Theodore Odrach - Wave of Terror

“Mother!” Marusia repeated, sitting up. “Please, just this once.” Patting the side of her bed, she said, “Mother, come and sit down here beside me. Let’s talk about Lonia instead.”

“Lonia? What about Lonia?”

“Let’s think about this rationally. It’s about Father. He’s not going to go to Lvov, and you know it. I’ve been thinking it over and maybe it’s not such a good idea after all. It’s such a long trip, and at his age. The train ride alone is bad enough, not to mention all the riffraff on board, especially these days.”

Efrosinia listened with strained attention. She was finding herself inclined to agree, at least to a certain extent. Maybe it was too much to expect of him. The train ride was rather long and the cars, it’s true, were now almost always filled with all sorts of bandits and thieves. Maybe it was best for him to just stay home. But these thoughts lasted only a moment. Stamping her foot, she exclaimed adamantly, “No! The old man is going! True, it may be a rough road, but in the end I don’t think it will do him any serious damage. He’s set to go tomorrow morning and that’s that!”

“Mother!” Marusia raised her voice. “If Father does go, the situation will only get worse. He’s already so weak and frail he can barely make his way around the house. How do you expect him to make it halfway across the country?”

Marusia suddenly fell into violent, hysterical weeping. Her voice trembling, she fixed her eyes in desperation on Kulik. “Ivan, you’ve got to help us, please. Do something! How can we get Lonia home? Oh, my poor, dear brother!”

Efrosinia too burst into tears. Grabbing Kulik’s arm, she cried, “Maybe you’ll go for my son?”

Kulik couldn’t believe what he had just heard. This could only lead to some unimaginable bad end for him.

“Please, help my son!” Efrosinia squeezed his arm harder. “Bring Lonia home to me. I know you’ll do it, in my heart I just know it. And if you won’t do it for me, then do it for Marusia. I’ll pray for you. Oh, thank you, son, thank you.” She took hold of his hands and kissed them repeatedly.

Kulik looked at the two women. They were so pale and worn and wore such looks of infinite suffering, that his heart broke and he was afraid for them, but even more afraid for himself. If only he could get away from there and fast, before he agreed to do something he might regret. But suddenly he blurted out, “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll go tomorrow. I’ll do it not for your daughter but for you, Efrosinia. I understand the tremendous grief you must feel.”

He said goodnight and quickly left the house. A gust of cold wind swept in from the north and numbed his face. He could feel a deathly chill pass over his body. He walked in a sort of daze, unaware that his coat was unbuttoned and that he had left his hat and gloves in the Bohdanovich house.

It was only when he came to the first crossroads that he fully grasped the magnitude of the danger in which he had put himself. A wave of terror gripped his heart. Why had he agreed to go to Lvov? Was he out of his mind? Did he have some sort of death wish? Clearly he had not been in control of his faculties tonight. If he were to go, his absence from the conference would certainly spark suspicion. The NKVD would be notified immediately and get on his trail. His lodgings would be ransacked, his past would be dug up, his family sought out and investigated. It would be just a matter of time before he was snatched up in the dark of night and thrown into some deep, dark hole.

He became infuriated with himself for playing a kind of Russian roulette with his life. What were the Bohdanoviches to him anyway? Why, he had just met them a few days ago. He wanted to block out everything that had just happened, to go back on his word, but he had made a conscious decision and he had to bear the consequences. Rain or shine, tomorrow morning he would be on that train to Lvov. He tried to think how to handle this, to think of a plan to deal with the authorities. He could file for a leave of absence with the People’s Commissariat of Education and say his father was ill or maybe that a close relative had passed away. That sounded reasonable enough. For a moment he felt confident that it would work, but his confidence did not last long. What if the authorities refused to issue him a pass? Or worse yet, what if they agreed to issue him a pass, then went on to verify his story? What if they found out what he was really doing? Why had he lied? What was he trying to hide? Was Lonia a nationalist? Were the Bohdanoviches involved in some kind of subversive activity? A simple request could lead to God knew what.

Home at last, he made his way up the stairs to his garret. Without lighting a lamp, he changed into his pajamas and sank into an armchair by the window. For the longest time he sat lost in thought, staring into the dark. A special form of misery began to take hold of him: suddenly he saw Marusia’s pale face with her eyes red with weeping. She looked frightened, like a little girl, a child even, and she was shaking. Could she possibly appreciate and understand the danger he was putting himself in? That he was suffering for her benefit? Then at least his sacrifice would not be for nothing. But this feeling lasted only a moment. Was it possible she could be thinking of him or could she think only of her brother? Did she even feel grateful to him? Would she think of him when he was gone? He stumbled to bed, and wrapping himself in his blankets, shivering, tried to blot out everything that had happened. He tossed and turned all night.

Early the next morning, as he had promised, Kulik appeared at the Bohdanovich house. He had barely stepped over the threshold when he was met by the entire family, who, it turned out, had been sitting in the living room waiting for him since sunrise. Warm gratitude shone in their eyes and they were laughing and chatting. Efrosinia stroked her husband’s arm almost affectionately, and Marusia, who had now recovered completely, sat quietly smiling on the sofa. Never had Kulik seen the family so calm or behaving so kindly to one another, never had he seen them all in such a good mood. Glancing briefly at Marusia’s glowing face, suddenly he felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach, an unpleasant sensation that grew stronger.

Is this how much his going to Lvov meant to them? Didn’t they think of his pain? He was about to fling himself over the edge, to sacrifice his life for their son, and they couldn’t bring themselves to show the slightest concern for his safety. Grudging their happiness, full of resentment, he thought, How wonderful to see them so cheery, and at my expense! Will they even give me a second thought when I get thrown into the dungeons of the Zovty Prison?” He was furious with himself for being such a fool. Why had he so readily agreed to put his life on the line? Suddenly he hated the Bohdanoviches; he felt nothing but loathing and contempt for them. They were selfish, crude, and petty, and he cursed the day he had set foot in their house.

But Marusia was excitedly waving a piece of paper in front of his nose. “Ivan! Ivan! Something wonderful has happened! Take this and read it!”

It was a letter from Lonia. Kulik read it aloud.

My dear beloved family,

Put your minds to rest, please. As I write this letter I am in the hospital, but not to worry as I am well on my way to recovery. In about a week’s time I will be leaving Lvov with a fellow student who is passing through Pinsk on his way to Baranovichy. Don’t send me any parcels because by the time they arrive, I will be with all of you in Pinsk.

With all my love,

Lonia.

Kulik stood dumbfounded, and then breathed a deep sigh of relief. With one stroke of the pen all his problems were solved. He was a free man again. What great news! Lonia was coming home, and on his own! Not only did the Bohdanoviches no longer need him, but he had gotten off the hook completely and so easily.