The Vladivostok Incident

Chapter 12

State of Affairs

The next morning Andrei was woken by the sounds of whistling. His green eyes slid open slightly, slowly, until he could see through his tired orbs the woman he held onto. It was a bit odd to him; he hadn't woken up next to a woman in nearly a decade. He had almost forgotten what another person's heat felt like, and he sure as hell was glad that chilly morning she was there. They hadn't moved, but the warmth that was at his back was gone. Antonio was awake and in the bathroom. The rhythm of the shower and the whistled tune was thanks to the boy.

Outside the sun was completely covered by a heavy layer of clouds. Whatever time it was it was still too early for Andrei. Surprising to him, however, was the fact that the soldier girl Lena was still nestled in his arms. He thought for certain she would be the first one awake. A few strands of her dark hair had fallen over her face, protecting it from his gaze. He wanted to brush it away, but his hand didn't listen. Instead, it left its position at the small of her back and slipped downward. She never stirred as his hand continued to roam; next was her thigh and then her stomach, where he circled around her belly button several times.

She twitched when his hand brushed against her breast on its way to her neck. Her eyes fluttered open just as he finally brushed the hair out of her face.

"Good morning," he smiled.

"What are you doing?" she asked, although not angrily.

"Trying to remember what it's like to sleep with a woman."

"Have you been sleeping with men recently?" she joked.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her comment. "No," he responded. "Sodomy's a sin."

"What if it's with a woman?"

Andrei's handsome face twisted. "We should stop this conversation," he requested. He expected her to be a cold, boring woman. It turned out she was a bit more outgoing than he was comfortable with. It was the opposite for her; she had expected him to be more like his coworkers, who had spoken like they were wannabe womanizers. He was still a man, however, and she could see in his face that he found their situation arousing. The way his eyes appeared droopy and the tip of his nose turned red was just as Deacon acted.

"Morning!"

The shriek was a bit late and didn't give the two adults any warning. Antonio, dressed only in his underwear, leapt from the ground and belly flopped straight on top of the both of them. His right elbow smacked Andrei in the face and his left knee hit Lena in the side. This caused the two adults to roll away from each other. Little Antonio smiled at the both of them.

"I'm going to shower," Andrei announced. He slipped out from under the covers, gathered his shirt and jacket, and disappeared into the bathroom. Before he closed the door he took one more look at Lena. She was tickling Antonio as if he was her little brother. She'd already completely forgotten about their earlier conversation.

The warmth from Antonio's shower lingered in the air and offered the only comfort in that tiny room. The walls were a sickly yellow color, there were cracks in the tile and the single ceiling light barely gave any assistance in the dark prison. Andrei gazed into the mirror that was directly across from the door; the fog that had accumulated prevented him from getting a good view. He ended up leaning against the cheap sink as he wiped away the fog in order to see himself better.

Revealed was a divorced man with absolutely no ambition for life. His wavy hair was still the same light brown it had always been, which reassured him he wasn't too old yet. There were no wrinkles on his face; the only thing on his face was dirt and blood from the past week or so traveling. His eyes traveled downward; he still squared off his shoulders expertly like a soldier should. Just above his heart was a faded tattoo of a dove which carried the banner of his regiment. Sure, he wasn't proud of his actions as a soldier, but the men he stood with were his best allies in the world. He treasured the banner carrying dove as symbol to those he knew.

His hand touched the tattoo and he away from the mirror and down at his chest. Being a worker, he had kept his body in very good shape. All of those who worked in his factory were in better shape than most of the police officers who roamed the streets at night. There were a few scars across his body from his reckless life, but he felt confident he was a fine looking gentleman. In fact, Andrei felt that he was a very deserving gentleman. Throughout his life he had kept himself in check and had tried his best to remain a decent human being.

Something on the inside of his wrist caught his eye. He lifted his arm up and saw before him the branding mark all soldiers received. "EG" was burned into his skin when he was only fifteen years old. "Once a Eurasian Guard, always a Eurasian Guard," was the motto. Even after all the years that had passed, Andrei remembered the feeling of the hot iron being pressed into his flesh; with that memory, he was reminded of why he hadn't been rewarded yet.

"I'm an i***t," he said aloud. He placed his palm against his face as he felt a headache coming on. "A soldier can't get involved with a girl like her. She hates soldiers." He stopped himself and looked back into the mirror. He let out a small laugh and said, "What the hell, Andrei? You barely know her. She's probably a bitch."

Done reflecting, Andrei entered the shower and let the cold water wash away his worries for the time being.

When he was finished and stepped out of the bathroom he felt much better. Cleansing away the blood and dirt made him feel reborn. By that time, Antonio was bursting with energy and Lena was already prepared to head out. "What are you all dressed up for?" he asked. He had assumed since the car wouldn't be ready until dusk, they would remain in the hotel. After all, it seemed kind of dangerous outside.

"Antonio said he'll take us back to Fyo," Lena explained. "We need to understand Urgal better, and he said Fyo knows more than anyone."

"What if he didn't survive last night's skirmish?" Andrei asked

"He'll be alive, trust me!" Antonio grinned.

So they ended up walking throughout all of Urgal looking for Fyo. Antonio took them on a wild ride. Most of the time they were running through the back alleys or hopping over fences and walls. It was quite a workout for old man Andrei. The temperature outside must have been below zero and his joints didn't appreciate it one bit. Still, despite the clouds in the sky, there was no precipitation, which all three were greatly thankful for.

They arrived at a small restaurant on the other side of town. Much like the rest of Urgal, it wasn't in the best of shape. The windows were boarded up, the door was chained shut, and the walls looked ready to crumble. In order to get inside, Antonio had to speak for a good few minutes to a man that stood outside. To Andrei, it seemed as though Antonio was merely making small talk or trying to do business, as both the boy and the man laughed and smiled throughout the conversation. That was partially true; Antonio was trying to trade off information with the man because that was how he earned his bread, but he needed to explain the appearance of Andrei and Lena, too.

"Fyo's in the back," the man finally said. He addressed all three of them when they spoke. "He's relaxing so he might not want to talk, but if he sees a pretty girl he'll certainly say yes!" The man winked at Lena; she struggled to smile back at him and his crooked. He opened the door to the shabby restaurant and said, "Come in and make yourself comfortable."

Inside was crowded with railroad workers and miners. Smoke hung thick in the area and the commotion of several dozen workers drowned the newcomers in noise. The room was packed with tables and chairs, forcing groups close together. The threesome made a sweeping look around the lobby but failed to see Fyo.

Someone grabbed Andrei's shoulder as soon as the door was closed. "What're you here for?" he asked.

"Fyo!" Antonio answered for Andrei.

The man motioned for them to follow. He led them through the crowded restaurant to the very back corner. There, rested by himself with only a newspaper and a drink, was Fyo. He looked up when he heard them approach. He smiled welcomingly, handsomely, specifically at Lena.

"Good day," he greeted. An index finger pushed his flatcap back so he could get a better view. "I'm glad you all made it out okay. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I need to know more about the situation in Urgal," Lena said. "Antonio said you would be the most knowledgeable."

"Well," he patted the empty seat next to him. "Why don't you all sit down and make yourselves comfortable?" He waited until they were all seated; Lena was across from him, Antonio was next to him, and Andrei was diagonal from him. His eyes focused solely on Lena and she realized really quickly that the man at the door wasn't joking; the only reason he was talking to them at that moment was because of her. "What exactly are you looking for?"

Lena noticed the newspaper and her eyes lingered on it for a moment. It was a national newspaper. She looked back up to Fyo and asked, "First, what do you know about current events around the nation?"

Fyo leaned back and shrugged dramatically. "St. Petersburg's been completely destroy," he claimed. "Paris has burned to the ground and the Eurasian Guard has been sent to London. They say the capital could be taken at any moment. As for Japan, they're still fighting off the Chinese Navy. If you want, you can have the newspaper."

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," he smirked. He watched as she picked the newspaper up, rolled it, and placed it in her purse. "If you wanna know about Urgal, it's gonna cost you. And," his leg brushed against hers, "I'm more expensive than Antonio."

Andrei hadn't known that Fyo attempted to flirt with Lena, but he did notice her body twitch uncomfortably. His brain clicked into place and started to pick apart their situation. They were in a strange place, in the very back, surrounded by working men. If for any reason they angered Fyo, they probably wouldn't leave the building alive. This realization made him paranoid.

"Can I have a drink?" Antonio asked. His little hands pointed to Fyo's drink.

"If you can hold your vodka, Little Antonio, you can have all you want," Fyo winked. He slid the glass to the boy and watched as he had two large gulps of the liquid without as much as a wince or complaint. Pleased that the boy wasn't about to spit out his drink, Fyo turned back to the adults. He noticed their expressions had changed; Andrei appeared more paranoid than when they first arrived, and Lena looked like she wanted him to hurry and get to the point. So, he leaned forward onto the table and said, "I'll be fair. I won't tell you about Urgal but I can update you on what's going on around Urgal."

"How is that fair?" Andrei questioned.

"Look, I don't want to be causing hostilities, but I can't trust you just because Little Antonio says so and you've got a girl with you," Fyo told Andrei. "You're branded as a lap dog of the state and you're not part of the resistance. I don't lack faith you will change, however. You saw last night that out of all the troops passing through Urgal, such a small amount showed up. Many of the soldiers are only trying to earn money for bread. They want nothing to do with the corruption. If and when a revolution starts, the soldiers will realize they are being ordered to fire at themselves when their guns are pointed towards the civilians. The puppeteers are the elite. The soldiers will realize this and will cut the strings that make them slaves."

"Whoa, okay," Andrei resigned with a small, nervous laugh.

Fyo realized he had taken a defensive posture and had to lean back and force himself to relax. He exhaled loudly; his fingers drummed against the table as a sign of impatience. "The soldiers will be leaving as soon as Lev Fedorov arrives," Fyo said. "I suggest staying out of town until they leave. A lot of anarchists will try to take his life. Not only is he a Fedorov, but his attitude since the disappearance of his brother has been despicable. He sent Sarah Fedorov – Antanas Fedorov's wife – to the Chinese for interrogation, and then took Antanas's daughter."

"He took his daughter?" Andrei repeated. "I didn't know he had a daughter, but that's not as important as to why Lev would take her."

"He's a Fedorov," Fyo stressed. "There are only two things he could do with a little girl."

"Don't want to hear it," Andrei quickly interrupted.

"You'll have to wait a few days to avoid Lev, though," Fyo continued. "First, the track was hit by some sort of makeshift bomb. Obviously a failed and miscalculated assassination attempt. Second, Lev's wife wanted to take the scenic train, which goes considerably slower than the normal trains. Everything will be stopped. Only for a Fedorov, I'm telling you."

"I am fr-fre-freezing!"

Shelton yawned after Petras's complaint; the complaint/yawn combination had become a hobby for them over the past twenty four hours. It started with Shelton complaining that the food was cold. Petras then yawned. Annoyed, Shelton waited until Petras complained. When Petras said his head was hurting due to his injury, Shelton yawned loudly. It was the only entertainment they had.

Andrei and Lena had until sunrise to return or they left without them. For Shelton, Petras and Antoine, the past two days were spent counting down the hours. All three of them wanted the two to come back alive.

After letting out his fake yawn, Shelton concentrated his sights on the skies. It was nighttime, so he had hoped the stars would be visible. Unfortunately, it was cloudy and a haze drifted over the land which probably added to the coolness in the air. Despite the fact no stars were in the sky that night, Shelton remained on his back. His hair was still matted down by blood and sweat. It was disgusting to say the least. All he wanted for a brief moment was some escape from that Russian night, but the heavens hid themselves from his clear blue eyes.

"You think coach got some last night or tonight?" Shelton asked to no one in particular.

"You mean Andrei?" Petras asked. He thought for a moment; his mind was moving much too slow for it to be normal. The head injury he received during the rollover of the IFV turned into a hideous bruise and was slightly swollen. Inside, his brain felt like it was pressing itself against a steel grate. Fortunately, aside from the headache there were no other symptoms of damage. "Nah," Petras finally said. "He's too straight laced."

They fell back into silence. That's how it had been since Andrei and Lena left for Urgal. For some reason, without the older man around Petras and Shelton felt vulnerable. Surrounding them were "honkies, yanks, and cowboys" as Antanas mumbled; that was about all he had said, as he laid near a fire, his hand holding his injured thigh and his face covered in sweat despite the cold. Maybe his injury was more serious than the others assumed, or maybe he was being more of a baby than anyone thought possible. Either way, Antanas contributed nothing.

Antoine on the other hand wouldn't shut up. Every time Shelton and Petras quieted down, he jumped in with some useless comment. "Hey, you never know," he said. "Lena's breezy."

"What the hell does that mean?" Petras asked.

"You don't know?" Antoine laughed. "Man, what kind of slang do you Russian boys use?"

"I'm not Russian," admitted Shelton.

"Kind of figured," Antoine said. "Shelton isn't a very Russian name."

Back into silence they went. Shelton became aware of the coldness and a shiver ran from the bottom of his spine up his neck. His entire body shook, and he became aware of the pain his body was feeling. First, his artificial limb did not respond well to the temperature and locked up often; the nerves stabbed at him. There was a twitch in his back that was more annoying than painful. His neck needed to be popped and he would do anything for a nice foot massage. No, make that a full body massage.

"Being straight laced ain't all bad, though," Antoine added. Shelton stretched to see the group around the fire. Caesar rested on his bedding; Petras sat on his bottom and held his knees close; Antoine was rested on his elbow.

"How many times have you had s*x?" Petras asked.

The question clearly embarrassed Antoine; he blushed deeply and scratched his cheek in a nervous gesture. "I don't really keep track…" he mumbled. It became awkwardly silent for him and he felt several pairs of eyes on him. "What?" he defended. "If you write that stuff down, I mean, that's just creepy."

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" Shelton teased.

"So what if I am?" Antoine demanded.

"You're like thirty years old!" cried Petras with a small laugh.

"Some of us have morals, you know?"

"Come on, Antoine!" Shelton chuckled. "Nobody willingly stays a virgin."

"I do."

While the two younger men laughed at his expense, Antoine smiled. Sure, being laughed at wasn't in his plans, but if people were having fun he was okay with it. Especially those two, as neither one had really adjusted to their current situation, even if they appeared content. Anything Antoine could do to help them, he would do without a second thought. Maybe it was because he fit in better with them than with the Americans. He didn't spend much time dwelling on why he liked someone, though; he always figured there was some sort of divine reason for the emotions people felt. Just because he had to fight a war didn't mean any of that would change.

The laughing ceased when one of the scouts came dashing from his hiding place. He knelt next to Rex and informed him of the situation. "There's a truck stopped in the middle of the road, sir," he whispered. "It's a ZL truck. Three adults inside. I thought I spotted Lena in the passenger seat, but I can't be sure."

Rex motioned towards Petras. "Have Mr. Garder approach the vehicle," he commanded.

Petras perked up at the sound of his name. He looked towards Rex and found all eyes on him. The scout who had hurried to the Commandant made his way to the workers a bit uneasily. He was an American fighter –a trespasser on their land. He wondered if the workers blamed them somehow for their predicament; maybe they held some sort of grudge towards him. As for the workers, it was a bit awkward for them, because the scout was one American they hadn't even talked to yet.

"Mr. Garder?" the scout asked.

"I heard, I heard," Petras sighed. He stood and brushed off his pants of the frozen dirt and forest debris. His boots crunched against the ground as he walked past the scout. He patted the American on his shoulder and said, "Show me where this truck is."

Although he looked brave and fearless, being forced to approach an unknown vehicle in enemy territory, his knees were shaking. A nervous twitch of making and unmaking a fist forced his knuckles white. He tried to keep his breathing normal by inhaling and exhaling through his nose. Paranoid of what might lay ahead, memories of the previous fights clouded his mind. He could again hear the gunfire and screams; once more he could taste and smell the blood and sweat; his body tingled in remembrance of all the stress he had been through since the attack on Tynda. He wanted to turn back and tell them to go to the truck themselves because he was certain he was going to get shot. Yet he almost hoped he would be shot, so he could have an escape from his current situation.

Twigs were crushed under his work boots as he clunked his way towards the road. Shadows danced around. Any source of light was covered by the clouds. The scout simply pointed in a general direction and said, "Just keep going that way." It was evident that the scout wasn't too fond of the truck and was a little bit afraid, too. Much of Rex's group was thrown together. Not all of them had prior military experience and it showed at times. And so, without stealth or much thought, Petras carelessly made his way to the truck parked in the middle of the road.

His eyes were focused on the ground so he could watch where his feet went. The last thing he wanted to do was trip or step on a trap like Shelton had. Petras shivered at the memory; how the heck Shelton had managed to move on so fast was beyond Petras. Even as his friend, Petras didn't like to remember watching Shelton's arm slowly sawed off.

Lost in his thoughts and the movement of his feet, he wasn't paying much attention to what was happening around him.

"Petras?"

He looked up and realized he was standing on the cracked, faded asphalt. Within arm's reach was a shadowed figure and Petras had to blink a few times. When his eyes adjusted, he saw a familiar face.

It was Andrei. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Standing next to Andrei was Lena. Behind her was the ZL truck that the scout had warned them about.

"What the hell are you doing in the middle of the road?" asked Andrei.

"I should be asking you the same thing!" Petras shouted, masking his relief.

"Hey, Petey!" the driver of the truck called out. Petras peeked over Andrei's shoulder so he could look inside the truck. All he could make out was a backwards painter's cap and an unlit cigarette hanging out of a half-smile.

Petras pushed past Andrei and stood onto the truck's step so he could lean in. "I need a cigarette," he said.

Viktor frowned. "We haven't seen each other since the factory, and all you have to say is 'I need a cigarette?' I could be dead!" he cried. "Besides, this is my last one."

"I haven't smoked in over a week," Petras whined. His face relaxed a bit and he added, "But I am glad you're alright."

Viktor waved him off. "Don't pretend, Petey," he smiled. "I am pretty lucky though. Some of those boys at the factory managed to kick that metal pile's ass and pull me out. Got rescued by some police officers outside. Oh! Reminds me!" He reached into the cab somewhere and disappeared out of sight for a moment. When he returned, he opened the driver's side door, nearly knocking Petras off. Viktor swung out and for the first time since the factory incident, Petras saw Viktor completely. His left leg was missing, as was his left arm. How the hell he managed to drive was beyond anyone, but he acted as though nothing significant had happened.

"Oh, man," Petras breathed, unable not to gawk at Viktor's missing limbs. His attention was brought to a potato sack.

The potato sack was opened and out fell a small four legged robot. Petras jumped back and stood straight at the sight of the pile on the pavement. He watched it closely, afraid it would attack at any second. "Oops," Viktor muttered as he picked it up. "I got a whole bunch of these! Walked back into the factory with the police and I snatched some. Hand them off to Shelly for me, would ya? Let me know if he can figure anything out about them."

The sack was handed over to Petras who slowly and hesitantly took it.

Andrei turned to Viktor and smiled. "It was good to see you again. Thanks for the ride," he said.

"Hey, I'll be seeing you again, believe me. Just don't get yourselves killed until then, alright?" he joked. "Oh, how's the little bastard doing?"

"Caesar?" Petras asked. "He's a bit sick right now."

"Tell him I said I hope to see him again. And tell Shelton he still owes me a beer, even if that date with Liza never actually happened."

Petras frowned. He watched as Viktor gave them one final wave and slid what remained of his body back into the truck and closed the door. As the truck faded off down the road, only its taillights visible in the night, Petras wondered if they really would survive until they saw Viktor again. Each night that passed into day signaled one more small victory for them, but the closer they got to Urgal and the Port, the closer Petras felt to suffocating.