Burying the Sun by Gloria Whelan Page A

anything but authorized vehicles. I would replace the worn parts and hold my breath while Sasha turned on the ignition.
    The German shelling increased. Signs went up along the prospekt that read: the sunny side of the street is the dangerous side. That was where most of the bombs fell. While the shelling went on, we all walked on the less dangerous side.
    The weather on the ice road was below zero, then ten, twenty, and one night forty degrees below zero. Still we drove on. Men were sent to establish posts every mile along the ice road to control the traffic andsee to the trucks that broke down. All along the route there were antiaircraft batteries fighting off the German planes that tried to pick off our trucks. There were only a few hours of light now, and the whole world seemed wrapped in darkness, but the darkness protected our trucks.
    The number of people escaping from Leningrad was increasing every day. It was said several hundred thousand had left the city. We were offered every kind of bribe—rubles, gold, vodka—to take passengers who had no proper papers. Many of the drivers took the bribes, but Sasha would not. “What good would the gold and vodka do me in the grave?” he said. The penalty was immediate execution, no questions asked.
    Very few tried to return to the city. Who would want to come into poor starving Leningrad? It was the last day of the year when I saw a woman climb onto the load of supplies in the truck ahead of us and find a protected spot for herself in the back. She was wrapped in a heavy coat, and her face was hidden bya cap pulled almost over her eyes. The rest of her face was covered to her nose with a scarf, but I had seen her covered in the same way a hundred times in Siberia, and I recognized the coat. It was Marya. I rushed toward the truck, but the truck took off and my cries were lost in the wind.
    Sasha yelled, “Are you coming or do I go without you?”
    â€œSasha,” I pleaded, climbing up beside him. “Can you catch up with that truck? My sister is in it!”
    â€œYour sister! How can she be so stupid? Only a fool would come back to a dying city.”
    â€œHurry. I don’t want to lose sight of her.”
    â€œIs she pretty?”
    â€œNever mind. She has a boyfriend who is a soldier and bigger than you.”
    â€œWhy should I hurry and risk the truck breaking down if I don’t have a chance?” Still, always happy for a challenge, he raced along as fast as the old truck could manage.
    Across the ice we went, my eyes never off Marya and Marya with no idea I knew she was there.
    The ice road was secure now, with several feet of ice, and we made the trip in the usual four hours. I jumped out of our truck and began running. All the while Sasha was calling after me, “Hey. We have to unload. Come back.”
    Before she knew what was happening, I was lifting Marya from her truck.
    â€œGeorgi! It’s a miracle. Where did you come from?”
    We both were so stuffed with coats and mittens that we could hardly get our arms around each other.
    â€œWhat are you doing back here?” I demanded.
    â€œI had to come back. The treasures from the museum are all safely tucked away underground. There was nothing more to be done. Every time I put a bit of bread in my mouth, I could not swallow it for thinking of how hungry you and Mama must be, andI’ve heard nothing from Andrei. I had to come back. Georgi, what are you doing here?”
    Sasha was shouting to me. “Listen, Marya,” I said. “Come with me to the warehouse. I have to unload our truck. Then we’ll go home and I’ll tell you everything.”
    We had had no way of writing to Marya, so there was much to tell. Mama was at an army hospital and Andrei was still somewhere at the front, I told her on the way home.
    â€œMama gone! I can’t believe it. Oh, Georgi, what a sad homecoming.”
    For Marya the walk through the city was terrible. She