“Of course—that is what I am suggesting. Raisa and I will teach and supervise you, and I think Yelena Georgiyevna likes you, so you will be fine.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s time to go back to work.”
Cilka looks at Josie and the uneaten piece of bread. It is good, she thinks, that Josie does not just accept her situation. It is a kind of strength. Still, Cilka feels the pang of distance.
That afternoon when Cilka and Josie are returned to their hut before the others arrive back, they find it in total disarray. All the beds have been stripped of their sheets and blankets and in many cases tipped upside down or onto their sides. The meager belongings of the women lie in heaps on the floor of the hut.
Josie, Cilka and Antonina stand in the doorway surveying the mess.
“Hmm, looks like Klavdiya Arsenyevna has been here,” Antonina says.
Stepping into the hut, Cilka asks quietly, “Are we allowed to clean it up?”
“You can fix your own bed.”
Antonina stands with hands on hips, and Cilka notices how strong she is, though with a small frame. The muscles—arms, chest, thighs—bulge roundly out from her joints.
“What about the others? Can we do them all while we wait for you to bring the women back?”
“It’s probably better they see for themselves what happens without warning.”
“But why? Why has someone done this?”
“Klavdiya Arsenyevna is the senior guard for this hut and the larger brigade; she is looking for things you shouldn’t have.”
“We had everything taken from us; how could we have something we’re not meant to have?” Josie asks.
“She knows that. This is her warning to you. And it might be because she has found out about your job, Cilka. You have access to things others don’t now. If she finds something she doesn’t like you can expect to be sent to the hole for punishment.”
Antonina turns and leaves the hut, letting the door stay open, the icy air being blown in. Josie closes it. But what does Klavdiya not want to find? she thinks. They seem to be allowed to have some possessions. The rules change here day to day, she thinks. And though this camp has a different purpose—to get them to work for the Soviet Union, rather than kill them for being Jewish—in these conditions, and with constant rape, always the threat of violence and the “hole,” Cilka can see that she has gone from one cruel, inhuman place to another.
She goes to the stove and attempts to coax it back to life by gently placing small amounts of coal ash from the bucket on topof the dulling embers. What should they do about the upturned room? she wonders.
“I think she was right,” she says to Josie. “We should leave it for the others to see and we can tell them what Antonina said.”
Josie ignores her and goes to her bed, struggling to right it with one hand.
“Here, let me help,” Cilka says.
“I don’t need your help.”
“Fine,” Cilka says harshly. She looks away from the spectacle.
Eventually she turns around to see Josie buried under the blanket, her back to her.
Day has turned to night; the stove is pumping out as much heat as Cilka can get from it when the door opens and the other women stagger in. The solitary lightbulb casts eerie shadows over the chaos, making it difficult, at first, for the women to see what they have arrived home to. Slowly, as they each make their way to their beds, it becomes evident. Several of them turn on Cilka, who is standing by the stove.
“What the fuck have you done?” says Elena.
It hits Cilka that she and Josie are about to be blamed.
“No, no, it wasn’t us.” She fights the urge to scream at the woman. “See, my bed is the same. This is how we found the place.”
“Then who did this?” says Hannah.
“It was a guard, a guard named Klavdiya Arsenyevna. Antonina told us about her.”
“And why?”
Cilka quickly explains.