“She seems so weak,” Tatiana said.

“She is weak.”

“How do you manage?” she asked in a low voice. “How do you manage to carry your weapon, to stand guard, to go and fight, to be strong for all of us?”

“I give you,” said Alexander, glancing at her, “what you need most from me.”

They trod mutely through the snow. Alexander got slower. Tatiana took the second rope from his hands. He did not protest.

“I’ll feel better knowing you two are out of Leningrad. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe,” he said. “Don’t you think it will be better?”

Tatiana didn’t reply. Better to eat, yes. Better for Dasha to eat, yes.

But not better for Alexander, not better for her. Not better to stop seeing him. She said none of these things. And then she heard his soft “I know.” And wanted to cry, but she knew crying was impossible. Her eyes exposed to the black frost, sore from the wind, half shut from the cold, were dry.

When they finally got to the barracks an hour later, the army truck was minutes away from leaving. Alexander carried Dasha inside the covered vehicle. There were six soldiers sitting on the floor, and a young woman holding a small infant sitting next to a man who looked barely alive. He looks much worse than Dasha, Tatiana thought, but when she looked at Dasha, she saw that her sister could not even sit up by herself. Every time Alexander sat her up Dasha would tilt to one side. Tatiana needed help getting inside the truck. She could not jump up or pull herself up by her arms. She needed someone to lift her. All the people inside the truck were oblivious to her, including Alexander, who was trying anxiously and solicitously to get Dasha to open her eyes. Someone from the outside shouted, “Go!” And the truck started slowly moving forward in the snow. “Shura!” Tatiana cried.

Alexander crawled across the floor of the truck, grabbing Tatiana’s arms and pulling her in.

“Did you forget about me?” she asked and saw Dasha’s open eyes watching them.

The door closed, and it became very dark, and in the dark, on her hands and knees, Tatiana made her way to Dasha.

In silence they drove toward Lake Ladoga.

Alexander sat on the floor next to his rifle. Dasha lay on the sawdust-covered floor with her head in his lap. Tatiana picked up her sister’s feet and slid under them, closer to Alexander. Dasha now lay nearly on top of them. Alexander had her head, Tatiana had her feet. Alexander leaned against the wall of the cabin, and Tatiana leaned against the wall of the truck. She picked up a piece of sawdust and put it in her mouth. It tasted like bread. She had another piece.

“Don’t eat that, Tania,” said Alexander. How could he see her? “It’s filthy.”

Time passed. In the occasional flicker of light, Tatiana would catch Alexander staring at her. Their eyes met and held until the light from the passing vehicle dimmed. Without saying a word, without touching each other, they sat on the floor and in every lit moment caught each other’s gaze.

Endless minutes passed.

“What time is it, do you know?” Tatiana asked quietly.

Alexander said, “Two in the morning. We’ll be there soon.”

Tatiana wanted to eat, and she wanted to stop being cold. She wanted her sister to get better, to get up. At the same time, leaving for Molotov seemed so final.

She waited for another light so she could catch Alexander’s eye for a second or two. Her eyes got used to the dark, and she could make out his silhouette, his head and hat, the shape of his arms that lay around Dasha to keep her warm. Tatiana squeezed Dasha’s legs, first softly, then harder. She shook Dasha’s legs, first softly, then harder. Dasha stirred a bit and coughed. Relieved, Tatiana closed her eyes, only to instantly open them again. She didn’t want to close her eyes. In a little while she would be across the Ladoga ice, away from him. If I reach out, I can almost touch him, she thought.

“Tania?” she heard his voice.

“Yes—Alexander?”

“What’s the name of the village your grandmother lives in?”

“Lazarevo.” She stretched out her hand to him. He stretched out his hand to her.

“Lazarevo.” Passing light. Alexander and Tatiana touched each other. Darkness again.

Alexander fell asleep. Dasha was asleep. All the people in the truck had their eyes closed, except for Tatiana, who could not take her eyes off Alexander’s sleeping form. Maybe I’m dead, she thought. Dead people can’t close their eyes. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. I’m dead. But she could not close her eyes. She watched him. Both his hands were on Dasha’s head.

“Alexander, why didn’t you buy yourself an ice cream, too?”

“I didn’t want one.”

“Then why are you looking so longingly at mine?”

“I’m not looking longingly at your ice cream.”

“No? Would you like a taste?”

“All right.” He bent and had a lick of her creamy ice cream.

“Isn’t it good?”

“So good, Tania.”

Finally the truck stopped. Alexander opened his eyes. The other people stirred. The woman with the baby got up first and whispered to her husband, “Leonid, come on, dear, time to get across, get up, darling.”

Alexander moved out from under Dasha, stood, and gave his arm to Tatiana. “Get up, Tatia,” he said softly. “It’s time.” He pulled her up. She swayed from weakness.

“Shura,” she said, “what am I going to do with Dasha in Kobona? She can’t walk. And I’m not you, I can’t carry her.”

“Don’t worry. There will be soldiers and doctors to help you. Look at that woman,” he whispered to her. “She carries her baby, but her husband can’t hold himself up, just like Dasha. She’ll manage. You’ll see. Come, I’ll help you down.”

Jumping down, he extended his arms to Tatiana, who could not have jumped down if she wanted to. Alexander lifted her and brought her down to stand in front of him. He did not let go.

“Go get Dasha, Shura,” Tatiana whispered.

“Come on! Let’s move it!” a sergeant shouted behind them. Alexander let go of Tatiana and grimly turned around. The sergeant quickly apologized to the captain.

Tatiana saw four other trucks with their lights on, shining down on the snow-covered field ahead. She realized that it wasn’t a field. It was Lake Ladoga. It was the Road of Life.

“Come on, come on, comrades! Walk down to the lake. There is a truck waiting there for you. Come on, the quicker you get inside, the quicker we can go. It’s thirty kilometers, a couple of hours on the ice, but there’s butter on the other side, and maybe even some cheese. Hurry!”

The woman with the baby was already walking down the hill with her husband limping beside her.

Dasha was in Alexander’s arms. “Stand her up, Shura,” said Tatiana. “Let’s get her to walk.”

He put Dasha down, but her legs buckled under her. “Come on, Dasha,” said Tatiana. “Walk with me. There’s butter on the other side, did you hear?”

Dasha groaned. “Where am I?” she whispered.

“You’re at the Road of Life. Now, come on. In just a little while we’re going to eat, and we’re going to be all right. A doctor will look at you.”

“Are you coming with us?” Dasha asked Alexander.

He supported her with his arm. “No, Dasha, I stay. My Zenith is just up ahead. But write to me as soon as you get to Molotov, and when I get furlough, I’ll come and see you.” Alexander said it without glancing at Tatiana, but Tatiana couldn’t hear it without glancing at Alexander.

Dasha moved a few meters by herself and then sank to the snow. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will,” said Tatiana. “Come on. Show him your life means something. Show him you can walk to the truck to save yourself. Come on, Dasha.” They lifted Dasha to her feet.

She walked another few meters and stopped. “No,” she whispered.

Holding Dasha up between them, Alexander and Tatiana walked down the slope to the lake, where the army truck was waiting.