Free Vita Nostra by Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko

initial tug, she felt her heart drop down into her knees, and she nearly jumped out of the moving train, into Mom’s arms.
    This was her first time traveling alone by train. She kept glancing over at the luggage shelf, where her suitcase was stowed. She palpated the little bag full of coins on the bottom of her purse and checked the documents in the inside pocket— passport, high school diploma, medical records, letter of acceptance, and some other papers, all neatly folded into a plastic envelope. She felt unbearable loneliness; she kept thinking how a while back she and Mom traveled to the seaside in a train just like this one, and poppies blossomed outside their windows, and she was happy, peaceful and safe.
    She cried, hiding her tears from her fellow travelers, and placed a tremendous blame upon herself for giving in to the man in the dark glasses that very first time. Even if she were forever subjected to the eternal nightmare, even if she had to wake up on the folding cot in the rented room every morning for the rest of her life, Mom would always be there with her. And there would always be the sea. If one’s life is forever to consist of a half of a summer day of July twenty-fourth, it would still be a pretty good life. At least, it would be a life without gold coins, or Valentin, or a long road to Torpa.
    The sun went down. Sasha’s fellow passengers were having supper, crunching half-sour pickles, peeling lusterless hard-boiled eggs. Sasha took out Mom’s sandwiches and nearly burst out crying again: this little plastic bag held a piece of home. Without touching the food, she put it away again, had a cup of tea and crawled onto the top berth.
    “Miss! Are you awake? I’m telling you, Torpa is close.”
    “Yes, I’m ready.”
    They reached the border between night and morning. It was around four o’clock, maybe four thirty. After so many months, Sasha was used to getting up this early. She knew that morning would bring relief. Now, gathering her things, lacing up her shoes, dragging the suitcase off the shelf (carefully, trying not to wake up the other passengers, and still accidentally touching people’s arms hanging off the berths), she almost forgot last night’s sorrow. The winds of exotic travels, unexpected discoveries—one had to take that into account, this was all part of the journey; she was an adult, an independent person, traveling by herself, without supervision. We’ll see what this Torpa is all about.
    She dragged her suitcase into the hallway. The train attendant snoozed on the cot covered by a thin blanket.
    “How long is the stop?” Sasha asked.
    “In Torpa? One minute. Do you have a lot of luggage?”
    The train slowed down. The carriages clanked. In the darkness of the August morning Sasha saw nothing, only a blue streetlight barely visible in the sky.
    The train jerked, clanked and stopped. The attendant, yawning, started fiddling with the key.
    “I’m not going to make it!” Sasha was terrified. “Please hurry up!”
    The attendant swore under her breath.
    The train jerked again. The attendant finally unlocked the door. The train started moving slowly; Sasha threw her bag over her shoulder, dragged the suitcase behind her and tumbled down the iron steps. She landed on the low platform and saw the train attendant yawn and lock the door behind her.
    This is it.
    The train was gathering speed. Sasha hauled her suitcase farther away from the edge of the platform. The last car rambled by, and two lights on its tail end quickly melted away in the dark.
    The green light of the semaphore turned red. Sasha stood alone at the empty platform...
    But she was not alone. Out of the darkness appeared a scrawny shadow with a large suitcase. The shadow stopped in front of her. A boy Sasha’s age, pale, sleepy, bewildered.
    “Hey,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Is this Torpa?”
    “Hey,” said Sasha. “So they say.”
    “I’ve never been here before,” said the boy.
    “Me