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“What makes you say that? We both have two.”

“Kazarinova robbed you of your first,” she replied. “You should be at three, not counting the one you gave to Valeriia, which would be four. Face it Nadya, you’ll score three more before I do and become famous.”

“I don’t want to be famous.”

Alexandra straightened and raised her eyebrows. “Surely you jest. Who wouldn’t want to be an ace?”

“I’m not kidding,” I said. “I’ve been thinking since we lost Tania. I don’t want my life to be measured by how many people I’ve butchered.”

“They’re the enemy,” Alexandra said. “They deserve to be shot. They invaded us, remember?”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not saying they aren’t or they haven’t. What I’m saying is at this point I do what I do because that’s my job, because it’s necessary. I don’t want it applauded, no matter how boring that makes me.”

Alexandra laughed. “You’re crazy and hardly boring. You’re a damn fighter pilot, Nadya. It doesn’t get any more exciting than that. Besides, how long did you dream of your first kill?”

“A long time, but that’s changed now,” I said.

“Well, I’ll be wing leader then, and you can watch my tail so I can make ace first,” she said. “Seems like a win-win to me. Yes?”

“Sure, why not?” I paused the conversation as I worked the washcloth between my fingers. The dirt there was stubborn, and it took some effort to clean under my nails as well. When I was finished, I looked at the scars on my palms. It had been a while since I’d studied them. The spots on my hands and arms were dark and shiny, and looked as if I had some old plaster stuck to my skin that would never come off. There were still faint traces of burns on my leg and neck I could feel, and though they were not as visible, they were as much of a testament to what I’d gone through as the more severe ones.

“Silly, isn’t it?” I said with a snort as I continued inspecting my skin.

“Me wanting to be wing leader?”

“No. These scars. I let them have so much power over me, and they hardly cover any of my skin.”

Alexandra laughed. “I suppose it’s a good thing you weren’t totally covered then. Think how much under their spell you’d be then.”

“I’m being serious,” I said, feeling put off. “Why do we let such small portions of our lives define us?”

“A lot can happen in a moment. A birth. A death. A first kiss or a broken heart. It makes sense those things would shape us.”

“I think I’ve been shaped more when nothing happens.”

I wondered if Alexandra would know what I was in reference to, but like the good wingman she was, she followed me close, not missing a beat. “Unanswered prayers.”

“I don’t even want things to be my way anymore,” I said, feeling my gut tighten. “All I want is to understand why the world is so broken, why He’s not fixing it when He’s supposed to be able.”

“Maybe He can’t tell you.”

I tilted my head sideways. “What do you mean? You’re telling me He can’t open His mouth and speak? He supposedly spoke with other people.”

“I’m saying maybe you wouldn’t understand,” she replied. Before I could argue, she went on. “A few years before the war, my baby brother had his first teeth come in. Naturally, we brushed them, and he screamed bloody murder the entire time. He looked at us in terror as we held him down as best as we could and brushed his teeth. As much as we wanted to tell him why we were ‘torturing’ him, we couldn’t, because he’d never understand. But we weren’t going to stop because he hated it.”

Her unexpected insight struck a chord in me I’d never heard before, and the idea of not having answers, not knowing why, became far less scary. “It’s weird to hear you talk about such things, being atheist.”

Alexandra shrugged. “I’ve been trying to come up with an answer for your not-so-silent midnight prayers for a while now. I figured if this life isn’t the only life, if there’s eternity to consider, who can say what’s good or bad when we’ve got such a small view of things? Hell, if anything, dying is going home. That can’t be all bad.”

“I never thought about it like that,” I admitted. “Still, I worry. I lied. I stole. What if He’s silent because I’ve done such things?”

Alexandra didn’t say anything for a while, and for that, I was glad. The last thing I wanted was an off-the-cuff answer, one born from unease and not deep thought. “In the end, I think, if God is God, He’d understand the pain you were in and why you did what you thought you had to. If He doesn’t understand it, well, He’s not God, is He?”

Her words warmed my heart far more than the steam room ever could. I reclined on the bench and stared at the ceiling. “Keep it up and you’ll be an abbess before you’re thirty,” I said with a laugh.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Nadya,” she said. “I’m not pious, nor do I intend to be. The first chance I get, I’m ravishing my fiancé so hard it would take a week for them to hear the entire confession.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

On the morning of November fifth, I lay on my mattress, staring at the frozen bunk ceiling, trapped in the land of exhaustion. Winter had been cruel all night, despite the wood burnt in the oil drum, and my wounds had kept sleep at bay for nine hours now. I could barely think. Worse, I was slated for an escort soon, and I was certain it would take a tiny miracle for me not to fall asleep and crash on takeoff.

For the third time in the last hour, I wondered if I and the rest of the squadron would be better off if I handed in my wings, but I still feared Petrov would pounce on me the moment I did. He was still around and asking questions, even talking sweet to Klara, and each day I wondered if that would be the day he would strike.

I massaged my arm as best I could, trying to remember what Alexandra had taught me as I shut my eyes. I slowed my breathing, imagined a warm summer day filled with laughter and friends, imagined my body letting the pain go. It worked, slowly, but not as well as the morphine did. Probably a good thing, I thought, that Klara had taken the box and I hadn’t any.

My eyes snapped opened. In a panic, I rolled to my left and slipped my hand between the mattress and the earthen wall, feeling around for the tear. It didn’t take long to find it, and even less to probe the hay and pull out the syrette I’d stashed there long ago. I had one left. God… I had one left.

I turned it over several times, studying its small body and pointed tip. I could fly, if I wanted, free of misery, but also free of friends and self-respect. My gut tightened. I hurried over to the oil drum and tossed it in. “Burn in hell.”

“Scramble, Nadya! We’re flying early!”

I jumped at Alexandra’s call. “God, please tell me we’re not.”

“Nadya! Get out here!”

I heard her coming and fumbled putting on my boots.

Alexandra ran in. Her cheeks were rosy from the weather, and her smile was as bright as the gleam in her eyes. All that faded when she held my gaze. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m exhausted,” I said. “I was hoping to catch a quick nap. Why the sudden rush?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess they wanted Rakhinka resupplied sooner rather than later.”

Before I could protest, Alexandra grabbed my hand and pulled me out. We raced across the airfield, passing pilots and crews, and soon I was hopping onto the wing of my fighter and climbing into the open cockpit.

Klara appeared at my side and yanked my belt tight. “Be careful,” she said with a flutter in her voice. “I’m looking forward to picking up where we left off last night, so you better come home in one piece.”