The sun climbs through the mist above the trees. The APC rolls onward, the forest around us thick as night. We climb a slope, and when we come to a bend in the road I do it, before I can change my mind. I slide down the side of the carrier into a snowdrift, and once the APC has rumbled out of sight, I take a breath, stand up, and scramble into the woods. Along the way I tear off the bandages Maruška put on, no need for them any more. Everywhere I’ve been I’ve run away, as soon as I had the chance. I think of Maruška’s children, her relationship with Alex, nothing I can do about that. I take another couple of steps and Kagan’s standing right there. He walks up and gives me a slap.
I’m not his apprentice, though, or some wimpy little student. I look around the woods. I could bury you right here, Kagan, after I get through with you. He laughs in my face.
What about those students of yours, you shithead? I say. He just snickers, doesn’t even get mad.
The best of every generation are sacrificed, Francysk Skaryna said that, and he was a true humanist, not like us, Kagan says, grinning at me. He turns and walks away and I follow him — what else can I do?
Alex helps me up and says, Don’t try anything stupid or we’ll tie you up. Besides, where would you go? You’ll freeze to death!
We drive off. A tap on the shoulder. Maruška opens the satchel with the red cross on it, offers me a pill, a sweet. I take it. She pops one too.
A big man stands by a spruce tree, its branches sagging with snow. Fur hat, rifle across his chest, dark glasses. He waves. We turn down an inconspicuous path into a forest so dense it takes a moment before I can even breathe.
A wooden cottage, a fence, a table with a roof over it, surrounded by wooden benches, a fire pit of glowing logs, some bearded guys in fatigues. One of them, in a red ski cap, clicks his heels and salutes. The commander leaps down from the APC. The men gently carry the professor, wrapped in blankets, his long thin legs dangling in slippers. Alex is giving them orders. Some other guys with beards are carrying plates and bottles to the table under the roof. I’m hungry and all of a sudden I realize that maybe I should hide the Spider someplace else, since who knows what’s going to happen to me? Out here in the wilderness. After I’ve given it to Alex.
The commander shakes my hand and says, I’m Arthur. Welcome to our partisan brigade, brother!
The burning wood is warm and tangy. We sit down at the table under the roof: Kagan, Arthur, Alex, and me. Maruška stands behind the commander like a new recruit waiting to report. Alex hands her a plate. She nibbles daintily while we wolf down our food. Then Arthur pours vodka all round. Kagan unbuttons his coat, plants a cigar in his mouth. We sit like that a while.
Forgive me the drama, brothers, Arthur says, hanging his head.
I think it’s just for show, he’s actually enjoying himself.
Nobody says a word.
I had to satisfy the mob, you understand, don’t you, brothers? He drops his head again.
We’re all still waiting.
I have my orders, I’m a soldier! Arthur cries. You know my only access to the president is as a soldier serving my homeland, he says.
Right, that’s why you’re the one who always leads the clean-up actions, Kagan says icily.
Oh, come now, brother! Don’t you believe me? Arthur lays one hand on his heart and grabs Kagan’s hand with the other.
No, says Kagan, and Alex laughs. Alex sits, legs stretched out, also puffing away.
I get results, Arthur says sternly. I saw the president and the president agrees.
Kagan and Alex act like it’s nothing, but they prick up their ears.
The president has an interest in utilizing burial sites and developing tourism. As do the opposition leaders. So it’s been decided. This entire zone — he waves his hand around the trees — will be off limits to both sides. Khatyn will be home to the Devil’s Workshop, a museum for Europe, for the world. And this partisan unit — he points to some of the bearded guys staggering around — will be neutral, and answer to no one but the Ministry of Tourism. Not bad, right? What do you say?
Arthur leans back and stretches his massive body, cracks his knuckles, folds his arms on his chest.
Excellent, Alex says finally. Smiling.
Let’s have a toast, then, Arthur says, rising to his feet. To the Devil’s Workshop!
We stand and drink. Alex gives Maruška a glass as well.
Arthur loosens his belt, lights a smoke.
We’ll remain neutral, whoever wins, the opposition or the president. One day this little civil war of ours will end. And the country will open up. With or without the president. We need to have something to offer the world. Something no one else has got.
Arthur steps behind me and throws his arm around my shoulder like we’re long-lost friends.
My Czech brother, he says, crushing my arm. Syabro! You’ve done a fine job! You captured the attention of the world. You turned — what is it called? He snaps his fingers at Maruška.
Terezín! she blurts out. In the middle of eating a plum. Nearly chokes. She puts down her plate.
You turned Terezín into a real cause célèbre. You had contributions from politicians, governments, arms dealers, pacifists, nationalists, Madonna, and all within a short time, eh?
Five months, Maruška peeps.
And how much was it? Arthur asks.
Maruška says a number that takes my breath away. I feel for the Spider. Still there. In my sock. I had nothing to do with the money. The board members and the eggheads from the Monument probably gobbled it up.
Brother — Arthur leans towards me, breathing in my face — you know how many tourists a year come to Belarus?
Three thousand five hundred and something, Maruška answers for me. I have no idea.
It’s high time that changed, Arthur says. Guess who had the most casualties during the war? We did! Guess who had the most people murdered under communism? We did. And guess who still has people disappearing, eh? We do! That’s the division of labour in the globalized world of today, dammit! Thailand: sex. Italy: paintings and seaside. Holland: clogs and cheese. Right? And Belarus? Horror trip, right? Don’t look so serious, for fuck’s sake! Arthur bellowed. You could tell he was used to giving orders.
Visit the Devil’s Workshop, the European monument to genocide! Arthur declared in a booming voice, pouring everyone another round of vodka.
Do we have the sea, the mountains, historic buildings? No, all our historic buildings were burned. So we’ll build a Jurassic Park of horror, a museum of totalitarianism. Belarus will get on the map thanks to our bags of bones, our bundles of blood and pus. Good, right? Catchy, right? What do you say?
I think Arthur would’ve been happier giving his speech from on top of the APC.
We drink a toast. And another. Arthur gets his breath back.
It’s a disgrace! he says, slamming his fist down on the table. They’ve got burial sites from the war in Western Europe. The concentration camps were all cleaned up ages ago. In Dachau you can eat off the floor. I know, I had experts look into it. Do you realise the cleaning ladies in Drancy — those black bitches — earn higher salaries than our teachers? Look at Auschwitz! Those whores the Poles, they know how to do it. A nice little hotel, bus ride from Krakow, tour of Auschwitz, lunch included: fifty-two euros, please. That’s how it works! And our burial sites? We’ve still got ravens pecking skulls, and the devil only knows who’s in those pits. It tears at a man’s soul. Arthur grips my elbow and I see tears have suddenly sprung to his eyes.
This is about the souls of our ancestors, he whispers.
I keep quiet.
Syabro, friend. Do you know what is written in The Song of Igor’s Campaign?
I still keep quiet.
Until the dead find peace, the living will live in shame.
Mm-hm.
Will you help us? Arthur cries, tears streaming down his face. He’s only talking to me now.
Sure! What else can I say?
All right, Arthur says. Give your contacts to Alex. You’ll be project secretary. Just like you worked for Terezín, now you’ll work for the Devil’s Workshop. Tomorrow you leave. He nods his chin at Alex.
Arthur lays a hand on Kagan’s shoulder.
There is one thing, though, that our president strongly insists on, Arthur says, using his free hand to wipe his tears with a napkin.
What’s that? Kagan says.
You and your people need to step aside for now. Just for now!
Kagan’s spine stiffens. He’s furious.
I will explain! Arthur roars. Where is that girl from the ministry? Christ!
Maruška hasn’t moved from the spot.
How many millions were killed? he snaps at her.
Under the communists? she says meekly.
No, the Germans.
In 1941 the population of Belarus was 9.5 million, in 1945 it was only 5.2, Maruška recites.
Of course, Arthur snaps his fingers impatiently. And how many of the dead were Jews?
Maruška reaches into her satchel, pulls out a file and leafs through it.
Roughly, dammit! Screw the details, Arthur barks.
About a third, Maruška says. According to Wikipedia!
There we have it. Arthur bangs his fist on the table. That’s an awful lot, you understand? Now he’s talking to all of us, not just Kagan.
A third of the Devil’s Workshop money should go to Jewish victims.
That’s an awful lot. The president is concerned that our people won’t allow it.
Kagan is silent. All of us are.
You saw what they’re like, Arthur says. There’s no way to contain them. Simple people. Devoted to the president. They’ve never eaten so well. They’re not anti-Semites, God forbid, but they really believe that stuff about poisoned rats. He shrugs.
Kagan squeezes his fingers, his knuckles crack.
You need to find a way to explain to your people, Arthur tells Kagan. The president is appointing you head of the Committee for Coordination with Jewish Groups on the Devil’s Workshop Project. Fixed salary. Are you in?
I didn’t care how Kagan answered. I just sat there listening to the crackling wood. A few other modest little fires blazed around us. The partisans crawled into sleeping bags laid on top of beds of pine needles. The one in the red cap brought us blankets. I threw one over my shoulders. Nobody objected.
I open my eyes and see Alex lying on a bed of needles. Maruška’s hair is under his elbow, as red as the coals I was staring at as I fell asleep, thinking of her. What did I expect, though? They had come to us together. But back then I didn’t know she had kids. I certainly do now. My road to Maruška was at an end.
OK. I get up and walk away. Past the fire pit with the glowing logs. I steal into the forest and head for the broken asphalt road.
How far from here to Minsk? I’d walked from Terezín to Prague. But back then it wasn’t freezing. And there were cars going by.
Suddenly I hear the hum of an engine. I dive into the snow behind a tree and see them. The commander driving, Kagan beside him, arm around his shoulders. Singing, laughing, passing a bottle back and forth. Couldn’t thumb them down, obviously.
I try to walk through the forest, but the trees are too thick here. I sit down on a trunk, apparently felled by a storm, pull off my boots, take out the Spider. It only takes three tries, with the help of some wet snow, to get it down my throat. Now it’s inside me. That’s what I wanted.
I don’t have to wait long. Red Cap is the first to spot me, sneaking around with his Kalashnikov. He sees me, gives a whistle. The next thing I know, Alex is on top of me, throwing a noose around my neck. And we start back.
You amaze me, Alex says. This is a chance for you to continue what you started with Lebo. Don’t you think he’d be happy?
I don’t know, I say. But yeah, I’m glad they found me. In spite of the rope around my neck. The forest here makes me sick.
Are you nuts, trying to run away?
What should I tell him? That I’m used to crawling through catacombs, but this forest makes me want to throw up? That, yes, I helped Lebo, and had a crush on Sara, and Maruška too, oh well, but I don’t give a damn about his plans? He wouldn’t understand.
Hey, guess what we’ve got? Alex says. Duschegubky. Soul eaters. This is where they tested out the gas vans. We found two, if you can believe it. Rusted out, but the whole system is intact. The locals kept chickens in them.
Are you serious?
Yeah! You had two villages razed in Czechoslovakia, right? Lidice and that other one — Maruška would know the name. But they torched nine thousand here, some of them people and all. That was the Ost Plan, extermination of the Slavs. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like working on that.
He’s dragging me behind him. Too fast. The noose cuts into my neck. He stops.
Know what? Alex says. Hand over the archive and you can go wherever you want.
I look around the woods. Shake my head. There’s nowhere for me to go.
Where is it?
I try to say in the hotel, but I can’t, because of the noose.
You didn’t leave it in the hotel, Alex says. I already looked. Did some tidying up, too. They didn’t do a very good job of cleaning before you came! Sorry ’bout that, syabro! We sometimes work in that room. I bet you’ve got it on you, haven’t you? If I make you strip naked, you’re going to catch cold.
I keep my mouth shut.
You swallowed it, didn’t you? Alex laughs. Of course, what else? Well, let’s go, c’mon. He jerks the rope.
Where to? I rasp.
Khatyn. You can give me it there.