Blonde braids crusted over with ice peeped out from under the tattered blue scarf that framed her pale face and tied under her chin. Her eyes had frozen open, and now she lay, alone on the cold ground, staring at them as the snow began to slowly cover her. The wagon moved on, unaware of such an insignificant loss.
Katya’s hand flew to her mouth and she bit down on her knuckles so hard she drew blood. Kolya folded her into his chest and turned her face away from the dead girl.
“Hush, now,” he murmured in her ear. “We can’t help her, but we can help Halya. Come, the line is moving again.”
Her legs, like tree stumps rooting her to the ground, slowed them, but Kolya pulled her along and they made their way around to the other side of the building. Katya didn’t see the girl again; she couldn’t make herself look back, but she didn’t have to. That image was branded forever into her memory, but in her mind, the girl’s face was Halya’s.
Inside the Torgsin, Katya’s stomach screamed out for the vast amounts of food on display. She pushed a fist into the hollow where her belly resided to quiet it. Bags of flour, packages of cheese, bins of vegetables, and cuts of meat lined the walls of the building. Katya salivated as the smell of food, of life, assaulted her.
The well-guarded Torgsin was filled to the brim with the foods they had been dreaming of for months. It held everything needed to survive, but their certificate would only allow them to buy a few things.
How could there be a whole store full of food right here, in the middle of this devastation? If it opened its doors and gave people food, it could save both this larger town and her small village of Sonyashnyky. But things didn’t work that way. The food remained locked away, untouched and unattainable for so many, like the grain bins and potatoes they had seen on the way to town. There was no question now that there was food available to eat. The state had just decided the villagers weren’t worthy of eating it.
Katya tried to be analytical and choose the best options, but her head swam with the possibilities. Kolya walked along with her, his eyes glittering as he licked his lips. His hands shook as Katya piled her choices into his arms: powdered milk for Halya, eight kilograms of wheat flour, one kilogram of sugar, four kilograms of rice, and ten of cans of sardines.
Outside, they stopped to tuck the food securely in bags hidden under their coats. When everything was situated, Kolya pulled out one of the tins of sardines. “We should eat this. We’ll need the strength to get back home.”
Katya nodded and stared, her lips twitching in anticipation of the salty fish. Her stomach growled and she pressed close to him, blocking anyone from seeing what they were doing.
Kolya thrust his knife into the tin and peeled back the top. The savory scent wafted up to them and saliva pooled in Katya’s mouth. With trembling hands, Kolya offered the can to her first. He swallowed hard and his eyes followed her movements as she thrust her fingers in and scooped a handful of the slippery fish into her mouth. She tried to chew slowly and savor each briny bite, but her desperate body took over and she gulped down the mouthful, then watched as he did the same. They took turns until the tin was empty, then used their fingers to wipe the sides. When every morsel was licked clean from their fingers, and Katya’s mind returned to her, she stepped back.
Kolya’s eyes met hers, and guilt racked her. The animalistic intimacy of the act they’d just shared shocked her. In that moment, nothing had mattered but eating. Now, heat flushed her cheeks as she recalled how she’d lost control. She tried to gather her thoughts, to speak, but as if he could see inside her head, Kolya gave a grim smile.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself there. We should get moving.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she mumbled, and they started back across town toward the road that would lead to their village. The snow had tapered off, but the wind still whistled around them. In the middle of town, a man stumbled out of a building, directly into their path. His clothes hung off his withered frame, and a cap sat low over his bearded face, but neither of those things could disguise the sunken cheeks and half-crazed eyes of a starving man.
“Prokyp?” Katya gasped.
Kolya growled and immediately put his hand out in front of Katya, blocking her path so she couldn’t walk any closer to the man who had first begun requisitioning their food. “Seem a little down on your luck, Prokyp,” Kolya said. “Isn’t the state taking care of you anymore? Or have they finally forsaken you, like they have the rest of us?”
Prokyp’s face contorted into a menacing sneer. “I didn’t need them to take care of me when I could take whatever I wanted from poor fools like you, Kolya.”