“Understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Claude,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Grisha.” He licked his lips. “Grigoriy Grigorievich. I am a
His anxiety lifted. If they allowed him to keep talking, he would be all right. His determination to live swelled.
“Tell us later.” Claude looked down at Professor. “How are you called?” he asked in Russian.
“Nikolai Rezanov. Please call me Nik,” he said in perfect English.
Grisha raised a skeptical eyebrow; the man was named after the famous romantic Russian hero?
“Were any of those people your friend?” Slayer-of-Men asked.
“No. I expected something like this,” Nik said, showing no fear.
“Before leaving Tetlin Redoubt we were told to remain constantly on the alert. But the Cossacks told us to stay out of their way, that they would tell us when we were needed.”
“We kill Cossacks,” Claude said.
“Good.”
“Was he cruel in his duties?” Slayer-of-Men asked Blue.
“Not that I ever saw. If anything, he was lazy, his nose in a book or scratching on paper all the time.”
“He’s afraid of the Cossacks just like we were,” Grisha said.
The Russian soldier glanced at him. “He’s right. I am afraid of them. They’re soulless animals.”
Grisha glanced around. More painted Dena filtered through the trees, bringing the other convicts.
The one called Lynx jogged across the square and into the trees carrying a Kalashnikov. Blue stood and faced the youth.
“Are you Lynx Bostonman, son of Boston Jack and Bead Woman?”
Lynx dropped the heavy weapon and moved closer to her.
“Yes. And you’re Blue. I thought my sister was dead.”
They hugged. Grisha saw a tear run down Lynx’s cheek. The others shifted away from the two and found tasks to occupy their attention. Some of the convicts murmured to each other.
Grisha touched Claude’s arm.
“Are we… am I a prisoner?”
“He is,” he pointed to Nik, “for now, time will tell. Like I said, you’re free to do what you like. We’re going to leave soon. There’s another tank and more soldiers on the way here from Tetlin Redoubt. I’ll be surprised if more aircraft aren’t here within the hour.”
Slayer-of-Men clapped his hands together.
“Now you will help us. All bodies go into the river, as well as damaged weapons. Let’s get busy, we don’t have much time.”
All of the prisoners stripped the dead soldiers of their boots and field jackets; the long nights had been cold. Grisha found a pair of boots that fit and carefully wiped each clean of the pieces of flesh stuck to them. The previous owner had taken the brunt of an explosion in the upper body.
Once again Grisha found himself using weapons to weigh down Russian bodies for a watery grave. Both times involved saving his own life. He hoped this time the result would be very different.
Again Slayer-of-Men clapped his hands for attention.
“You people have to choose now. More Cossacks are coming. We’ll be gone long before they arrive. You can come with us or stay.”
“If we go with you,” Irena asked, “will we be slaves?”
“No. You can leave us at any time. But if you stay with us you’ll work for your keep, but you won’t be a slave.”
“What about the cannibals in the forest?” Basil asked.
The tall Dena smiled and one of his team chuckled.
A thin Indian as tall as Rezanov clapped Grisha on the shoulder with a friendly hand.
“Who would eat this sorry litter of muskrats?”
“Heron is right,” Slayer-of-Men said. “You wouldn’t be worth cleaning, let alone cooking. There are no cannibals. We started that rumor to keep the Cossacks and the army out of the bush in small numbers. If a lot of them come into the land, we know about it because of the racket they make.”
“Where will you take us?” Basil asked.
“All over. This is a big land. We have many villages,” Claude said.
“You might even get a chance to join the Dena Army.”
“But there are Russian Army posts in many of the villages,” Nik said.
“If we are seen things could get very bad.”
“That’s true,” Slayer-of-Men said. “We must go now. How many wish to join us?”
Even Nik raised his hand.
“Why did we dump the bodies in the river?” Grisha asked.
Heron said, “They’ll never be found. The Russians will think we ate them.”
A smile creased Grisha’s face.
“Everybody carry as many weapons as you can,” Slayer-of-Men ordered.
“Don’t overdo it, we have many miles to go.”
10
Those without weapons carried bundles of clothing and other Russian supplies. In addition to a rifle, Grisha claimed a small, sharp knife with a curved blade. The camp lay completely stripped of useful material.
Barrels of petrol provided incendiary preparation for each structure. Finally Slayer-of-Men whistled. The Dena and their new recruits followed him into the forest.
Paul stayed in the camp to finish preparing the welcome for the Russian relief forces.
As he followed the man in front of him, Grisha ate steadily from his small bag of “squirrel food” given to him by the small, pretty woman called Cora. The squirrel food consisted of dried berries, small bits of dried fish, a variety of seeds, and clumps of congealed grease. It was the best meal he’d eaten since his arrest. He compared it to the iron rations given the Troika Guard in the old days and graded the squirrel food superior.
Paul caught up with them and they kept as fast a pace as the exhausted ex-prisoners could sustain. At one point the distant pulse of a helicopter put them on nervous alert, but the craft receded to the southeast. After nearly two hours on the trail they heard the distant crack of explosives.
“They pulled the trigger,” Paul said. Everyone stopped to listen. Suddenly a quick, staccato rip of explosives coalesced into a gigantic roar, silencing the birds around them.
“My God,” somebody said.
“Did you use all of your stuff?” Slayer-of-Men asked.
“Why not?” Paul shrugged “We’re going home, aren’t we?”
“What, exactly, did you do?” Nik asked.
“I placed petrol bombs in every building, used a Kalashnikov in the middle of the square as a trigger. When they picked it up, everything went off at once.”
The column stood quietly, each one imagining the destruction.
“You’ve just pissed on their boots,” Nik Rezanov said.
“Maybe scared them, too,” Grisha said, smiling.
“I don’t understand this pissed business,” Andreivich said in a querulous tone.
“If you piss on somebody’s boots, you have given them great insult,” Nik said. “Unless they have no honor they will do their utmost to kill you.”
“Actually, I’m worried,” Paul said. “I didn’t think they’d get anyone into the camp before tomorrow.”
