Chapter 1
Escape For Some
“Run Papa, run!” Katerina yelled with all her might as the steam locomotive blew its loud whistle into the cold St. Petersburg air.
Her father waved at her as she leaned out the window. He was hurrying along in his shuba, his thick Russian coat, and his ushanka, his fury hat. His walking stick and attaché were clutched together in his left hand.
The train platform was crowded with people, many of which were aristocracy, attempting to flee Russia after the Bolsheviks seized control. Panic ruled the day as the formally rich and powerful clambered to secure a place on the train before the bloodletting reached them.
All the seats were taken; there was standing room only. Katya, sitting on the bench seat, would wave people away as they stopped in the aisle looking into their cabin and seeing what they thought was an empty seat, only to see the girl’s twin sister at the window crying for her father.
The stoic twin never got out of her seat, she just wrapped herself tightly in her shawl, attempting to keep herself warm as the cold air blew in through the open window.
“Papa, hurry!” Katerina pleaded, tears soaked her crimson cheeks.
“I will be on the very next train, Kotenok” he called her by her pet name as he came up to the train window. “You must be brave” he said as he took her hands. The people on the platform shoved passed him and he had to reach out and grab Katerina’s hands again.
“Be brave for your mother. Be brave for your sister. And be brave for me!” and he pulled himself up and kissed her on her tear stained cheek.
The whistle blew again and the train lurched forward. Katerina screeched.
She lost sight of her father in the crowd, but still craned her neck in hopes of one last glimpse.
Some of the more desperate passengers had climbed onto the roof and would attempt to ride out of Mother Russia atop the train, unprotected from the locomotives’ smoke, freezing wind, and the Bolshevik snipers that would take shots at anyone they thought might be an aristocrat. Katerina hoped there wouldn’t be any tunnels along the way for their sake as she heard them scuffle above her.
“Sit down and close the window before you get hit by a pole!” her twin sister demanded.
Katerina closed the window slowly and sat next to Katya for warmth, it would be bodily warmth, not emotional warmth.
She wished her mother was sitting next to her instead of in the luggage car. At least Mama would have said goodbye to Papa.
A moment later, a short portly man with dark greasy hair and a hawk nose, stopped at their compartment which was shared by four other refugees.
“I will give you four hundred roubles for you seat, young lady” he said to Katya.
“Roubles!” she said in disgust. “Four hundred francs!”
The man lifted his attaché with as much dignity as he could muster and moved down the carriage.
Katerina and Katya were identical twin sisters; they had the same golden blonde hair, the same cream colored complexion (when Katerina wasn’t crying), the same slight build, even the same shoe size. They did not however share the same mind; and this bothered Katerina.
How could she be so cold to Papa? He sacrificed EVERYTHING for us.
Katerina wondered if she would ever see him again as she sat and listened to the train clack, clack, clack, down the tracks. She slowly twirled the skeleton key that hung around her neck on a silver chain with her fingers as she softly wept for her Papa. Her father entrusted her with the key to his jeweler’s tool box; the very box that rested under hers and her sister’s seat.
“What if Papa doesn’t make it to France?” she worriedly asked her sister.
“Then he doesn’t make it to France.” Katya stated cooly.
Katerina looked out of the train window as they pulled further and further away from St. Petersburg. The fires were growing in number and the smoke was filling the cold air. The sun was going down and it turned the iron grey sky into a blood red October sunset. This would be the last time she would see her birthplace; and this is how she would remember it.