, it would take on life and grow into some hideous monster that would never stop trying to devour me.

Alexandra, however, was undoubted by my demons. “What’s the worst of it?”

I paused, trying to find a way to sum up what this evening had done to me. Before I answered, Klara came running into the dugout, panting.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I was searching for you everywhere. The Major said you looked like death.”

“She’s fine,” Alexandra said without even a glance in her direction. “You can tell the Major I’m with her.” When Klara didn’t leave, Alexandra turned to her and put a bite to her tone. “That was an order, comrade Rudneva, not a suggestion. Leave us.”

Klara shook her head and stepped toward me. “She’s my pilot,” she said. “I want to hear it from her.”

I was touched at her concern and stubbornness, but keeping Alexandra entertained was exhausting enough. I didn’t need more company. “I’m okay, Klara. Catch up with me in the morning, yes?”

“Okay,” she replied. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know. I’ll look in on you later.”

Klara left, but not before giving a silent snarl to the back of Alexandra’s head. I sighed, wishing I could understand whatever rivalry they had going on enough to put an end to it. “I wish you two wouldn’t fight.”

“I wish she’d remember her place,” she said. “But enough of that. You were saying?”

“About what?”

“The worst of it.”

I rolled over and pulled the blanket up to my chin. Up close, I studied the weave in the fabric, found some odd pleasure in watching the fibers twist around each other. It was all I needed to focus on to answer her question, to spit out the words and be detached from it all. “You were right,” I said. “My prayers do fall on deaf ears, but it’s not because God doesn’t exist. It’s because He hates me. I don’t care if you think I’m stupid or crazy for believing such things. It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. You are far too wonderful of a person to be hated.”

“You barely know me.”

“And yet I’ve already seen how amazing you are.”

I sighed. “Then tell me why my prayers go unanswered. Why am I ignored by someone who’s supposed to love everyone?”