The Button War Page 8

  “You don’t have to be mean,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Makary. “I liked his questions.”

  “They were dumb,” said Jurek.

  “Then how come we never had answers?” said Raclaw.

  “Beaten for a button,” I said. “We should have protected him.”

  “Sure,” said Jurek, “you against the soldier’s gun.”

  I glared at him.

  Makary said, “What’s an Austrian soldier doing here, anyway?”

  “Friends with the Germans,” said Raclaw.

  Wojtex said, “German and Austrian, they both speak German, right? What’s the difference?”

  “Think their buttons are different?” said Makary.

  “Have to be,” said Jurek.

  After a moment, Raclaw said, “Guess Patryk won the contest.”

  “No, he didn’t,” said Jurek.

  “How come?” said Wojtex.

  Jurek said, “Because the contest was for all seven of us. With Drugi gone, it changes everything. We’re six now.”

  “Drugi isn’t gone,” I said.

  “Looks it.”

  “And maybe he did get a button,” I said.

  Jurek shook his head. “Not Drugi.”

  I was so upset, I shouted, “You don’t know! The contest is over. Anyway, it’s too risky. I won.”

  Jurek said, “Nope. Starts all over again. Rules. We have another day. Just us six.”

  “Not fair,” I said.

  Jurek said, “Does everyone agree with me?”

  There were some mumbles from the others.

  “Five against one,” said Jurek to me. “Contest goes for another day. Just us six,” he repeated.

  I shook my head and said, “We should stop.”

  The other boys looked to Jurek, as if he should decide.

  “See?” he said to me. “You didn’t win.” Then he added, “I’m going out to the forest. See what happened. Bet the rain put out the fire. Anyone want to come?”

  “I will,” said Raclaw.

  “Me too,” said Makary.

  “I need to go home,” said Wojtex. “My father gets worried.” He walked off.

  Furious, feeling bested, I hung back.

  “You coming, Patryk?” said Jurek, with his smile. He was taunting me.

  I knew one thing: if you’re beaten by Jurek, the worst thing you can do is show him that you care about being beaten. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll go.”

  When we got back to the main street, there were still a lot of German soldiers milling around.

  “They’re waiting,” said Jurek.

  “For what?” I said.

  “To see if they’re going after the Russians,” said Jurek. “Or maybe they’re waiting for the Russians to come after them.”

  “Think they will?” asked Raclaw.

  Jurek said, “It’s a war, isn’t it?”

  To Raclaw, I said, “See any Austrian soldiers?”

  Raclaw looked about. “Over there,” he said, pointing.

  There were two of them, their uniforms pale blue. They were young faced, standing a bit aside from the German troops. Both soldiers had packs on their backs, plus leather pouches on their belts. In their hands were rifles. They weren’t wearing spiked helmets but caps with black visors.

  “No buttons,” said Makary.

  “Yes, there are,” said Jurek. “On their caps.”

  Sure enough, when I looked again, I saw that their caps had three buttons on them. I had no idea why. I wondered if either of the Austrians was the one who had beat up Drugi.

  “Why they here?” I asked, hating them.

  “Told you,” said Raclaw. “Friends of the Germans.”

  “Some friends,” I said.

  “We going to the forest?” asked Jurek. Impatient, he started off without glancing back, which made me wonder why he wanted to go so much. In fact, the others boys and I looked at one another — as if to make sure we were all going — but then we went along.

  Telling myself that more than ever I had to protect my friends from this stupid button business, I thought, I have to be smarter.

  But I went.

  The day was already hot and hazy, the humidity thick, the smell of burn heavy in the air. We set out by crossing the old bridge. The rain had made the river water high, causing it to tumble and froth, as if doing somersaults. We moved along the road in an easterly direction. Jurek was in the lead, in a hurry for his own reasons.

  The roadbed wasn’t smooth but full of muddy wheel ruts. Footprints from heavy boots were everywhere, too. In the farm fields to either side of the road, no one was working.

  From time to time, I looked up at the western sky, half expecting to see an aeroplane. That brought that clatter-clatter sound into my thoughts. Don’t listen to it, I told myself. Keep your eyes on Jurek. He’s the dangerous one.

  The farther east we went, the stronger the smell of the fire. I began to realize that the haze in the air was smoke, with its sour, heavy stench.

  Raclaw said, “What if there are Russians in the forest?”

  “Nobody will hurt us,” Jurek assured us. As if he knew.

  “Hurt Drugi,” I said.

  “Drugi wasn’t smart,” Jurek said over his shoulder. “Deserved a swatting.”

  “You’re not supposed to say bad things about the dead,” said Makary.

  “He isn’t dead.”

  “Won’t be long.”

  Raclaw said, “Wish death, get death.”

  We kept on until we came upon a huge hole in the road. Another place where a cannon shell had hit.

  Raclaw studied it. “This isn’t the one we saw the day before.”

  “Much nearer to the village,” agreed Makary. He stared down the road. “Maybe the Russians are close. What if we see them?”

  Jurek said, “Run.”

  We laughed, but it was jumpy laughter.

  We stood around the hole for a while, looking into it as if it might tell us something. There was nothing except dirt, rocks, and a pool of muddy water at the bottom. Except for Jurek, I don’t think any of us wanted to go farther.

  “Come on,” said an impatient Jurek. “Do I have to make it a dare?”

  We skirted the hole and kept going. “Why would the Russians send cannon shot here?” asked Makary.

  Jurek said, “Maybe they thought the Germans were sitting around. Trying to hit them.”

  Raclaw said, “Wonder what it feels like to be hit by cannon shot.”

  Makary said “You wouldn’t have time to feel.”

  I said, “Ever think what it feels like to be dead?”

  No one answered.

  For a while, Makary took the lead. When he came to another crater in the road, he had no choice but to look into it. When he did, he gasped, made a cross over his chest, and whispered, “Dear God . . .”

  I saw two crows fly up.

  At the bottom of the hole lay two soldiers, one in a light-blue Austrian uniform and the other in the dark green of Germany.

  The two lay on their backs, mud-splattered heads thrown back, their mouths open, necks twisted. Streaks of blood oozed across the filthy brown water in which they lay up to their chests. A hand, or at least a three-finger claw, stuck out of the muck as if trying to grasp something. A bare toe also poked up. One of the soldiers had his eyes open, but he couldn’t be seeing anything because his eye sockets were empty. The crows had been pecking at them. The other soldier’s face — the Austrian — was covered with dried blood. His cap was still on.

  Raclaw turned around and threw up.

  The rest of us stood in horror-stricken silence.

  Jurek turned to me. “Remember the other night, when the Germans marched away? They left soldiers on guard.”

  I could do no more than nod.

  Makary said, “Think the Germans know what happened?” He looked back toward the village, as if wanting to be there. “I think we should tell them.”

  “Me too,” I said.


  Jurek said, “That cap is Austrian.”

  “So what?” said Raclaw.

  “Has buttons on it, right?” said Jurek. “Anyone dare me to get one?”

  “That’s disgusting,” I said.

  Jurek grinned, started to climb into the hole, and began to work his way down, slipping and sliding in the mud.

  “Don’t do it!” I shouted.

  “Dare, wasn’t it?” said Jurek as he continued down, working to avoid the water.

  We stood and watched. I was jealous of Jurek’s boldness.

  When he got close enough to the dead Austrian, he leaned over, reached out, plucked the cap off the soldier’s head, and then held it up in triumph. Then he grasped the cap with his left hand and with his right yanked hard on one of the buttons.

  I heard the thread snap.

  “Got it!” Jurek cried, and tossed the cap away. Muddy water seeped into it until it sank.

  Clutching his button in a fist, a grinning Jurek climbed out of the pit.

  I felt nauseous.

  Raclaw wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Stealing something from a dead man is a sin.”

  “You sound like Ulryk.”

  “Too bad,” said Raclaw, trying not to look into the hole. “Anyway, a hat is a stupid place for a button. Isn’t really a button. Doesn’t close anything.”

  “Let’s go back,” I said.

  Jurek rubbed the button with his fingers to make it brighter and then brought it nearer to his eyes. “Best ever,” he announced, and held it out for everyone to see.

  The button was about the same size as the others we had collected. This one bore the image of a bird with one head and on the bird’s head was a crown. Its wings were spread wide. So were its claws. Like the Russian button, one claw held some round thing. The other held a sword.

  “Looks like a cane,” said Jurek with a grin.

  It was a fine button.

  “I win,” Jurek said.

  “No, you don’t,” I objected, trying to think out some way to stop him. “You said it began all over again. Another day. A whole day. The rest of us still have a chance.”

  Jurek gestured to the dead soldiers. “Help yourself.”

  “You sank that hat,” I said. “On purpose.”

  “Too bad,” said Jurek. “I’m going to look at the forest.” He put his new button into his pocket, skirted the hole, and started forward.

  I called at him. “Not fair!”

  “Fine for me,” said Jurek.

  Makary said, “I’m going.” He followed Jurek. Then Raclaw went, too, leaving me alone.

  I stood there. Should I go or not? I asked myself. Why does Jurek want to get into the forest? What if he does something that gets Makary and Raclaw in trouble?

  Making an effort to avoid looking down into the hole, I trailed along even as I told myself it was a mistake.

  We didn’t have very far to go before we reached the edge of the forest. Or what had been the forest. Everything was black and gray. And silent. Only a few trees were standing, and those that were had almost no branches. Charred, jagged stumps, like broken fingers, poked up everywhere. Scorched tree limbs lay scattered on soggy ground. There were heaps of ash along with muddy puddles and shattered rocks with sharp edges. Here and there were large holes from which wisps of smoke or steam rose up, giving the air a rancid smell. In a few places, glowing embers lay embedded in the earth, like half-buried and sullen eyes.

  We stood and stared in disbelief.

  “It’s all gone,” I whispered, as if being loud would be wrong.

  “Not even a place to hide,” said Raclaw.

  “Not sure I want to go in there,” said Makary. “What if Russians are hiding?”

  “Where would they hide?” said Jurek. “We’d see them. Come on. It’s safe.”

  “I don’t think we should,” I said.

  Jurek said, “You never want to do anything. Always scared. Let’s go to the ruins.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my ancestor’s place, isn’t it?”

  Makary rolled his eyes.

  “How you going to find it?”

  “Don’t worry. I can. Come on.”

  Jurek started walking, and he did seem to know the way. After a moment, Makary and Raclaw followed. Wanting to prove Jurek wrong about me being scared, I went, too.

  The ground was so muddy, I sank into the damp earth as deep as my ankles. When I pulled my feet out, it made a soft sucking sound. It somehow reminded me of the sound my mother made when she kissed my forehead.

  We went on, no one speaking, just following Jurek. I kept looking around and up into the dull sky. I was not sure what I was looking for. Something living, maybe.

  When there was a sudden crash, we halted and peered around.

  “Tree crashing,” said Makary. But you couldn’t tell which tree had fallen because so many trees were down.

  “Think anyone is here?” whispered Raclaw.

  “Maybe,” said Jurek. He kept looking around as if in search of someone.

  “Wonder what happened to the animals, and birds,” I said.

  “Ran away,” said Jurek. “Means it’s just us.” He spread his arms wide. “I own the whole forest!” he yelled. The words hung in the air as if they had nowhere to go.

  Makary said, “You can have it.”

  “It’s already mine. Let’s go!”

  We went on.

  A little farther in, I noticed the burned carcass of a deer. It was bloated, black, and stiff. Its charred legs were as stiff as chair legs. “Look at that,” I said, pointing.

  Raclaw peered at it and made the sign of the cross.

  “Ulryk said animals have no souls,” said Makary.

  Raclaw shrugged. “Maybe they do.”

  “Hope so,” I said.

  We kept on, moving in single file, Jurek in the lead. “I see the ruins!” he cried, and pointed. It was as if there was but one ruin. To me, everything was a ruin.

  We stood in the midst of it. The green tinge on the stones was gone. They were black now. But the chimney was still standing.

  “Weird,” said Makary. “Everything else wrecked. But this part, which was already wrecked, is still here.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “the one dead thing is still alive.”

  “Maybe a wood witch protects it,” said Raclaw.

  “Think?” said Makary.

  Raclaw said, “I’ve read about them.”

  “Reading is school,” said Jurek. “There’s no more school. Throw away your glasses.”

  I looked around. I felt cold. “We could make a fire in the old chimney,” I suggested.

  Raclaw said, “How you going to light it?”

  I said, “I’ve seen embers.”

  Glad to do something, we gathered branches from the ground, a lot of them already half burned. We piled them in the chimney’s hearth.

  I said, “I’m going to look for fire. Anyone coming?”

  Raclaw went with me.

  After we had walked some distance, I stopped. Keeping my voice low, I said, “You ever think Jurek is crazy?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “He scares me. We shouldn’t do whatever he says. It’s the button business that got Drugi.”

  “I know.”

  “We need to quit.”

  Raclaw stopped and looked at me. “You haven’t.”

  “Want to keep Jurek from winning.”

  “He would be bad.”

  I noticed a curl of smoke rising from the ground. “Over there.”

  Raclaw found a branch with a pointy end. Using it, he poked at the earth. Just under the dirt, he found a glowing piece of wood. Even as we uncovered it, it flamed.

  “If Ulryk was here,” said Raclaw, “he’d say we found Hell.”

  “Maybe we did,” I said.

  I searched around until I found a slab of charred wood. Using it as a shovel, I dug up the ember.

  We carried the glowing bit back to
the old chimney and dumped it onto the pile of branches, then put more wood bits atop the smoldering ember. Makary, on his knees, blew on it. A fire soon blazed. The four of us sat before the flame, knees drawn up, facing the warmth. It felt alive.

  “Should have brought some food,” said Jurek.

  “Some of Wojtex’s sausages,” agreed Makary.

  “He’s a stupid, fat ox,” said Jurek.

  “Do you like anyone?” I asked.

  Jurek laughed. “Me.”

  No one spoke until Makary said, “Hope Drugi is all right.”

  I said, “Ulryk went to get the priest.”

  We stayed silent, staring at the flames. The sole sound was the snap and crackle of the burning wood. I was feeling jumpy, again wishing I hadn’t come.

  An owl hooted. We looked up and around.

  “Told you,” said Raclaw. “The place is haunted.”

  “See the owl anywhere?” asked Jurek.

  Makary shook his head.

  I said, “If it hoots two more times, I’m going home.” I hoped it would.

  We waited. No more hoots. Jurek cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a good imitation.

  We laughed. Uneasy laughter. Angry at myself for being weak, I wanted to leave more than ever. I said, “I think the owl is telling us to go.”

  Makary said, “Fire can’t hurt them. They’re magical.”

  “Magic isn’t real,” said Raclaw.

  From time to time, I looked up at the gray sky, and at the deadness around me. I kept telling myself to leave. I didn’t.

  Abruptly, Raclaw looked up, “People are coming.”

  We sprang to our feet. Next moment, we were surrounded by soldiers. All of them had rifles in their hands and the rifles were pointed at us.

  They were Russian soldiers, maybe a dozen. Among them, I recognized Commandant Dmitrov. The Russians were in their tan uniforms except one man. His uniform was a darker brown, and he stood a little aside.

  Dmitrov looked at us and then broke into a smile. “Ah, Master Jurek, I was wondering when you’d come.”

  Surprised, I turned to Jurek. He was grinning. It was obvious: the Russians had been expecting him.

  “And you other boys,” the commandant went on, “you’re from the village, aren’t you? Always on the pump, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Raclaw.