Underground by Antanas Sileika Page B

them.”
    â€œOh, come on, don’t turn on me like that. You knew me back in school. You knew what I was like then. But let’s face it—I’m useless as a partisan. I wasn’t meant for this kind of life. It’ll kill me in the long run.”
    â€œIf they don’t kill you first.”
    â€œI never realized you were such a hard-liner.”
    â€œI’m not. I’m just cornered. I know I have to fight because I have no other choice.”
    â€œYou do have a choice, and so do I. Why should our generation be sentenced to death? What did we do? We need to find some way to live, some way to go on.”
    â€œTaking amnesty won’t do it.”
    â€œMaybe not for you, but what about me? Would you hold it against me?”
    â€œEach of us has to do what he must.”
    â€œBut will you tell Flint about my plans?”
    â€œWhat you just told me isn’t a plan, it’s an idea. And I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
    Ignacas nodded, seemed about to speak again, but decided against it and turned to waddle away. He was no longer a fat man, but he still carried himself as if he were. No matter how much he gave in to them, the Reds would find he stank of “bourgeois.”
    Elena made her way past a small group of older partisans by a smokeless fire where Flint was speaking with the leaders of the other bands. They fell silent as she passed. Farther on, a trio of young men sprawled on the grass, two cleaning their rifles and a third writing a letter. They tried to engage her in banter, but she did not have time to talk. She was looking for the latest newspaper and sought out Lukas among his newspapers laid out on the grass.
    Absorbed with his work, Lukas did not look up from the press he had been cleaning. He had his sleeves rolled up and wore an apron to protect his clothes from the ink. Sensing someone nearby, he began to speak without glancing up. “I didn’t have enough alcohol to thin the ink properly. It’s still sticky, and I’m hoping the sun will dry it out. It would be a waste to let the newspapers smudge after all this work.”
    Lukas’s hair was long, curling over his ears. Like the other partisans, he was a little feral, but he wasn’t coarse. He looked swift and comfortable, though there was trouble on his face. When he finally did look up at her, the trouble evaporated and his beautiful mouth broke into a smile.
    â€œIt’s you,” he said.
    They had not seen each other since early spring, just before the seizure of the town of Merkine.
    â€œI was afraid you might not come anymore,” said Lukas, “after you lost your brother. I’m very sorry about that, but I’m glad to see you here. I lost my brother that day too.”
    â€œYou did?”
    â€œYes.”
    She had hardened her heart to help get over the loss. She had thought she could get on with things now, but when she heard of Lukas’s loss it reminded her of her own and she could barely speak. Lukas sensed her feelings and came forward and took her hands in his. She looked down, surprised yet gratified, and saw that the ink of his hands had smudged onto hers.
    â€œMy brother’s real name was Tomas,” she said finally, squeezing his hands before letting them go. “I didn’t like his code name—it made him sound slippery and cold. He wasn’t like that at all, at least when we were younger. After he went into the forest, he changed and started to become taciturn. I think he was killing his old self in a way because he was afraid of being soft. I never had a chance to see him much in the winter because it was so hard to get around. And then the next thing I knew, I received word that he was dead. Now I wish I’d tried harder to see him.”
    â€œHow could you have known? None of us knows when our time is coming.”
    â€œNo. You say you were with him on the final