The Vladivostok Incident

Chapter 11

Russia Belongs to Me!

He waited patiently for her to finish. He ended up falling asleep. It was her turn to wait, this time for him to wake up; when he did, she told him to follow her. Andrei complained the whole time, "We need to get some sleep. The mission can wait." Yet she managed to convince him that the quicker they completed their mission, the longer time they would have for relaxation. Besides, finding their informant may take longer than either anticipated. They had to search all of Urgal, and unfortunately for Lena, Andrei wasn't any help. Even after she explained to him who they were looking for and what type of people would help them, he just scratched his head and shrugged.

The streets of Urgal were being shut down and the police were starting their beats. Despite this, there was still quite a bit of commotion going on around town. By this point in time, the sun had disappeared behind cloud and horizon. The lamps were slowly coming to life as the town prepared for nightfall. An officer passed by Lena and Andrei; he was young, perhaps Petras's age, with his hat tilted down over his eyes and he clicked his baton against his palm as they passed. Andrei shot a glance over his shoulder once he was a few steps past the officer. The officer did the same thing, and they made fleeting eye contact.

Lena linked her arm around Andrei's and whispered into his ear, "See the bright lights ahead? That's the workers' lot. Based on the noise, there must be a rally going on. We can find people sympathetic to our cause there."

It was two blocks down and beside an old warehouse. After they turned the corner towards the lot they were greeted by a large crowd of young men. Mainly in their twenties, they were dressed in coveralls or heavy coats and many wore hats to keep their ears warm. In the center of the lot, surrounded by the workers, was another young man dressed in a brown jacket and flat cap; he stood atop a chair and played his speech to the crowd.

"Every day for fifteen hours we labor for our bread; we have bled sweat and tears for our families; we breathe so that we may continue to provide for those we care about. For us, this is not a burden but an honor! Yet there are men in New York, Hong Kong, London, and Berlin who have chained us and gagged us. They feel as though they have the right or an obligation to control us. And there are men like the Fedorov who consider themselves elite; when Tynda fell, they mourned steel and concrete, while we mourned the loss of our brothers!"

Andrei found himself standing near the man; how he had merged into the crowd and made his way up that far he didn't know. Under the bright lot lights he caught the shadowed face of the speaker. He was young, much younger than Andrei expected; he couldn't have been older than twenty. His face was perfectly clean without a speck of dirt. The only scruff was short sideburns just beginning near his ears.

"We have to stand up, comrades. It's time to reclaim what is ours. Russia doesn't belong to the Americans or the Chinese!"

"That's right!" one worker shouted. A few others added their own yells.

"Russia doesn't belong to the Republic of Eurasia!"

"Damn right!"

"Russia doesn't belong to the Fedorovs!"

"Yeah!"

"It's time, comrades, to stand and say, 'Russia belongs to me!'" the man screamed. The cheers from the crowd almost completely drowned out the rest of his spiel. "Raise your fists, my brothers, raise them in defiance! I want to see your calluses and scars!"

The green eyes of Andrei stared up at the young man in disbelief. The entire lot had raised their fists for him. Brown eyes met Andrei. The speaker noticed Andrei's fist wasn't in the air, so he pointed to him. "You!" he shouted. "Show me your hands!" Surprised, Andrei presented the speaker with his hands. "These are a worker's tool, and I can see you have used them for many years," the speaker smiled. He slid the jacket's sleeves up and was shocked to find a small branding mark on Andrei's wrist. The smile fell – it was the branding mark of an army soldier. "You are a soldier?" the speaker asked.

"I was," Andrei said.

"Ah," the speaker smiled again. "You don't look too old, but you must be from the generation that was forced into service." Andrei nodded in response. The speaker placed Andrei's sleeve back down but kept hold of his hand. "Are you proud of what you did as a soldier?"

Andrei said nothing; his eyes squinted and his lips curled downward.

"Your silence speaks more than words," the youngster said. "You don't admit regret because you are a man, but you are not proud of the atrocities. Based on these calluses, you must have been working in the factories for a long time."

"Almost twenty years," Andrei said.

"Stand up here," the speaker said. He jumped down off the chair and Andrei raised a brow at him. "Stand up!" the speaker laughed. Andrei slowly stood onto the chair and the speaker's hands never let go of his. From there, he could see Lena gaping worriedly in his direction. "Tell me, soldier, what's your name?"

"Andrei."

"A true Russian name!" the speaker cheered; others did the same. "Tell me what these hands have done."

"A lot of things."

"Be specific!" the speaker urged. "As a soldier, did you kill?"

"Yes."

"As a man, have you ever made love?"

"Yes."

"As a worker, what have you done?"

Andrei twisted his face. "I… built."

"What did you build?" the speaker continued to press.

"Planes?" Andrei said. The crowd laughed a little. When the speaker nodded, Andrei thought harder. "I've built a family," Andrei guessed. A few men said some words of encouragement or agreement.

"That's right, that's right!" the speaker nodded. "What else have you built?" When Andrei gave him a confused expression, the speaker explained, "This hands have built material things, of course; a family, too. But what is a worker? What does the worker build?"

"A worker builds…" Andrei let it trail off. It wasn't easy; he had no idea how to give speeches so had no idea what the young man holding his hands could possibly want him to say. "The worker builds life," Andrei finally said. The crowd responded favorably with cheers.

"These hands of yours are the workers' hands. They have built cars, planes, and a family," the speaker said. "The workers' hands have toiled in factory and field for centuries. They have fought for country and died for family. The worker is the builder – the symbol of evolution! Tell me, Andrei of Russia, what have you built? The worker has built homes and roads; the workers' hands have forged machinery and weaponry; the workers' hammers have driven in railroad ties and everlasting values. The worker is the enforcer of justice, the bearer of sin and seeker of virtue. He is improving, constantly; the working class is the future, full of kind hearted ambitions and noble goals. The worker repairs society; the worker has built civilization."

If the crowd's reaction was any indication, he must have done a good job. They cheered him and rallied for him. While it felt nice, Andrei was actually sort of embarrassed. Yet the smile of the young man as he squeezed Andrei's hands and shook them excitedly was enough to make Andrei question once and for all the purpose of the Republic of Eurasia. He climbed off the chair still not sure of what exactly had just happened to him. He was greeted with handshakes and slaps on the back.

He and Lena ended up staying there for quite some time. The area calmed down a tad, but almost everyone stuck around. For the most part, the men socialized amongst themselves. As for the speaker, he pulled Andrei and Lena aside to talk to them.

"Pretty slick, Andrei from Russia," the young man said with a half smirk. His words in normal conversation weren't as refined, and neither was his grammar. "Name's Fyodor and Urgal's my town; you can call me Fyo. I can tell you're not from around here. So naturally I gotta ask: what's a couple like you doing all the way out in occupied Urgal?"

Lena jumped in immediately. "Perhaps you can help us," she said. "We're looking for anarchists –"

"Whoa!" Fyo interrupted. "Hold on a second. Anarchists? You've got to watch what kind of words you use around these towns. Just call 'em reformists; the Stars, c****s and coppers got ears all over the place."

"Okay," Lena nodded. "But can you help us?"

"Sure thing," Fyo winked. "I know people from all over! Is there someone in particular you're looking for?"

"He goes by the name Little Antonio," Lena said.

Before she could continue, Fyo put his hand up and said, "Say no more! I know who you're talking about. A kid with brown hair; he buys and sells information, right?" Lena nodded, and Fyo motioned for someone. Another worker appeared at his side and he asked, "Can you fetch Antonio for me?" The man nodded and disappeared amongst the crowd.

Andrei found this moment as a chance to understand Fyo better. "So where do you work?" Andrei asked.

Fyo titled his head back and observed Andrei, as if he was literally looking down his nose at him. "I work for the railroads," he answered. "Maintenance on trains, mainly, but I'm also a roamer. Means I walk from station to station checking the track for damages when the computer malfunctions in the cold or becomes damaged."

"Briska!" a young boy shouted from the crowd. A crop of short brown hair was all that was visible of the child in the crowd of grown men. It bobbed and weaved its way expertly through the mob. Andrei was nearly mowed over by Antonio when the kid jumped up over the chair that was once used as a platform. The landing was perfect; he smiled brightly up at Lena but then c****d his head at Andrei. "Hey, Mister!" he cried gleefully. "Didn't I see you earlier?"

Andrei furrowed his brows and said, "I don't think we've met before."

"I could've sworn I saw you dressed up in blue!" Antonio said. Andrei smiled. He liked this little kid in front of him. He couldn't have been older than ten, but he held a wide, knowing smile and curious eyes. His hair was cut somewhat short and wasn't longer than an inch throughout; his small frame was kept warm by dirty, torn cotton clothes; a hooded sweatshirt had another shirt on top of it, and his pants were completely destroyed near his feet. His shoes had holes in them and his sockless toes stuck through.

"My name is Andrei," he said. He presented his hand to shake.

Antonio gladly accepted it. He greeted, "Andrei, huh? They call me Antonio, the Merchant of East Russia! I've got all the facts you need to know, whether you're red or blue. For a fair price, I can give you the information of every citizen in all Russia!"

"We need to know what the military presence in Urgal is like," Lena said.

Antonio placed his hand on his chin and appeared to be in thought. "That'll cost you," he warned. "Giving out military secrets is what puts people in danger. But for you," he winked "I'll make a trade. You tell me what the resistance is up to, and you can know anything you need to about the Stars."

"I'm sorry Antonio, but that won't be possible," Lena said.

"Ah, God dammit," the boy cursed. "I can't get anyone to talk about the resistance. What about you?"

Andrei looked down at the finger pointed at him with a surprised expression. "Me?" he questioned. "No, no, I'm just a tagalong. I don't have any intention of joining the resistance."

"Are you sure that wasn't you in blue earlier?" Antonio asked. "I guess not, he was much younger than you are. Well, I've got business to do and I like you a lot Briska, so I'll cut a deal. You tell me how Bartholomew is, and I'll tell you the condition of Urgal."

Lena knelt down and hugged Antonio, the boy smiled happily. "Sounds like a deal," she said to him. "Bartholomew is doing just fine. He was injured recently but bounced back without problems."

"That's just like him," Antonio said with a smirk. It fell and he warned, "But you have to tell him that the Stars and Chinese have started using traps, too! Just the other day, I saw one that used these weird bug things attached to an arrow! Yorick was completely devoured by them!"

The boy's green eyes showed weakness for just a brief second; he blinked away his tears and his cheerfulness was back once more. While Andrei was curious as to whom Yorick was, he assumed immediately it was a good friend of Antonio, there was something that bugged him a bit more. "Alright hold on a second," Andrei interrupted. He turned to Lena and said, "I thought your name was Lena. Why is he calling you Briska?"

An annoyed Lena answered. "My real name is Briska, not Lena. The resistance doesn't use real names."

"Oh. So do I get a cool nickname?" he joked.

"You're not part of the resistance!" Antonio laughed. "I don't know many people from their group," he explained, "but I've known Bartholomew since forever! He's my cousin, you know! That makes Briska practically my cousin, too. There are a lot of nice people from the resistance, but I don't like that Rex guy. He bugs me."

"You and me both, kiddo," Andrei sighed. For the first time that night, Andrei realized it was so cold he could see his breath.

"Anyway," Antonio continued, "you wanted to know about the Stars? Well there's a small group in town now, but they're leaving soon for the Port of Vladivostok for the ceremonies. I talked to a doctor who called himself Olsen, and he said that there wouldn't be any more coming through."

Lena opened her mouth to respond but was silenced by the commanding yell of a police officer. "You want to try that again?" he growled. Everyone in the lot stopped whatever they were doing and focused their attention towards the officer. Several uniformed police had entered the lot. Behind them, just out of the glow of the lights, armed soldiers waited in the shadows. One of the workers had tried to push them out, and the officers brandished their batons.

"If it isn't Urgal's finest here to join us!" Fyo joked, emerging from the crowd towards the confrontation. He approached them with his arms open, as if showing them he had no weapons and was greeting them warmly. The police took defensive postures, however. "What can the workers of this good city do for you fellows tonight?"

"Better keep these boys under control, Fyo," the lead officer warned. "I don't want any trouble."

"Neither do I," Fyo smiled. "If I may be honest for a moment, those batons aren't very diplomatic. Neither are your guns back there."

The soldiers in the shadows twitched slightly at the jab. The police, however, weren't amused. One of them took a large step forward and poked his baton into Fyo's abs. "Your group here has spoken a lot of unpatriotic garbage," the officer said. "That's grounds enough to arrest all of you."

"Now, now," Fyo snickered, "you don't really want to do that, do you? I don't think three flatfeet can arrest all of Fyo's friends."

Apparently the officer whose baton was against Fyo's gut wasn't very amused. He pulled back the baton and stabbed it harshly into Fyo. The railroad worker stumbled backwards and disappeared amongst the crowd. Another man retaliated instantly; he pulled out a switchblade knife and stabbed the offending officer repeatedly. It wasn't ten seconds later that the three officers were completely surrounded. From across the street the soldiers did their best to hold their fire, but as soon the as the three police officers disappeared, they had no choice.

The loud bursts of machine gun fire had Andrei grabbing Antonio; as he carried Antonio with one arm, his other wrapped itself around Lena. With the both of them covered with his body, he instinctively moved away from the noise. The soldiers stayed across the street and had plenty of targets. Most of the men had no chance of escaping. Their bursts were well timed and mechanical; they rarely missed, but a few bullets did whiz by Andrei's head.

Behind them, Fyo remained low and snuck up on them. He startled Andrei when he placed a strong hand on his shoulder. Andrei stopped and turned to face him. From over Fyo's shoulder he could see the situation they were running from. The workers had started throwing stones at the soldiers. When one of the two soldiers went to reload, the crowd rushed straight for them.

"When are you leaving town?" Fyo asked above the commotion.

"What the hell? I don't know!" Andrei said. The gunshots had ceased by that point in time, and the soldiers were probably being beaten. However, the distant wail of the siren meant that more police and possibly more soldiers were on their way. The lot which was once so merry was littered with injured and dead bodies.

"Let me show you a way out!" Antonio yelled. Andrei set him down and the young boy took off towards the railroad warehouse. "Come on!" he waved. Andrei was amazed at the calmness the boy presented during a life or death situation.

"Tomorrow at sundown," Fyo quickly said, "I'll have a car waiting for you at Seventh and Bureye near the grocery store."

He slapped Andrei on the back and sprinted back where the fighting started. Andrei wanted to run after him, or at least join him in the fight. The violence that broke out was pointless and wouldn't help either side, but Andrei wanted to save as many as he could. However Lena grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the warehouse where a worried Antonio watched Fyo's retreating back. Once Andrei's mind was back on their situation, Antonio broke open the basement window of the warehouse and proceeded to lead them away from the workers' lot.

The boy took them on a rollercoaster ride of a trip. After slipping through the broken window, they had to make their way through the dark and damp basement until they reached a utility room. At the back of the small room was a tiny hole. Antonio stuck his hand in the hole and pulled as hard as he could. A large panel of the wall came completely off. Through the darkness they could see a tight path which led towards the underground city maintenance system. They made their way through the tiny corridor and reached the maintenance system.

The moonlight and glow of the streetlamps helped illuminate their path. The sewage was kept in a large pipe, but that didn't prevent the smell from leaking into the frozen night air. Still, no one seemed to notice the stench, because they were all still affected by their adrenaline. Antonio asked, "Where are you staying?"

"Conrad's Inn," Lena answered.

"That's only about two blocks this way," he said. His small hands pointed straight ahead. "There will be a ladder that leads to the street. The police should be occupied at the lot, so you don't have to worry about them."

"Where are you staying?" Andrei asked, curious.

"Back that way," he said. Again, his finger pointed but this time it was towards the small corridor.

Andrei looked over at Lena. If her expression was any indication, she didn't like the idea that much. He sighed, smiled and said, "No you're not. Come with us to the inn." Antonio was unable to suppress his grin and his excitement sent him running towards the exit. Lena thanked Andrei silently with a smile of her own.

Sure enough, the street was completely empty. Andrei was the only one strong enough to open the rusty hatch. He helped Antonio and Lena onto the asphalt and looked around. Three buildings down was Conrad's Inn. The three jogged to the inn, knowing that inside was warmth. It wasn't late enough that the inn had closed down, fortunately, so they were able to slip inside and make it up the stairs without causing a commotion or having to explain Antonio's sudden presence.

Once inside the room, Andrei sat down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. Antonio joined him, as he plopped down onto the bed and let out a very relieved sigh. Sirens and shouts from the workers' lot traveled well and were heard by the three in the inn room. Other than the outside noise, it was deathly still. Lena broke it when she asked, "Are you going to take a shower?"

Andrei raised his brow. "I'll be alright," he answered. "You and Antonio can go on ahead."

"No, thanks," Antonio mumbled from where he laid. Lena said nothing and went into the small bathroom. The sound of the water being turned on and the droplets hitting the stall floor drowned out the commotion in Urgal.

After a minute of tranquility, Andrei placed his hand on Antonio's leg and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Mm?" Antonio asked. He sat up and rubbed his eyes; they were a very light brown, though the shadows underneath were a distraction. "You mean about the shooting earlier? I'm used to it."

The boy fell back down onto the bed. Andrei stared at the old carpeted floor and began to think. It was weird to him how much his country had changed since he was fifteen. Never would he have expected to see such violence in the middle of the city streets. Children, as well, were being dragged into the war that the extremists were itching to start.

First, there was Petras and Shelton; while Petras had trouble holding his stomach at times, neither one of them was disgusted by the violence. They seemed to be immune to it, and he knew for a fact that Shelton had grown up in a struggling community and had a violent past. Then to see a man like Fyo as the central piece of a reformist group? A man that young and strong should be using his intelligence and skills towards something productive, not destructive. Now Antonio, who was even younger than his son and yet still shrugged off the senseless killings.

Andrei sat up and reached into his back pocket. Within the folds of his wallet was a picture of his son taken about five years ago. The young boy was dressed in a tux for his mother's wedding and next to him was Andrei's adorable little daughter. They were in Paris, where their future stepfather lived. Andrei slipped down off the bed completely and sat on the floor. He wondered where his son and daughter were; he prayed that Paris was still safe from the civil unrest that was breaking out. Had his son joined the reformists, the Stars, or was he neither, and instead remained in school and perhaps played sports?

"Are they your children?" a woman's voice asked. Andrei jumped a tad at the sudden appearance of Lena. She attempted to dry her hair with the white hotel towel. She was dressed only in a slim bra and panties. His eyes went straight back to his photo; there was something about staring at a younger woman who was only in her undergarments that he didn't approve of.

"Yeah," he answered. His finger pointed to the girl first. "That's my daughter, Eva. She's only seven in this picture, but she would be twelve now. That's my son, Dmitri. He's thirteen in this picture, and he'll be eighteen this Christmas."

"Do you keep in touch with them?" Lena asked. Based on her tone, Andrei guessed she had probably wanted children with her deceased husband.

"Letters and holiday cards, that's about it," Andrei tried to say without betraying his disappointment. "I guess it's my own fault."

"Why?" Lena asked. Andrei looked up at her this time; she was sitting on the edge of the bed and seemed to be genuinely curious. Apparently, Andrei's green eyes displayed his hidden hurt, because she quickly said, "If you don't want to –"

"No, I want to talk about it. Any conversation is nice right now," Andrei interrupted. "There was a child in between Dmitri and Eva, a daughter. She was only about a year old when a bad case of the flu hit Tynda pretty hard. Vaccines were limited, and as a worker, I could only get one. I had to choose between Dmitri and my daughter. I chose Dmitri. Things never really got better after that."

"So she was being a b***h," Lena said. "It's not your fault. You had to make a choice."

"If I was a soldier or an aristocrat, that never would have happened," Andrei complained aloud.

"Did you ever live in America?" Antonio asked. Andrei looked over his shoulder to see the boy leaning over to look at the picture.

"No," Andrei said. "Why?"

"The guy who looked like you had an American accent," Antonio explained. "You know, they never say their r's. It's always 'cah' instead of 'car.' Did your son ever live in America?"

"No, he's in Paris."

"Oh."

The photo was placed back into his wallet. Andrei then placed his shoes near the entrance and removed his jacket. Just as he was about to lie down on the floor and get comfortable for the night, Lena asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Going to sleep," Andrei replied. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Come here," she commanded. He wanted to crack a joke, but in the end he kept it to himself and only grinned. Still, he did as he was told and arrived at the side of the bed. Just as she had sat down under the covers she said, "Take your shirt and pants off and come join me."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Andrei objected. "Just because I'm single doesn't mean I go around and bed every attractive woman I met."

Lena clearly wasn't amused. "You i***t, it's freezing outside," she explained. "That means it's pretty damn cold in here. Now unless you want to catch pneumonia, you're going to get in this bed and share body heat with me. Antonio, you too."

"Sweet!"

Antonio had his shirt off and was nestled under the covers before Andrei could even make up his mind. He hesitated and his confusion showed on his face. "What's wrong?" Lena eventually asked.

"It's just," Andrei stuttered for a moment. He tried to think of a decent way to explain himself. "I'm a man," he finally said. "And surprisingly, you've got a pretty nice body for a girl soldier – don't take that the wrong way –"

"There's a young boy in here, too," Lena pointed out. "Do I need to protect his ass from you?"

Andrei couldn't help but laugh, surprised at the sudden twisted sense of humor presented to him. "No," he chuckled. He relaxed a little and finally felt confident enough to remove his shirt and take his trousers off. He crawled into the bed and planned on having Antonio in between him and Lena; not that having a young boy cuddle with him was something he looked forward too. Instead, Antonio masterfully switched him places, so he had no choice.

Antonio switched the small desk lamp off and Andrei tried to make himself comfortable. It had been a long time since he had shared a bed with anyone. He had to admit it was a lot warmer with three bodies under the covers instead of just one. He ended up on his side with Antonio's back against his; meanwhile, one of his hands rested under his head while the other pulled Lena to his chest.

"This is nice," he whispered into her ear.

"Keep it nice," she mumbled back.