Page 75 of Cilka's Journey

“He is one of the criminal trusties. He’s a powerful person in the camp, with a lot of very strong friends. They cornered me a few months back when I was leaving one night and threatened to kill me if I didn’t give them regular supplies of medicine.”

This may be where Hannah is getting them from now. Through the network.

“Why didn’t you—”

“Tell someone? Who? Who do you think is running this place? It’s not the guards, Cilka, they’re outnumbered. You should know that. It’s the trusties, and as long as the work is done here, the fighting and killing kept to a minimum, no one is going to challenge them.”

Cilka feels foolish to have been here so long and not have realized the extent of the trusties’ involvement in running the camp. But she supposes stumbling across such knowledge is partly luck in a place like this—it depends on where you are and what you canoverhear, find out. It is better not to be so close to power, to not know too much.

She is still incredulous about what this means for the patients—that quantity going missing. “I don’t believe that they can just walk in here and demand you hand over whatever they want.”

“Afraid so,” he sighs, leaning against a bench as the color slowly returns to his face. “They did it to my predecessor, and I’m just the next person for them to threaten and intimidate. And they will kill me, I have no doubt about that.”

“Then I’ll—”

“No, you won’t. You won’t say anything, you hear me? Not a word. Or it will be the last thing you say. They know I won’t say anything, and if something happens to that bastard who was just in here, they know it will have been you that talked and they’ll be waiting for you.”

Cilka won’t say anything, for now, but she does need to think about this.

“Promise me you won’t say anything—”

“There you are.” Raisa appears in the doorway. “I was wondering what was taking you so long.” She looks at the pale-faced doctor. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Cilka and the doctor chorus together.

“I’m sorry, Raisa, I shouldn’t have kept Cilka from her work. She was just helping me out.”

“You need to get some of the medication to the patients right away, Cilka; they’re asking for it.”

Cilka looks at the scrunched-up piece of paper in her hand; she had forgotten she was holding it. Straightening it out, she tries to read what she needs. She quickly locates the medications and hurries from the room, leaving Raisa looking at the doctor in disbelief.

As Cilka is handing medication to a patient Raisa steps up beside her, whispering, “Are you all right? Was he trying something on with you?”

“What? No, no, nothing like that. I’m fine.”

“All right, but you will tell me if there is something I should know?”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

As Raisa walks away, Cilka calls out, “Raisa, did you see a large, ugly man leaving the ward about five minutes ago?”

“I see nothing but large, ugly men leaving here all day, every day. Was it someone in particular?”

“No, not really. Thanks for your concern.”

At the end of her shift Cilka steps outside and looks to the sky. Clear, blue, the sun shining brightly. The white nights have returned.

“You,” is spoken gruffly behind her.

Cilka turns around. Six or seven large men stand behind her. They take one step closer in unison.

“Have a safe evening,” one of them says.

“I will,” she defiantly throws back at them.

“See you tomorrow, same time,” he says.

From behind the pack the large, ugly brute who’d held a knife to her throat only a few hours earlier steps forward. Out of his pocket he pulls the knife and tosses it from one hand to another.