Read Day for Free Online Page A

maybe didn’t expect this and so he snaps, ‘I can tell.’
    â€˜But didn’t they . . .’ Perhaps pushing his luck here, ‘I’d heard they . . .’
    Vasyl finished at last and faced him, fly rebuttoned, suddenly belligerent.
    Alfred continued all the same. ‘I heard they came back and dug him up, cremated him.’ The little, harmless knife still sleeping in Vasyl’s pocket, he was sure. ‘Is that wrong? I did think that they’d dug him up.’
    Vasyl stamped his foot, the dried earth under it sounding hollow. ‘I heard this. I know it. I don’t care.’ The crickets had stopped. Everything had stopped. ‘He was here for months before that. You know a body buried for months?’ He flickered a slow glare at Alfred. ‘I know bodies buried for months. They don’t get him all out. Some of him is left here. Enough for me.’ He spat.
    â€˜Well.’ Alfred pulled his side cap out of his pack, set it in the proper place: badge in centre of forehead, edge angled to one inch above right eyebrow. ‘I suppose I should make my contribution on behalf –’
    But he can’t finish, can’t begin, because there is a shout among the trees to their left, the sense is unclear, but there is running, drawing nearer.
    A chase.
    Alfred spinning, a stupid, huge fear jumping in him and nowhere to hide, but then here comes a young girl – ten, or so – laughing and running, enjoying the end of her day and brought up sharp when she breaks through the cover, sees men.
    â€˜It’s all right. Don’t worry.’ Alfred’s voice sounded violent to him, like a threat, and the girl’s mouth opened, but then only closed again. She was keeping a cloth full of something tight to her chest – perhaps valuables, perhaps food, something she’s gathered on the heath. Her dress is close on her body, pretty, unprotective.
    â€˜Allusgoot. Allusgoot. OK?’ You’ve seen it before – the way she won’t move and can’t understand you because she is terrified and no languages can reach her. You want Vasyl to help with this, but you can’t take your eyes from hers, because that may make her worse and it seems that she also wants to look at Vasyl, be sure of him, but she cannot and now the other runner appears: a woman of about forty and quite plump, happy to be a little cross with herself and surprised with the way she is out of breath and having this fun, this time away from anyone’s disapproval but her own. The joy falls from her in a step. She sees you. She halts and you know she would like to be closer to what is clearly her daughter, but isn’t sure if this will help – maybe she must be the distraction that lets the girl try to get away, maybe showing no love for her will be safer, maybe open affection will make you be unkind. She looks past you to Vasyl and something complicated happens in her face.
    â€˜It’s all right. Allusgoot. Goot.’ Easing forward and this scares them even more, which annoys you, although you know that isn’t right – is not the way you should be. ‘English. Goot. Vassmackenzeeheer.’ The mother’s hands are panicking round this square parcel she’s got and her lips are moving, trying to find what would work.
    And you can’t let someone’s mother be like that, not while the child has to watch, that’s the worst thing, and you say to the woman evenly and slowly, ‘Come on now, there’s a good wench – we’m pals, see?
Kine angst
.’
    But there is a quality in her attention that finally makes you glance over to Vasyl and feel the air kick round your head, because he is holding a Luger: dressed in his costume, his
Feldwebel
’s uniform, and levelling the gun at them, enjoying the way it is starting to make them look already dead.
    â€˜You fucking bastard. What the fuck are you doing? Vasyl! What the fuck