C Taylor - Nadya's War

“I know you’re up here,” I mumbled. “Somewhere.”

Paranoia set in, and I weaved my plane to check my six. He had to be around, watching me, waiting for his opportunity to attack and put me in the grave as he had done to all the girls before me.

I clenched my jaw with frustration and popped above the clouds, thinking he might be flying high. Over the white cotton tops, all I could see was a beautiful blue winter sky with me as its sole occupant.

I eased back the throttle until I was on the verge of a stall so when I slid open the canopy it wouldn’t jam. The cold air roared into the cockpit, blasted my face, and stung my cheeks and nose. My palms ached, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before they became excruciating.

I leaned out the cockpit as best I could, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rademacher’s plane. “Where the hell are you?”

My scream never had a chance against the wind and engine, not that it mattered anyway. As I slid the canopy back into place, I knew he wasn’t around. Then I realized I didn’t want a dogfight with him. I only wanted a confrontation where I could understand him to make sense of all his actions. Sadly, that was the one thing this war would never provide.

I turned the plane north-northeast, pushed the throttle forward, and entered a shallow dive. I skimmed my belly a few meters above the Volga’s surface and followed the river all the way back to Anisovka. Along the way, I wondered what people would say to me about Alexandra’s loss, Klara’s words especially.

Then I wondered where the hell God was in all of this. Was there a method to His madness as to why He never stopped the killing? I turned the question over in my mind, and the more I did, the more I found hope in Alexandra’s words. Maybe God was brushing the world’s teeth and things would become clear on the other side of life. I had nothing else to grab on to.

“Little Boar, this is Den,” the tower at Anisovka said when I neared. “You are cleared to land. Welcome home.”

I swore under my breath. The operator’s voice was so… upbeat. I wasn’t expecting a total breakdown on their end, but acknowledging my flight was returning minus one would have been appreciated.

Once down, I taxied to my plane’s parking spot. Klara directed me into place with slouched shoulders and a blank stare. The spot was roomier than last I saw it. The space next to it, Alexandra’s, was empty, and the sight of it hit me in the gut like a cannon.

I killed the engine and slid back the canopy. Even on the ground, frozen air stung my face, and I loathed to get out and face the regiment. I slumped forward and whispered, “God help me.”

An arm snaked across my back, and Klara’s cheek pressed into mine. “I’ll help you.”

I sank into that touch of warmth, something my soul craved. I grabbed and squeezed her tight, dying for a bit of goodness to cling to. I pulled her into the cockpit, and she looked up at me, laughing first, then horrified she’d done so.

“Sorry,” I said, not moving one bit to help her out of her awkward position. It was a good thing she was small. We barely fit in the cockpit together. “I’m a mess.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve been worried about you since Gridnev told us about Alexandra. I almost thought you wouldn’t come back on your own.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said the two of you fought bravely and saved many lives, and that she’s left a hole in his heart that will never fill.”

His words were kind, but deep down, I wish he hadn’t said them, at least, not yet. “So he gave her service already,” I said, angry at him that he’d done so already and at myself for being so petty. “I would have liked to have been there.”

“He said a few words. Maybe there will be more later.”

“No. That’s all she’ll get. That’s all anyone gets.”

My eyes dried out and stared at nothing in particular for a few moments before Klara reached up and brushed back my hair. She pulled her hand back and said, “You should let me up. I might kiss you and everyone will see.”

“I might let you.”

That was all the encouragement she needed, and I fell into the intimacy of her intoxicating embrace and cast aside the world.

We parted, and Klara gently wiped her mouth. “People will start paying attention soon if we don’t go.”

“I don’t care anymore,” I said. My words drew a puzzled smile from her. “What’s the point in hiding anything if we can already die at any moment? That’s not living. That’s waiting for Death.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she said, looking frightened and hopeful. “But if it’s the same to you, I don’t want my neck stretched.”

I ran my fingers through her hair and gave her a playful tug. “I could think of something to do with it, later. But right now, my legs are falling asleep.”

I helped her out of the cockpit before getting out of the plane and sliding off the wing. I wouldn’t call my movements lively, but they were several steps away from the grave mood I’d been in. Perhaps I’d survive Alexandra’s loss after all. That said, I still wanted things to be over. The flights. The war. The killing.

Klara looked down at the wrench she was carrying and toyed with it as we walked. Something was on her mind, but I could tell what she said next wasn’t what she was thinking about. “Gridnev said he wants to see you as soon as you land—for the official after-action report.”

“I know,” I said. “They told me on the radio before I landed.”

“Also, the Commissar was poking around your dugout while you were away.”

My blood turned to ice. “Why?”

Klara shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I imagine he was looking for anything he could use against you.”

I almost didn’t ask. I was afraid she’d think I was using again, even though I wasn’t. But I was really terrified that he’d found the syrette I’d tossed in the oil drum. “What did he find?”

A hint of confusion flickered in her eyes. “Nothing I’m aware of. Why? Could he have?”

I exhaled. “I’m tired and paranoid he’d plant something, I guess.”

Klara chuckled. “I know he doesn’t like you, but I don’t think he’d stoop to that.”

“I hope not, but I need to report in. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, before starting for the command post.

A few paces into my walk, she called out to me. “I never hated her.”

“What?”

“Alexandra,” she said. “I never did, but I know you think so.”

My thoughts split into a hundred different directions. Could I talk about this? Did I want to? How could she ever say otherwise? “You never treated her well.” As much as I loved Klara, saying anything else felt like it would betray my wingman. “You two were practically at each other’s throats.”

“I might have been jealous of all the time you two spent together,” she said.

“Might?”

“I was. I was,” she said. Her voice picked up tempo and fluttered in pitch as if she barely had control. “But that was before I had you, before we—” She stopped and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. All I want you to know is in the end, I was thankful you had her.”

I couldn’t help but snort. Some of Third Squadron’s ground crew were walking the airfield nearby, and I worried they were about to see me lose my mind. “I’m sorry. This is a little much for me at the moment.”

“You don’t have to believe me. I wouldn’t,” she said, “but it’s true. As much as I wished I had as much time with you as she did, she always looked out for you. She always brought you home safe. And that’s all I ever wished for.”

The newly formed lump in my throat made my reply near impossible. “She died for that wish, and all I could do was sing for her before she was gone.” I sucked in a breath and steeled myself. “I’m going to report in.”