Page 99 of Cilka's Journey
Pavel stumbles, slipping on a jagged rock, and screams as much from the fright of falling as from being hurt.
“Are you all right?”
His string of expletives bounces off the walls. As the echo dies down, they hear a cry.
“Over here, we’re over here.”
“Keep talking, we’re coming,” Pavel calls out as he and Cilka hurry in the direction of the voice.
Their combined lights illuminate several men waving and calling to them. As they arrive, Pavel asks who is in charge. A guard sitting beside an unconscious man identifies himself.
“Tell me who we have here and what you know of the others,” Cilka says.
There are six of them—three guards, two prisoners and the explosives expert who is unconscious. Their helmets were knocked off in the explosion, the lights went out at the same time and they can’t see to tell how badly injured they all are.
Cilka asks if any of them can stand and walk out themselves. Two say they think they can even though they are badly hurt. One reports he has a broken arm, as bone has pierced his shirt and coat.
Using the lamp, Cilka and Pavel do a quick examination of the men. The explosives expert’s breathing is ragged, and he has a head wound. She asks Pavel to check on another unconscious man. It only takes him a moment to report that he is dead. He was one of the guards.
Cilka concentrates on the explosives expert. Besides the head wound, he seems to have been hit in the chest by something; a depression tells her he has several broken ribs. Cilka has the able-bodied men help her lie him straight. She administers a drip into his arm, and roughly bandages his head.
“What of the others?” she asks the guard. “We were told there were about twelve of you down here.”
The guard tells her to shine her light farther ahead. When she does, she sees that the path is mostly blocked by rock from the explosions.
“They will be on the other side of that,” he explains.
“Have you tried calling out to see if any of them respond?”
“It will be a waste of time. They were about a hundred meters in front of us, going ahead with the dynamite when it went off. They would have taken the full force of the first explosion, then there were two more. They didn’t stand a chance.”
“Okay, I’ll let you report that when we get out. For now, let’s see who is capable of helping other men walk out of here. I need at least one to help Pavel carry our expert here.”
“I can help,” the guard says.
“I can help,” one of the prisoners croaks, coughing.
“Thanks.” Turning to the other prisoner: “Can you keep an eye on him?” she says, nodding toward the injured man. “He’s got a badly broken arm.”
“I’ve got him,” the prisoner answers.
Cilka holds the lamp up toward the way out and the shuffling, wincing men start to follow it. Pavel, behind her, eases his arms under the unconscious man’s shoulders, taking a firm grip around his chest. Cilka picks up the medication box, places the intravenous bottle of fluid on top, and follows the workers along the long, claustrophobic corridor and eventually into the open door of the lift cage.
She looks back. Through the sooty swirl of the lamplight she can see that Pavel is struggling with the weight of the man. She hears rumbling.No.Dislodged rocks break away, spewing out clouds of dust. She hears Pavel scream.
Cilka hears yelling, and the lever of the lift clicking up, the cage door slamming. She coughs and coughs, ears ringing. She collapses, her head hitting the hard caging of the lift wall, her body vibrating as it starts its slow ascent.
“Cilka, Cilka, squeeze my hand.” Yelena’s soothing voice drifts into Cilka’s semi-consciousness.
Hand, feel hand, squeeze, she tells herself. The small effort of obeying this command sends shock waves of pain through her body and she lapses back into unconsciousness.
The sound of someone crying out stirs Cilka awake. Without opening her eyes, she listens to the familiar sounds of doctors and nurses going about their work, of patients calling out for comfort, calling out in pain. She wants to call out for both.
“Are you with us, Cilka?” she hears Raisa whispering. She feels Raisa’s breath on her cheek; she must be leaning over her.
“It’s time to wake up. Come on, open your eyes.”
Slowly, Cilka opens her eyes. The world is a blur.
