Beyond What Separates Us, page 15
The train slowly pulled out of the station. They didn’t even bother leaving guards in the train car. None of us could move. Anyone who had to go to the bathroom went in their seat. I had some stale bread and porridge that morning with a glass of water, but that was it. It would be hours before we reached Kyiv, if that was in fact where we were going. Some of my fellow passengers looked as if they wouldn’t last that long.
Once we left the city, we travelled through the peaceful Hungarian countryside, occasionally passing through small, seemingly abandoned villages. I drifted off to a laboured sleep. I dreamed of Anna and my father, believing I would soon be reunited with them.
Hours passed and the train eventually stopped. We were in another city, not as large as Budapest. Guards in masks entered the train car, passing out water and bread. Many people begged to use the toilet, but the guards just moved on. One old man near the end of the car was unresponsive. The guards kicked and smacked him. When the man didn’t respond, they unchained him and dragged him by his feet off the train car. Everyone else focused on their meagre helping of bread and water. No one cared that we’d just witnessed the end of a man’s life. It was like he’d never existed.
It was night when we left. I’d lost track of the days or time, wondering how long we’d been travelling and how much farther there was to go. I was thankful that I’d not soiled myself yet but wondered how long my weakened system could hold out. I drifted off again to the rocking and swaying of the train.
As the sun rose, we passed ruined and desolate villages. The landscape had the signs of war, but a war that had ended some time ago. The first wall was a large concrete monstrosity with anti-aircraft and gun emplacements along its top. It stretched to the horizon, standing at least ten metres high. We passed through a heavy metal gate and continued on our way. Beyond the wall, the scene was even more stark, with rundown wooden hovels surrounded by razor wire fences. Labourers were shuffling along rutted gravel paths to various points in this bleak landscape. The very air seemed to have a deathly quality. The people working were human shells — skeletal with skin tones that matched their garb. My earlier euphoria had turned to despair. Even if I found Anna and my father alive, they would likely be nothing more than walking corpses.
The train reached the outskirts of a ruined city. Half the buildings were bombed out. Half-naked children caked in dust and dirt played among the ruins. The buildings that were standing had black smoke spewing from stacks on their roofs. They must have been converted to factories. The centre of the city was in better shape but lacked any of the old stately elegance of European cities. Instead of old buildings, there were massive concrete fortresses lined with weapon placements. Everything was ordered and purposeful with no unnecessary decoration. The train stopped in a large square surrounded by fenced yards and smaller trains running in every direction. There were guard towers everywhere.
Guards came aboard, unchaining us from our seats and ordering us out the door. Each car had been attached to a chain-link tunnel leading to separate buildings. Once inside, men and women were separated. We were ordered to remove our clothes. Standing in a white room with a central drain, we were hosed off with puncturing pressure and cold water. Buckets were thrown into the centre of the room with coarse brushes and soap. After scrubbing down, we were rinsed off.
Next, we were led to an adjoining room with the same grey wool jumpsuits and black boots neatly arranged on a table, though these ones were fresh. There were guards with clipboards in front of three doors. The guards asked what languages we spoke, asking in numerous languages themselves. Then we were asked what professional or labour experience we had. After that, we were told which door to go through.
When it was my turn, I couldn’t think of what to say for professional experience. Something told me this wasn’t the time to mention I’d spent most of my life trying to reform international institutions. So, I simply said I was a farmer. It was what Anna and my father would most likely have said as well. I was told to go through the door on the right. We were finally given the use of a toilet, but like many others, I had already gone in the shower room. The next room had long tables with bread and water and bowls of soup. There didn’t seem to be portion restrictions and everyone ate as much as they could. I knew that overeating would only make me sick after having so little in the last few days. I finished a bowl and two small pieces of bread. No one spoke. What was the point? We didn’t know what would happen next. The room slowly filled and the door from the preceding room eventually shut.
Guards appeared at the other end, ordering us to line up. We were shuffled back outside through another chain-link tunnel and loaded onto a small tram. Once full, the tram moved off. Once out of the city, we stopped in every village. Though I suppose they weren’t really villages anymore. Each one looked like concentration camps from one of the darkest chapters of European history. At each stop, three or four prisoners were ordered off before we continued. The sun was setting as I was off-loaded. I could see part of a river behind more concrete walls and military installations. My new home was surrounded by a five-metre-high chain-link fence lined with razor wire. The barracks were long wooden shacks with crooked roofs. The largest building was concrete and appeared to be where the guards were stationed. It had a tower that gave it a commanding view of the camp. There must have been hundreds imprisoned here.
I was led into a long hall that served as the dining room, where dinner was being served. None of the guards spoke to me, but the prisoners here were speaking to each other. Some were even laughing. I surveyed the hall for any sign of Anna or my father. Some people on the benches were eyeing me suspiciously. I was new meat. I grabbed food and walked along the outside of the hall. Anna and my father weren’t here. At the end of the hall, people at one of the tables were speaking English. I asked if I could join them. There were four men and two women. They welcomed me and continued their conversation. I ate my food in silence, absorbing the conversation around me. These people didn’t seem downtrodden or depressed by their circumstances. It was idle chatter, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“How long have you all been here?” I asked.
One of the men, the most boisterous of the group, who seemed to be around my age but was taller with dark hair and a muscular build, responded. “I’ve been here four years. This place is heaven compared to where I was before. I’m William.” He shook my hand.
“Elliott.”
“How did you end up here?” William asked.
“I’m looking for my father and my wife, Anna.”
“What makes you think you’ll find them?” William asked.
“I was told most prisoners are transferred this way.”
“Where were you arrested?”
“Budapest,” I responded.
“What did they arrest you for?”
“Um … I, uh … I asked to be arrested so I could find them.”
The group started laughing, William loudest of all.
“Oh, Elliott, that’s fresh. You may be the first person I’ve met that purposely wanted to come out here,” William said, still laughing. “How long ago were your wife and father taken?”
“A few months. Where do most prisoners from Budapest end up?” I asked.
“They could be anywhere, hundreds of kilometres north or south of Kyiv. On farms if they’re lucky. Better than the mines or factories from what we hear.”
“So that city was Kyiv? Where the train unloaded?”
“Most likely. This camp isn’t far south of Kyiv,” William responded.
We spoke long into the night, mainly William and I. For the others, English wasn’t their first language, but they were comfortable in it and William seemed to be a sort of group leader. There were no assigned bunks, so William led me to the barracks he stayed in with the others. There was a total of twenty-four people in the barracks, including me. Some were couples. William explained how life worked here. “As long as you show up to work the fields, the guards don’t care what you do,” he said.
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“I’ve been all over the Front for years, this camp the last couple. Things are easier now than they were. The fighting seems to have stopped completely.”
“Then why the camps?”
“Good question. Even the guards don’t seem to know much. Rumour is, there’s no one left east of the river to fight.”
We spoke of his family, mine, the farm and the movement. He had lost his wife and kids in one of the few disease outbreaks to breach central and Western Europe almost a decade ago. After that, he turned more political and militant. After working in the factories, he’d experienced fighting on the Front. That was the worst period of his life. There was no method to the war. Every day, thousands from the east would try to cross the Front with bombs from both sides exploding everywhere. Most were unarmed but were gunned down anyway. It didn’t seem like a war from William’s perspective. Their job was to keep people from the other side out, and that’s it. There was no organized invasion force or well-equipped army by the time William arrived. It was pockets of broken soldiers led by vengeful commanders and civilians with nowhere else to go.
As we were getting ready to go to sleep, I asked, “Is there any way to locate people at other camps?”
He shook his head. “Once you’re assigned to a camp, you don’t leave.”
William climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep. I lay down, staring at the ceiling, depressed with the knowledge that I’d likely never find Anna and my father.
Nineteen
Near Sri Lanka
I woke to soft chiming bells and the subtle rumbling of the ship, with a deep murmur from decks below. Someone was knocking on my cabin door. I opened it to find Visshaly.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. It’s been a long time, if ever, that I’ve felt so refreshed.”
“It’s time for the morning meal and then we’ve been asked to join Shani and the others. The ship has already started moving.”
“I’ll get changed and meet you in the meal room.”
The selection of food was again overwhelming. There were so many items unfamiliar to me. The colours and textures were vivid. I chose some red and yellow fruits with some dark crispy breads and joined Visshaly, who was already nearly finished. The meal room was almost empty, but many dishes were stacked in the corner. The halls were filled with people coming and going to various duties.
I had so many questions circling in my head about who these people were, why they seemed so prosperous, where they were from and what the rest of the world was like.
“What do you think our place will be here?” I asked Visshaly.
He just shrugged.
“Don’t you want to know everything about these people and where we’re going?”
“I just want to find out about my brother and the other monks.” Visshaly moved to clear his tray. “Eat quick. I’ll meet you on the deck. I need some air,” he said, leaving the meal room.
I was alone with my questions. I’d forgotten that Visshaly’s brother had left for the coast as well. I hoped they would be reunited soon. For all the talk of danger before and on our journey to the coast, we’d managed to find what we were looking for. If Visshaly’s brother was anything like him, I was sure we would find him safe and sound on this island called Sri Lanka. I began picturing a lush green expanse rising from a crystal-blue ocean, the veritable paradise that had been promised. Tears welled in my eyes and guilt clutched at my chest.
“Why do you cry, Aashi?” Shani came to my side and grasped my hand, then kneeled beside me with pity in her eyes.
“I was thinking of those I’ve lost along the way to get here and was sad that they’re not here.”
Shani nodded and paused for some time, searching for words of comfort. “The world is full of uncertainty and misery, yet through that struggle, the good virtues of humanity have endured. Mourn those you loved that are now gone. Our sorrows and tests can make us stronger and more empathetic or they can make us weak and cruel.”
“I’ll try to be strong to honour their memory.” I regained my composure, breathing in deeply, and smiled, thinking of the precious moments of joy I’d had with Amar, Jahi and Randhir.
“Come, it’s time we joined the others. We have much to discuss.” Shani pulled me gently by the hand and led me up to the deck. The morning was cool with a lifting fog, but we were out in the open sea with gentle waves crashing on the sides of the metallic behemoth that ploughed through the glistening waters. This water was a dark and menacing blue. A slight grey haze was all that was visible of the land we’d left behind. The other noticeable change was this water seemed pure, rather than the brownish-black sludge along the coast. Even the air tasted cleaner.
Shani led me to a staircase near the front of the ship, which led up to a large outcrop of small windowed decks rising from the main body of the ship. We entered a narrow room with a large table. The walls were covered in maps. Visshaly was with the others who had greeted us the day before, with his head down and a great sadness on his face. Somehow, I knew it was about his brother. I wanted to go and comfort him, but Shani led me to a seat at the other side of the narrow table, where Yuki sat. He smiled and greeted me warmly. Ahmad stared intently as if questioning my worth, while Denise shuffled through sheets of paper in front of her. I was across from Denise, who had yet to lift her head. Visshaly was beside her.
“I hope you slept well and are feeling refreshed,” Yuki said, looking at me.
“Yes, thank you. I’ve never experienced a hot shower.”
Yuki nodded. “Yes, there are many luxuries we take for granted here, but we work hard to maintain those simple pleasures. You’ll have to work hard, as well, to enjoy them. Now we’ll discuss what you can offer to stay among us.”
Yuki launched into a recap of the last thirty years of human history, detailing places and events I’d never heard of, that had led humanity to this particular point in time. He detailed technological marvels and scientific discoveries, which passed over my head with words and concepts foreign to me. I became more and more lost in his monologue, but he never once looked at Visshaly or me but off to a point on the other side of the room. I scanned the faces of the others while he spoke. Denise was still fixated on the papers in front of her. Ahmad had his eyes closed and his arms crossed, possibly asleep. Shani must have sensed my gaze and turned to look at me, smiling, before turning back to Yuki. Visshaly looked just as lost and confused with the arched eyebrows and perpetual frown I’d become accustomed to. His face seemed more pained than before and his strong shoulders were slumped. I wanted to ask what had happened. I wanted to console and comfort him, tell him I understood loss and grief. Yuki was still going through mundane details but was now focused on present-day activities. His voice became background noise. He never once let anyone else speak or ask a question. After what must have been an hour, he turned to Ahmad and Shani, telling them to help Visshaly and me to “acclimatize and discover our worth.”
Ahmad led Visshaly out of the room without so much as a glance at me. Shani led me to a smaller, adjacent room.
“You probably didn’t follow much of that. Forgive Yuki, he takes for granted that the rest of us aren’t geniuses. But he’s a great man. He’s responsible for countless discoveries that have contributed immensely to our mission.”
“And what mission is that?”
Shani laughed in a sweet way. “Why, to save the world of course. Things are still bad in a lot of places and there’s a lot of work to be done, but we’ve accomplished a lot. Forests and oceans are healing, and species we once thought were lost are recovering. Every day, more and more people join us. In time, everyone will come to understand our true purpose.”
I looked at Shani with skepticism. The places and people I knew didn’t care about the forests, the oceans or the creatures that called them home. They were simply trying to survive. If that meant taking down anyone in their way, then so be it.
“I’ve been more fortunate than you, it’s true,” Shani said. “I grew up safe and healthy. I know little of the dark places of the world, except what I learn from people like you. Now we have to discover where your talents lie and where you can be of most use.”
We sat at a small table. Shani held an electronic pad and began using her finger to swipe across the screen.
“Is Visshaly okay? Did he get news of his brother?” I asked.
“You can ask him yourself, later.”
“But why can’t we do this together?”
“It’s standard practice for one person to assess each newcomer. We’re free to choose different paths here based on our strengths and weaknesses. I myself have been training for a new path. That’s another perk; you aren’t forever stuck in one role. Many among us choose one role for a couple of years and then try something new. But we must start somewhere. Can you read or write?”
“Yes, I taught myself.”
“Good. And I’m guessing you know how to grow food and scavenge supplies?”
“Yes.”
Shani was tapping the screen on the pad as she asked me questions about various skills and experiences. I answered far more noes than yeses. My life, up to this point, had been about finding food and staying hidden. I’d had no time for other skills. Reading and writing were useless, except that I wanted to know what things were like before. I wanted to know what the books, which we often had to burn to cook or stay warm, said. Reading had let me escape reality, if even for a moment. But it hadn’t taught me how to be braver or stronger. It hadn’t saved Jahi, Randhir or Amar. It hadn’t proved helpful with Visshaly. But it did offer escape. Somehow, I thought reading would not prove entirely useful to these people either.
