Prequel from here
Their parents quickly moved the threadbare Kilim rug from the center of the floor.. revealing the trap door to the root cellar located directly beneath the timber house. "Quick, down the ladder, stay down there... don't move, don't make a sound, no matter what you hear."
"But Abba, Eema... we want to stay and help you fight"
"You cannot help... get down there... now!"
Reluctantly, down they went, into the dark, dank cellar. among the fruits, roots and vegetables. The trap door closed with a dusty thump, and they could hear the rug shifting back into position, and then the sound of their parents, running around closing the home's wooden shutters, bolting the door. The cacophony of noises out in the street was getting closer. The Cossacks had arrived in town... most times they ran throughout the town, overturning flowerpots, scaring people, sometimes killing pets and occasionally harassing old timers.
But today felt different. Recently one of the Cossack's own had been found dead down by the river... and they were coming for vengeance. Abruptly the loudness broke into the quiet above them.... the shack shuddered with the pounding impact on the front door, and suddenly there were many angry footsteps above. It sounded like a mob of people... And strangely, horses hooves. Down in the root cellar, Ari tried to jump to the ladder, and Moolie held him back. What they heard above sounded violent...very violent. Muffled yelling, screaming, crying, and below it all, helplessness in the cellar. A moment, two moments, or perhaps thirty minutes... they huddled in the cellar, until in a slow instant, all went quiet.
They sat perfectly still, waiting for their parents to slide the rug away, and open the door, letting them know the coast was clear. The rug never moved. Finally, they crept up the ladder, and carefully opened the trapdoor... and peeked out. What they saw in the one room shack was devastation. Their parents were both dead...hacked to pieces... the meager furnishings were broken, damaged, shattered. The boys (and that's what they were.... "boys") stared in silence, tears streaming down their faces.
Noises in the street, roused them from their grief. Others were grieving too. Looking through the broken front door, they could see damaged homes throughout the shtetel. Broken doors, damaged windows... the occasional shack afire.
"We can't stay here" Ari said. "we have to leave... there's nothing left here for us... let's go". Avoiding looking at the bloody bodies that used to be their parents, they gathered up a few belongings... a satchel... a knife, some wine, some bread, and a few bits of food from the cellar, and they were out the door.
"Where will we go, Moolie?" Ari asked tentatively.
"We'll head for the port" Moolie answered, "it's time to leave mother Russia".... They opened the front door, and stepped out into the world, and made their way to the edge of town.
(continued here)
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