Braco (12 page)

“Good guys or bad guys today?” Maarten asked from behind.

Jac shook his head. They walked to the far side of the crowd where the carriers sat blocking the road to the southwest. When they reached the other side of the blockade, they stood and stared at the Jaglici road.

“The Serbs are transporting troops from Srebrenica now,” the officer on duty told them, motioning at an approaching truck. “They drop them here and go back for more.”

“Are they going north after the men?”

“Not that I've seen,” the officer said, shaking his head. “To tell you the truth, I don't think they know where the men are gone. The soldiers are all going into the crowd.”

Jac nodded, staring at the road.

“There are still refugees coming south.” The officer leaned close to Jac. “I haven't seen any with crush injuries.”

Jac nodded again. “Thanks.”

The Serb truck stopped, dropped off eight soldiers and then turned around.

“Anything you need, Sir?” Jac asked.

“No. Just keep an eye on those guys as best you can.”

Jac and Maarten followed the soldiers into the crowd but lost track of them when Maarten stopped to help a woman. She was lying alone on the pavement, her skin flushed, her breathing rapid. He felt her head.

“Heatstroke,” he said. “We have to get her to the doctor.”

He and Jac carried the woman to the medical tent, leaving her outside in the shade with a bottle of water.

A single gunshot rang out near the zinc factory. A peacekeeper close to the building drew their attention to a Serb in a dark uniform. Jac and Maarten shadowed the Serb, watching from a distance as the soldier harassed the refugees. Then the Serb stopped.

They slowed as the soldier spoke to someone next to a wrecked bus. Two women stood up, arguing with him.

“Oh my God,” he said, waving Maarten over. “I know that woman.”

Jac made his way towards the bus, watching where his feet landed. When he got there, the soldier had pushed the women aside and was leaning under the bus. A boy yelled. Jac approached the Serb from behind.

“What's going on here?”

The Serb dropped the boy's foot, straightened up, and turned around. He glared at Jac.

“None of your business, Blue Helmet.”

Jac bent down to look. Atif remained under the bus, his arm wrapped around the rusted driveshaft and his face drained of blood.

“I know this boy,” Jac said. “He's fourteen. He's not a war criminal or a soldier. He helped me translate sometimes. Nothing more.”

The Serb stepped closer to Jac. His breath stank of cigarettes.

“Listen, Blue Helmet. This isn't your problem anymore. Never was. You come here then you go home. We live here. This is our problem.”

“That boy isn't a problem.”

“Perhaps not now,” the Serb replied, “but in a year or two. We have to keep their numbers down. They breed like rabbits you know. They're here now. In a few years, they'll be in your country. Then you will see. We learned at Kosovo and now we have a solution to this problem.”

“The boy isn't a problem.”

The Serb glanced at Maarten and then smiled at Jac, exposing rotten teeth.

“Fine. He's your problem. One boy will not make a difference. We will still get our revenge for Kosovo.” The Serb pulled an armour piercing rifle round from his pouch and held it up. He tapped Jac's flak jacket with it. “That will not protect you, Blue Helmet.”

Jac stared at the Serb, his lips tight. The soldier slid the round into one of Jac's chest pockets.

“Keep it. As a souvenir.”

He walked away, laughing. Jac resumed breathing.

“Christ, Jac,” Maarten said. “What part of don't provoke them didn't you understand?” He scratched his head. “Or was it the part about not cooperating that confused you?”

Jac turned away, knelt down, and extended his arm under the bus. Atif grabbed his hand and he helped the boy climb out.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,
Korporaal
Jac.”

Atif's mother crouched next to Jac and hugged him.

He pointed at the bandage on Atif's temple. “What happened?”

“He was too close to a shell.”

Jac glanced around, looking for Atif's little sister. Tihana was sitting between the twins.

“They're all okay?”

“Yeah, they are, but some of his friends were killed.”

“What?” Jac felt queasy. “The boys?”

“Yes. Little Dani too.”

Jac bit his lip hard. He turned to Atif. The boy's eyes were lowered.

“Sorry to hear that, little brother.”

Atif shrugged. Jac pulled a half-melted chocolate bar from his pocket and gave it to him.

“I think this is the last scrap of chocolate on the whole base,” he said. Atif gave Jac a brief smile. “Go ahead. Share it with them before it melts. I want to talk to your mother for a minute.”

“About what,
Korporaal
Jac?”

“Nothing important. Just stay down so the soldiers can't see you.”

Atif pushed himself back against the bus. Maarten crouched down to speak with Atif and the girls. Jac stood and led Atif's mother a few steps away.

“Marija,” Jac began, not sure how to broach the subject. “I was just wondering.” He took a quick breath. “Why is Atif still here?”

“What do you mean?”

“The men are walking through the woods. Why didn't he go with them?”

“I couldn't let him,” she said. Her eyes darted between the pockets on his shirt. “He would be alone. Besides, he's only fourteen. I have documents to prove that.”

Jac placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I don't pretend to understand half of what is going on around me right now. In fact, I'm having a hard time trying to swallow a lot of what I'm seeing with my own eyes, but do you honestly think they're going to stop to look at his papers?”

“I don't know anymore,” she said; her eyes still hadn't met his.

“Okay,” Jac said, pausing to haul in a deeper breath. “Let me put it to you from my point of view. The Serbs are taking men away. I've seen them put old men on a truck and throw all their identification away. Some of these men were far too old to be soldiers. One of my translators told me the Serbs have been ordered to keep any male that is taller than a man's belt from boarding the buses.”

Marija's eyes glistened.

“I don't know for sure,” Jac said, “but I'm willing to bet those gunshots behind the factory are executions. I can't get close enough right now to see and, frankly, I'm not sure what I can do about it even if they are shooting the men. I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is tell you what I've seen.”

“But it's too late,” she said, her voice shaking. “The men have left.”

“No, no, no. It's not too late. When I left Jaglici late yesterday, the men were just starting to gather. Marija, there were thousands of them. Soldiers. Civilians. Boys. Even some women. They probably didn't leave until late last night and they would be moving very slow. Atif is strong. He can catch up to them easily, but not if he waits much longer.”

A tear ran down her cheek.

“But if you help, we could get him on a bus.”

Jac looked from left to right before he answered.

“That's possible. But we won't have much control once the buses leave here. Even if we can get one soldier on every bus that leaves, the Serbs could still stop and search them on the way. I doubt a single peacekeeper is going to have much say about what the Serbs do or don't do.”

“You think I should send him after the men?”

“I don't know. I just know that his options are limited. You've seen what can happen if he stays. It may take two or three days for the buses to get you all out of here. Do you think you can keep the soldiers from taking him for that long?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Can you get him inside the compound? He would be safe in there with you.”

Maarten appeared next to Marija.

“To tell you the truth,” he said. “I don't think anyone on the base is any better off. Even the civilian employees are afraid and they all have UN identification.”

Marija finally raised her eyes; they had a plea in them.

“I think Jac is right,” Maarten said. “Given what I've seen.”

“Atif is a smart boy,” Jac said. “He'll be okay. He told me he used to hunt in those hills with his father.”

Marija nodded.

“He knows the area. The men will have crossed the minefields and marked them. In fact, I'm guessing the minefields have slowed them down a lot. Some of them are probably still trying to cross just north of Susnjari. It's still early in the afternoon. I think Atif could be there in less than two hours.”

“The road to Susnjari is clear right now,” Maarten said. “The lieutenant on duty down there said the Serbs were coming up from Srebrenica, but none of them were turning onto the road going north. From what they've told us, I don't think the Serbs know where the men have gone. At least not yet.”

“We can give him some food and Maarten's spare boots,” Jac said. “It'll be enough for two or three days.”

Marija's eyes moved between the peacekeepers. The fingers of one hand covered her mouth and she swiped a tear away with the other.

The hand dropped from her lips. “I don't have a choice, do I?”

Jac hesitated, the full impact of what he was doing suddenly hitting him.

I'm telling a mother to let her son run off by himself into the forest that's going to be filled with Serbs trying to track him down along with the rest of the men.

He looked at the waiting buses. Two Dutch carriers pulled up into view and parked on opposite sides of the road. The vehicles became a funnel for the refugees moving towards the buses. Jac realized the funnel would make it easier for the Serbs to pick the men out of the crowd.

Atif's chances just got slimmer.

Jac turned to Marija. “No. I don't think you do.”

“Are you talking about me,
Korporaal
Jac?”

The three adults looked down.

“If you're talking about me, don't do it to my back. Please.”

Marija rubbed a hand over her face. Jac passed her his towel and she dried her eyes.

“You're right, Atif,” Jac said.

Marija laid a gentle hand on Jac's arm.

“Let me tell him.”

Jac nodded. Marija sat with her son.

“Do me a favour,” Jac said, turning to Maarten. “I'll stay here and keep an eye on him. I need you to go back to the carrier. Grab some rations and anything else you think he might need.”

“Like my boots?”

“Put it on my tab.”

“You think he's going?”

“I think so. We should be ready.”

“Okay. I'll be quick.”

“Oh, and grab one of my green shirts. The long sleeved one.”

Maarten gave Jac a mock salute and disappeared into the crowd.

WEDNESDAY:
MARIJA STAVIC

“MAMA?”

Marija pulled her thoughts together before turning to face her son. She tried to draw in a full breath, but the pain growing in her chest made it difficult.

Am I doing the right thing?

She trusted Jac. He had been good to them. Atif had met Jac late last January, speaking to him one day in English when the peacekeeper was on guard duty. The next time they saw Jac on duty, Marija had made him a loaf of bread and Atif delivered it hot. They'd been friends ever since. Jac had given them extra food and cigarettes to help them through the winter. He refused to accept money in exchange for the cigarettes and had even turned down his vacation because he was afraid the Serbs wouldn't let him back into the safe area.

Jac wouldn't lie to me. He cares about Atif, worries about him. And he's right.

If she kept Atif with her, the Serbs would get him.

He has to follow the men.

A tear dropped.

How do I let him go?

She crouched next to Atif and brushed the dirt from her son's shoulder as she tried to find the right words.

How do I convince him that he is better off in the woods?

“What's going on, Mama?”

“We think….” she started and then stopped. “I think it's too dangerous for you to stay. I want you to follow the men to Tuzla.”

“What? No, Mama. I have to stay with you.”

“No!” Marija took a breath. “You can't, Atif, you can't. You've seen what the Chetniks will do.
Korporaal
Jac can't be around all the time. The next time, they might get you.”

Atif gazed up at Jac.

“She's right,” the peacekeeper said.

“But the men are gone,” Atif replied. “The Chetniks are everywhere.”

Jac crouched next to Atif and repeated to him everything he had told his mother. Atif looked dazed, but he seemed to soak up every word. He didn't cry.

Has he cried since his friends were killed?
Marija thought back.
Has he cried since his father disappeared?

“I can take you as far as the Jaglici road,” Jac said. “You can go north from there. The Serbs haven't been seen on that road. It's possible they don't know where the men have gone yet.”

“But I promised Tata I would take care of my mother and my sister,” Atif said, shaking his head. “I can't leave them.”

“They can get on the bus, Atif. I'll make sure they do and, if I can, I'll ride the bus with them.”

“But you don't even know if they're letting the buses through.”

“They are,” said a breathless voice from behind. Maarten was back with a bag and a pair of boots. “I just spoke to our sergeant. He said the first bus arrived in Tisca. They're being allowed to cross over and should be in Tuzla in a few hours.”

“You see,” Marija said, raising her hand to Atif's face. “We'll be all right. We have to think about you now. You have to go.”

“No. I can't go. Tata told me to take care of you.”

“He's not here, Atif. I am. We can take care of ourselves now.”

“No. You need me.”

“We don't need you. We'll be fine. If you want to take care of us, you need to start by taking care of yourself.”

“I can't do it by myself, Mama.”

“You won't be alone. You know the way to Susnjari. You've been there with your father several times. You'll find the men there and they will take you to Tuzla.”

“But what if….” he started. “What if….”

She took his hands.

Warm, sticky. Trembling.

“Please, Atif. Do this for me.”

Atif's eyes wandered. His mouth tried to form words.

“Your father taught you how to take care of yourself. You're smart. You'll know what to do. You just have to try.”

“But Tata always said we should think before we act. We need to think about this. We're acting too fast.”

She rubbed his hands between hers.

“Some things don't require a lot of thought, Atif. There are times when we just need to act.”

He looked away. Ina touched his shoulder. The twins watched, wide-eyed. Tihana sat in Lejla's lap, scratching off the faded blue paint from the toy soldier's helmet.

“We'll be okay, Atif,” Adila said. “You should do this.”

Atif looked his mother in the eyes. “Are you sure, Mama?”

No, I'm not, my dear, dear child.

“Yes,” she said, holding his gaze. “I am.”

“I don't know what to do, Mama.”

His mother took him into her arms and held him tight.

“Yes, you do,” she whispered into his ear. “You need to do this. Catch up to the men. They'll take care of you.”

She kissed him on the forehead and pulled back. He looked at her, dropped his head, and drew a long breath. Then he turned to Jac.

“You'll keep an eye on them?”

“Yes, I will. I promise.”

“Then what do I do now?”

Jac handed Marija the pair of boots.

“They're a bit big, but they're better than what he has on.”

Atif stripped off the ragged sneakers. Marija untied the laces and handed the boots to her son. He found wool socks inside.

“Use them,” Jac said. “They'll absorb the sweat.”

Atif pulled on the socks and then the boots. Maarten knelt next to the twins and pointed to Atif's bag. They passed it to their mother who took the remaining carrots out, leaving the bottle of water. Maarten added several ration packs, a green shirt, and another two-litre bottle of water.

“You can refill the bottles in the rivers,” Maarten told Atif. “With all the rain we've gotten lately, you shouldn't have a problem finding enough water.”

Marija stood up and moved a few feet away from the group while the two peacekeepers prepared her son. She crossed her arms, tucking her hands underneath and holding them tight against her body. Another gunshot echoed from behind the factories. A shudder rippled through her body.

What if they had taken him? Could that shot have been for Atif?

Jac passed the pack to Atif and he looked inside.

“There are some ration packs in there. They'll last a few days or more if you're careful. You can put on the green shirt once you're in the woods.” Jac smiled and pointed to the neon yellow
A-Team
t-shirt Atif wore. “They'll see you in Belgrade with that on.”

The peacekeepers stood up. Atif stared up at them.

This is it, Marija thought, biting her lip.

“Say good-bye to your sister,” she said.

Atif turned; Tihana was playing with the toy soldier. He reached into his pack and pulled out another toy soldier.

“Tell you what. Since I'm not going to be around, I'll leave an infantryman here to help the machine gunner.” He gave her the soldier. “Keep them with you. And when you get to Tuzla, put them on a window sill so they can watch over you. Okay?”

Tihana nodded and introduced the two soldiers to each other.

Atif leaned back. Adila rubbed his arm and Lejla kissed his cheek. His face flushed.

“We'll see you in Tuzla.”

Ina laid an arm over his shoulder and squeezed.

“You're doing the right thing,” she said.

“I know.”

Marija's mind raced.

Does he have enough? Is there anything else?

She looked at her bag.

The salt.

Marija's hand reached into her bag and pulled out the small plastic bag of salt. Atif stood and she held it out to him.

“You should take this, too.”

He pushed it away. “No, Mama. That's all you have left.”

“We might be in Tuzla by tonight. You'll need it more than we will.” She stuffed the bag into his front pocket. “Keep it in your pocket so you won't spill it. If you run out of food, you only need a little each day to keep your head clear. You know what to do with it.”

“Yes, Mama,” he said, choking on the words.

Marija wrapped her arms around him.

“You'll be okay. You're strong and smart. You'll get through this and we'll be waiting for you in Tuzla. You know where your uncle Vlatko lives, right?”

Atif nodded against her head.

“I spoke to him on the shortwave a few weeks ago. He hasn't moved. So I'll be at his house waiting for you. I won't leave until you walk out of the woods. I promise you. I won't leave, okay?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Marija could feel his heart beating like a hammer. She pulled back and stared straight into his eyes.

He's going to be tall. Like his father.

“I love you,” she said, willing the tears not to come. “Don't ever forget that.”

Atif dropped his head on her shoulder.

“I love you too, Mama.”

Marija fought the emotion in her chest that was threatening to crush it and willed her feet to step away from Atif. She put her hands on his shoulder and turned him towards Jac.

“Go. Go before it's too late.”

Go before I change my mind.

Jac picked up the pack and laid a hand on Atif's shoulder. They walked away with Maarten a few steps behind them.

Atif looked back twice and waved. The trio melted into the crowd.

When she was certain Atif was well out of sight, Marija collapsed next to Ina and sobbed.