Chapter Text
It was the first time in months that they stepped outside the confines of the underground cement lined world of dim lights and cramped, chilly caverns. Mihael was excited, squeezing Aleksander’s bare hand with his own wool gloved hand. He swung his older brother’s arm back and forth while they stood in line, waiting for the bus to open its mechanical doors to welcome them. The chilly nip to the breeze blowing through the crowd of civilians at the edge of the pothole littered street ruffled their greasy hair.
There were soldiers in dark uniforms and heavy winter coats shouting, ordering the crowd around in a language that they couldn’t quite understand. The words didn’t need translation, though.
Aleksander could interpret the soldiers’ words purely by their tone.
It’s over. Get on the bus.
He could only hope what he feared was not going to come to them. The world couldn’t be unfair enough to let that happen. Here he was with his little brother, his innocent little brother who still needed his hand to be held and still didn’t understand that their parents were gone for good, being loaded onto a bus that he knew nothing of its destination. It was frightening not knowing where they're going to go, whether they're about to meet the same fate of their parents, bodies unable to be located in complete pieces, left stranded to be found by some unlucky soul collecting bodies.
On the bus, he and Mihael were squashed onto faux leather seats that were spilling moldy stuffing from giant cracks. The man sharing the seat with them reeked of body odor and tobacco. Mihael made a disappointed expression towards Aleksander, jutting his lower lip out in a pout. He was disappointed that instead of being able to finally run around in the sloshy snow outside, he was being loaded onto a crowded bus. To console his brother before a fit surged up, Aleksander patted the crown of his head and placed him on top of his lap.
“We can't go play outside right now. I'm sorry,” Aleksander murmured to his brother's little ear. "How about we play a game on the bus?"
It definitely wasn't a substitute for the months they’d spent ridden to the basement of their home and underground bunker as the world around them was shelled to rubble. But Aleksander hoped it would be good enough to occupy the almost two year old's mind (Mihael made a point to anyone who asked his age that he was almost two years old). At least for a little while, maybe until Mihael felt drowsy and dozed off.
“What game?” Mihael tilted his head back to look at his brother's face, taking in his sharp features and darkened blond hair.
“I spy. Do you know that game?”
The engine of the bus rumbled, signalling that the departure was about to begin. Aleksander gripped a little tighter to Mihael's tiny body, trying to ignore the bones he could easily feel while barely pressing against the little boy’s skin. Being secluded underground for nearly three months and subjected to food rations and the inability to leave any closed structure had not been good for Mihael's development. His ribs poked through his skin, and his cheeks had lost a good amount of their chubby composition.
“Yeah. I know.” The corners of Mihael's mouth tugged upwards in a small smile.
“Alright then, I'll start,” Aleksander replied.
They played the game for some time, speaking quietly as not to disturb the other passengers of the bus. The game seemed to be a good influence on Mihael, letting him focus on new sights and matching descriptions of them. He hadn't been outside of the bunker in weeks, and even before that had been restricted to staying in the dark basement of the house for almost a month. The weak autumn sunlight wasn't unfamiliar to him, but he was certainly comforted by it and its ability to light up and clearly show his surroundings. Aleksander felt the exact opposite.
He had known Vukovar before it was decimated by air raids, bombs, and artillery shelling. The view he saw from the grainy window sickened him straight to his stomach. Entire streets were stripped of their pavement, buildings and homes pockmarked with artillery, and melting gray slush littered the garbage heaps on the torn apart sidewalk. The bus was heading away from the center of town, which had been the main target of the opposing side, but the destruction was not any less the farther they moved. There were still dilapidated structures, and the stench of smoke and gasoline seeped through the bus's exterior. An abandoned body or two were seen splayed out on the street or sidewalk, and twice the bus passed by a pile of lifeless bodies stacked carelessly on top of each other by soldiers armed with machine guns.
Aleksander wanted to shield Mihael's eyes, stop the curious boy from seeing the horrible sights of his hometown's destruction. He tried desperately to bring Mihael's attention to the passengers of the bus, pointing out in their game that he spied a red, soft object (an older woman's scarf) and something that was shiny and thin (the small chain necklace the man sitting next to them was wearing), but Mihael kept choosing to “spy” objects outside the bus. He pointed out the gray shell of an old car flipped over and its bullet punched metal covering and a bare, ashen tree that was partially on fire at its top branches.
Almost forty five minutes later of bus traveling, the driver parked at the edge of the highway. They were clearly in the middle of farmland, though it wasn't like Croatia had much useable farmland now. The fields surrounding either side of the highway were either barren and and scattered with dying and wilting brown plants or scorched from fires.
Another soldier spoke up, requesting for someone to translate from Serbian to Croatian. The man beside Aleksander and Mihael stood up slowly, raising a hand in acknowledgement. The soldier gave a grunt and began speaking, leaving the man to translate in between his pauses.
They were heading to Osijek. Some passengers were going to be unloaded from the bus to await another bus that would transport them to another city. Once they arrived at Osijek, the Croatian government would settle them down in refugee housing.
There was no mention of the fact that Osijek was also under siege from the Serbs, just as Vukovar had been for the past three months. That, apparently, held no meaning or significance.
The majority of the passengers were then told to exit the bus, including the man sitting with Aleksander and Mihael. All that remained from before were a handful of young children and adults who were likely the parents of said children. Civilians sporting obvious injuries like broken bones and scrapes were forced off the bus, along with healthy appearing adults as well (Aleksander was judging by what was considered healthy after staying underground for almost three months. Those forced off the bus all had a pallor from lack of sunlight, sunken cheeks from malnourishment, and many had strong body odor from the bomb shelter's lack of accessibility to water). A few of the soldiers who had been aboard the bus exited as well, corralling the civilians into a crowd on the muddy side of the road by the threats of their loaded rifles.
“I can feel your heart.” Mihael had leaned his head back again to look up at his brother.
Aleksander’s heart had been beating furiously with fear the moment the bus had came to a halt. He had been so sure for those moments that this was the end. That everyone was to be forced from the bus to meet their deaths in the middle of countryside, to be gunned down by a firing squad. That his little brother would have to be ripped to shreds by ammunition or watch tens of people be shot.
“You can?” Aleksander asked. He stretched his lips to fit a faked smile across them, to give some sort of reassurance to Mihael.
Mihael nodded. “It’s going fast.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m just…” Aleksander tried to figure out a believable lie. He couldn’t let Mihael know he had just been fearing for their lives. “I’m just excited that we’ll be living somewhere new.”
Mihael left it at that, nodding in agreement with his brother. Aleksander’s heartbeat started to slow down after the bus began accelerating down the road, leaving behind the mass of people and the few soldiers. The only conclusion he could summon himself to believe was that those individuals they were speeding away from were on their way to meet death. There was no other reason.
At least it wasn’t him. Or Mihael.
It was sickening.
He was glad that others were dying.
His arm wrapped carefully over his brother’s little waist, Aleksander tried to shoulder that disturbing thought away. It was okay to think this. It was perfectly acceptable to be grateful for his life being spared.
“Are Mama and Papa going to live with us?” Mihael asked, breaking into Aleksander's stream of thoughts.
Aleksander felt his gut wrench as the bus jumped over a large crack in the road. He didn't feel the strength it took to answer that question again.
****
Osijek was almost in as bad a shape as Vukovar was. The city Aleksander had always pictured as a majestic center of baroque culture and arts was worn down with bullet holes and heavy smoke hanging around the high coral tile roof lines suffering from gaping holes.
They were not dropped off at the foot of a government refugee agency or any sort of official looking establishment. The bus jerked to a sudden halt before the city limits, where at the side of the cracked road was a large white tent set up. A bright red cross was painted on the flaps of the tent's opening. All of the passengers were unloaded in an orderly fashion to approach the tent. After the driver of the bus gave a quick salute to the man standing in the entryway of the tent, the bus made a wide u-turn and headed shakily back towards the way it had come from before.
Aleksander had hoisted Mihael in his arms, letting his little brother rest his head on his shoulder. Mihael watched with dull eyes as the bus drove further and further away, eventually becoming a speck in the distance. He was exhausted after such a long day and hadn't been able to fall asleep on the bus. Aleksander patted Mihael's back with a gentle hand as he listened to the speech the man in the entryway was giving.
Because of the large numbers of citizens who had fled from Osijek when the siege began, there was space for the refugees of Vukovar to temporarily stay on Osijek until either the war was concluded or Vukovar was recaptured. The man said nothing about how long either of those would take, however. Everyone present would register to be assigned housing and assistance in finances and finding work in Osijek. The Red Cross would be providing free medical examinations for the refugees, as well.
And after all of that, they could return home.
“No, wait, let me correct myself.” The man cleared his throat loudly. “You will be able to go to your new homes.”
****
It was not home.
Aleksander hadn't been expecting to receive top of the line housing in Osijek, but he had been expecting to live somewhere decent enough so that neither he nor Mihael felt so incredibly uncomfortable.
The apartment had only two rooms: a shower room and a large empty room that combined the functions of living, cooking, eating, and sleeping. The room was essentially in the shape of a square, with an added extension to include the kitchen that was even with the shower room's width. There were sparse furnishings; a bare mattress was laying in the farthest left corner of the room and in front of a large window, there were three chairs to accompany a lopsided wooden table before one of the windows lining the only wall not shared by another apartment, and the kitchen only contained a small gas range, a chipped porcelain sink whose pipes were visible connecting through the browning wallpaper, a small refrigerator that appeared to have been colored pure white at some point, and a tall cabinet made of dark wood. The shower room only contained a showerhead fitted on the wall across from the door and a rusted metal drain centered in the middle of the small tiled room. There was no toilet. The toilets were public, at the end of the floor's hallway beside the staircase.
The floor was a boarded with a dull gray wood that contrasted unpleasantly with the peachy wallpaper that was peeling in some places and browning in others. The chilly temperature from outside seeped in through the building’s concrete exterior, making it almost possible for Aleksander to see his and Mihael’s breath when they exhaled.
Mihael wasn’t concerned about the state of their new home. He could barely remember much else other than the bomb shelter they’d spent so long confined to. As Aleksander surveyed the apartment and began to reread several forms of paperwork that had been issued to him by the refugee counselors, Mihael carried out his own survey. He found that there was a large silvery spider web in the empty cabinet, but the only spider Mihael found inside of it had keeled over onto its back with its legs scrunched up, completely devoid of life and lying hopelessly in its dusty home. He reached up on his toes and stretched his arms as far as possible to turn one of the faucet handles of the sink on. Clear water came dribbling out of the faucet and down the drain, and Mihael grinned at this. He hadn’t ever used a sink before.
There was a lot more exploring for Mihael to do throughout the apartment. He climbed on top of each of the rickety metal chairs, deciding that he didn’t like the squeaking noise each chair made as he put weight on it. Laying on top of the mattress, Mihael ran his fingers over the soft threaded material, tracing the light patterns of some unknown flower. He explored the shower room, wondering whether Aleksander would be mad at him if he tried turning the knobs of the shower on also, but he didn’t need to wait for an answer. Aleksander had come in and told him they can wash up later, after they eat dinner.
Mihael ended up dragging one of the metal chairs across the floor, the metal legs of the chair protesting loudly against the wood floorboards, and sitting on it to see the view outside one of the windows. He felt an excited tingling rising in his fingertips. He could see everything from where he was. The gray sky, the gaping holes of tiled roofs, bare trees swaying in the breeze…
It was another first for him, and he took in all the scenery he could with hungry eyes. Mihael clung to the windowsill, scooting the chair all the way up against the wall to make sure he didn’t miss anything at all. He pushed his palms against the windowsill to stand up. There was a plane soaring overhead, and he didn’t want to lose sight of it.
“Mihael!”
Then there was the sound of feet pounding against the floor, running towards him. Suddenly, he felt warm hands lift him up off the chair from underneath his armpits. Aleksander looked panicked, worry spread throughout his face. He set Mihael down on the floor and lowered himself to be on eye level with his younger brother.
“Don’t stand so close to the window.” Aleksander locked eyes with Mihael. “It’s not safe.”
The excitement that had flooded Mihael earlier drained out quickly. His brows furrowed in confusion, and the grin he’d worn dissipated.
“Why?”
That was Mihael’s favorite question to ask ever since he’d learned to speak.. He was always asking why to everything. Sometimes it would be simple things, like why dogs barked or why babies cried.
Other times, the questions were debilitating.
Why were Mama and Papa not with them?
Why couldn’t he go outside?
Why did Mama and Papa leave?
Aleksander knew that Mihael never meant those questions out of desire to make sick to his stomach with anxiety of how to answer such a complicated question to a toddler. He was just curious. It was the same curiosity that made him ask about why babies cried and dogs barked and made him go scouring all over the apartment in search of everything and anything new.
That said, he still felt the anxiety clutching and scratching at him from the inside. He never wanted to lie to Mihael. Mihael was smart and very perceptive. He would figure out eventually that he’d been lied to. It just didn’t sit well with Aleksander’s conscience either to deceive Mihael.
But, just as it was difficult and necessary to have confined himself and his little brother to a dark and cramped underground safety of a bomb shelter when their city was being bombarded, it was necessary to lie and stretch the truth.
“You’ll get hurt.” Aleksander spoke slowly, making sure that Mihael understood what he said.
He might understand that the world he lived in was one full of conflict, but Aleksander reasoned that Mihael wouldn’t comprehend that anyone could stoop low enough to hurt others who were uninvolved in the conflict. He couldn’t possibly understand the threat of being an easy sniping target for a Serbian infiltrator or that it was possible that their building could be struck by artillery at any moment.
“Why?” Mihael repeated.
“We have to be careful, okay?” Aleksander tried to redirect Mihael’s attention.
That was much better than letting someone so young be forced to understand the bitterness and harsh reality of the adult world.
“Can you promise me?” Aleksander prodded, letting a faint smile play on his thin lips. “That you’ll always be careful.”
“Yes!” Mihael nodded vigorously. “Always!”
The enthusiasm from his brother in that moment was enough to almost completely lull away the sickness of Aleksander’s insides.