The Utmost Effort

​

Snow was falling on the forest, covering the ground and leafless trees in deep white powder. Dense gray clouds filled the evening sky. Shouts were heard in the distance, nearing the serene setting. Suddenly, a man followed by a boy burst out of a snow covered shrub and ran away from where the shouts had come from. Moments later, a group of six men all armed with assault rifles and flashlights came, trailing the man and boy. One of the men in the group barked out orders in Russian to his fellow comrades. The group members shouted in agreement and began splitting up in an attempt to flank the man and boy.

​

The man and boy ran away from the group. They exited the forest and came upon a vast clearing with multiple tree stumps sticking out of the thick snow. They began to run across the opening. Three armed men came into the clearing and spotted the two running across it. All three of them opened fire on the man and boy. The man was shot in the center of his chest and collapsed by a tree stump, blood gushing out of his wound. The boy fell to his side and began to cry. The man whispered his final words into the boy’s ear and embraced him until his limbs fell limp and his face became motionless. The boy sat there for a moment, still embracing the dead body. The men stopped their barrage of bullets as the other three men entered the opening. They all began to close in on where the man had fell in the center of the space. The boy looked up and saw them closing in, tears still in his eyes, and sprinted across the opening to reach the other side of the forest. The men began to follow, but their leader ordered them to stop, letting the boy escape.

​

***

 

“Nick… Nick, wake up.”

​

Nick’s eyes fluttered open to see a blurry figure above him. The figure slowly took the form of his father. “Nick,” his father said, “wake up, Nick. Today’s the day. We’re getting out. Get ready.”

​

Nick got up from the iron plated bunk bed in the small wooden cabin. The room was mostly empty, except for a small basket in the corner and a table in the other corner with an old cracked glass and a rusty metal plate on it. On the wall there was a small window six feet from the floor. Nick was too small to see out of the window except for the sky and the top of the pine tree that sat outside of the cabin. He reached under the surface of the bed to grab his clothes for the day. He put on what looked to be an old, dirty potato sack and pants with holes spotting the surface. His shoes were old leather moccasins made of thin deer leather that had been ripped up and softened throughout the years.

​

Nick stepped outside of the cabin, closing the chipped wooden door behind him and followed his father into the stream of workers as they piled into the cafeteria. Nick’s father silently greeted some of the workers as they passed by, whispering something into their ears. All of the workers wore the same ragged clothing, barely warm enough to keep them from freezing in the Siberian winter. Once in the room, Nick and his father sat at the far table in the back. They were gradually joined by other workers, all of whom kept silent and waited for their breakfast to be served.

​

Once all of the workers were seated, a hush fell over the crowd as a man came through the door. The man was dressed in an olive green military suit with three stars decorating the spot just above his chest pocket. His knee-high black leather boots had a dull gleam to them. On his head was a large furry Ushanka decorated with a red star in the center. He marched to the front of the cafeteria and stood before the whole group. He began shouting orders in Russian, assigning tasks to each individual group for the day. “Group 1A, you are to chop down the forest in sector 53C and gather the wood for trade. The Premier appreciates your utmost effort.” A group of men on the left side of the room stood up together for a moment and then sat down again. “Group 2C, you are to work in the quarry in sector 24D and mine two tons of iron. The Premier appreciates your utmost effort.” Another group of men stood up and sat down.

​

The man continued listing every group for ten more minutes. He finally arrived at Nick and his father’s group. “Group 13R, you are to harvest the wheat fields in sector 53A. The Premier appreciates your utmost effort.” Their group stood up and sat down just like the others had.

​

The man exited the room and the food began to arrive. Onto the table came a small bowl of steaming porridge for each worker. The room filled with the noise of workers chatting with each other. Nick’s father began having a deep conversation with the worker next to him. Nick noticed the grave expression on the worker’s face as he listened to Nick’s father. The worker kept shaking his head worriedly as Nick’s father kept talking. Nick couldn’t make out what they were talking about, so he returned his attention to his food. Nick’s father and the worker quickly returned to eating their porridge as a guard carrying an assault rifle passed by the table.

​

The workers continued to eat for half an hour and then a bell rang, signaling them to begin their tasks. Nick’s father firmly grasped his hand as they reached the outside courtyard. Their group assembled outside and waited for the soldier escort and the transport truck to arrive to take them out to the fields. The fields were around twelve miles away from the encampment and the only way there was on a small damp dirt road through the dark forest. Their truck was followed by another carrying the lumber workers heading to the adjacent sector. Their truck pulled over to let the lumber workers pass by. As they passed, Nick caught a glimpse of one of the workers he had seen his father speaking to earlier in the morning. The worker looked at Nick and tipped his hat and then turned his head frontward.

​

Once Nick’s group had arrived at the fields, the workers immediately opened up a small beat-down shed and supplied themselves with tools. Nick and his father stayed close to each other, each grabbing their own tool. The workers entered the fields and began working as the soldiers stayed by the truck, watching from a distance.

​

Midday came along and heavy clouds gathered above. Little snowflakes began to fall down on the surface. The group had stopped their field duties for their short lunch break and they all sat down, their bodies dotting the field. Nick sat with his father and another worker. His father’s hands trembled as he brought the sandwich to his mouth. The two men began to converse quietly as to not alarm any of the soldiers.

“We must divert their attention,” Nick’s father said, referring to the soldiers standing up and looking out towards the wilderness next to the fields.

​

“It is too risky, the soldiers are on high alert today,” said the other man.

​

“I can’t stay here with my son.” He looked over at Nick. Love flashed in his bright blue eyes.

​

“Listen,” the other man said, “It’s a death trap. Where will you go once you reach the forest? We’re a hundred miles away from the nearest town.”

​

Nick’s father didn’t answer for a minute. He stared deeply into the churning gray clouds above as the snowfall grew heavier, contemplating what to do. “Son,” he looked over to Nick, “we need to leave now.”

​

Nick’s father got up from a crouch and took Nick’s hand. They began to crawl through the thick wheat field towards the edge of the forest. The other man tried to grab the shirt sleeve of Nick’s father but couldn’t hold on. Nick looked back at him as he sat in the snow, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

​

Once they reached the outskirts of the field, they got up from their crouched position and began running into the forest. Nick heard shouts from behind them. The soldiers had taken notice and they began to chase Nick and his father into the forest.

​

Gray clouds churned above as Nick and his father ran through the snow-covered forest. The shouts were growing closer as Nick stumbled through the deep snow. They entered another field. All of the trees had been chopped down, leaving only the stumps behind. In the distance, Nick could see another group of workers on lunch break. They sat and watched as the two ran across the field.

​

The pursuing soldiers arrived at the edge of the field and began to fire upon Nick and his father. As he ran, Nick heard the deafening crack of a bullet piercing the empty air and a heavy thump as his father fell to the ground by a tree stump. Nick took cover beside him, tears in his eyes. He had been shot directly in the chest and blood gushed out of the wound incessantly. He grabbed Nick’s hand with the last of his energy. “Son,” he said. “I love y–”

​

Nick ducked as bullets whizzed over his head. He looked back at his father to see his own reflection in his empty gray eyes, the life taken out of them. Nick got up and sprinted across the field to the neighboring forest, never to return again.

​