The forest clearing smelled sweet, even in the darkness. Ben shifted on one foot, felt for a tree branch by his hand. Behind his eyes, the epehdra and tea was fading into a hazy synaptic sunset.
The family had said their goodbyes five minutes ago. Karchenko, Ben, the doctor, and the Emperor leaned against their shovels, wiping off sweat as they finished burying the three servants.
Anastasia spoke. "I wish we could stay longer."
Tatiana. "We can't."
"I know, it's just..."
The rest of the family was silent. Ben carried them past the invisible thicket of branches that marked the edge of the forest clearing, to the truck and the wagon.
Ben made some noises about the need to put some distance between them and the town. "Those Reds might be looking for their comrades already, and come morning, they most assuredly will." The rest, tired from being woken in the middle of the night, agreed. Midway through the impromptu funeral, Ben remembered the Czechs had taken Chelyabinsk. As that was closer than Omsk, the family agreed to the new destination, but Ben could sense that they were suspicious of the change of plan. Still, the urgency over Alexei's condition smoothed things over. Privately, however, Ben was more worried about Marie, since she was still drifting in and out consciousness, delirious.
Karchenko took point on the wagon, with the truck following close behind, since neither the passengers nor the horses wanted to breathe truck exhaust for ten hours straight. Ben handed Karchenko a map of the region he'd bought off a White officer in Petropavlovsk. Beside him, Olga sat, holding a lantern and the map. Behind the two, the Emperor, Marie, and Anastasia squeezed themselves between barrels and sacks. Karchenko had loaded up two barrels of food--potatoes--and his private stash of gold and banknotes. He had wanted to leave a note behind for his 'friends', but Ben dissauded him at the last moment, fearing any note would help the Reds find them.
Ben drove the truck. He was the only one who knew how.
Three years ago, when he had first joined with his partners, hauling steel into their small arms workshop, the driving motions--one hand on the wheel, the other on the stick; one foot over the accelerator and brake, the other on the clutch--came to him like a fish being reintroduced to water. He didn't think any of it at the time, but after seeing a worker pitch their workshop's first truck forward and into the Pearl River when he should have put it in reverse, Ben began to wonder if he had prior, forgotten, knowledge of driving.
A noise. Ben couldn't place it. Then he looked over, and realized Tatiana, cuddled up against the passenger-side door, was snoring. Behind him, in the covered truck bed, Empress Alexandra and the doctor tended to Alexei's wound. The truck jostled over a bump, and Tatiana shifted in her seat. The snoring ended.
"Are we there?"
Ben shook his head, before realizing the darkness probably rendered non-verbal gestures futile. "No. We're still about a day away."
"If the truck doesn't stop, you mean."
"Right."
"If the Whites hold Chelyabinsk, and the Reds hold Yekaterinburg, we'll have to cross the front line, yes?"
"Yes."
A beat.
"That might be a risk."
"If that's what it takes," Ben said in lieu of his normal shrug.
"That's not what I meant." Tatiana shifted in her seat, leaned away.
"Then what did you mean?"
"What I mean is, why? Why are you risking your lives for us? Why are you doing this, really?"
"I-I thought we told you."
"Kolchak?"
"Yes." Ben gripped the steering wheel tightly, two eyes focused hard on the dark shape of the horse and wagon in front of him. They were driving without running lights, and Ben did not want to collide with them in the darkness.
"You said Kolchak had an army of kadets, octobrists, monarchists, and Czechs. Of those four groups, two hate us, one would not want to risk their countrymen for a foreign Emperor, and the final one needs the support of the other three to accomplish its goals. So you tell me, why would they send men to save us?"
Ben voice went weak. "Maybe we're working for a reward." He felt a curious sense of dread at the long trip stretching out in front of him. She's smarter than me, he realized.
Tatiana shook her head so vigorously Ben felt her hair brush his shoulder. "What they lack in men, they lack even more in funds. What's more, while the monarchists could sneak someone out to help us, they'd need the approval of everyone to write a check." She dropped her voice low. "So why are you here? And who sent you?"
A check? More like checkmate, Ben thought. He responded the only way he knew how. "I--I don't know."
"You don't know? How can a man not know why he would shoot a dozen other people?"
Beat.
Ben broke the silence. "Did those Reds know why they were going to shoot you?"
Her voice was low, skeptical. "What do you mean? Of course. They had orders."
Ben shook his head. "What I mean is, did they know why they had those orders? And what's more, did they know why they had to kill not only your father, but your mother and your brother, your sisters, the doctor, and yourself as well?"
Now it was Tatiana's turn to be silent. Ben broke it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned--"
"It's alright. It's just that we don't know each other, and the past year has taught me that if I don't know someone, more likely than not, they wish to bring harm upon me or my family."
Ben grimaced. He realized her words had a ring of truth. While he did not want to hurt them, Ben was under no illusions that his interest in them was mostly selfish.
