“That’s easy for you to say.” Filip’s voice lacked its normal volume. “You don’t have this pounding headache.”
“Get some sleep, then. The rest of us have more important things to do than lay about in a hospital.” Dalek chuckled at Filip’s scowl, then left.
Nadia grabbed a rag and water and knelt to scrub the blood off. But now that the most important man in the army was inside the hospital car, her hands wanted to stop working. She managed to get the rag into the water, but her fingers shook so badly that she couldn’t wring it out. She took a deep breath. What was wrong with her? She tried again and decided an insufficient wringing would work. His uniform was filthy. What was a little extra water?
She cleaned off the worst of it. The wound was too wide and shallow to need stitches. It might scar, but then again, it might not. What if the man who’d shot him had held his rifle at a slightly different angle? What if the wind had blown with a slightly different force? The smallest change in circumstances might have left Filip dead.
Her hands started shaking worse than before.
“Nadia?” Filip’s eyes cracked open. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She’d treated hundreds of patients throughout the war, maybe thousands. So why this reaction, why now?
Filip took her trembling hands in his. Her hands were covered in blood—most of it Filip’s, though other patients had contributed to the buildup.
“When was the last time you slept or ate?”
“I don’t remember.”
Filip moved his head and winced. “Sit for a moment.”
She complied. There wasn’t a lot of room, so she sat very near to him. He kept hold of one hand, and though they sat in dirty straw in a crowded boxcar, the moment felt intimate, private.
“I’m glad you’re helping us.” Filip eyed her from partially closed lids. “But you still need to eat.”
“It’s hard to tell that to the next patient who needs help.” There were no other nurses to relieve her, and the orderly and the doctor were equally busy. “It’s supposed to calm down now that Omsk surrendered.”
“Did they surrender?”
“Didn’t you hear?” If news had reached the hospital, surely it had reached the men who fought. “Where were you?”
He closed his eyes again. “Guarding a bridge.”
The orderly caught Nadia’s attention and motioned to the broken glass. “Filip, I have to get to work.”
His eyes stayed closed, but his lips pulled into a frown. “Will you sit with me again when you finish?”
“Yes, as soon as I can.” She squeezed his hand and went to pick up the broken glass.
***
Dalek scribbled down the message being transmitted into the newly commandeered Omsk telegraph office. The legion had taken official control of Omsk just that day, after promising the inhabitants that they were there only to keep the peace and keep the rail line open.
“What is it?” another clerk asked.
“The Bolsheviks in Tatarsk want reinforcements.” Dalek looked at a map. Tatarsk was to the east of Omsk. So that meant the detachment of legionnaires approaching Omsk from the east was nearing Tatarsk and putting pressure on the Bolshevik garrison. The Reds still held much of the Urals, part of the northern rail line, and pieces of the track between Omsk and Irkutsk. If the legion could kick them out of Tatarsk, they would eliminate a pocket of opposition and allow two units of the legion to converge. “I need Lieutenant Kral. Immediately!”
The other clerk hesitated, but Dalek waved him on, and the man stood and rushed out.
“Hurry!” Dalek yelled at the man’s departing figure.
Dalek grabbed a sheet of paper and picked his words carefully as he studied the section of map from Omsk to Tatarsk.
Kral came back with the clerk. “This had better be important, Pokorný.”
“It is.” Dalek stood and pointed to the map. “I just received a message from the Bolsheviks in Tatarsk.” Dalek tapped the settlement’s location. “They want reinforcements from Omsk.”
“Good. Our brothers coming from Novonikolayevsk are making progress. And I’m currently planning our progress to meet them. So I’m not sure why you called me.”
“Because they don’t know we control Omsk.”
Kral thought for a few seconds, absorbing what it meant. “You can pretend to be the Bolsheviks who left yesterday?”
Dalek nodded.
“And if it blows up in your face?”
Dalek shrugged. “If they believe me when I tell them reinforcements are on the way, they postpone action, and our brothers have an edge. If not, no harm.”
Kral nodded. “Right, run with it. Tell them a battalion is on its way. But instead of a friendly face leading said battalion, it will be me. We’ll hit them from both sides and drive them off.”
Dalek sat at the desk and clicked out his response.
After a while, the telegraph line clicked again.