the main house.
“What are you doing here? Dressed like that?” Tanoff demanded.
“I left my car on the road. I was coming tonight because I didn’t think I would make it tomorrow. What’s happened?” She rubbed her arms and tried to stop her teeth from chattering, avoiding his skeptical stare.
“We can’t find Dmitri and Lana. They were so excited to see the snow, so I’m worried they could be out here. Go get a coat on and help us search. There’s an electric lantern in the kitchen.”
She couldn’t imagine how the kids got out of the locked-up house even to play in the snow. But if they had, they needed to be found quickly. And, shit, she needed to be the one to check the barn. Her heart beat fast, and she tried to tamp down the fear she felt for the tiny children. Who could survive in this? She and Malone almost hadn’t. She shivered at the thought.
She wrapped herself in one of Tanoff’s coats and grabbed the portable light from the pantry. Running outside, she found Brigda searching the woodpile that extended from the house to the chicken coop. “Have you checked the barn?” she asked.
“Da. First look,” she said, for once not pulling a face at the prospect of talking to Abby.
Thank God.
“Where do you want me to look?” she asked, wondering how far they’d gotten before she’d arrived. “Where do you want me?” she said louder, and faster, anxious to be given a task to help find them.
Tanoff came into view, and before Brigda could answer, he shouted, “Check the meadow.”
She took one long look at the barn, hoping Malone would manage to stay warm, and ran down the pathway that she’d taken that very day to check the sensors. Her heart clenched at the idea that she might find them in the snow. There was no way they could dress themselves warmly enough to bear being out in this weather.
She halted in her tracks. There were no footprints anywhere between her and the meadow. She wondered if they’d gone missing before or after the blizzard. Or even if the blizzard had reached the farm.
She continued kicking herself for not asking before. She ran down to the field, which, although hidden by the topography from the main house, existed on a slope. She couldn’t see any footprints, any—she gulped—child-shaped lumps in the snow. Just an even spreading of whiteness as far as the eye could see. She held up her lantern one last time and hoped that if there were in fact Russians gathering on the border, they wouldn’t see her.
A shout came from behind her. It sounded triumphant. She ran back.
“All is good, all is good,” Tanoff said, over and over. As she rounded the corner, she saw the two children in his arms as he rushed to the kitchen door. She ran to catch up.
“What happened? Are they all right?” she asked.
“Da. I think,” Tanoff said. “In the chicken house. Making sure the chickens were warm.”
Relief flooded through her. “Oh my God.” She sank into one of the chairs around the kitchen table as Brigda opened the furnace door on her farmhouse oven. She stoked the ashes and added more wood. “Here. Help me,” she said, holding blankets she’d taken out of the top oven. They were blissfully warm.
Abby grabbed the blankets and wrapped them around Lana while Tanoff did the same to Dmitri. She sat Lana on her knees in front of the open fire and rubbed the small of her back. A lot of blood rushed through veins that were close to the skin there. It was a good place to warm her up.
Tanoff watched her and did the same with Dmitri. Both children were awake but sleepy in a way that indicated the onset of hypothermia.
“It seems they had gone to check on the chickens and then were too cold to come back. The chicken house was a little warmer than outside, though, so I hope no danger to them,” he said, his English getting worse under the tension of losing the kids.
“They’ll be fine now,” she reassured him.
Brigda was making warm milk for them to drink and was
“What are you doing here? Dressed like that?” Tanoff demanded.
“I left my car on the road. I was coming tonight because I didn’t think I would make it tomorrow. What’s happened?” She rubbed her arms and tried to stop her teeth from chattering, avoiding his skeptical stare.
“We can’t find Dmitri and Lana. They were so excited to see the snow, so I’m worried they could be out here. Go get a coat on and help us search. There’s an electric lantern in the kitchen.”
She couldn’t imagine how the kids got out of the locked-up house even to play in the snow. But if they had, they needed to be found quickly. And, shit, she needed to be the one to check the barn. Her heart beat fast, and she tried to tamp down the fear she felt for the tiny children. Who could survive in this? She and Malone almost hadn’t. She shivered at the thought.
She wrapped herself in one of Tanoff’s coats and grabbed the portable light from the pantry. Running outside, she found Brigda searching the woodpile that extended from the house to the chicken coop. “Have you checked the barn?” she asked.
“Da. First look,” she said, for once not pulling a face at the prospect of talking to Abby.
Thank God.
“Where do you want me to look?” she asked, wondering how far they’d gotten before she’d arrived. “Where do you want me?” she said louder, and faster, anxious to be given a task to help find them.
Tanoff came into view, and before Brigda could answer, he shouted, “Check the meadow.”
She took one long look at the barn, hoping Malone would manage to stay warm, and ran down the pathway that she’d taken that very day to check the sensors. Her heart clenched at the idea that she might find them in the snow. There was no way they could dress themselves warmly enough to bear being out in this weather.
She halted in her tracks. There were no footprints anywhere between her and the meadow. She wondered if they’d gone missing before or after the blizzard. Or even if the blizzard had reached the farm.
She continued kicking herself for not asking before. She ran down to the field, which, although hidden by the topography from the main house, existed on a slope. She couldn’t see any footprints, any—she gulped—child-shaped lumps in the snow. Just an even spreading of whiteness as far as the eye could see. She held up her lantern one last time and hoped that if there were in fact Russians gathering on the border, they wouldn’t see her.
A shout came from behind her. It sounded triumphant. She ran back.
“All is good, all is good,” Tanoff said, over and over. As she rounded the corner, she saw the two children in his arms as he rushed to the kitchen door. She ran to catch up.
“What happened? Are they all right?” she asked.
“Da. I think,” Tanoff said. “In the chicken house. Making sure the chickens were warm.”
Relief flooded through her. “Oh my God.” She sank into one of the chairs around the kitchen table as Brigda opened the furnace door on her farmhouse oven. She stoked the ashes and added more wood. “Here. Help me,” she said, holding blankets she’d taken out of the top oven. They were blissfully warm.
Abby grabbed the blankets and wrapped them around Lana while Tanoff did the same to Dmitri. She sat Lana on her knees in front of the open fire and rubbed the small of her back. A lot of blood rushed through veins that were close to the skin there. It was a good place to warm her up.
Tanoff watched her and did the same with Dmitri. Both children were awake but sleepy in a way that indicated the onset of hypothermia.
“It seems they had gone to check on the chickens and then were too cold to come back. The chicken house was a little warmer than outside, though, so I hope no danger to them,” he said, his English getting worse under the tension of losing the kids.
“They’ll be fine now,” she reassured him.
Brigda was making warm milk for them to drink and was
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