Courage

This story is by Dr. Bob Newport and was part of our 2024 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

 

Courage.

 

February 24, 2022, mail carrier, Heorhiy Taras ducked back into Madama Bondarenko’s Beauty salon when the air raid sirens sounded.

 

He had been in the process of delivering the morning papers to the salon. He usually did this on Mondays, but the paper had been delayed, as all business in Kiev had been disrupted, when the tanks had first rolled into the country.

 

“Damn! They’ve come here. Look at those headlines’ ladies. Didn’t I tell you so. They’re attacking us. Just like they did in Crimea.”

 

Then the first rockets hit, and the deafening explosions rattled more than the windows.

 

Madama Bondarenko shrieked and the three ladies under the driers followed with cries of their own. Harry looked at the frightened women. “Just like you dames. Collapsing in the face of danger. Putting you in the defense force! Volodymir, what a joke! “

 

Madam Bondarenko threw him a nasty look. “Heorhiy, I’d get up and smack you one, if you weren’t such a jerk.” The words were barely out of her mouth when the next rocket hit the building across the street. The blast threw a brick through the shop window and struck Harry on the back of the head. He went down, bleeding.

 

The smoke had not begun to clear when the shooting started in the street.

 

Harry got to his feet, dripping blood, blinding him. He headed for the door, but fell once again.

 

“Damn it to hell, I’ve got to finish my rounds,” he said to no one in particular. Mariya (Madama B) grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the back of the shop. “Keep your damn mouth shut, Heorhiy. You’re going to get us all killed. They’re shooting out there!”

 

It was dark in the shop; the lights having failed with the first rocket blast. The few patrons and Mariya’s helper, Yana Danko, were already hiding in the supply closet in the rear. Heorhiy began to struggle as she dragged him in with the other women. “Hold still, old man! Yana, tend to his wound afore he bleeds to death.”

 

“Yes, mam. Though he could bleed to death for all I care, fucking sexist pig!”

 

Mariya gave her a sharp look. Save your anger for the Russian pigs. Heorhiy’s as sexist as they come, but he’ll stand next to you on the front lines. He’s no coward.”

 

Yana did as she was told and soon Harry was able to come to himself and could see again.

 

“Sounds quiet out there. Do you know what’s happened?”

 

Yana just shrugged.

 

Mariya said, “There was shooting out in front, so we hid in here. I’ve got a peep hole in the wall, and I can’t see anything. I’ll go out front to…” but before she could finish her sentence, there were gunshots coming from the rear of the building.

 

Yana rushed to the back door, big mistake. She caught a bullet in her thigh and went down hard.

 

Everyone froze in place. Mariya, who had followed Yana, put a hand over her mouth. They all heard someone rattling the door handle.

 

Thank god, it’s locked went through everyone’s head at the same time. The door held. Whoever was there,  moved on.

 

Heorhiy gave a sigh of relief. “Let me help with Yana, Mariya. We need to make sure she won’t bleed to death.”

 

“Thanks, Heorhiy. Are you sure you can handle it, the blood and all? I want to see what’s happening on the street.

 

“Yeah, go ahead. We got training in field medicine. First aid is all it was, though. Maybe we can save you when you’re shot!”

 

Madama Bondarenko died checking out the street. A startled young Russian soldier shot her when she opened the front door to her shop. He ran off, frightened by what he had done. Heorhiy, hearing the shots, went to Mariya’s aid. She was dead. He ran back into the supply room. “We’re going to shelter here. There’s no safety out there. They’ve shot Mariya. Bastards.”

 

“Ladies, Let’s secure this place. Help me move these cabinets in front of the doors. Not you Yana. Your bleeding’s under control, but don’t move your leg for a while.”

 

Heorhiy and the two elderly women, in various states of terror and hair control, were able to brace the heavy supply cabinets against the doors and create a space where they could all huddle together for warmth.

 

Heorhiy had found a candle and put it on a soap box. He was lucky to get it lit, he had trouble holding the match with his cold fingers, and the shock was cascading throughout his body. February in Bucha, northern Ukraine, isn’t cold, it’s frigid, and they lost the heat when the power failed. They could only shelter here for a while; they would freeze if they couldn’t find heat.

 

The sounds of gunfire came and went throughout the long day.

 

Yana was in pain, but in no immediate danger. As evening drew near, the cold became more dangerous than the Russians.

 

“Heorhiy, as soon as it gets dark, we are going to leave here. There must be an aid station nearby, we’re right downtown for god’s sake.”

 

“No. We don’t leave here. Can’t you hear the shooting, They’ve shot Mariya. They’ll shoot us without batting an eye.”

 

“No, Heorhiy, not if they can’t see us, they won’t. We’ll freeze here.”

 

The other ladies signaled their agreement.

 

“Yana’s right, we’ve got to take care of ourselves and find our own help. My apartment is two blocks over. We can head for there.” This was offered by Sofiya Shevchuk, her purple-silver hair shining in the candlelight. Anna Lipka noted, “The subway is just a block away from Sofiya’s. We can check there first. That’s where we might find an aid station.”

 

Heorhiy snorted, “You are all willing to go out into the night, where you might get shot, or worse, just to get warm. I’m against it. I vote we stay here until someone comes for us. Your families know where you are, right?”

 

Yana, whimpering with pain, said, “This candle can’t keep us warm, and it wouldn’t last the night in any case. If anyone were going to rescue us, they’d have done it by now. Give it up Heorhiy, you’re afraid. We’re going. Come with us or not.” Yana’s determination was unshakeable. And she headed for the door.”

 

“You can’t move those cabinets by yourself, with that leg, Yana. Just sit back down and wait.” Heorhiy said.

 

“I’ll help you, Yana.” And both Sofiya and Anna got up.

 

Heorhiy, still frightened, got up with them.

 

“Okay, okay. I give up. Let’s do this.”