“Don’t look, Nadya,” Alexandra said, spinning me around. “You don’t need to see this.”
I fought with my wingman, trying to get away, but she kept me in place. “Let me go!”
“She’s gone!”
“No, she’s not!”
Alexandra tightened her grip. “There’s nothing you can do. Don’t let this be how you remember her.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, jerking free. “I prayed. I prayed with all of my heart she’d live, and if she doesn’t…”
Alexandra’s face paled. Her eyes were wide, and despite the gloom surrounding us both, I could see her trembling. “It doesn’t mean anything, Nadya.”
“Yes, it does,” I said. My throat tightened, and I couldn’t get the words out.
“I’m a stupid girl,” she said. “I like to pretend I know things, that I’ve got it all figured out, but I don’t. So don’t you dare listen to what I said earlier. Don’t you dare lose it on my account.”
Losing it would be nice, I thought, to be anywhere but here, to be anyone else or nothing at all. The hairs on my body stood on end, and I felt as if I were being pulled out of my body. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or think.
“I want to sleep and wake from this nightmare,” I whispered. “And if I can’t do that, I don’t ever want to wake up.”
Alexandra slipped her arm around mine and led me away. My feet shuffled as we went, moving more out of reflex rather than conscious desires. I hadn’t the slightest clue as to where we were going until I found myself at the side of my bed.
“Lie down,” she said, easing me off my feet.
She started talking about something else, God or gods or something, but her voice faded to the background. It was nothing more than a gentle murmur, like a barely audible brook on the other side of a rise.
I stared at the empty bunk across from me. It was the same bunk Valeriia had slept in. I wondered if she knew what had happened to her, if it hurt, if she was in a better place or had just ceased to be. I wondered if Martyona had died in pain or fear. Had she been as terrified for herself as I had been for her? Or somehow in her last seconds did she know she was going to an eternal home and everything would be okay?
I didn’t know, and I feared that last thought was more foolishness than anything. All I was certain of was that for both girls, I’d flooded God’s ears with prayers to save them and those prayers went unanswered. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I held them in check until Alexandra put a hand on my shoulder. That one act pushed me off the cliff of detachment and into the sea of grief.
My body shook as I sobbed. My stomach knotted so tightly I was sure my insides were splitting apart. I don’t know how long I cried, but when I was done, I was exhausted with tear-stained cheeks, Alexandra was kneeling at the side of my bed, holding my hand, murdering a lullaby.
“You’re terrible,” I said.
Alexandra stopped. Her mouth twisted. “What?”
“You can’t hold a pitch to save your life,” I explained. I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve and cleared my eyes.
“I thought I was helping,” she said. “I know I’ll never be an opera star, but am I truly awful?”
I nodded. I tried to keep a straight face, but thinking about how clueless she was as to the sound of her own voice resulted in me laughing harder and longer than I ever should have. “Sorry, but I’d rather chew glass.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” she said. “Do you feel any better?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I know you were hoping otherwise, but I’m too tired to cry anymore, too tired to sleep, and—” I stopped midsentence and winced. I held my right arm up in the air and flexed the hand a few times. “And my arm is killing me.”
She took my arm as she had so many times before and massaged the burns. “It’s probably stress. Your wounds have been so much better the last few days.”
“The burns aren’t the worst of it.” My voice trailed off. I knew what I wanted to say, but I could barely think it, let alone put those thoughts to words. No matter how painful something was inside my head, it always seemed as if once it was given breath, it would take on life and grow into some hideous monster that would never stop trying to devour me.
Alexandra, however, was undoubted by my demons. “What’s the worst of it?”
I paused, trying to find a way to sum up what this evening had done to me. Before I answered, Klara came running into the dugout, panting.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I was searching for you everywhere. The Major said you looked like death.”
“She’s fine,” Alexandra said without even a glance in her direction. “You can tell the Major I’m with her.” When Klara didn’t leave, Alexandra turned to her and put a bite to her tone. “That was an order, comrade Rudneva, not a suggestion. Leave us.”
Klara shook her head and stepped toward me. “She’s my pilot,” she said. “I want to hear it from her.”
I was touched at her concern and stubbornness, but keeping Alexandra entertained was exhausting enough. I didn’t need more company. “I’m okay, Klara. Catch up with me in the morning, yes?”
“Okay,” she replied. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know. I’ll look in on you later.”
Klara left, but not before giving a silent snarl to the back of Alexandra’s head. I sighed, wishing I could understand whatever rivalry they had going on enough to put an end to it. “I wish you two wouldn’t fight.”
“I wish she’d remember her place,” she said. “But enough of that. You were saying?”
“About what?”
“The worst of it.”
I rolled over and pulled the blanket up to my chin. Up close, I studied the weave in the fabric, found some odd pleasure in watching the fibers twist around each other. It was all I needed to focus on to answer her question, to spit out the words and be detached from it all. “You were right,” I said. “My prayers do fall on deaf ears, but it’s not because God doesn’t exist. It’s because He hates me. I don’t care if you think I’m stupid or crazy for believing such things. It’s true.”
“No, it’s not. You are far too wonderful of a person to be hated.”
“You barely know me.”
“And yet I’ve already seen how amazing you are.”
I sighed. “Then tell me why my prayers go unanswered. Why am I ignored by someone who’s supposed to love everyone?”
“Growing up, my parents ignored me,” she said, her voice quieting. Her touch became as distant as the new look in her eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything worse than not feeling loved by those who are supposed to care for you. Maybe that’s why I cling to you so. I wish I could change that for both of us, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to never ignore you.”
I squeezed her hand, grateful that she could be vulnerable with me, but if she discovered I was a thief, I was certain she’d tell me what I’d been telling myself: God doesn’t listen to the wicked. He probably doesn’t listen to those drowning in self-pity either.
“For what it’s worth and if I remember my studies,” she added, “even Christ felt abandoned at one point.”
“I don’t want to think about it anymore,” I said. She was trying her best, but it wasn’t helping. All she gave me in terms of an alternative to being ignored was to equate myself with Christ. I wasn’t delusional. There was no grand scheme at play, no salvation of the world at stake. I was a silly girl who thought she could get the attention of the divine. Not only that, but I was a girl who also lied and stole.
Worst of all, I hated my enemies—I dreamed of killing them, even boasted about my first kill. Hardly the teachings of Christ, the man who forgave those who executed Him. When I thought about all of that, part of me felt lucky God was only ignoring me. Maybe that was His mercy toward me.