Page 44 of Cilka's Journey
“To Poprad. We have to catch the train there for Bratislava.”
“And Mumma and Papa?”
“They will take us to the train station and we will see them when we come home. We must be brave, little sister, keep Mumma and Papa safe by going to work for the Germans.”
“I’m always brave,” Cilka says firmly.
“Yes, you are, but tomorrow when we say goodbye, you have to be especially brave. We will stay together and… and you can look after me.” Magda winks at her little sister.
Cilka continues putting her very best dresses into the suitcase.
She will do her family proud.
Cilka has contained all this for so long. She is not sure if it is the darkness or the quiet, or Yelena’s open face, but she has to run to the nearby linen room. She closes the door, heart racing, and drops onto the floor, burying her face in dirty soiled linen so no one can hear the sobs that are escaping her.
With no sense of how long she has been down there, Cilka struggles to her feet. She smooths down her clothing, wipes her fingers under her lashes, making sure it is not obvious that she has been crying. She needs to get back to work.
She takes a deep breath and opens the door. As she leaves the room she hears—
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Cilka squares her shoulders. Striding toward her is the doctor she despises for his attitude and complete lack of compassion in treating his patients: Gleb Vitalyevich. She has often wondered if it would be possible to compare the survival rate of his patients with other doctors. She knows he would be the worst by far.
“Watch Bed 9 for time of death. I’m going off for a while. I’ll sign it off tomorrow.”
She watches him walk away.I know about you,she thinks, throwing silent daggers at his back.
Bed 9 is the unconscious wretch by the window. Cilka leans in and, with detachment, feels for the pulse in his neck. She is shocked to feel a strong, healthythud thud, thud thud…She peels back his right eyelid and notes the pinprick-sized pupil, sees a flutter of movement. Looking around, she observes that Yelena and the two nurses present are occupied. She can see Josie’s back in the filing room.
The man’s file lies at the foot of the bed. As she is about to pick it up, she hesitates, and pulls the blankets away, revealing his feet. She scratches her fingernail down his right foot. It twitches. She reads his file.
A single line. Name: Isaac Ivanovich Kuznetsov. December 24, 1947. Found unconscious in his bed, unresponsive, brought to hospital. Not for treatment.
Isaac. A Jewish name. Cilka tries to control her breathing. No. No. Not today, not this man. She will not sit by and watch him die if there is something that can be done to save him.
From the dispensary, Cilka finds the medication she has used many times before to wave under the noses of unconscious patients to try to bring them around. A foul-smelling substance she has often thought could wake the dead. Gently she slaps his face,calling his name. A small whimper escapes his lips. She holds the cloth containing the substance close to his nose. She pinches his nostrils shut for a moment or two before releasing them. Being denied oxygen briefly his nostrils flare open and inhale. Immediately, he responds; his eyes open as he gasps for breath, choking. She gently rolls him onto his side. Soothing words float from her lips to his ears as he turns his eyes upward toward her.
At that moment, Josie comes over to see if she can help.
“Is Yelena Georgiyevna available?” Cilka says.
Josie reaches out to Cilka, a look of concern on her face. “Cilka, are you all right?”
Cilka has forgotten, already, about the linen room, though she does feel tired, emptied out.
“I am, Josie. I just need to help this man.”
Josie looks around. “I’ll find her,” she says.
Cilka is glad that she and Josie have become close again. Josie was quiet and subdued, and closed off, for a long time after Natalya disappeared. But she began to enjoy conspiring with Cilka to sneak food back to the hut, especially when winter set in. They have been pretty lucky with the food, and sometimes Cilka has to remind herself to be careful. Mostly the women do not leave so much as a crumb, so it’s okay. But if the head guard, Klavdiya Arsenyevna, came in at the wrong time, it could be the hole or worse for Cilka and Josie. Not to mention Hannah, whose pills are swapped from pocket to pocket and then, Cilka assumes, sewn into something—her mattress, perhaps—by night.
Josie returns a few moments later with Yelena.
Cilka explains how she was meant to be watching the patient to record time of death but was concerned no attempt had been made to work out why he was here. When she did some tests of her own, she discovered he had a strong pulse and good reflexes. She used the smelling substance and he has regained consciousness.
Yelena listens intently. Reads the sole entry on his file.
She draws a breath through her teeth. “You have interfered here, Cilka. Gleb Vitalyevich isn’t going to like this.”
