Crutch asked Anna that evening.
“What?” “You turned a pack of wolves into… I don’t know… something closer to what we used to be.” “I’m just doing what needs doing,” the woman said.
“No. You’re doing more than that. You’re giving people hope. And that’s dangerous.” “Why?” she asked.
“Because Melnikov won’t forgive it. He wanted you dead like a stray dog. Instead you became a symbol. He’ll come back. Count on it.”
And Melnikov did come back, on the ninth day, in the morning. But not alone. He brought five armed guards and a camp doctor in glasses. “Sanitary inspection,” the captain announced.
“The doctor will examine the sick.” The doctor entered the car, grimacing at the smell, and checked the men in quarantine. Then he turned to Melnikov. “Dysentery, but under control. Someone set up the quarantine properly.”
“That’s not the point. Is there a risk of an outbreak spreading if things continue as they are?” “Not immediately. But they need medicine,” the doctor said.
“Medicine? For prisoners? You’re joking, Doctor.” The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Captain, if this spreads to other cars, you’ll be the one answering for it.”
Melnikov went pale. That was an argument he could not ignore. An hour later, the guards brought in a bottle of potassium permanganate and a packet of activated charcoal.
Not much, but better than nothing. As Melnikov was leaving, he stopped beside Anna. “Don’t think you’ve won. This is just a delay.”
“I’ve still got twenty days,” he said. She looked him straight in the eye. “And I’ve got the rest of my life to remember your face, Captain.”
He hit her—hard, across the face. Anna fell, but she did not cry out and she did not look away. Men in the car shifted, but Crutch raised a hand. Not yet.
Melnikov left. Anna got up, wiped the blood from her split lip, and went back to the sick as if nothing had happened.
That same night, one of the recovered men, a thief nicknamed Doctor because he had once worked as a medic, spoke up for the whole car to hear: “Boys, this woman saved my life.”
“By our code, that means I owe her. Anybody lays a hand on her answers to me.” Then a second recovered man stood. Then a third.
By the end of the night, Anna had a personal guard of ten men. Melnikov had meant to break her. Instead he had made her stronger. Day ten.
The train stopped in the middle of the night, an unscheduled stop. Brakes screamed, men shouted outside, dogs barked. Everyone in the car woke instantly. In places like that, people slept lightly. Any change in rhythm could mean death.
“What’s happening out there?” someone whispered in the dark. “Quiet. Listen,” Crutch said, raising a hand. Outside came running feet, shouted orders, then a single gunshot.
Then two more. Silence. “Escape attempt,” Gray breathed. Half an hour later, the car door flew open.
Melnikov stood in the doorway, armed guards behind him with flashlights. His face was twisted with anger. “Inspection! Everybody stand! Anybody moves, we shoot!”
The soldiers rushed in and started searching. They overturned bunks, checked corners, looked for something—or someone. “Three escaped from car twelve,” Melnikov hissed.
“Politicals. Thought they were smart. Two are dead in the woods. One’s wounded and bleeding out. That’s their problem.”
“Your problem is this: I know they planned it with help from this car. Somebody here was supposed to go with them.” He walked up to Anna, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her to her feet.
“Captain, you’re mistaken,” Colonel Karelin said calmly. “No one in this car planned an escape.” “And how would you know that, Colonel?”
