Hilja leaned forward and rolled her shoulders, then slumped back against the wall. ‘Not long. It’s still night. There are many hours—’ She sat up suddenly, her face alert. ‘Did you hear that?’
My pulse quickened. Yes, I had heard it – the swishing of branches being pushed aside. Feet vibrating the ground. Loud whispers and panting gasps, like the collective breath of a hundred different voices erupting all at once.
Hilja sprang up, and I scrambled to my feet. She turned as someone tapped on the door, the edge of her boot catching the candle. For a second the flame danced, a quivering orb of crimson and orange.
Then the door fell open, snuffing out the light.
The sudden darkness breathed in ragged gasps. It shifted and cursed and cried. It was muffled sobbing, the squeak of shoes, a child’s questions cut short by a stifled hand. The acrid stench of body odour and dirt in a confined space.
Hilja’s torch flickered on. Its beam crossed the floor and swung in a wide arc across the refugees who had flung themselves into the farmhouse and now stood pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the room. Old lined faces, young tired ones. A woman with a toddler slung across her chest, its face buried against her shoulder. They all turned away from the light as it roved across them, as if seeking the protection of the darkness.
Something touched my leg, and I started. All my nerve endings sang with tension.
A man stepped forward, shielding his eyes. ‘Hilja?’
Hilja froze the beam on him. ‘Yes, Jaak.’
He lowered his hand as Hilja swung the beam away.
‘How many?’ Hilja said.
‘Around twenty. We picked them up near the station.’
Hilja muttered something under her breath. The torch beam wavered. ‘Any injuries?’
Somebody whimpered softly.
‘None that I could see.’ Jaak shuffled his feet. He seemed nervous. Before the beam had left him in shadow, I’d caught the sheen of his ragged hair and, more worryingly, a long scarlet stain near his jacket collar. But Jaak did not seem injured. Was the blood Oskar’s? Was it Jakob’s? I imagined their bodies laid out like Imbi and Aime’s; Jakob’s back hunched, the too-small jacket stretched across his frozen shoulders. Oskar with his arms flung out, eyes clouded with death. I thought of asking Jaak for news, but he was already backing away, as if he did not want to linger. ‘You’ll be leaving soon?’
‘Now.’
‘Good.’ Jaak glanced behind him again. ‘Be careful.’ He gave her a curt nod. The wind blew through the open door as he slipped away.
Hilja trained the torchlight on her own face.
‘I’m Hilja,’ she said, speaking in Estonian. ‘I will take you to the camp. You need to keep up. Anyone who doesn’t will be left behind.’ The newcomers muttered quietly as Hilja reached into her knapsack and passed a slim water bottle to the nearest person, an old man with unkempt white hair. ‘We will stop once for water. Once for food.’
‘We have nothing,’ one of the women said, her voice quivering. ‘There was no time to gather anything.’
‘I have dried cakes you can share,’ Hilja replied. ‘They’re not appetising but they’ll have to do until we reach camp.’ She paused. ‘You must know that there can be no going back once we reach the camp. Your lives, as you knew them, are over. Until Estonia is returned to us, you will be outlaws. Shot on sight by the Soviets. If you betray us, we will kill you. There is no middle ground. You are Forest Brothers now, or Sisters. Eventually, when things settle, you will take an oath. You may be given new names, if it is considered too dangerous for you to be known by your old one. Is everybody of the same understanding?’
The group was silent.
‘Good.’ Hilja handed me the torch, tracking its beam onto the floor. ‘Kati, can you organise them? Single file. Women with children at the front, elderly in the middle. Men at the back. I need to check outside. I will wait in the trees across the glade; when I give you the signal, we will move out.’
Obediently, I moved among the group, examining them to determine which place they should occupy. The task was a welcome distraction from the images of Jakob and Oskar’s corpses which replayed themselves in my mind. When the weak torch beam hit the last two figures – two women, holding hands – I gasped and dropped the torch. It rolled away, sending fractured light spinning in all directions.
‘Etti?’ I leaped forward, clasping my cousin to my chest. Her rounded belly nudged my hip. ‘What happened to you?’
Etti did not respond, and immediately I felt the beginnings of dread creep through me. I said her name again, shaking her gently, but she turned her head away.
‘She’s in shock,’ said a voice from the darkness. ‘We all are. Please. Aita meid. Help us.’ I scrambled to retrieve the torch. Its light spilled over the features of a young woman. Her hair was the shade of stewed berries, a deep auburn, almost black.
‘Who are you?’ I frowned at her, trying to place her face. Etti did not have friends I didn’t know. Our world was small; and yet this woman, this girl, was clasping my cousin’s hand as if they were sisters who would not be wrenched apart.
She sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It matters to me.’ I stepped closer to her. ‘You are Russian, I can tell by your accent. How do we know they haven’t sent you in here to gain our trust? How do we know you won’t go running to the nearest outpost as soon as we stop?’ Fear made me bold. I snatched at her arm, forcing her to turn towards me so I could push the light into her face. ‘Who are you?’ I repeated, louder this time, forgetting the others lined up outside, waiting for Hilja’s signal to move into the trees.
The girl dropped Etti’s hand, and lifted her tired, defeated eyes to mine. ‘I’m Lydia Volkova.’
I realised with a start that her orange skirt was stained with blood. And then her words registered in my brain. ‘Like the Partorg?’
She nodded, her shoulders slumping. ‘He’s… my father.’
Cold spread through my body and I turned away, unable to look at this woman. ‘I must tell Hilja. She’ll know what to do with you.’
I took a few steps towards the open door where the others were huddled.
‘Kati, Mama is gone.’ Etti’s voice was soft. It was the voice of a lost child, of someone who has become untethered from the world. In the torch’s fragile light, she shook like a leaf bent by the wind. Her eyes stared at the ground, seeing nothing. ‘They shot her. She’s dead.’ Lydia and I moved towards her at the same time. Our hands met around Etti’s shoulders and I pulled away, feeling as if her skin had burned me.
‘Lydia must come.’ Sobs now racked Etti’s body. ‘You must bring her, Kati. She’s not one of them. She’s like us. I won’t leave her behind.’
‘The signal,’ somebody hissed through the open door. ‘Hurry!’
‘We have to go,’ I said. I began to shuffle Etti towards the door. I shot a dark look at the figure of the girl who had stayed behind, her shadow already blending into the darkness. ‘Etti, you’re delirious. The grief – I know, it is—’
‘No.’ Etti dug her shoes into the sticky floorboards. ‘I won’t leave her, Kati. She tried to help Mama. And her mother was Estonian. She is a friend.’
I sighed. No matter how I tried to force Etti forward, the bulk of her would not shift. ‘Etti, please.’
‘What is going on?’ Hilja’s razor-sharp voice hissed in the doorway. ‘I gave you the signal, Kati! What are you doing? This is not a game!’
Sweat was forming all over my body. ‘I found my cousin. She’s in shock.’
‘Good for you.’ Hilja grabbed Etti’s arm roughly. ‘Get her out, then. Get her moving. We don’t have time for this.’
She marched Etti towards the door. The moonlight rimmed Etti’s face as Hilja shoved her outside. My cousin gave me one last, despairing, pleading glance.