Page 98 of Cilka's Journey
“Not asking what we’re facing today, Cilka?” Kirill asks.
“Does it matter?”
“Having a bad day?” Kirill fires back.
“Drop it, Kirill.” Pavel comes to Cilka’s defense.
“All right. It’s an explosion, so there will be burns as well as broken bones,” Kirill says.
Neither Pavel nor Cilka responds.
Kirill shrugs. “If that’s the way you’re going to play it.”
The chaos is evident as they approach the mine. There is the usual gathering of onlooking prisoners, moving from foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.
Cilka is out of the ambulance before the engine is killed.
“Cilka, over here.”
She joins a group of guards. A supervisor appears.
“Cilka, good to see you. Got a nasty one for you. We were taking explosives into the central drift so we can advance and one of themwent off unexpectedly. We’ve got at least six prisoners in there and about the same number of guards. We’ve also got our explosives expert in there. He was going to be setting the dynamite. He’s the top man around here. Shit, there will be trouble if he’s not all right.”
Cilka starts walking toward the entrance to the mine.
“Pavel,” she calls out, “bring the box. Come on, hurry up.”
The supervisor runs after her. “Cilka, you can’t go in yet. They haven’t declared it safe.”
She’s heard it all before.
“And who’s going to declare it safe, standing up here?”
With no answer, Cilka turns to Pavel. “I can’t make you come with me, but I’d like you to.”
“Cilka, you heard the man—the walls could collapse around us.”
“There are men in there. We have to try.”
“And get killed ourselves? I don’t think so.”
“Fine, I’ll go in by myself. Hand me the box.”
Pavel holds out the box, hesitates, then pulls it back toward himself. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Probably,” she says with a small smile.
“Definitely,” says the supervisor. “Look, I can’t stop you, but I can advise against it.”
“Come, Pavel, let’s go.”
“Here, take the big lamp,” the supervisor says.
As Cilka and Pavel descend in the lift, the lamp barely penetrates the dust rising and swirling around them. They step out into the darkness and inch forward for several minutes before beginning to call out.
“Can anybody hear me?” Cilka shouts. “Call out if you hear me so we can find you. Is there anybody here?”
Nothing. They walk deeper, getting closer to the blast site as the ground underfoot becomes an obstacle course, littered with rocks and boulders. The path narrows.
