Alison Littman - Radio Underground

“Will you go first, please?” Boldiszar asked me, pointing his gun toward the house.

I knew I would have to be the adult now. Boldiszar’s friends huddled behind us, like children afraid of what their parents would discover in the depths of their closet. They weren’t going anywhere. And if I said no to Boldiszar, or showed any hint of doubt, he would probably turn around. So I took a step forward, and it was small.

“What’s wrong?” Boldiszar’s voice cracked.

“Please,” I begged. “I need a second. I don’t know these people either.”

Boldiszar reached into his pocket and pulled out a miniature version of the Hungarian flag. The Communist coat of arms had been ripped out of its center, leaving a gaping hole in the cloth.

“It’s our flag,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re using this as a symbol of our movement. We’re making a new Hungary now.”

I looked at the tattered flag in his hand, rightfully gutted of its Soviet heart, and thought about how much Boldiszar, and all the young people, deserved to put whatever they wanted into the middle of that flag. I just wasn’t sure they knew what belonged there.

I squeezed Boldiszar’s hand, and the flag, and nodded.

An elderly man answered the door, staring at us as if we had lost our way. His clothes hung loose on his shoulders and his white hair sprouted in different directions, as if each strand was terrified of its neighbor. I coughed, hoping that would give me a second to think. Maybe we got the wrong house and should consider turning around. The chances this old man could retaliate against us seemed minimal though, so I decided to try our luck.

“We are here from Radio Free Europe,” I said.

The old man’s eyes widened, but he never said anything. Raising his hand, he summoned us into the house.

“Please,” I said. “We cannot stay for long. We are here to meet with the delegation.”

He nodded and continued walking back into the house. Following him, Boldiszar clutched his gun at his hip, and I positioned myself right next to him. Boldiszar’s gang remained on the porch. I caught their eyes peering through the windows and looked at them longingly. At least out there, they could run if they needed to.

A single light bulb illuminated the hallway. It swayed back and forth, very gently, as we passed it on our journey into the house. Decaying, vomit-colored wallpaper surrounded us, interrupted by wooden doors that led to who knows where. The smell of mold and rusting metal permeated the house, and so did silence.

“Where is everyone?” I asked the old man.

He ignored me. I imagined the Americans greeting us like heroes, or at least colleagues. I wondered what else wouldn’t pan out as I imagined.

“Go there,” he said, pointing down a stairwell that disappeared into a basement.

Boldiszar and I stopped, our eyes following the path of the man’s finger. We said nothing as we adjusted to the darkness before us. Not one ray of light emitted from the basement, and all we could hear was the old man breathing.

“This isn’t right,” I said to Boldiszar. I grabbed his elbow, prepared to direct him out of the house.

“No,” he pushed. “We are already here.”

“I really don’t think we have the correct address. Who knows who this delusional old man thinks we are?”

“He knows who we are.” Boldiszar nodded to him.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “He’s given me messages before. They’ve always worked.”

“Just because he’s been reliable in the past, it doesn’t mean he will be now.”

“You said we need this, Eszter.”

“We do.”

“Well, then, it’s my responsibility to do the hard things.”

“Hard, but not stupid. This feels stupid.”

Boldiszar adjusted his gun, tightening the strap around his chest. “Did you really think the Americans were going to make this easy for us? Did you think they would be so much better than the Soviets? We just need their weapons. That’s what I’m here for.”

He stretched his arm out across the hallway, preventing me from walking past him into the basement.

“Do not go past here. I’m going alone.”

“I shouldn’t let you do that. I don’t want anything to…,” I started, but I couldn’t finish my sentence, and my feet would not allow me to take even one step forward.

Boldiszar hugged me. His body shook against mine, his quaking racing up my spine to my neck.

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it,” I said. “Just get the job done and get back here quickly. Don’t make any promises.”

“I promise,” Boldiszar winked. He kissed my cheek, took in a full breath of air, and started down the stairs.

I watched as the same boy who read to Dora on our living room floor, helped her pull out her first tooth, and gave her the love I never did, disappeared below the surface of the house. I waited at the top of the stairs for him, refusing to join his posse outside. Boldiszar still needed someone to watch over him.

The old man hobbled past me and down the stairs, leaving me alone in the darkness. The fear of something happening to Boldiszar increased as the minutes passed. I started to doubt that U.S. troops stood beneath me, awaiting the arrival of a student-turned-military commander. Why wouldn’t they just drop bombs on government buildings? Why would they risk their soldiers’ lives on us? Did the chief get some bad intelligence? Was she wrong? Was I wrong? My thoughts spiraled out of control, each question leading to another one with no answer.

I heard something. I didn’t quite know what it was, but it didn’t sound like anyone talking or negotiating. It sounded more like someone moving heavy boxes, and dropping them on the hard ground.

I had to go after Boldiszar. I needed clarity, and now. I crept down the stairs, testing each piece of wood for signs of creaking before putting my weight down. My heart beat so loudly, it sounded like a giant plodding through my ears. Halfway down the stairs, a gruesome moan stopped my heart altogether. I froze. The sound of coughing—no, the sound of hacking, hacking and gagging—filled the basement. I had no clue where to go next, except down.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw a faint light sneaking out from beneath a door, revealing a grimy, cluttered basement. From the corner of the room, two eyes caught mine. They peered into me, but didn’t move. Was it the old man’s? Did something happen to him? I tiptoed over to him, carefully avoiding a chaos of bikes, china plates, and ripped fabric chairs. Instead, I found a deer head mounted to a slab of splintering wood. Its right antler had been hacked off, causing it to lean crookedly against an armoire. It fixed its glazed-over eyes on me, as if I was the empty nothingness of death.

A door started to creak open, sending my body into convulsions of fear and dread. I shuffled over to two shipping boxes and crouched behind them. I stared at the door, willing Boldiszar to walk confidently out. Instead, it opened just enough to reveal three men in Soviet uniforms huddled over something at their feet. One of them stepped to the side. There was a body on the floor. It was Boldiszar. Knees to his chest, eyes shut, hands cuffed, he rocked back and forth, and was he… bleeding?

I didn’t know what to do. We had been betrayed—that I knew—but by whom?

The soldiers started kicking Boldiszar. They rammed their boots into the boy’s knees and stomped on his shoulders. With every thud, my body rocked with a fresh spasm.

“Tell us where they are. Tell us,” one of the Soviets shouted at Boldiszar.

Boldiszar opened his mouth for a second, but instead of words, blood came out of it.

I needed help. I wished I had brought Antal with me—he would think of something. He had a way of distancing himself from chaotic situations, giving advice as if he was in a classroom or doctor’s office. But, wait; Antal was the one who told me about this specific meeting location. He handed me the phone to speak to Anya. He took that phone back. He mumbled something inaudibly to the person on the other line, who maybe wasn’t even Anya at all, because maybe it was Antal who betrayed us. I thought back to Antal repeating the word “czar” through the delirium of his injuries. It had to be Boldiszar’s name he was trying to say. Did I find Antal, beaten to pulp, right after he was tasked with this mission? Did they spring it on him? Or did he know for a long time? And, more importantly, how could he have done this to us?