As she got up, she wouldn’t raise her eyes at him. Turning his back to her, he crouched, and she climbed on. He carried her, his arms under her knees, his hands holding his rifle.

“I’m heavy,” she said into his back.

“You’re no heavier than my ruck,” he said, panting. “Just hang on. We’ll be there soon.”

Every once in a while his rifle bumped her broken leg, and Alexander would feel her constrict in pain, but she didn’t moan, didn’t cry out. At one point he felt her put her head down on his back. He hoped she was all right.

Under a black smoky sky, amid burning woods, Alexander carried Tatiana on his back six kilometers to the next station. The nearby shelling had stopped, but the sound of explosions and artillery guns carried on all around.

At the station Alexander set her down on the ground and sank down next to her. She sidled closer to him and closer still.

“Tired?” she asked him gently.

He nodded.

They waited. The station was full of other people—women with little babies, with their elderly parents, with all their belongings. Grimy and shell-shocked, they waited for the train. Alexander took out a piece of his remaining bread and split it with Tatiana.

“No, you have it,” she said. “You need it more than I do.”

“Did you eat anything yesterday?” Alexander asked her. “No, of course you didn’t.”

“I had a raw potato, some blueberries in the forest. And the chocolate you gave me.” The length of her body and leg pressed against his side. She leaned her head on his arm and closed her eyes.

Alexander put his arm around her. “You’re going to be all right,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You’ll see. Just a little longer, and you’re going to be fine. I promise.”

The train came. It was a cattle train, with no room to sit. “Do you want to wait, maybe?” he asked. “For a passenger train?”

“No,” she replied weakly. “I’m not feeling well. Best get to Leningrad soon. Let’s get on. I’ll stand on one leg.”

Alexander lifted her onto the platform first and then jumped up himself. The carriage was crowded with dozens of other people. They stood near the edge, where they could see the countryside through the open doors. For several hours they stood compressed against each other, Tatiana leaning on him, her head on his chest, and Alexander supporting her as best he could by her arms. He couldn’t hold her tightly around her ribs or on her back. At one point he felt her body start to drift down. “No, stay up, stay up,” he said to her, keeping her upright.

And she stayed up, her arms going around him.

The doors to the carriage were left open in case people wanted to jump off. The train moved past fields and dirt roads that were filled with Soviet farmers dragging their cows and pigs and goats behind them and refugees pulling carts filled with their earthly possessions. Ambulances tried to get through the same roads past the crowds of people; motorcyclists, too. Alexander watched Tatiana’s somber face.

“What are you thinking, Tatia?”

“Why are those silly people carrying their whole lives on their backs? If I were leaving, I wouldn’t take anything. Just myself.”

He smiled. “What about all your things? You have things, don’t you?”

“Yes. But I wouldn’t take any of them.”

“Not even my Bronze Horseman book? You should take that.”

She looked up, attempting a smile. “Maybe that. But either I’m leaving to save myself or I’m saddling myself, slowing myself down, making it easier for the enemy. Don’t you think we should ask ourselves what our purpose is? Are we leaving our home? Are we starting a new life? Or are we planning to continue the old one elsewhere?”

“Those are all good questions.”

“Yes.” Pensively, she stared out at the fields.

Alexander bent and rubbed his cheek against Tatiana’s shorn head, his hand pressing her to him a little tighter. He had only one thing left over from his former life; otherwise America did not exist, except in his memory.

“I wish I could have found my brother,” he heard her whisper.

“I know,” said Alexander with emotion. “I wish I could have found him for you.”

After a pained breath, Tatiana remained silent.

The train arrived at Warsaw Station in the early evening. They sat quietly on the bench overlooking the Obvodnoy Canal and waited for the Number 16 tram to take them to Grechesky Hospital near Tatiana’s house. The tram came. Alexander said, “You want to get on?”

“No,” she replied.

They sat.

The second tram came.

“This one?”

“No,” she replied.

The third came.

“No,” Tatiana said before he even asked, and put her head on his arm.

Four trams came and went—and still they sat, close to each other, not speaking, looking out on the canal.

“In just one more breath,” Tatiana said finally, “on the next tram, you are going to take me back to my old life.”

Alexander said nothing.

Uttering a small cry, Tatiana whispered, “What are we going to do?”

He didn’t reply.

“At Kirov that day,” she asked, “when we fought, did you… have a plan?”

He did want to get her out of Leningrad. She wasn’t safe in the city. “Not really.”

“I didn’t think so,” she said, her head against his arm.

Another tram came and went.

“Shura, what do I tell my family about Pasha?”

Tightening his lips, he touched her face. “Tell them you’re sorry. Tell them you did your absolute best.”

“Maybe, like me, he’s alive somewhere?”

“You’re not somewhere,” said Alexander. “You’re with me.”

Tatiana swallowed before she continued. “Yes, but until yesterday, I wasn’t. I was somewhere, too.” She looked at him hopefully. “Maybe?”

Alexander shook his head. “Oh, Tania.”

Tatiana looked away. “Did you have trouble finding me?”

“Not much.” He didn’t want to tell her how he had searched every meter of Luga for her.

“But how did you know to look for me in Luga?”

“I looked for you in Tolmachevo, too.”

“But how did you know to look for me at all?” Tatiana asked.

Alexander saw her looking at him with an expression of want and hope he couldn’t endure. “Listen…” he said. “It was Dasha who asked me to find you.”

“Oh?” Tatiana’s face fell. “Oh.” She moved away from him until no part of her body was touching his.

“Tatia…”

“Look, our tram is here,” she said, trying to get herself up. “Let’s go.”

Alexander took her arm. “Let me help.”

“I’m fine,” she said, and hopped once while still holding on to him, groaning in pain.

The tram doors opened. “Stop,” Alexander urged. “Let me help you, I said.”

“And I said I’m fine.”

“Stop,” he said more firmly. “Or I’m going to let go of you.”

“Then let go.”

With exasperation he sighed and went around to stand in front of her. “Stop hopping. Do your ribs like that? Hold on to me,” he said, “and I’ll carry you inside.”

When they were sitting down and on their way, Alexander asked, “Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset.”

After a moment he put his arm around her. Tatiana sat stolidly looking out the window.

In fifteen minutes of not talking they were at the hospital on Grechesky. Alexander carried her inside, where the nurses immediately found a bed for her, put her in a clean hospital gown, and instantly gave her something for the pain.

“Much better with the morphine?” He smiled. “The doctor will be here in just a minute. He’ll set your leg and put it in a cast; you’ll sleep. Meantime I’m going to go. I’ll tell your family you’re here, and then I’m going to go and retrieve my men.” He sighed. “I’m sure they’re still stuck in Luga.”

Tatiana leaned back against the pillows and said coolly, “Thank you for helping me.”

Alexander sat on the edge of the bed. Tatiana turned her head away. He placed two fingers under her chin and turned her face back to him. There were tears in her eyes. “Tatia?” he said. “Why are you upset? Had Dasha not come to me, I never would have gone and found you.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but this is how it’s supposed to be. You’re home, you’re all right.” He caressed her cheek. “You’re just going through too much right now, too much is broken…”