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| A work in progress. Chapters will be posted as they are written. |
I picked Anna up and gave her a kiss. “Go play now. Mama and daddy need to talk.” I placed her on the floor and she took off like a bullet to her room.
Pushing two pairs of socks into the side pocket of my pack, I said, “I have to go to the Russians’ Camp. They killed one of our locals, and if I can’t work it out with them, there’ll be a war and we’ll be right in the middle of it.”
Mary began to help me lay my warm clothes out. “I hope you’re not going to try to walk around the mountain by yourself.”
“Mary, it’s not like I can take anyone from the village with me. It would be a toss-up as to who would start shooting first.”
“What about Jerome? Why can’t he go with you?”
I zipped the side pocket of my pack that had my socks in it and pulled Mary against my chest. “Jerome is one of them now. Taking him would be no different from taking one of the others. I’ll be fine – a walk in the park.”
She pushed away from me and headed to Anna’s room. “Our little girl has gotten too quiet…I don’t know many parks where each step can be your last.”
I hollered after her, “I have it planned out. I will leave before first light, cover the easy part of the trip, and that will give me six full hours of light for the hard part.”
Mary soon came back in carrying Anna. “I’ve got to bathe her; she got into my makeup again. Also, dear, you can’t plan for something you know nothing about. You’ve never been on the Russians’ side of the mountain, so don’t try and fool me. I know damn well how dangerous this is.”
“Okay, it is dangerous, but I have no choice. I do this or we go to war, and that is much more dangerous than me taking a little walk.”
She shouted from the bathroom, “I’m finished talking about it. You know how I feel and, as usual, you’re going to do what you want.”
I finished packing without any more conversation. I would pick up food supplies after dinner and set my pack and food bag on the front porch. I would put on my cold-weather gear in the house very early in the morning. Mary was right about me not knowing what I was getting into. But the die was cast.
That night Anna was upset and Mary put her in between us in our bed. It was as though Anna sensed that not everything was right with the world.
I eased the bedroom door closed the next morning and donned my cold-weather gear, which is a two-piece suit that looks a lot like a spacesuit. I stepped into it and pulled it over my arms and shoulders and then I zipped it so that no lower skin was exposed. When I put on the helmet, I would be covered from head to toe. The suit was intended to be used for placing sensors on the mountain, but after the earth tilted I started using it for any long-term exposure. The walk around the mountain was going to be just that.
I slung my rifle over one shoulder and put on my helmet and switched on its top-light before going out onto the porch, where I picked up and adjusted the pack and the food bag onto my back. Looking back at the door, I almost went back inside, but instead I headed out across the ice in the dark. It was about 20 below – a warm day.
That hour and a half before it became light was harder going than I had thought it would be. For my feet I had snapped on snow/ice shoes that the locals had made from elk antlers. They had sharp barbs on the bottom for traction. But even with them on, I had a hard time keeping my footing.
After it became light enough for me to see where I was placing each foot, things went better. I was making good time. The suit used my body heat to keep me warm, but it also had a built-in battery-powered heater and filtering system. The battery was charged by my walking or even moving any part of my body. The suit was a work of art.
Daylight ended at 3:00 p.m., so I was looking for a place to camp for the night. I could lay out in the cold in the suit with the heater keeping me from freezing to death, but I could save the battery’s charge by getting out of the wind.
The sun never rose or set anymore. It just got less dark, and then very dark. The reflection from the ice with the diffused light was bad enough; direct sunlight could blind a person.
Then I saw a dark spot on the side of the mountain that I thought might be a large rock formation that could protect me from the wind. It was getting darker and I had to hurry. I won’t call it running, but I did move faster and was out of breath by the time I reached the dark spot.
The dark spot turned out to be a cave – one of the few that had not been covered by the ice. It would be perfect for the night, but I couldn’t be sure what might be in there. I took my rifle off my shoulder and eased a bullet into the chamber. Then I turned on my light and stepped into the mouth of the cave. Its cavity was over seven feet high, and I could see its back wall, so it appeared to be a shallow cave. I inched my way towards the back until I almost fell over a bear that was lying on its side against the rear wall.
I jumped back and almost fired my rifle, but the bear hadn’t moved. I looked more closely and the bear didn’t appear to be breathing. I poked it with the barrel of my gun. No reaction. I put my hand on its back. It was frozen. The bear must have been hibernating when the big freeze hit, and it never woke up.
I set up my tent and crawled inside it. I had to fight to stay awake. My body needed food before I slept. I fired up my little stove and heated a can of beans. The warmth from the stove allowed me to take off my helmet. I could smell the beans now, and my stomach let me know its hunger.
I awoke the next morning stiff from sleeping on the rock floor. I started my stove and heated my pre-made coffee; it would be all I’d have until I reached the Russians’ camp.
The warmth of the coffee raised my spirits. Or maybe it was a caffeine rush. I didn’t care which. I adjusted the pack and shouted at the bear, “Guard the cave; I’ll see you on my way back.”
The last leg of the trek was much easier – I was going downhill. I made up a lot of time and came in sight of the camp well before dark. I saw a flash of light off the lens of somebody’s binoculars. It was good that they had spotted me, for though they would be on guard, they wouldn’t be surprised.
Three armed men met me halfway to the entrance. I explained who I was and that I needed to speak to the commander. One of the men led the way and the other two walked behind me with their rifles at the ready.
Once in the camp, I was taken to a hut where I was told to get out of my suit. After I did that, I took a sweater from my pack and pulled it over my head. I had no shoes, only a thick pair of socks, but that would have to do. The man who had led the way motioned me down a long hall. He knocked on the door at the end and a voice shouted “приходить,” which was Russian for “come in.”
The room was neatly tidied, with a desk facing out from the opposite wall. The man sitting behind the desk was large. From one shoulder to the next had to be 36 inches. His head was bald and his beard was gigantic. “Russian Cossack” jumped into my mind. The wall to his right (my left) displayed maps and pictures of the mountain, and the wall to my right backed a couch and coffee table.
A blue folder lay open on the desk. The man closed it, and I think he smiled, but it was hard to tell under all that dark beard. In perfect English, he said, “Well, Mr. Stone, you have quite the resume. You’ve come a long way; it must be important.” He motioned the guard to leave.
I waited for the guard to close the door behind me before I spoke. “You have me at a disadvantage. May I know who you are? How do you wish for me to address you?”
“I’m Karl Vissarionovich. You may call me Vic. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you, Vic. You can call me Hap. You speak very good English – did you study in the States?”
He laughed. “I went to Harvard University for four years. The KGB was trying to recruit me as a spy, but then the Soviet Union broke apart and I found myself in the Army. And that is why I am here…Why are you here?”
“I’m trying to stop a war.”
“Look around, Mr. Hap. There is nothing to fight a war over but a bunch of fucking ice.”
I decided to come right to the point. “Some of your men went hunting across the line into the Balkars’ area. When confronted, they killed a man.”
Karl Vissarionovich took a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses from his desk and began to pour. “I hope you don’t think I would turn one of my men over to the Balkar – even if there were any truth to what you say.”
I picked my shot glass up and we toasted and threw back the drink. “Vic, it’s a question of living or dying. I have hunted with the Balkars; you don’t want them as enemies. If I told you one could be standing right behind you and you would never know it, you should believe me. Understand, they don’t wish to kill the man who did them wrong, but he killed a woman’s husband. They demand justice, and that means for your man to take the place of the dead husband. I can think of a lot worse fates.”
“Are you serious? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s their way, and I’m with you: I’ve never heard of such a thing. But having your man replace their loss would stop them from going to war over the murder.” I held up a hand. “And that was what it was – a murder.”
Karl Vissarionovich poured us another shot and raised his glass. “You may talk to my man. If he is willing to go, then okay. If not, maybe I’ll go. Or we will go to war.”
| Copyright © 2021 by Ed Rogers |
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