Beyond What Separates Us, page 19
We spent the evening gathering extra clothes, food and canteens and packing it all into bags we found in the guards’ barracks. The people that were leaving decided to wait until first thing in the morning. Numerous maps had been found in the barracks, which were distributed based on which way people had decided to go. William and I had a map of the Front with Kyiv at its centre.
Before going to bed, I faced William in the bunk beside me. He was lying flat on his back, staring at the wood panel ceiling.
“Thank you,” I said, turning onto my side and going to sleep.
I woke to William shaking my shoulder. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept at all. “Time to go.”
Most of the other people in the barracks were already gone or up moving around. The dining hall was quiet. Many people left before sunrise. I guess it was easier than saying goodbye. Many of the people that were staying had already gone about their usual chores. After a light breakfast, William and I double-checked our bags for the essentials and were on our way.
No one was at the gate to wish us well. A few others who were also heading to Kyiv had left shortly before us. It was likely we would meet up with them. The easiest thing to do was follow the train tracks that delivered us to the camp. It was a warm day with a light breeze and the fields were full, it being near the end of summer. Despite all the uncertainty around what would happen next, the walk was peaceful. William was sombre and quiet. He was normally so gregarious.
We estimated that Kyiv was at least eighty kilometres away, based on the amount of time it had taken the train to reach the camp. Walking all day with very little rest, we hoped to cover the distance in three days. Halfway through the first day, we passed another farming camp that appeared deserted. We managed to catch up to a few of the other people from our camp heading to Kyiv, greeted them kindly and continued past them.
We found a village a few hundred metres off the tracks to the east, beside a small creek heading toward the river. Most of the houses were in serious disrepair or burned, but one of the larger stone houses still had a roof and seemed like as good a place as any to camp for the night. We gathered some wood and had a fire in one of the rooms where the roof had caved in. Our dinner consisted of some bread, cheese and fruit. The water from the creek seemed fresh enough and we took our fill. William had still not said more than a few words all day.
After dinner, as he was readying himself for bed, I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Is everything all right?”
He looked at me hesitantly. This man, who once had all the confidence in the world, now appeared like a scared and lost child.
“I don’t know. For so long now, my life has been dictated by others. I’m not sure what to do next.”
“You’re still young. There are many things you can do now.”
“Perhaps.”
“If we don’t find Anna or my father in Kyiv, I’ll head back toward Budapest. Come with me. The farm we live at is beautiful. You can make a home there.”
“We’ll see. Good night.” He curled up on the floor under one of the blankets we’d brought.
“Night.”
William was a former Valiant, crushed by circumstances beyond his control; now he was somewhere between the Reconciled and the Fatalists. If Anna were here, she would know how to invigorate William. She would know how to motivate and inspire. I lay awake that night wondering where in the world Anna could be. I knew she was alive. Not out of any misguided faith, but just a belief that her sheer strength of will was enough to keep her going. It was entirely possible that she was in the thick of things in Kyiv. She’d probably founded a new chapter of the movement and was trying to restore some semblance of governance in this destabilized part of the world.
I was finally at a place where I fully believed in what she and my parents had spent their lives trying to create. Now I would give my life to protect her and to fight for a better world against anyone who would try to set us back. How could I make William see? He needed something to believe in again. Kyiv would have the answer one way or another.
We travelled all the next day and camped that night just outside the city. Smoke covered the central parts with pockets of glowing oranges and reds, but it was quiet. We assumed it was people burning what they could for light. The electricity seemed to be off. The next morning, entering the outskirts of the city was beyond eerie. The walls and towers were broken in many places. The outlying areas, which before were a hive of activity, were deserted. William and I looked at each other nervously.
As we entered the central part of the city, we began to see people. Haggard, dishevelled and dirty people.
“Likely factory or mine workers. Poor bastards,” William said. They avoided eye contact and scurried into dark alleys the moment they saw us. As we got closer to the central square, with its large concrete buildings and monumental fortifications, we could hear the chants, cheers and commotion of thousands.
Or tens of thousands. Every section of the square was packed. Trucks and trains were covered in people all dressed in the drab grey that defined a prisoner. Some of the buildings were equally full of people hanging out of windows or on balconies, in the towers and on rooftops. The main building at the end of the square was a different story. It had the highest walls and guard towers. This one appeared to still be guarded.
A makeshift stage had appeared in the centre of the square near the buildings that once processed all the prisoners. The chain-link fences and pens had been dismantled. Fires burned in some of the outlying buildings. This scene was too reminiscent of that day in Budapest, nearly a year ago. I thought of my mother’s speech that day and of my panic and guilt.
But in Kyiv, many of the prisoners had weapons. There were naked and mutilated bodies piled beside the stage. The former prisoners in and around the stage now wore bits and pieces of guards’ uniforms.
“What now?” William asked me.
I shook my head in disbelief. It wasn’t safe here. It was too familiar.
Groups of former prisoners had begun assembling tents and pavilions of their own along the outside parts of the square. They’d strewn together bits of flags or symbols of different locations and organizations.
“We need to find the United Earth tent.” I grabbed William’s arm and rushed headlong into the sea of humanity. We passed tents for different countries that no longer existed and ones for political movements that were outlawed long ago — communist, fascist, neo-capitalist, among other ideologies. I needed to get a better vantage point. With everyone dressed the same and the square packed to the point of bursting, it would take hours to walk around the whole thing, checking each pavilion. Near the central stage, one of the trains was left in place. It seemed as good a place as any to get a better view.
William followed, surveying the area with military precision. The train had a few armed men around it with no obvious affiliation. I spoke to one of them, near the end of the train. He was armed with a club.
“No speak English.”
I tried German, broken Hungarian. He shook his head. We went to the other side of the train and tried a different man. This one had a gun. And he spoke German. When I asked to climb the train to get a better view, he told me to get lost. William was losing patience. He scanned the area, then with lightning speed propelled his fist into the man’s nose, grabbed his gun, wheeled behind him and proceeded to knock him unconscious. He grabbed the man’s hat and flak jacket, a knife and extra ammunition. He found zip ties and tied the man’s hands and feet together before sliding the body under the train.
“Well, get up there and take a look,” he said to me. I began to climb a ladder at the end of the train car. “Don’t stand on the top where everyone can see you. And be quick about it,” William shouted.
I tried halfway up the ladder but only had a view of about a third of the square. I climbed a little higher, hovering over the top rung. There were hundreds of pavilions. In a corner of the square, not far from the still-guarded main building, a tent was painted blue and green in the shape of a circle. It was hard to make out, but it had to be the United Earth banner. I rushed down the ladder and told William where to go. He led this time, carrying his newly acquired weapons.
At the centre of the square, people were pressing toward the stage as a man spoke through a poorly assembled sound system. The sound was bass mixed with static. Yet people were eager to hear what he had to say and continued to press forward. Not a single word could be made out in any language. A path cleared along the edge of the square. We pushed our way through, going the opposite direction of everyone else.
As we got closer to the pavilion with the blue-and-green circle, it got more distinguishable. There was no question; it was United Earth. My pace increased, a smile across my face, a jump in my step. There were dozens of people still hovering around this pavilion. I didn’t recognize any of them. I began to shout, “Anna!” and “Peter!” — my father’s name. I pushed my way through some of the crowd, still shouting. Near the edge of the tent, a woman stood on a box. She screamed, “Elliott!”
I collapsed to my knees, crying. She ran toward me and I got to my feet in time to catch her sailing into my arms. Anna, at last. We hugged and kissed, falling to the ground. Others around us were clapping and cheering. When we finally composed ourselves, I introduced Anna to William. She led us into the pavilion. Unsurprisingly, she’d already established herself as a leader here. She introduced me to some of the others around a table with maps, photos and pamphlets. I only had eyes for her. After the introductions were made, I pulled her aside, kissing her.
“Have you seen my father?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, no.” I hugged her again.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I came to find you.”
She looked at me like I was a foolish child, putting her palm on the side of my face. “You always were a fool, but you’re my fool.” We embraced and kissed again. “Come on. We have much to discuss and do here.” There she was. Anna the activist, the fighter. Whatever happened to her in the last year hadn’t weakened her resolve.
Some of the other members around the table were explaining that they had to rebuild, to be a central part of whatever new structure took place in and around Kyiv. They had control of the building behind them, which served as a communications centre. The building still had power. Some of their tech people had established contact with other members of similar movements around the world. They were discussing tactics, available resources and manpower.
The discussion turned to what was going to happen here. Things were tense. One group had killed many of the guards, who had laid down their weapons. These people had been anarchist political prisoners for years. Most of them had been mine workers or worse, working in deplorable conditions, forced to fight and lied to for years. They wanted vengeance and nothing more. Those who were left of the military leadership from this sector had barricaded themselves in the central building, which was still heavily guarded.
There had been some exchange of gunfire and casualties the first couple of nights, but things had quieted down. Many people had already left the city in search of food and clean water, which were becoming scarce. More would leave in the next couple of days. They didn’t care what happened here. Most of the people around the table were worried about what would happen if these violent anarchists took control. They believed we would be exchanging one violent regime for another. I couldn’t take it any longer.
“Let them have control of Kyiv. What do you really think you’re going to accomplish by opposing them? You’ll get people killed. Centralized governance isn’t coming back. People can go back to learning to grow their own food and live in small decentralized communities. What’s wrong with that?”
Anna grabbed my hand and told me to be quiet. The rest basically ignored my outburst. I stormed out of the tent with William in tow.
“You’re right, you know. Do-gooders have no place in the world anymore,” William said.
I laughed. “Unfortunately, Anna is the ultimate do-gooder.”
Anna came out shortly after, with that pitying look I’d seen so many times.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.”
She held my hand. “After all these years and you still don’t get me. I’m not content with a comfortable life. We can make this world a better place. Can’t you see that?”
“All I can see are angry people pointing guns at other people scared for their lives. Words aren’t going to solve that.”
“No, but most of the people here want something new and different. Those people with guns may take control for a day or two, but then the majority will overwhelm them.”
I faced the crowded centre of the square before turning to the heavily guarded main building at the end of the square. “Why can’t we go back to our farm? The movement is still active in and around Budapest. That’s our home.”
“We will soon. I promise.” She let go of my hands and moved toward William, who was staring at the guarded building. “William, what’s your part in all this?” she asked.
William shrugged. “I told him that I would help find you. Honestly, I never thought we would. I didn’t think past that point.”
“You’re welcome to come with us anywhere we go,” I said. William nodded, then turned away to face the latest commotion.
The man from the stage was now in front of the gate at the main building, surrounded by his own armed supporters. He had a megaphone. The press of people had followed closely behind.
He was speaking Ukrainian and we couldn’t make out the words. He was angry and agitated. There was no answer from inside the main building. He began to confer with some of the other people around him.
Suddenly, there was a bang and he collapsed to the ground. Gunfire from the guard towers rang out. The people with guns outside the wall returned fire but were too exposed. I grabbed Anna and pulled her to a sheltered doorway in the building behind us. William followed, alert with his own gun ready.
Two of the guard towers protecting the gate exploded as rockets from somewhere in the crowd hit them. A heavily armoured truck came into view, its gun spraying across the top of the wall. It sped straight for the metal gate, indifferent to the living and dead bodies it hit on the way. It buckled with the hit but stayed in place. The truck reversed. Another rocket hit the metal barrier. The truck rammed again and the gate broke. Dozens of armed people who had sought protection along the wall spilled through the opening. More armed and unarmed people followed, some being mowed down as they ran. Anna ran back to the United Earth tent before I could grab her. I followed.
Everyone inside was unharmed and discussing what to do next.
“Anna, please, we have to go,” I whispered, grabbing her hand. She pulled away, so I left to survey the scene outside. There were hundreds of bodies around the broken gate. Sporadic gunfire rang out from inside the main building, and hundreds of people were still running away from the square, while others hid behind trains or in the doorways scattered around the square.
Some of the people outside the gate were injured. Others that had sought safety were starting to come to their aid. William and I grabbed what water and materials we could find to help some of the injured. William and I helped transport those with serious injuries to a tent near the stage, where other injured people were taken. Afterward, we helped those with more minor injuries. Lastly, we carried the dead to another area set apart. By the end, my arms were lead, my back aching. I’d stopped counting the dead at twenty-eight, and those were just the bodies we carried. There were many others helping. The area for the deceased was overflowing with bodies, easily over a hundred.
By this time, gunfire from inside the building had ceased. A group of people were exiting the main door, cheering. They were dragging two chained and bloody men who looked like military personnel. A press of people had returned and waited anxiously at the broken gate. Anna and the other United Earth members moved toward the gate to learn what had happened. I was too tired to listen to whatever came next. I returned to the United Earth tent and found a flimsy cot.
It was dark outside by the time Anna woke me up. A few small lamps provided a faint glow inside the tent. “There’s going to be a debate, tomorrow at noon. A council of sorts is being formed by the various political factions remaining in the city.”
“And what happens to the two men dragged out of that building?” I asked.
“There will be a trial. Those men commanded all the prison camps in this area. The people that needed vengeance got it.”
I snorted. “So the people with all the weapons and power now are just going to give up control to others?”
“They’re too few,” Anna replied.
William remained silent. I turned to him. “What do you think?”
“You were right. Anna’s optimism is infectious. I agree, though. I don’t believe the people that captured those commanders are going to give up power. History has never worked that way. If anything, they’ll insist on becoming a military or police arm of whatever you plan to establish here. The safest thing would be to kill them.”
“You’re not serious.” Anna looked disgusted. “They were treated as slaves, beaten, made to work in deplorable conditions. They can’t be blamed for what they’ve become.”
“No, they can’t. But any semblance of humanity they once had is lost. You can’t recover that. These people have no place in the new world you’re trying to create. They’ll simply continue the old one.”
“Do you want us to give up on you too?” I asked William.
He looked at me, pained. He thought long about his next words. “Perhaps. Beating that guard felt good. When the shooting started, I wanted to run and join. The camp restrained all that because I was a prisoner. That freedom you spoke of, it terrifies me.”
Anna still looked perplexed and flustered. She lay down in my arms with her head on my chest. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was nervous. She was always so brave and strong. The circumstances of her life had to be wearing down her hope. I had no words of comfort. I could only hope that she would come to the realization on her own that our best and only chance was to give it all up and return to the peace and tranquility of our farm. If father wasn’t here, he had to be there.
