Becomings Read online

  “Don’t you believe it means something?”

  She looked away again, unable to answer. The thoughts and emotions churning inside her made it difficult to focus.

  “Dasha.”

  He turned her face up to his and kissed her. She felt herself respond, able for a moment to ignore the cold that clung to her like a shadow from her past from which she couldn’t break free.

  When their lips parted, she opened her eyes again, still serious in their expression. “We should think about this,” she said. She turned and reached for her rifle. “We have to go now.”

  She was conscious of him close beside her, still waiting. She rubbed a hand across her face, remembering his musky scent from the night before, and the way he had felt with her.

  “I don’t regret what we did, Alyosha. But we should think about what it means.”

  * * * *

  DARYA PUT OUT the candle and crawled to the blankets, quickly lifting them and slipping underneath before any heat could be lost. She rolled onto her side, her back to him. What had passed the night before seemed almost a dream now. Their business that had occupied the day had gone with the efficiency for which they had both been trained, with no words spoken. This separation of day and night seemed more vital now, with one meaning death, and the other promising life.

  She settled deeper under the covers, feeling his warmth nearby but not touching. She wondered what he was thinking, and whether he felt differently toward her now. She turned carefully over to face him.

  She couldn’t see his features in the darkness, but felt his warm breath. She sensed the certainty she had regained throughout the day begin to falter. Her heart beat faster, and she waited, wondering if he knew her thoughts, and whether he understood her better than she knew herself.

  “When we go back,” she said. “To the others. They mustn’t know. It can be our secret.” She breathed easier, her decision made and spoken.

  “I agree.”

  Her hand tentatively sought out his, finding it halfway between them. He closed his fingers around hers and pulled her closer. She huddled against him, discovering his warmth again as though for the first time.

  “I can’t promise the future.” She whispered the words against his neck. “Neither of us knows what may happen.”

  “Every night with you is precious, Dasha,” he whispered back. “You know that.”

  “Then just hold me for tonight, Alyosha. That’s all I want.”

  She kissed his neck and snuggled against him as his arms enfolded her. She pressed herself close, feeling how strongly her heart beat in her chest, wanting more, but wanting to be sure.

  * * * *

  HER BIRTHDAY had passed, along with the end of what had been a long and bitter year. Their offensive had taken place barely six weeks before, and the lines moved as the enemy was pushed back into a slowly shrinking pocket. Yet Darya didn’t find herself breathing any easier. The chill of winter lingered as a reminder that while they might be close to victory here, in this one prolonged battle, other battles still lay waiting ahead.

  As their work continued, she found herself going through it with an efficiency many of the others seemed to envy, but which left her feeling troubled. Her rifle was always by her side, having become such a part of her over the many long months that she barely remembered a time when it had been otherwise. Her hands seemed as though they had been made to hold it just so, her aim undisturbed by her light breathing, waiting only for her finger to curl around the trigger in a final caress that would send death flying across the distance to another target.

  She found her solace at night, the long minutes winding away like the burning tapers of a candle, as she and Alyosha shared more of themselves with each other, until inevitably they curled together beneath the worn blankets, sometimes making love, and other times simply holding one another and whispering until sleep crept over them.

  Around the others, they retained the appearance of only the close relationship that often developed between such partners. They exchanged secret looks that perhaps some of the other girls noticed, but chose not to comment upon. Yet Darya began to feel a new worry, that they might be reassigned and separated when this battle ended and the war shifted again.

  For similar reasons, they were being careful, afraid of what might happen if she were to become pregnant. It was a thought that aroused many mixed feelings within her. Besides meaning a separation from Alyosha, she suspected she would be returned to the fight after having a child, and therefore risk their child never knowing one or both of them. She came to believe they were safer remaining together, for as long as possible, or until the war was ended.

  It was at night during one of their assignments in a forward position that he brought up the future, something she had made herself avoid considering. He was holding her in the warm and familiar way she loved, and that made her forget for a little while everything else. The ripple of rockets somewhere out in the darkness, the crackle of rifle shots and low rumble of artillery, were all only part of a backdrop which she had come to accept and occasionally set aside.

  “It makes me afraid to even think about it Alyosha,” she said softly. “Who knows where we’ll be in a few months or even a year?” She shivered and looked at him. “What if they even send us different places?”

  He took her hand and kissed it. “We'll make it work, no matter what we have to do or where we are. I promise that.”

  “How will I ever make myself again what I was before?” she asked, staring at her hand in his.

  “You speak English, Dasha.” He spoke thoughtfully, as the idea began to take shape in his mind. “We could go west, when this is over. To America. Perhaps they would take us. We could find a way, make it work.”

  She was shaking her head. “I can't leave, Alyosha. My family . . .” She fell silent for a moment, conscious again of the periodic sounds outside that resembled thunder but promised far greater potency. “I'm worried about them, Alyosha.”

  “We’ll find them,” he promised. “Together. We have to believe things will work out for the best. If we don't have hope, what else is there left to believe in?"

  She tried to smile, but worry was etched on a face that had become used to concealing outward expression, yet was forced now to relent to the struggles hidden beneath. “I'm afraid I'll be alone.”

  His face softened. “Dasha, you have me here. Now.” He drew her closer and wrapped his arms tightly around her. He kissed her cheek, then spoke in her ear. “When this is all over, we'll go there, and find them. You won't be alone.”

  She tried to relax, and made a decision to change the subject. “Marta suspects something. She told me last night to be careful.”

  “Will that cause any problems, do you think?”

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “As long as we don’t let it affect things.”

  “Is that what’s been worrying you?”

  “One of the things.” She looked at him, and brushed back the ruddy hair that had fallen over his face. She examined him critically. “You need a haircut, Alyosha.”

  He smiled, crinkling the early lines that had already begun to form at the corners of his eyes. “We have more than that to think about right now, Dasha. That can wait.” His expression turned serious again. “It’s the move tomorrow, isn’t it? I know you too well, and you shouldn’t try to hide these things when you can share them with me.”

  She nodded slowly. Her grey eyes had regained the focused look they had during the long days, when any lack of caution could threaten not only her own life, but also the one she was now sure she loved. “Three teams sent there in the past week haven’t returned. The Germans must have someone very good.”

  “You’re better, Dasha.”

  She didn’t respond, still thinking, considering. “I could perhaps go out alone.”

  “Not without me. We’re a team, remember?” He clasped her hands in his. “We work well together, and we cover each other’s backs. There is no going out
alone for either of us.”

  She nodded again, already knowing his answer. Yet her disquiet remained, hidden beneath the coolness she projected without thinking. “There are a lot of hiding places in that area. We’ll have to find a better one. And we’ll take turns keeping watch at night. They may be doing patrols and took the others unaware.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  She decided to put her troubled thoughts out of her mind for a while, afraid they might be communicated to him. They both would need their focus and discipline for the coming days and nights. She raised her eyes shyly and tugged at his shirt, her silent signal for a desire she still felt self-conscious with.

  He smiled fondly at her. “I love you so much, Dasha.” He touched a finger to her lips. “Everything will be all right, but it takes time, and hope.”

  She smiled back, her face warming with this rare and open expression. “I love you too, Alyosha. Forever and always.”

  * * * *

  SHE HAD SPENT most of the day carefully scouting from a distance, remaining hidden while she surveyed and memorized the broken rubble and uneven terrain of the former urban landscape through her rifle’s scope. She had settled upon a demolished building whose basement she suspected might have remained intact. The location seemed to offer concealment as well as limited avenues of approach.

  They set out in the darkness, their path eerily lit by the slow ascent of a full moon in the night sky. The light made her nervous, drawing out the shadows and seeming to make each shape stand out in stark relief.

  They picked their way along slowly, each movement measured, stopping to listen every few yards. Darya didn’t have to look behind to know Alyosha was mirroring her every move, his feet barely scraping on the crushed concrete. He would be gazing warily about, his own head swinging automatically in the opposite direction from hers. They had become as close as partners as they had become as lovers, their measured movements synchronized into a perfect whole.

  She stopped close to the half-collapsed entrance to the basement, a slide of concrete leading down into the darkness. She glanced back, noting how seamlessly Alyosha merged into the background of rubble, his own eyes directed behind them. She nodded to herself and slipped inside, sensing him begin to follow. She paused once below ground, where the sporadic sounds of shelling were muted beneath an even heavier sense of silence. She took a deep breath, listening warily, then turned and nodded to Alyosha.

  The entrance wasn’t as well-camouflaged as others they had used, but the space was larger, with a separate room through a narrow doorway. They checked for signs of recent occupation, but there were none.

  They unstrapped their blankets and small packs in the second room. Darya fastened one of the blankets to cover the doorway, so they would be able to use a candle within. While Alyosha lit it, she stepped into the main room to check. Reflected moonlight found its way into the basement through the open part of the ceiling. She glanced back, and saw only a dim hint of candlelight through the thick blanket. She walked back to rejoin Alyosha.

  She stood, watching him as he laid out the blankets on which they would sleep separately tonight rather than together, each taking turns on watch duty. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her.

  She set her rifle aside and bent down to help him. As they folded the blankets over, she turned her head to receive a kiss, neither movement needing any thought. She turned back to straightening the edge of the top blanket.

  “I was thinking of what you said, last night.”

  “Which part?” he asked.

  “About us going away together.” She sat, her legs pulled up against her chest. “Maybe it’s the only thing that can make all this go away, and just be a part of my past.” She rolled a chunk of rock idly underneath her hand. “But I want Papa and Baba to go, too.” She turned her hand over and stared at her fingers, their pads dirty from the concrete dust. “Papa always wanted to go back, but he stayed because of me.” She dusted off her hands and wiped at her eyes. “He stayed in Leningrad because of my Baba.”

  “We’ll find a way.” His fingers caressed her cheek until she looked at him. “I promise.”

  “I just hope . . .” She looked away again, unable to say the words, as though her fears might overwhelm the small hope she kept alive. She turned back to him, struggling to regain her composure. “Do you want me to take first watch?”

  He shook his head. His hand curled warmly around her neck as he leaned close for a lingering kiss. “I’ll wake you in a few hours. Sleep well, my love.”

  She nodded. She laid her rifle carefully beside her on one side of the blankets, and then slid beneath. She watched as Alyosha pinched out the candle. A small puff of grey smoke curled slowly over a single spark that gradually died away in the darkness. She saw the blanket over the doorway move as Alyosha passed through, and his body cast a brief shadow on one wall as it was captured by the reflected moonlight that fell into the basement. Then he was gone.

  She tried to sleep, but sleep’s Elysian depths eluded her attempts to seek it out. Instead, it seemed to creep upon her in the same slow and deliberate fashion that she had learned to stalk her targets in the stark landscape of the day. Her hand rested beside her, finding the worn and familiar wooden stock of her rifle. Her fingers curved around its cool surface as her thoughts drifted toward a future she dared not imagine, but which had become awakened within her by Alyosha’s words. She wondered whether her small hope could be as easily extinguished as the candle had been, or whether the brighter flame that burned within Alyosha might help her find her way. She rolled over, imagining endless nights where he would never be away from her side, while they discovered a future together on a path neither could find alone.

  She stirred at the warmth of his hand on her shoulder, unaware how many hours had passed. She struggled from beneath the blanket, pressing it down again to hold her warmth for him. They shared a brief kiss, then passed like shadows in the night as she moved away the blanket covering the doorway, and heard an answering whisper of him slipping into the blankets she had left behind.

  She blinked at the change in the next room. The moon had followed its timeless passage across the night sky, and now laid a path of light through the exposed part of the ceiling, down the broken slide of concrete leading to where she now stood.

  She shuffled carefully up the scattered rubble to the edge of the entrance, aware of the sound of loose rock disturbed by her slow movements, her senses still dulled by the reluctant release of sleep’s embrace. She squinted her eyes at the glare of the moon that now cast everything in black and white, with no concealing shades between.

  She shook her head, trying to sharpen her senses. Her fingers tightened around her rifle as she took in what she could of what lay outside. Periodic flashes lit the night sky in the distance, whether from barrages or bombs, she couldn’t be certain. The low hum of aircraft far away sounded like flies buzzing against a glass pane.

  She paused, stilling her breathing while she listened, ears straining to filter out these familiar sounds of the night, seeking out the unfamiliar. Beneath, there lay a stillness that awakened her senses with a sudden edge of caution, an edge honed from long months of waiting in the daylight, watching, timing every motion until the right moment. She turned her head, her movement so slow as to be almost imperceptible. Something didn’t seem right. Something . . .

  She began to turn her head once more, just as a dark shape suddenly appeared in front of her. She was struck a sharp blow that sent her tumbling backwards into the basement, sliding in a fall of loosened debris that rolled beneath her.

  She opened her mouth to cry out for Alyosha. But her assailant landed atop her, his weight crushing against her chest and forcing the air from her lips in a loud gasp. She had a glimpse of a heavily tattooed arm as he knocked away the rifle she had never loosened her hold upon. She was dimly aware of the warmth emanating from his body, warmer than it should have ever been as he leaned forward, his lips curving against he
r neck.

  Her hand, which had been rising to push him away from her, fell away limp beside her. Her eyelids lowered slowly as though sleep and the dreams it brought had reclaimed her. She imagined Alyosha was with her now as he had been so many nights, his warmth like the fire of hope that burned inside him, and that he had shared with her. Yet a part of her struggled against this dream, sensing it was wrong somehow, that she and Alyosha were not supposed to be together on this night. Something was different. Something . . .

  She felt the weight against her suddenly grow heavier, forcing out the remaining breath in her lungs in a sudden expiration. Her mouth opened automatically to gulp in more air as a warm flow rushed across it, entering and finding its way into a deep and filling pool at the back of her throat. She swallowed deeply, trying to draw in what had been lost as the weight above her shifted and moved. Her eyelids fluttered as her throat worked soundlessly.

  Her eyes shot open at a sudden stab of pain that spread rapidly through her body, as though she was engulfed in a fire that burned only within, impossible to escape or extinguish. Her mouth opened wider, unable to make the sound of a scream that was now as lost as the air that had been driven from her.

  The weight lessened with the sound of something crashing hard against the far wall. Her eyes focused on her assailant above her, his hand grasping for a bayonet that had been rammed into his throat. Blood gushed in a hot torrent from the wound, splashing across her face while her lips kept trying futilely to shape a sound of warning. Her limbs began to shake uncontrollably in sharp spasms that seemed to drive daggers into every point in her body.

  He yanked the bayonet free and rolled off her. Her eyes followed his movement across the room to where Alyosha was illuminated in the long shaft of moonlight, trying to rise to his feet from where he had been flung.

  Her assailant swept the bayonet back as he reached for Alyosha. Darya grasped frantically for her fallen rifle, her fingers scrabbling like the dry rustle of claws through the loose rubble. She saw it lying out of reach. She turned her head to see him lift Alyosha completely off the ground and drive the bayonet forward, and heard an answering grunt from Alyosha.