Page 102 of Cilka's Journey

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore, go out with you, without Pavel.”

“Don’t say that. Of course you’ll be back, you just have to get better.”

Cilka sighs. “I don’t think I can be the one who risks others’ lives.”

“Cilka Klein, mostly, you don’t tell others what to do, they risk their lives because youdon’task. That’s why they want to help you. Don’t you understand that?”

Cilka looks at Kirill, seeing him differently. The bravado he has shown her, even the contempt he has shown toward her, has gone.

He briefly touches her hand with his big hairy one. “Get better. I’ll come and check on you in a couple of days. And Cilka, Pavel wasn’t the only one who cared about you.”

Before Cilka can respond, Kirill walks away.

Cilka doesn’t keep her promise. Over the next ten days as she recovers, she is growled at, yelled at, threatened with being tied down. She is most active at night when staff numbers are low. Several times she attempts resuscitation on patients she hears having trouble breathing. Mostly she just visits other patients and comforts them.

Her injuries heal, her headaches reduce and the stitches are removed from her scalp. She hides the continued pain in her back, not wanting to prolong her stay on the ward, and asks Yelena to release her so she can go back to the hut. She shouldn’t be taking up one of these precious beds.

“You can go soon,” Yelena tells her.

A few days later, as Cilka and the medical team emerge from surgery—Cilka’s first since she has been back on her feet—the camp long since closed for the night, they are met by several senior camp officers. The officers inquire about the explosives expert and are relieved to hear he is doing well and will, after a few more days of care, be able to resume his duties. Cilka tries to slink away from the conversation, moving to the back of the group. As she tries to leave the room, one of the men calls out.

“Nurse, please stay where you are.”

Cilka freezes. She doesn’t know what she has done wrong but no good has ever come from being spoken to directly by a camp commandant. When the doctor has finished his report, the commandant walks over to Cilka. Tall, slim, the cap on his head resting off to the side, he resembles someone she once knew, someone who used her. She starts to shake as memories she fights hard to bury flood back.

“Are you the nurse who went into the mine and saved the injured men?”

Cilka can’t answer. He repeats the question.

“Yes,” she stammers. “I went in, but it was the doctors who saved the patients.”

“That’s not what I heard. Your bravery saved many men and I want you to know we are grateful.”

“Thank you, I was just doing my job.”

“What’s your name?”

“Cilka Klein, sir.”

“Are you a registered nurse here?”

Before Cilka can answer, Yelena butts in. “Cilka has been trained here by many senior doctors and other experienced nurses. Her skills are exceptional and we’re very grateful to have her.”

The commandant acknowledges the comments.

“Nevertheless, you are a prisoner here.”

“Yes,” Cilka murmurs, her head lowered.

“Do you live in the nurse’s quarters?”

“I live in Hut 29.”

The commandant turns to the doctor. “She may move into the nurse’s quarters.”

With that, he leaves, his entourage trailing behind him.

Cilka slides down the wall that had been holding her up, trembling.