My conscience pecked at me. Should I have left Liliana and the kids? Would they punish them when they realized I was gone? I pushed my way up to the gate, armed by an American soldier.
“Please, I need to see Mr. Van Dorn. Is he here?”
“Do you have a U.S. passport?”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, we’re only allowing entrance to Americans.”
“But I really need to see Mr. Van Dorn. I need his help.”
“You need a doctor. You’re badly injured,” said the U.S. soldier.
A man next to me tugged at my arm. “Here, drink some water.”
I took a sip then poured the water on my hands to try to clean them.
The man eyed me. “Where have you been?” he asked.
“Jilava,” I whispered. “I need to go home.”
“My son has a bicycle. Radu, help this boy.”
“Salajan sector three,” I told the guy on the bike.
“Get on. I can take you.”
He pedaled as fast as he could, taking side streets, trying to avoid crowds. The morning chill was balmy and the smoke-smothered streets frothed with war. Bloodstained pavement, buildings pocked with bullet holes, burned portraits of Ceau?escu. A child’s bloody shoe lay orphaned beneath a spray-painted wall that said Jos Tiranul, down with tyranny.
As we passed wide avenues, street cleaning machines chugged along, hosing blood from the pavement. Removing evidence of our murderous regime.
A black Dacia appeared at the end of the road. The rider swerved the bike off the street and bounced up onto the sidewalk.
“Ow!” My ribs screamed.
“Can’t help it, man. You want to get home or what?”
“Where are they taking the wounded?” I asked the cyclist. “My friend was shot last night in University Square.”
“If he survived, they probably took him to Col?ea Hospital. If not, the morgue.”
If he survived.
“Have many died?”
“Too many to count. Vehicles plowed over crowds.”
It hurt too much to inquire further.
“You smell. Where have you been?” asked the driver.
“Jilava. There were lots of us. Including little kids.”
“People are looking for their children. They’re going to morgues and hospitals.”
“Spread the word they’re holding children on Aaron Florian. Tell them to check there,” I told him.
“Will do. Don’t give up. We just need the military on our side.”
We approached my street. Would Paddle Hands or the Secu be waiting for me? “I’m on a list,” I told him. “I don’t want to put you in danger. You can let me off here.”
The cyclist rolled to a stop and I climbed off the bike, wincing in pain.
“You don’t want to put me in danger?” He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all in danger.”
He pedaled off, disappearing into the smoke.
72
?APTEZECI ?I DOI
I walked, head down, toward Liliana’s building. The street milled with people. I turned to leave. I couldn’t be seen.
“Psst.”
A figure motioned to me from between two buildings. Starfish. I joined him in what appeared to be a makeshift command center.
“People are looking for you,” he said.
“They should’ve checked Jilava.”
Starfish whistled below his breath. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
“Not really.”
“Liliana was there too. They’re holding her and a bunch of kids at the detention place your cousin was at. I have to let her family know. And I have to find Luca.”
“Was Luca with you? His family is looking for him.”
Could I trust Starfish? I had no choice. “Luca was shot,” I whispered. “They arrested me, and I don’t know what happened to him. I have to check the hospitals.”
Starfish shook his head, taking a breath. “Your sister’s looking for you too.”
“I can’t go home. My mother will make me stay there. Help me, Starfish. Please.”
“Reporters are on watch. Don’t let them see you. I can get you into Liliana’s building through the back. Follow me.”
Starfish gave a whistle and a young man appeared from nowhere to take over his post. He worked his magic and got me into the building without being seen.
The electricity was off.
“Thanks, man. I don’t have anything to give you. But to get to Luca and Liliana, I’m gonna need Kents,” I told him.