City of Fate (20 page)

A single shot was fired. Anton, unable to wait, leapt towards the window before the other two could stop him. All three of them sighed with relief when they heard the woman's voice again, ‘Don't think you can scare me away by
shooting
that stupid thing in the air. Are you hoping to kill a few birds too?'

The German, who spoke before in Russian, addressed her again, ‘This is war! The boy was spying on us. We have no choice but to treat him as a threat to Germany.'

The woman was sobbing now. ‘What are you saying? Just
give him back to me, please. I beg you!' The fight had left her; there were too many soldiers and only her and the boy who she couldn't even see anymore. She called for him, ‘Peter? Peter?' hoping somehow he would find his way back to her, through his captors.

However, the small boy didn't make a sound. Anton, who was still standing at the window, gasped in disbelief, ‘They've gagged him, and blind-folded him too.' When the others made no reply to this, he added, ‘He's no more than four or five years old!'

‘So, what happens now?'

The three turned almost guiltily in Sergeant Pavlov's direction. How long had he been standing there?

‘Sir?' As usual, Anton was the first to respond.

The man stared hard at the three young faces in front of him. ‘Well, what are you going to do?'

Vlad, still trembling from the earlier violence and nausea, quietly offered, ‘Save him?'

This was an opportunity to follow the sergeant's advice: forget about the killing and focus instead on the saving. Anton and Leo exchanged a look of surprise, but then
something
occurred to Anton, ‘I stopped a tank with one shot and I'm pretty sure I can do it again.'

He looked to Leo for guidance and, for once, Leo allowed him to boast, going so far as to remind him, ‘You were the one that led us into the city that night of the crossing.'

Anton's confidence soared. ‘We could distract them by firing at the tank and follow on from there?'

Sergeant Pavlov nodded. ‘Okay, comrades. I can spare you one bullet in the anti-tank rifle and one grenade. What do you think?'

Leo said, ‘We could do with a couple more Russians down there to even up our chances.'

Just then, they heard another voice outside, ‘Mother, are you alright? It's me, Tanya. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!'

Meanwhile, a boy shouted, ‘Peter, where are you?'

And then, having worked his way round the gag over his mouth, the child called out his first word as far as Sergeant Pavlov's group were concerned, ‘Yuri!'

PETER WANTS TO PLAY

W
hat a strange morning
! Yuri thought to himself. He had gone to sleep a fourteen-year-old boy, neither a child nor old enough to do anything of real worth, but when he woke up – when Tanya woke him up – he suddenly felt very old. She shook him awake, saying something about Peter that he tried not to hear. He only opened his eyes to see her face again. Despite the gloominess of the basement, he could make out the delicate shine on her skin. He imagined how soft it would feel, how her hair might tickle his hands and then, just like that, he reached for her, pulled her to him and pressed his lips on hers.

Tanya allowed him to lean against her for no more than two seconds before shaking him off. She jumped to her feet, saying, ‘The Germans have taken Peter.'

Yuri properly woke up then, to the hell around them.

Looking him straight in the eye, Tanya added, ‘They say they're going to hang him for being a spy.'

A howl stuck in Yuri's throat, almost preventing him from asking, ‘Where is he?'

‘Over by January Square. He was laying wire or doing something with one of our soldiers.' She was crying now.

Already fully-dressed, he grabbed her hand and dragged her outside. The snow was thick on the ground, the
whiteness
reminding them both of what Stalingrad used to look like before the planes arrived that Sunday afternoon. The air was coarse and thin; it hurt to breathe deeply, while the cold stung their eyes. Yuri marched forward, pulling Tanya
alongside
him. The snow even camouflaged his limp, the uneven surface making it appear that he was walking evenly.

Every sound has a ghostly echo when there is snow on the ground, even the sound of silence. Again, Yuri could swear he heard a church bell ringing somewhere, signalling an end to something, or maybe a beginning. He sent a silent prayer heavenwards for his mother and Anna as he crushed the soft snow beneath his numbed feet, hoping that his heart might freeze too. He knew in his heart that his mother and sister were dead. It occurred to him that his mother might be
re-united
with his real father. Maybe they were both watching him now, from wherever they were. He forced himself to empty his mind of painful thoughts. The funny thing was he
welcomed the bitter cold, believing that if he was too busy feeling cold he might forget to feel afraid.

They heard Tanya's mother before they saw anyone else, she was screaming at the Germans to shoot her, calling them names. Next, they heard a single gunshot. Tanya dropped his hand and ran on ahead, leaving him to follow as fast as he could. Coming around the corner, they saw Mrs Karmanova immediately; she was easy to spot because she was the only woman standing before a small crowd of German soldiers, very much alive and taunting whoever had fired his gun into the air.

Tanya called to her mother while Yuri was desperate to see Peter. Where was he? He shouted out for him and received a reply, a little voice from the middle of the gathering,
calling
Yuri's name just once. The relief in the small voice was unmistakable. Peter knew his friend had come for him. Tanya flung herself on her mother and they embraced tightly for a few seconds before turning back to face the stern faces of the men. Yuri joined them, and the three of them stood there together.

Tanya began to address the Germans in their language; the alien words were harsh and heavy on Yuri's ears. Peter was blindfolded and gagged, a shocking sight; Yuri managed to glimpse him before one of the men pulled him back out of view. His scarf, the very one that Yuri had wrapped around his neck was now wrapped around his mouth, though it had
loosened and fallen slightly. Yuri's arms reached instinctively for him, causing a soldier to point his rifle at them.

Tanya was alarmed, ‘Wait! Don't do anything stupid!'

Yuri scowled at her, because the simple truth was he had not been about to do anything at all – because there was nothing he could do. He was just fourteen-year-old Yuri again. What did he know about situations like this?

Perhaps to prevent him from charging into the crowd, Mrs Karmanova took Yuri's hand in hers.

He told her not to worry, that it would be okay, saying it loud enough for Peter to hear. Not understanding that his words were for Peter alone, the old woman gestured silently, with a subtle tip of her head, for Yuri to look to his right. Hardly wanting to take his eyes off the place he'd last seen Peter, Yuri turned impatiently to see what she meant. It was just a brief glance, that's all.

There stood a clothes line swaying gently in the breeze, almost full with coats in different sizes, the snow sitting in tiny heaps on their shoulders, and the heads. In confusion Yuri looked again. Coats do not have heads. There was something terrible about this picture. What was it? He couldn't
understand
what he was looking at, and it wasn't his fault, because he could never have expected this sort of thing to happen. How could he have guessed that one day he would find himself in this awful place? Stalingrad was his home, where he had always felt safe. Not even the last few months had
made him too frightened to be here. However, now as he stared at those coats, the Stalingrad of his childhood
disappeared
forever. No one was safe. All the rules were smashed.

He realised the coats were not mere laundry belonging to one army or the other. For one thing, they were much too small for any soldier and, for another, they were still being worn by their owners. None of them were as young as Peter, but all of them looked younger than Yuri. Their heads were bowed, as if in prayer, their skin whiter than the snow on their shoulders; legs and arms were stiff against the gentle breeze, only the ends of the coats flapped in response to Mother Nature, sounding like a bird in troubled flight. Not even the strands of their hair hinted at movement, at life. Finally, he had to accept that he was looking at a row of dead children hanging on a line, who must have been put there by these men who now held Peter.

Yuri felt weak and might have fallen on his knees had not that good woman, Mrs Karmanova, held him fast. When she tightened her grip on him, reminding him of her presence, rage soared inside him:
This is her fault!
She had taken Peter away from him and this is what happened. He wanted to punch her, to really hurt her, but he felt locked up inside himself. She was sobbing, probably understanding why he could no longer look at her. Nevertheless, he had to ask her one question, ‘Has Peter seen them?'

She shuddered. ‘Yes', and dropped his hand so that she
could cover her face with her own.

Tanya's voice grew shrill. You didn't need to be fluent in German to understand that she was losing the argument. Yuri's teeth began to chatter, making him doubly miserable over how useless he felt.

Peter had something to tell him. ‘Yuri? Corporal Rodimtsev is dead; they shot him like they shot the rat.'

Ah, that's why Peter had wanted to go out with Mrs Karmanova, so that he could go back to the soldiers for more sausage and bread. Tanya pointed to a bundle on the ground, a few feet away from them. Yuri hadn't noticed it. He stared at the battered body of the sulky corporal that Peter had so wanted to impress. Swallowing out of sheer fear and nothing else, Yuri determined to ignore it, saying as cheerfully as he could, ‘I'm still here, Peter. Are you okay? Don't be scared.'

‘I'm not scared. But, Yuri, are you angry with me? I just wanted to see the children.'

Yuri allowed himself a glance at the sniffling woman beside him.

Mrs Karmanova shrugged. ‘I think he thought those poor creatures were another statute, like the one you bring him to. As soon as he spotted them, he ran off on me and the
corporal
. I couldn't catch him.'

So it was not her fault, not really. Peter should have known better than that. Yuri was always telling him how dangerous it was to run off by himself, but he'd never listened. Had he?
Now Yuri knew where to direct his anger.
The little fool!
Forgetting himself, he shouted, ‘Did you run off on Mrs Karmanova, after I told you not to?'

Tanya looked at him as if she could not believe her ears.

Peter's voice, when he answered, sounded tiny and guilty, ‘Yes. Sorry, Yuri. I didn't mean to.'

Yuri couldn't stop himself, he really couldn't. ‘Of course you didn't mean to. You never mean to, do you?
Remember
when you wandered off that day, when I was getting us apples. I told you to stay right where I left you but, oh no, you couldn't do that. You couldn't just stay still.'

‘Shut up, Yuri!' Fury blazed across Tanya's face, but Yuri didn't care. He needed to upset somebody, to have an effect on somebody, or he would explode.

‘Peter, sweetheart, don't mind Yuri. He's just worried about you. He's not angry with you, are you, Yuri?' Tanya spat out her words between half-closed lips. ‘Tell him you're not angry!'

Unable to bear her anger, Yuri glanced away from her, not expecting to find anything of interest to look at. The next few seconds, however, turned out to be very important indeed. For one thing, he saw a Russian soldier at the window of a nearby building, holding his two thumbs up to him and then making a rolling gesture with his hands before moving back into darkness. Yuri knew that the man meant for him to understand him immediately since there was no extra time
allowed. He closed his eyes to think, as Tanya hurled more words at his head.

The Germans were wondering what on earth was going on; some were even laughing. All of these voices were
swirling
around Yuri, confusing him, along with the flapping sound of those dead coats, when he heard Mrs Karmanova whisper, ‘You're to keep talking.'

He opened his eyes in surprise, wondering if he had heard her right. She completely ignored him, and, instead, turned on Tanya, relishing the opportunity to work off her
nervousness
, ‘And as for you, daughter of mine!'

Tanya shut up in bewilderment. Her mother threw up her arms and glared at her child. ‘Ha! Yes, you wandered off on me. Didn't you? You couldn't find the guts, the love, to say goodbye to me, your own mother!'

Tanya opened her mouth, her face red with shame and confusion. ‘Mama … I …' She closed it again, unable to go on. She cast around for something and her eyes rested on Yuri once more. ‘You told her? I trusted you. You big baby!'

The Germans seemed in no rush to do anything. Who knew if any of them understood what the women were arguing about? Mrs Karmanova and Yuri, at least,
understood
that they were to keep the soldiers busy. Several of the gaping windows in the building, where Yuri had seen the Russian soldier, seemed to be framing movements that he could not allow himself to inspect or so much as glance at. It
was important to keep breathing normally but mightily
difficult
to ignore the fact that they were waiting for something to happen with absolutely no idea what it would be.

A few of the Germans busied themselves with taking out cigarettes and lighting them for one another. As they
shuffled
about, in a pathetic effort to keep warm, Yuri saw Peter. Assuming that his burst of anger had upset him and needing him to know what was going on, Yuri called out, ‘Peter, why do you love that statue so much?' Between the blindfold and the scarf he could just about make out a bit of a smile.

‘Because the children are playing and happy.'

The Germans were watching Yuri curiously as he answered Peter gruffly, ‘Well, that is what we are doing right now, me, Tanya and Mrs Karmanova. Alright?' Yuri needed Peter to play his part in helping them to distract the Germans.

Peter nodded his head excitedly.

‘No, Peter, you have to be sad and maybe they'll let you go. Can you do that?'

To everyone's surprise, Peter started to sob at the top of his voice. There were no tears that Yuri could see. In other words Peter was playing along, as if his life depended on it, which it did.

Stifling a grin, Yuri thought,
The soldiers must think I am a heartless brute. Then again, they want to hang him. Making him cry is nothing compared to that.

Mrs Karmanova was having another go at Tanya, over her
wanting to leave her and Stalingrad behind. Yuri felt that Mrs Karmanova wasn't just ‘playing' along now. Her anger seemed all too real. Tears flowed down Tanya's face, though she must have heard what he shouted at Peter – that they were all play-acting. Finding a few minutes to think, while the Germans watched Mrs Karmanova, Yuri worried that if the Russian soldiers at the window began firing at the crowd, surely they would hit Peter standing in the middle of it. Nevertheless, the young soldier, who had held up his thumbs to him, looked confident about whatever was going to happen and, at this point, Yuri had no choice but to trust him.

There followed a tense silence for several seconds before an explosion shattered it and the air around it. Yuri hadn't noticed the tank in the background, had hardly noticed the scenery at all behind Peter. However, there it was: a great, big German tank and it was on fire. So, this was it, their only chance.