the
militsiia
with guns in the village. I was in town getting the children and a
militsioner
yelled into that big megaphone they carry and said we all have to stay in our homes today.” Then she remembered, “You’re not working? Are you all right?”
Zosia stood up too quickly and had to hold on to Marusia’s arm. “I’m a little groggy,” she said. “I’ve had a nap. Yurko is still asleep.”
“Thank God for that. He was so tired, poor boy. What do you have in your hand?”
“Oh, I got these a while ago,” Zosia said. She handed Marusia the iodine tablets. “Give one to the children and take one yourself. Iodine tablets. For protection. Give one to Yurko if he’s awake. Go on, I’ll just sit here a few minutes. Then I’ll come in.”
“Hurry up. The air is so bad. . . .” Marusia looked at Zosia with great concern before briefly touching the top of her head.
Zosia waited until Marusia was out of sight before she allowed herself to succumb to her nausea. I’m going to die, she thought calmly. She was kneeling on the grass, hugging her waist and concentrating on a bee that was hovering in mad semicircles near her head.
She closed her eyes, and her ears were full of the harsh sounds of birds squawking in the linden trees above her. Then she heard Myrrko the cat purr and felt it nuzzle her cheek. “My friend,” she said, hugging it close to her. The cat’s coarse tongue licked her hand. It pressed its claws into Zosia’s sleeves and did not leap out of her arms when she struggled several times to stand before finally regaining her balance. Once in the kitchen, the cat jumped to the floor, paused as though sniffing the air, and quickly darted out. “Looks like kitty isn’t hungry. That’s new,” Marusia said. She was heating a castiron pot of barley soup on the woodstove.
A FINE RAIN fell that evening, and Yurko slept hard. Zosia was disturbed in the night by the painful lowing of their cow. Marusia spent the night in the shed,where the cow was expected to birth her calf. “She cries with big round tears in her eyes,” Marusia reported to Zosia, who came out to see what the trouble was. “But she doesn’t want to give life.”
Z OSIA WAS MAKING a cup of instant chicory coffee early the next morning when she heard the cowbells ring again at her front door. This time a man in a blue uniform carrying a shotgun stood in the doorway. He was from the
militsiia
. “
Tovaryshko
, you know about the fire at the plant?”
Zosia pulled the collar of her robe closer to her chin. “Not much.” She heard her mother-in-law come into the hallway behind her.
“Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. But for your safety we will be evacuating the residents here. Be ready by five o’clock this afternoon. You’ll only be gone for a day or so. Three days at the most.”
Marusia peered behind Zosia’s shoulder. “Where are we going? I have a cow who is going to give birth any day now. She might have trouble. She did the last time.”
“Don’t worry,
Babo
. Just keep it away from the grass.”
“What does he mean?” Marusia asked Zosia.
“Radiation?” Zosia asked. She wanted someone official to say the word to her face.
“Just a touch. Couldn’t be helped. That’s normal when there’s a fire at the plant. Ask any engineer. It’ll pass. Did you get any potassium iodine tablets?”
Zosia perked up at the question. “No,” she lied. There were always shortages of such things, and she wanted to get all the medicine she could. Maybe she could sell the tablets in an emergency. Maybe Yurko would need more than his one tablet per day.
The
militsiia
took out the familiar crumpled waxed paper envelope from a pouch strung on his belt. “Here,
tovaryshko
. One a day.”
“My husband is ill. We’ll probably need more.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. Just grab a few things to take with you, stuff you would take for a weekend holiday, then come to the village center and we’ll put
militsiia
with guns in the village. I was in town getting the children and a
militsioner
yelled into that big megaphone they carry and said we all have to stay in our homes today.” Then she remembered, “You’re not working? Are you all right?”
Zosia stood up too quickly and had to hold on to Marusia’s arm. “I’m a little groggy,” she said. “I’ve had a nap. Yurko is still asleep.”
“Thank God for that. He was so tired, poor boy. What do you have in your hand?”
“Oh, I got these a while ago,” Zosia said. She handed Marusia the iodine tablets. “Give one to the children and take one yourself. Iodine tablets. For protection. Give one to Yurko if he’s awake. Go on, I’ll just sit here a few minutes. Then I’ll come in.”
“Hurry up. The air is so bad. . . .” Marusia looked at Zosia with great concern before briefly touching the top of her head.
Zosia waited until Marusia was out of sight before she allowed herself to succumb to her nausea. I’m going to die, she thought calmly. She was kneeling on the grass, hugging her waist and concentrating on a bee that was hovering in mad semicircles near her head.
She closed her eyes, and her ears were full of the harsh sounds of birds squawking in the linden trees above her. Then she heard Myrrko the cat purr and felt it nuzzle her cheek. “My friend,” she said, hugging it close to her. The cat’s coarse tongue licked her hand. It pressed its claws into Zosia’s sleeves and did not leap out of her arms when she struggled several times to stand before finally regaining her balance. Once in the kitchen, the cat jumped to the floor, paused as though sniffing the air, and quickly darted out. “Looks like kitty isn’t hungry. That’s new,” Marusia said. She was heating a castiron pot of barley soup on the woodstove.
A FINE RAIN fell that evening, and Yurko slept hard. Zosia was disturbed in the night by the painful lowing of their cow. Marusia spent the night in the shed,where the cow was expected to birth her calf. “She cries with big round tears in her eyes,” Marusia reported to Zosia, who came out to see what the trouble was. “But she doesn’t want to give life.”
Z OSIA WAS MAKING a cup of instant chicory coffee early the next morning when she heard the cowbells ring again at her front door. This time a man in a blue uniform carrying a shotgun stood in the doorway. He was from the
militsiia
. “
Tovaryshko
, you know about the fire at the plant?”
Zosia pulled the collar of her robe closer to her chin. “Not much.” She heard her mother-in-law come into the hallway behind her.
“Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. But for your safety we will be evacuating the residents here. Be ready by five o’clock this afternoon. You’ll only be gone for a day or so. Three days at the most.”
Marusia peered behind Zosia’s shoulder. “Where are we going? I have a cow who is going to give birth any day now. She might have trouble. She did the last time.”
“Don’t worry,
Babo
. Just keep it away from the grass.”
“What does he mean?” Marusia asked Zosia.
“Radiation?” Zosia asked. She wanted someone official to say the word to her face.
“Just a touch. Couldn’t be helped. That’s normal when there’s a fire at the plant. Ask any engineer. It’ll pass. Did you get any potassium iodine tablets?”
Zosia perked up at the question. “No,” she lied. There were always shortages of such things, and she wanted to get all the medicine she could. Maybe she could sell the tablets in an emergency. Maybe Yurko would need more than his one tablet per day.
The
militsiia
took out the familiar crumpled waxed paper envelope from a pouch strung on his belt. “Here,
tovaryshko
. One a day.”
“My husband is ill. We’ll probably need more.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it. Just grab a few things to take with you, stuff you would take for a weekend holiday, then come to the village center and we’ll put
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