Rosmerta woke in a panic. There was a commotion at the east end of the camp, and she was alone. A scream erupted behind her. She turned to see Boghos running towards her, pushing people out of the way as he came.
“Rose, we have to go! This way.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her up. They ran away from the commotion, heading deeper into the camp.
They stopped to catch their breath and watched a line of policemen encircle the small area of the camp they had just exited. “What are they doing?” Rosmerta asked.
“They’re collecting the next group for deportation,” Boghos told her.
“Deportation to where?”
“To Deir ez-Zur. Deeper into the desert.”
Rosmerta was shocked. The rumors that Aleppo was the end of the line were not true. The trail of horrors just kept going. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.” She patted her right hip where she hid the small satchel with her two gold coins.
“I thought you were mad at me,” said Boghos.
“I am mad at you. However, the deal was that if you lost your money—no matter how selfish the cause—I would still have some. Come on.”
They approached the gate to find a small man with a huge dog sitting at his feet. Rosmerta grabbed Boghos by the arm. “No,” she hissed. “Not yet. We’ll wait for the other guard.”
“What other guard? They’re all the same. Let’s go.”
“No, we’ll wait for the guard I talked with last time I came here. He was nice. He will let us out. This guy with his dog . . . I’m not comfortable with him.”
Boghos huffed in frustration. He saw the disdainful look in Rosmerta’s eyes and realized that he was in no position to argue. She had the coins. If Rosmerta wanted to wait for the other guard, he would have to wait with her.
When they passed by the gate a couple hours later, the same guard was still there with his dog. Maybe the guard Rosmerta wanted to deal with didn’t work today. Maybe he no longer worked at the camp at all. She was feeling desperate when they passed by the gate the fifth time, and there he was—the kind man who had believed her story about Boghos being her brother and let him out. This was their best chance.
Rosmerta approached the guard with Boghos close behind her. “Excuse me, sir.”
“What do you want?” he asked in a harsh, uncaring tone.
Rosmerta hesitated. This was a mistake. But it was too late now. She was committed. “We want to go to the orphanage.”
“You’re too old for the orphanage. They won’t help you.”
Rosmerta pulled the satchel from under her clothing. “No, we’re not too old. They will help us.” She said again flashing a coin at the guard.
His eyes lit up.
Rosmerta relaxed a bit. This might work.
The guard recovered himself. “One coin for two people? It’s more than my job’s worth.”
“What can I get for one coin?”
“One coin, one person.”
“Okay,” she said, “here’s one coin. Let him go.”
The guard nodded. Boghos walked a few paces beyond the guard’s reach so he could make a run for it if he had to. He turned back to watch the remainder of the transaction.
“One coin per person, right?” Rosmerta asked the guard.
“In general, yes. Having said that, there are no hard and fast rules.”
She didn’t like the way this was going but she had to play it out. “What is the rule for me?” she asked.
“For you? I’m not sure. I think you are definitely worth more than one gold coin.”
“But all I have is one gold coin.” Rosmerta could hear the desperation in her voice.
“That’s not all you have,” said the guard. His eyes pressed heavily down Rosmerta’s neck and over her breasts, down her abdomen and stopped between her hips.
Rosmerta found the whole thing revolting. She was filthy from walking in the desert. It was almost a week ago that she had last washed. Her clothes were a mess. Her hair was a tangled jumble and she knew she must smell awful. What could this man possibly want with her?
The guard reached out and touched Rosmerta’s face. His hand began the same trip his eyes had just finished.
“You pitiful bastard!” yelled Boghos as he charged. His shoulder hit the guard in the side of his ribcage, knocking him to the ground. Boghos rolled back onto his feet, and started kicking the guard as hard as he could. He stopped, looked up at Rosmerta. His mouth opened as if to say something. A red spot of blood appeared on his forehead before the crack of a pistol registered in her ears. She jumped and let out a high-pitched shriek.
Rosmerta ran towards Boghos. The shooter ran faster and knocked her out of the way. The shooter went to Boghos, saw that he was already dead and turned to help the first guard. Rosmerta hesitated for only a moment, then broke away in the confusion. She ran through the city streets as hard and as fast as she could. Her legs burned. She ran and she ran, gasping for breath. She ran until she couldn’t go on.
Panting hard, she stopped and leaned against the outer wall of the orphanage. Rosmerta wasn’t sure how she had gotten here. It wasn’t intentional. Or at least she didn’t think it was. She looked behind her. People were staring. She tried to straighten up and walk off casually. She couldn’t do it. She leaned forward, resting her hand on her knees and waited for her strength to return. When she felt well enough to move on, Rosmerta stood up straight and walked to the front gate of the orphanage. The wrought iron gates were closed, and the heavy wood doors were swinging shut beyond them. The orphanage was closed for the night.
What was she supposed to do now? She made a mental note of where the camp was and walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t want to end up there again. And Boghos had probably been right—as an orphan, the orphanage was just another place to be kept from going where you wanted to go and doing what you wanted to do.
Poor Boghos. He was a dependable companion. He had come so close. He worked harder than any of them to survive, only to have it end with a bullet from one of the damn guards. It wasn’t fair. Then again, none of this was fair. Was it fair that hardworking families were systematically marched to death for no other reason than being Armenian? What had Rosmerta done to deserve life while everyone else had perished? Nothing. Nothing at all. But here she was, and she had to keep going. There was no point in asking why.
Boghos had saved Rosmerta’s life many times. She couldn’t have made it this far without him. But now he was gone. She had to figure out the next move by herself. She knew she didn’t want to be an orphan, but maybe she could get a job at the orphanage instead. Then she could leave if she ever decided she didn’t want to be there anymore. She decided to go back to the orphanage in the morning and ask for a job.
As she walked on in search of a place to spend tonight, Rosmerta caught a glimpse of her reflection in a puddle. Ask for a job? Looking like this? Her clothes were in decent enough shape, but they were filthy. Her hair was a tangled mess and her face was covered in dirt. She had to get cleaned up.
Rosmerta found a small fountain in a quiet, out-of-the-way part of town. A father sat on the retaining wall with his arm around his son as he played in the cool water. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to entertain a child and it would be enough for Rosmerta to get clean. As she sat in the shadows at the edge of the square, she could hear the boy laughing and she could hear the deep vibrations of the man’s voice. How she missed spending time with her father.
Stop, she admonished herself. She had to stop this sentimentality and focus on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time for reminiscing later.
The man stood up and lifted his son out of the fountain and they left the square hand in hand. Once she was sure no one was watching, she moved toward the fountain. She cleaned herself as best she could and found an alcove near the orphanage where she could spend the night. She slept surprisingly well and rose with the sun, feeling refreshed.