Alison Littman - Radio Underground

Taking advantage of the last minutes I had in the office, I crept over to Laszlo. He had fallen asleep at his desk, a habit of his whenever editing stories. I scribbled a note to him, telling him I had a very important mission to see through. I included instructions on what to do if I didn’t return, in part to make him feel like I was doing something bold and noble, and also because I knew the second I stepped outside, my survival was no longer guaranteed. I placed the note under his hand and kissed his forehead.

“I’ll need your help getting there,” Antal said. He slumped against the back wall of the office, his dried blood forming a crusty ring around his neck. His shoulder hung at an awkward angle, much lower than his other one.

“I have to ask you one thing before we go,” I said.

“What is it?”

“Did you know she was going to ask me that?”

Antal jerked a little, avoiding eye contact with me.

“I did, Eszter.”

“But, why couldn’t you just ask me yourself?”

“I thought it would be better coming directly from Anya.”

“I would have believed you. I’m not like him…,” I looked at Laszlo. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Eszter. That means a lot. We should really get going.”

“Can you even walk?” I asked.

“I’m not sure….”

Resting his weight on my shoulder, I dragged Antal out of the office. I wished that I could have left him sleeping with Laszlo.

“We need to get to the edge of the river,” Antal said.

“Why the river?”

“It’s where he is.”

“But, that’s not where all the students are fighting,” I said, thinking of Corvin Cinema, the movie theater-turned-rebel stronghold in the middle of the city.

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s a commander. He needs to be where it’s safe,” Antal reasoned with me.

Boldiszar did always have a fondness for water, I remembered. On weekends, he used to beg me to take them to Lake Balaton. I never agreed, too busy with the paper to spend the weekend out of town. Last year for Dora’s birthday, Boldiszar ended up taking her to the lake himself. I remember after their trip, I would discover Dora smiling at random intervals of the day, like when she ate her breakfast or even when she was fixing her hair. She actually said hello to me, and goodbye. She spent less time doing her homework in her room or in Ivan’s office, and more time in the living room. I wondered what happened that weekend on the lake.

I never asked—too fearful to disturb this new daughter. Dora’s glee only lasted a few weeks, though, and Boldiszar stopped visiting us so frequently. Now I knew what he was doing.

As Antal and I lumbered toward the Danube, we passed patches of destruction and violence, each one more unique and gut-wrenching than the last. Near the radio building, I saw a boy walking around with a lantern, shining it on the dead as he tried to identify the students, forever asleep in their shattered innocence. On Váci út, broken glass and graffiti marred the storefronts. In front of the butcher shop, a man hung tied up on a pole like the pig carcasses being displayed in the windows behind him. A crowd of young and old people surrounded him, taking turns striking the dead man. I watched as a hunched-back, frail old lady shoved her way to the front of the group, jerked her head back, and spat on the man. I started walking toward the crowd, determined to untie this poor man, but Antal reprimanded me. I knew he was right. I had to stay focused on the task at hand. If I wanted to alleviate our country from this pain, we had to get at the root cause. This mission was my fate. It chose me yesterday, when my intuition told me we needed to do something to make this revolution pick up speed. Western aid was really coming, and our forces would be stronger for it.

I felt Antal’s body give in to his injuries as he grew heavier on my shoulder. My muscles started to cramp, as if they were trying to grab on to Antal themselves. My lungs demanded air at increasingly shorter intervals, and I couldn’t tell if it was nerves or exhaustion, or both. I closed my eyes and plodded on, trying to ignore my weakening body, Antal’s wheezing, and the random bursts of gunfire nearby.

“We’re here,” I finally heard Antal whisper. “We made it.”

“We made it,” I repeated, as we collapsed onto a bench.

We sat at the very edge of the Danube, allowing the river’s earthy, familiar breeze to wash over us for a few brief seconds. A line of tugboats swayed in the tide, letting in and out gentle, measured breaths as if they were sleeping. The serenity felt misplaced, and because of that, unnerving.

“It’s time, Eszter,” Antal said.

“Okay,” I took a deep breath. “I’m ready. What should we do?”

“You have to make it to that small dock.” Antal pointed toward a wooden structure far off in the distance. If I squinted, I could see the outlines of boats next to it. “Go to the second largest boat there, the one with the blue stripe on it. Tell them Jedidiah sent you. That’s the code.”

“Why didn’t we just walk there in the first place? We could go together….”

“I can’t,” Antal said.

“Why not?”

“Because they won’t trust me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve played both sides for too long, Eszter. I can’t risk it.”

Antal’s explanation made sense, but I didn’t want to go alone or leave him alone, in his state. We agreed that he’d wait in the doorway of an apartment building one block away from the river.

The boat I headed toward seemed heavier than the rest, sinking an inch or two deeper into the water, which lapped against the dock with a taunting softness. Nearing the boat, I smelled smoke recklessly seeping from its door. Was my Boldiszar really that careless? When I knocked, no one answered. Knocking again, I put my lips to the door and whispered, “Jedidiah sent me.”

I heard a lock unlatch and feet walking away. I pressed on the door, but it didn’t move. I pressed again, yet still, nothing. Turning sideways, I rammed my shoulder into the door, pushing with all the energy I had left. On my third attempt, it flung open and spat me out into a cramped, wooden cabin. I tried to make out my surroundings as thick plumes of cigarette smoke curled around me. Squinting, I saw a card table. A group of young people surrounded it, their heads cocked to the side. They looked no more than twenty years old.

“Who are you?” one of them roused.

“I was sent to you by Jedidiah at Radio Free Europe. My name is Eszter Turján,” I mechanically clucked the words Antal crafted for me. “I am here to inform Boldiszar about something important. Tell him Eszter Turján is here. He knows me.”

The blond girl to my right let out a guffaw. Her friends followed suit, and soon they were all laughing, talking to each other and ignoring me.

The obese boy at the table, who wore army fatigues and kept combing his brown, greasy hair, raised his voice above the others.

“What do you want?”

“U.S. troops are coming. I have to tell Boldiszar where to meet them.”

They quieted in unison.

“That can’t be true,” the boy said.

“It is, and I need to speak to Boldiszar immediately.”

“Well, you used the code. Wait here,” he commanded.

I nodded.

The boy slipped inside a back room. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, comforting myself with the notion that, at the very least, my feet were prepared to launch into action. I wondered if Boldiszar was scared. Was he hurt? Did he know what he was doing?

I still had a hard time believing he had the tenacity to lead this revolution. In the face of conflict, he always acted so tenderly. When Dora misbehaved, Boldiszar would just wait for her to calm down. He never lectured her. Instead, he asked her questions, prompting her to understand her motivations and, ultimately, her errors. She usually reached the conclusion that she was wrong on her own, and the conversation ended in an apology. How would our gentle Boldiszar last an entire revolution? I wanted to know, and at the same time, I didn’t.