One Night

I do not know how to explain my reaction to the noise.

The first time I heard it, my breath froze in my throat. Hot tea trickled onto my thumb as my trembling hands lowered the porcelain cup from my lips.

The second time it shook the house. The door rattled on its hinges while dark faces peered through the frosted windows. I sat without moving as if I could will away the presence that had so suddenly and so harshly entered my life. The third pounding brought me to my feet.

“Open the door at once!” The voice stabbed into me like a knife, spilling my courage to the floor. For an instant I fought against the reality of it, but my husband’s voice shattered my attempt at disbelief. 

“Umrije!”

Before I could respond his arms were around me. I fell into them gratefully, his body pressed close to mine. I could feel the prickles of his beard against my face, smell the faded cologne on his neck. It was a brief respite. He broke away from me and began to speak quickly, his words quick and wavering. He was telling me to go to the refugee camp; that these men may take him, and if they did, that I was not to look back.

“Don’t let them in,” I whispered.

“They will come in whether or not they are invited,” he said, “and we must seem compliant.”

       “No, Radja,” I commanded, pulling at his collar as he turned towards the door.

       “I must!” he replied, his voice betraying the indecision in his heart. He grabbed my hands and again stared at me. Within his eyes I could see my own reflection shivering with fright. I realized I had to be strong.

       “Open the door,” I said. “But I will not flee, not from our home. I will stand by you and meet these demons.”

       Radja wrapped me in a desperate embrace. “My Umrjie! My precious wife...so proud, with the courage of ten men! It has always been so.” He broke away, fear temporarily replaced by pride. He strode to the door and opened it.  

       A blast of cold air greeted us. Several bulky figures stood in the doorway, dark silhouettes against the crimson sky. They burst in, knocking Radja back aside. I shivered at this eruption of pounding boots and clattering guns.

       The soldiers were brutally young. A few may not have yet been seventeen. But their eyes were old – all the youth and vigor of life had been reduced to a dull gray. They were no longer carefree boys, and far from reasonable men. Radja grabbed me protectively, drawing the attention of one of them.

       “Stay where you are,” the young soldier commanded. There was no feeling in his voice. His demeanor was completely methodical. I tore my gaze away from him and hoped Radja and I would blend with the shadows.

       I looked on in misery, forcing myself to attend to their faces rather than their destructive actions. Wet hair stuck out beneath cotton hats, droplets of sweat rolled down their young faces – they were practically children! Radja’s frosted breaths grew sharper with each passing moment. His face darkened as the soldiers tore into the flesh of our home like ravaging wolves, leaving sparse remains in their wake.

       Finally he could take no more of it. “You have no right to do this to us!”

       The commander of the unit turned from the window where he had been peering out. His stark blue eyes pierced the air like daggers, causing a shiver to run through me.

“Do not speak.”

       The muscles in Radja’s neck tensed. I dug my fingernails into his arm, whispering harshly: “Now is not the time!”

       The commander stepped forward at my words. Pitiless eyes that had been slashed of any life long ago peered back at us. He pushed his overcoat aside and rested his hand on the butt of a black pistol.

       Radja spoke and my world fell apart.

       “I know you will take us…but I beg of you, reconsider. Leave my wife. I will come willingly.” His voice seemed far away, as if from a dream. My greatest fears roared through me as I screamed in retaliation.

       “No! I will not let them take you from me!”

       Radja’s eyes filled with tears. “Think of our children, Umrjie! They need you!”

       The commander did not react. He looked on dispassionately, speaking only the facts. “We are not interested in her.” He turned to two of the closest soldiers, distracting them from their tasks. “Take this one –” he pointed at Radja, and then paused as if considering something. “Kill the other.”

       The words did not have time to sink in before the thunder struck. Flying bits of wood flew though the air in increments; caught by the light of the machine gun fire and then hidden by the darkness. It was strange that I noticed this and this only. I did not even feel the shards of glass that ripped through my dress and tore at my legs.

       Something powerful pushed me against the wall. I tried to scream but an unusual calm stilled my voice. Radja called out my name, but he was quickly silenced. He cried out again, but his voice was heartbreakingly weak. They were killing him, my Radja! And yet I could not break from the tranquility that had nestled in my bosom.

       The noise died down until I was left in an eerie silence. I was lying in wetness. Was it melted snow or my own blood, I thought. I could not tell.

The soldiers had departed with my husband. The wake of destruction left behind manifested from the shadows like spirits from a grave. Upturned furniture, discarded books, smashed lamps; all had become grotesque silhouettes in the remaining gloom. I was no longer in my home. I was in an unfamiliar place, a painful place. I did not belong here any longer.

       I could not move. My bones felt as if they had been smashed, my chest as if it had caved in. All I could manage was to watch the snow fall peacefully beyond the doorway. Breathing was painful and I winced with each breath. Warm blood trickled down my body, but I could do nothing to stop it. I lay amid the broken spirit of what was once my home and watched the snow fall for a long time. Finally I began to feel the life slipping from my body and thought calmly, this must be how it feels to die.

       I did die. And I awoke to the sound of gunshots.

       They broke through the silence crisply in the cold air. Shot after shot went off in succession; planned, methodical, much as the soldiers had been. I listened in the darkness to the ringing of the gunshots and realized with a sickening feeling in my stomach that each shot was the ending of someone’s life. There was one. And another. And yet another. A father. A mother. A sister, a brother, a wife. A husband. Radja. Gone in an instant. I closed my eyes and prayed that my husband was not among those poor souls.

       The snow was coming down at a good pace. Judging by how much of it had accumulated, I had been gone from this world for at least an hour, perhaps more. One of the street lamps that had captured the beautiful snow-dance had burned out, leaving a patch of blackness where the glow had been.

       I fled from the empty house without looking back. There was nothing left to take, nothing meaningful that I could hold or bring with me. My feet burned as they crunched through the frigid snow. Clutching at my shawl, I ran down the narrow walkway and onto the village road. The houses nearby were dark and silent, a sign that our home had not been the only site of tragedy this night.

       I did not know where I went or why, but only that something was pushing me. I believed it to be my love for Radja, my need to see him alive and well. As I started down the street on my impossible quest, the snow wetting my eyes and freezing my cheeks, I prayed. I prayed for Radja. I prayed for our children. And I prayed for our neighbors, who most certainly had shared our fate.

       The storm was brewing in earnest as I continued down the lonely road. Tired and nearly frozen, I reached the village center not long after midnight. The square was deserted, revealing only snow-covered doorsteps and empty windows. I had not seen a living soul since I had embarked.

       In a dark alley bordering the village café, my gaze fell upon a cluster of snowy tracks. Investigating them more closely, I was surprised by the number. It seemed a parade had taken this snowy route. The tracks rapidly filled with snow as I paused in contemplation. My own bare feet were being covered as I stood. I knew I had to move on, but for a moment I stood staring at the dwindling tracks. I did not want to know where they led.

       Shivering to the point of convulsion, it took all of my willpower to continue. The tracks were difficult to follow in the darkness and the snow hardened as I entered the embrace of the forest. I stepped into the prints left by the men’s boots so that my feet would not sink into the snow. But it did not matter much; they had no feeling in them anymore.

       The forest bent around me as I walked. The trees appeared as large, gnarled giants, their branches hanging precariously low over the ground. Wind wailed through the wood, whipping against my uncovered face and legs. My cheeks were stiff with the ice of tears, but touching my face did nothing, as I could not feel it with numb fingers. My feet rather than my eyes guided my path, each step finding a depression left by those who had preceded me.

       The tracks ended at a river. Along it were thirty or so prisoners, their terrified faces shining in the soldiers’ flashlights. It was a fearful sight. They were lined up at the bank in single file, nearly naked, their clothes in heaps before them.

       Some fifteen feet away a small group of soldiers were cupping their hands to their mouths and brushing snow from their uniforms. By their scowls it did not seem that the soldiers wanted to linger. It seemed like they wanted to get on with their duty and leave this place behind them.

       The warning shot startled me. The crisp explosion sounded with such force that my body shuddered involuntarily. The prisoners stood straight, and even from this distance I could see the fear in their eyes. I gasped as my gaze fell upon one in particular – a boy of no more than six or seven. He was standing tall, no doubt as the soldiers had ordered. His body was shaking and covered with new snow; tears flowed from his eyes but he did not whimper. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead, wet and icy.

       Radja was not among these men. Long and hard I looked for his face but did not discover it. Even in the darkness I could not have missed him. Though my husband was not here, I knew that something had drawn me to this spot. I peered again at the child. He looked very much like one of my own, who were now suffering but alive in a refugee camp north of the mountains. If Radja and I had not sent them away then they too could have been in this line, confused and terrified.

       I wanted desperately to hold the child’s hand. I wanted to comfort him as his mother would if she were here. I wanted to tell him to be strong, to have faith.

       The commander announced an order. Five soldiers broke from the main group and marched towards the prisoners. The soldiers held their rifles close to their hearts as they advanced.

       The prisoners’ voices erupted in unison. “Don’t kill us! Please! Please, I have a family!” Some fell to their knees as others stepped deeper into the precarious waters of the river.

       “Away from the river!” The order was given by one of the soldiers and the prisoners stepped several paces forward. It seemed the commander did not want the bodies to be swept back to the village for others to find.

       One prisoner broke from the line. Snow spurred under his feet as he scrambled for the trees. Shots thundered after him. The man danced in time with the shots like a rag doll; he collapsed in a heap even as the clap of the last shot still hung in the air. The snow turned purple beneath the body before the lights were turned away.

       My eyes went to the lone child. A sense of astonishment filled me as I realized he was staring directly back at me. He sees me, I thought. There was no fear in my realization, but an understanding. I felt strength return to my weakened limbs.

       I stepped from my hiding spot. The soldiers took no notice of me as I approached the prisoners. Shots exploded in deafening roars as the first volley was released. The bodies were flung back like leaves in an autumn gust. Half of the men were dead before I reached the boy. He was shivering with fright but his eyes did not stray from mine. I knelt in the snow beside him and gently caressed his hair.

       “Have strength,” I whispered. “Be brave. Think of better things, young one. Of spring gardens and sunshine.”

       More shots crackled, electrifying the air. But amazingly the boy did not flinch. “You are not leaving your family,” I continued, my eyes moistening. “You will always be with them, deep in their hearts.”

       He relaxed at my words. And thankfully so. With sudden force he was jerked away from my grasp by the final volley. His light body was flung far into the river where I watched it sink below the ice.

       I faced the soldiers but was surprised that there was no hatred in my heart – only sorrow. Sorrow for their bloodstained souls. They stood before me, but none saw me. They may have felt my presence, for my blood was on their souls as well. They turned away and the light went with them. The darkness enveloped me.

       Slowly I stood, shaking in the cold. I can still feel, I thought. There was a small tug at my leg and I turned. The boy stood there, a sad look upon his face. His voice was barely a whisper. “Where do I go?”

       I smiled at the light that shone in his eyes. “We will know soon enough.”

       He hesitated, and then asked: “Are you coming?”

       “Yes….yes, I am.”

       We stood in silence for a long while. No longer did the wind blow or the snow fall. Slowly the sensations of the world around me began to fade, and for a moment I was frightened. But then I remembered to be strong for the child.

       “You were sent here to help me,” he whispered.

       “Yes,” I nodded.

       “Thank you.”

I hugged him and felt my strength fading as I did. I fought it as the thought of leaving my family behind filled my heart. I will not leave them behind, I thought angrily. The boy held his hand out to me and I took it. I was surprised at its strength.

“Your husband will survive. He will look after your beautiful children.”

 The sincerity in his tender voice caused my eyes to fill with tears.

“I am here to help you too,” he whispered. “You will always be with your family, Umrjie, deep in their hearts.”

The End