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November/December
1992, The Balkans
As long
as Vadim was around, Dan spent the morning exactly as he would
have normally, then went to phone Maurice in Belgrade centre.
He was lucky, his mate was off duty early that day, and they
met in a café near the French embassy, where Maurice
downed his obligatory wine, or two, or three, and Dan, for
once, stuck to strong coffee, black and brutal. He liked it
the Serbian way.
He told
Maurice all he needed to know, asking the man to collect the
Russian, and after a few questions, as remarkably dry as the
whole man, Maurice shrugged, lit another cigarette with the
glowing butt of the one before, and nodded. He'd pick up 'the
parcel' and make sure Dima would be taken good care of, while
they were trying to figure out the paperwork.
It was
getting towards the end of Vadim's dayshift time, when Dan
headed back, hurrying to get to the camp before the other
returned. Checking the vehicle park, he booked one of the
Landrovers for later, and wished he had a legitimate reason
to sign out a weapon, but the bastards had no duties for him
that warranted the extra security, and he counted as a civilian
- officially. Not that that stopped any of the goddamned natives
on either side to pick up an AK and go slaughtering, just
as Dima had mentioned. He'd simply have to be careful.
Dan packed
his bergan with a few necessities, including - as always -
his basic survival kit and his favourite knife, adding a stash
of sandwiches and a couple of water bottles. A life on the
line had taught him to be always prepared and never assume
anything. He left the bergan in the vehicle and avoided Vadim
in the room, pretending to head out with his team, only to
sneak back in under the cover of darkness. Exchanging a few
quiet words with the guards and making sure he didn't cross
Vadim's path, he hid in the Lannie, with clear view of most
of the camp.
He waited.
Watching the dorms for signs of Vadim, while staying hidden
in the shadows. Wrapped up in his heaviest winter gear, he
had to be patient once more.
Vadim's
face was closed like a steel door, frowning darkly, hiding
agitation as he headed out, carrying only a light pack. Away,
towards where he'd hid Dima. He rushed, travelling as fast
as possibly, worry and anger and most of all the feeling of
time ticking away.
Dan followed,
the lights of his vehicle off, picking his way in the darkness
with nothing but the moonlight. Counting on Vadim's state
of mind to lessen the man's alertness. He parked a distance
away while Vadim went through the shelled building again,
searching every little place where somebody could hide, eventually
picked up two AKs and a bag of ammo, checked both rifles,
but they were in working order. Checking for footprints, for
anything that would allow him to track Dima, but there was
nothing, the ground was too frozen for boot prints, and not
enough snow to help him.
Vadim
still couldn't let it go, checked again, but eventually, he
sat down, looking defeated, tired, and immensely worried.
Dan had left his vehicle, moved closer to the building, and
was watching while staying hidden. Breath misting in the freezing
cold, he had to be careful, but seeing Vadim's face, the way
he looked worried, not angry, he was glad he had taken the
risk. Perhaps Vadim wasn't a completely unhinged madman. Not
yet.
Vadim
picked up the rifle again and headed up the hills, into the
valley behind. Towards the 'farm', and Dan followed once more,
had legged it back to the Lannie when Vadim started the engine,
and was picking a neckbreaking path through the darkness.
Eventually,
Vadim's Landrover pulled up in front of a secluded farm building.
Frost had silvered the grass, and the dead guard dog with
its entrails spilled out. Vadim pulled his gloves up and took
the AK off his shoulder to enter the main building.
Dan,
following in a distance, left his vehicle far enough away
that his engine could not be heard. Making his way quietly
towards the building. He'd seen Vadim enter, and he'd also
noticed the weapons, while he couldn't make out the make in
the darkness, he had no doubt it wasn't British issue, and
no way in hell had Vadim signed a chit for any of them.
He carefully
pushed the door open, but no sound from inside, Vadim was
either waiting for him, or he had already moved through, but
he counted on his instinct. That instinct told him the other
man had no idea he was being followed.
Inside,
carnage. The kitchen held two dead men, only winter and the
fact that the building hadn't been heated had slowed down
decomposition, but the stench of blood was everywhere. These
men had died a messy death, one after the other, the method
of killing was knife, deep, horrible wounds in vital organs,
precise, cold-blooded stab wounds that betrayed the savage
strength of somebody bent to wreak the most destruction. The
jobs had been finished by cutting their throats to let them
bleed out like pigs, to make sure nobody could save them.
It was
the same image everywhere, carnage all over the building,
when Dan crept through the rooms, never catching sight of
Vadim. Up in the bedrooms, some had been murdered in their
sleep. All of them dressed like chetniks, AKs and ammo all
over the place, the bodies looked like from the set of a horror
film, only it was far too real.
If Dan
hadn't seen and done what he did, he'd be sick, but as it
was, his stomach churned, but more from the shock that this
was the work of his
lover. A madman had done this.
Someone unhinged and completely out of control, and that was
Vadim? So much for his earlier hope.
He pressed
himself against the wall, right on top of the stairs at the
landing, when he heard a sound downstairs.
"Dima?"
Vadim called, in Russian. "Are you here?" He was
standing in the kitchen, hoping that Dima had made his way
back, even if - and he admitted that - it didn't make much
sense. But if he'd been Dima, and needed assistance, food,
water, maybe a phone, he'd come back here, probably lay low
for a day or two, and then head out again. But no answer.
Dan was
debating with himself, was it safe enough - without a weapon
- to make it downstairs? Deciding against it. He strained
to hear any movement from below, but all he could make out
was one faint sound beneath a boot. Vadim was still as good
as he had been in Afghanistan, but so was he, and he braced
himself with a deep breath in the icy cold.
"Did
that make you feel any better, Vadim?" He called out,
into the darkness.
Dima?
No. Dan. Of course Dan. Vadim moved towards the door, didn't
want to confront Dan, bad enough that Dan had managed to follow
him here, and doubtlessly seen what he'd done. Dan didn't
have the stomach for this kind of thing, didn't, for once,
do what had to be done to make even a small difference in
this fucked-up country. Better? Worse. Didn't matter. Dima
wasn't here, but he needed to find him. Maybe the other place.
Maybe they'd brought Dima there. If the chetniks were still
around, that would mean killing. He left the house, made sure
he couldn't be seen from any of the windows, then sprinted
towards the Landrover. He'd have to shake Dan off. He didn't
have time for this.
"Shit!"
Dan ran down the stairs, almost tripping over, and only managed
to catch himself in the last moment. Legging it back to his
vehicle, he could see Vadim racing off in the distance, and
forced himself to do what the fuck he needed them to do. He
reached the Lannie in record time, revving the engine, light
on this time, he sped after Vadim. Driving as much like a
madman as the other. He was not going to let him get away,
no way. Not this time. He should have done something earlier.
Damned pride, and thrice damned hurt, but perhaps he could
have prevented this pointless carnage in a place full of murder,
rape and pain. It made Vadim no better than any of the others
- because he had no orders to kill.
Vadim
drove fast, shaken on his seat when the car bucked across
the frozen ground. What the fuck did Dan want from him? Why
here? Why now? He steadily climbed the next mountain, next
valley, he knew there was another place where a bunch of chetniks
ran their operations from, this one near a pass and just too
conveniently placed close to a road. He couldn't just drive
in if he wanted to get them all. Remembering for a moment
how he'd almost shot Dima when he'd found that other farm.
Dan. Fuck. He didn't want to talk, not now, not about that
shit, he wanted to focus on what he could change and could
deal with. Bastard!
But Dan
wouldn't let up, he was following Vadim into territory he
only knew from the maps. Racing through the night, he frowned
when Vadim took the path towards the valley, but he had to
catch Vadim, get some sense into him and stop this goddamned
madness.
Vadim
drove the car into a protected bit, not too far off the road,
but deep enough to not be spotted, and jumped out, grabbing
his weapons, ammo, and pack, while Dan arrived not too much
later. Keeping his vehicle further away, on the other side
and beneath a crop of trees. Vadim headed up, on foot, trying
to reach the mountain top above the cluster of buildings.
He'd need to scout the place, but the plan was to kill them
before first light. All of them. Unless they had Dima.
But Dan
had other plans, and he jumped out of the car, leaving the
bergan behind, as he ran after Vadim. Groaning with each step
up the mountain, each jarring of his knees, but he wasn't
far behind.
Vadim
turned while running, saw Dan fight up the mountain, and lengthened
his stride, speeding up, lungs painfully filled with every
breath due to the cold. It felt like needles in his chest,
but he went on, making it to the top and the much steeper
descent on the other side.
Dan was
breathless, and his knees hurt like absolute fuck, but he
got to the top with all the determination he'd ever possessed.
"You stupid fuck!" He forced out, nearly nauseous
with the exertion. "What the fuck do you think you're
doing?"
Vadim
suddenly turned, breath misting around him, near the highest
point of the mountain. A shocking mistake in Afghanistan,
but here, the trees around him hid his silhouette, and he
snarled. "What does it look like?"
Dan grimaced,
hands clenched into fists in the thick gloves, "like
a fucking madman on a killing rampage. Without orders!"
Crossing the last few steps, he was shaking with anger, "like
a murderer! Because you're no fucking better than them!"
"Fuck
orders!" shouted Vadim. "Fuck your bloody fucking
orders! Ordering me to fucking take this lying down what's
happening here? No fucking way!"
"You're
a fucking disgrace to any soldier!" Dan was shaking his
fist, livid with rage by now. It all came out, everything
that had built up in the last weeks. "You take this personal
then, arsehole? Didn't stop you committing the same shit in
Afghanistan, did it? Didn't seem to take it personal then."
Vadim
felt that impact, right to the core. Disgrace. He'd heard
that so often, and he'd disbelieved it, until one day he'd
accepted it because he couldn't fight it off any longer. It
was easier to give in, he'd been worn out, and every effort
to deny this - that he had given in - only pushed the bullet
deeper. Dan snarling into his face, the accusations - that
they had done the same thing, but no, this war was uglier,
out of proportion, a seething, festering, self-destructive
hatred that had nothing to do with the boneheadedness of the
Pashtuns. He closed the distance to push Dan away, hands impacting
against Dan's broad chest. "Fuck you."
Face
distorted with anger, Dan fought the hands off, merely half-stumbling
before he found his balance again. "No, fuck you,
Russkie. Who the fuck suddenly turned you into the Avenger?"
Pushing his own hands against Vadim's chest, bodyweight behind
it. "Or is it because you wanted to kill me but
didn't quite have the guts for it?"
"It's
the only fucking thing I can do to change anything",
hissed Vadim, voice sounding strangled with anger and other
emotions, and he moved half a step further up. "Anything
at-fucking-all. Do you think I want to sit on my hands and
just wait it out? Like everybody else?"
"Do
you think I want to, arsehole?" Dan pushed again, a violent
shove, all his anger, frustration and hurt behind the movement.
"You think you're something special, and you think
that none of the other guys isn't going fucking insane with
this? Who the fuck do you think you are? Wielder of life and
fucking death?" He suddenly meant something very different,
and Dan's hand clenched into a fist. "Do you?" Yelling
at Vadim, "do you decide on life and death?" The
fist flew towards Vadim's jaw.
Vadim
evaded the blow with a sideways motion, hadn't expected that
it would come in so hard, had been a while since Dan had seriously
tried to fuck him up. He grabbed Dan's parka while he fell,
pulling him with him, hitting the ground, and an elbow-punch
found its way into Dan's chest. Holding onto him was like
fighting a bucking horse, powerful kicks and punches while
they rolled and slid down the stony, frosty slope, punching
and kicking and cursing.
One particularly
violent kick from Dan, after Vadim's fist had caught his jaw
and his teeth rattled in his skull, and they tilted forward,
sliding, bodies entwined, as they lost balance completely,
toppling, rolling, one over the other, down a steep slope,
slippery with loose stones that accelerated around them, noisily
crashing downwards. They scrabbled with arms and legs, trying
to stop the fall, until they hit a plateau, coming down hard,
when their bodies crashed onto the rock, Dan on top of Vadim.
Rattled,
disoriented for a moment, hurting in every place, Dan managed
to look around before Vadim got his bearings, neither of them
moving. They hung over a steep drop, below a deep valley,
and
"Oh fuck!" Dan got out, spitting blood,
as he stared down.
Vadim
coughed, several stones had impacted on his ribs on the way
down, and he was just glad it had stopped, even though Dan
still had the front of his parka clutched in his fists. Appetite
for the fight dulled by the pain, and Dan's sudden incredulous
expression. "What?" Twisting his head to be able
to peer down to what Dan was staring at.
"Don't
move." They were so close to the drop, a wrong movement
could throw them over the edge, and the loose stones were
still rolling down the rock face and towards the valley. "Look!"
Dan pointed to what had to be a camp. And a prisoner camp
at that. A goddamned fucking camp where there shouldn't be
one. Rows of metal shacks, hardly more than cages, search
lights, guards, and what seemed like corrals. "Where
the fuck are we?" Dan's voice was breathless, as he held
onto Vadim and the ground.
Vadim
twisted his neck and then reached into his pocket, freeing
the folded-up map, checking the area, squinting to make out
the words. "Just north of here", he murmured, indicating
a spot. "The pass is here, that's the road, that's the
car."
Dan carefully
rolled off Vadim, trying to keep his balance. "This is
not supposed to be here." Holding his jaw, the bastard
had got him at least a couple of times, and the pain blossomed.
"They are emptying out Manjaca, and in Omarska
"
Dan never finished the sentence, when a search light suddenly
moved up the side of the hill, blinding him, as it hit them
full force.
"Run",
said Vadim, and Dan was already getting to his feet. Somebody
was probably already on the way, and possibly a bunch of snipers
to boot. They weren't all incompetents, and Vadim moved away
from the brink, feeling his body protest after the punches,
his own fingers hurting, face, chest, fuck, he wasn't twenty
anymore when he'd have hardly felt this.
First
priority was to evade the light. Second was to get the fuck
back into the 'safe zone', which meant back to camp. Nothing
was truly safe in this fucking country. Vadim moved, ducked,
climbed up to the peak, the rifle unwieldy across his back,
then broke into a run, but he glanced to his shoulder before
he did, checking on Dan, who was not far behind him. Comrade,
above all, right now. "To the car."
Dan grunted
an affirmative, knew it was all about being as fast as they
could be. Detected. Detected while having detected what shouldn't
be there. He had a fair idea how much their lives were worth
right now, and he forced his body to comply. Once more, always
another time, beaten-up body or not. Racing down the hill,
stumbling a couple of times, when roots were in the way and
the moon didn't get through the trees, but every time, despite
the jarring pain, he went on, tried to run even faster, Vadim
in front of him.
They
were almost at the foot of the hill when a telltale sound
cut through the air and an almighty explosion threw them both
onto their backs. Vadim closer, the impact even harder, when
the RPG hammered into Vadim's vehicle, leaving them scrabbling
in the frozen forest dirt. The trees and leaves the only thing
that had sheltered them from the worst of the blast. "Shit!"
Dan yelled, deaf from the explosion, crawling on all fours
towards Vadim, who just raised his head, looking angry more
than shocked. Dan was yelling at him, but Vadim couldn't hear
a thing.
"Key!"
Dan shouted, fishing his own car key out of his pocket, pushing
it into Vadim's gloved hand as he gestured down the road,
towards his Landrover. "You're faster!" And he was
already up again, his body complying to a mind that would
never give up. Never.
Vadim
glanced at the key in his hand, then jumped to his feet, hearing
only the blood rush in his ears and the odd ring that told
him his eardrums had filed a complaint. No way to hear shots
now, or pursuers. He ran towards Dan's vehicle, briefly wondered
how he'd explain that he'd 'lost' a car 'out there', jumped
into the Landrover and started the machine, while Dan was
close behind, running as fast as he could.
Vadim
pushed the AK over towards Dan when he tore the passenger
door open and threw himself inside. "Go! Go!" Dan
yelled, and he took the automatic, turned on his seat to allow
for maximum coverage of any pursuers.
Gas pedal
met bottom. Vadim tore the car around, the wheels finding
purchase on the frozen ground, loose stones flying everywhere
when the Lannie jumped forward and broke through some undergrowth
onto the frozen road. A wild turn, tyres gripping asphalt,
Vadim saw, just in time, a convoy of two jeeps move towards
them. Pursuers? He couldn't risk it. The car screeched into
a bootlegger turn, away from the quickest way back to the
camp, and into the opposite direction.
The next
moment bullets hit the Landrover, and Dan ducked, cursing
under his breath, at the same time yanking the window down.
He hung far out of it, aiming at their pursuers, firing at
the windshields, then at the lights. He hit one of them, and
the vehicle veered to the side but kept going, while the second
one gained ground.
Vadim
leaned over to risk a glance down the mountain, where the
road snaked up, but he didn't believe in that kind of stunt.
They'd tumble down the mountain and then nothing. Too steep.
He'd just have to drive really well. Accelerating like a madman
with a death wish - the irony didn't escape him - he threw
the car into the next turn, throwing Dan almost out of the
seat and making aiming impossible. He raced up the mountain,
deeper into enemy country, chasing around the narrow turns,
hoping Dan would get a clear shot before they'd be too far
gone, then, suddenly, the road forked, and Vadim took the
one that didn't go straight into the enemy's stronghold -
towards the next valley. He kept his head down while driving,
glanced at Dan to see how he was faring.
Dan had
managed to crawl between the seats and into the back, bracing
himself against the side wall. His hearing was coming back
and he yelled over the noise of the vehicle, "you know
where the fuck you're going?" But then, the sharp next
turn, and it almost doubled them up with their pursuers. Aiming
in the car that jumped like crazy over the road was near impossible,
but he fired a round of shots and shouted in triumph when
the second car veered off and vanished with screeching tyres
and howling brakes down the steep side of the mountain, while
the other one gained ground again.
Vadim
heard Dan shout, but couldn't make out the words, assumed
it was some form of encouragement because he really didn't
want to hear any bad news, especially as the other driver
was determined and not half bad at driving himself. They could
only stay on the road for the moment, covering ground as fast
as possible, and Vadim could imagine that the others felt
they were winning - they had them in their territory and knew
where the road was going. He'd only had a brief look at the
map, but his best bet was that if they followed it, they would
eventually meet another road that would take them towards
the camp. "We have to go straight through", Vadim
shouted, still mostly deaf.
Dan had
smashed the side window in the rear of the hard-top with his
rifle butt, pieces of security glass flying everywhere. He
didn't hear Vadim's answer, hanging half out of the window.
His only chance to get those bastards, who kept criss-crossing
behind them. The bullets were flying, but every time Vadim
went around a bend in the hell-raising speed, he had a few
seconds of clear firing from the side. Smashing a bullet round
into the vehicle, he pulled back in, shouting while digging
more ammo out of Vadim's pack, "Whatever you're doing,
I need a damn sharp bend to the right!"
Vadim
nodded, narrowing his eyes to try and see the road before
he went past it, and, indeed, a sharp right turn came up that
made the tail of the car almost spin off the road. Vadim released
the handbrake in the exact right moment and again kicked the
pedal down. "At least we're back in the right direction",
he shouted.
Dan didn't
hear, was hanging out of the window with half of his body,
legs hooked in the metal bars of the opposite seat. Firing
a long broadside at the vehicle, he yelled in triumph when
the damned bastards suddenly spun with screeching tyres, then
raced forward, directionless, and into the rock face. Even
Vadim saw the fireball when it exploded. "Fuck them!"
Dan crawled back into the car, then pulled himself forward,
until he was between the front seats. "How far to the
camp?"
"Thirty
miles is a guess." A huge distance in this territory.
Vadim didn't slow down, instead used the time of grace that
they had to increase their head start. He drove on in silence
for a few minutes, while Dan busied himself with the weapons
and kit. The car went up another mountain, and he stopped
it, then stepped out to look around, while Dan finished sorting
his bergan and Vadim's pack, having taken stock of their combined
kit.
Vadim
narrowing his eyes. "Shit."
"What?"
Dan climbed out of the vehicle into the freezing cold. There
was movement down there, quite clearly on the road below,
cars driving with no headlights, Vadim could hear it now.
"Roadblock."
"Fuck.
Where's the map?" But Dan was already climbing back into
the car, reaching for the torch in the glove compartment,
studying the roads on the map. "Congratulations. There
are no other roads back down."
"Nope.
We either continue on foot, or ..." Vadim's eyes narrowed
in thought. "We take them head on."
"And
play decoy?" Dan's eyes narrowed as well, as he shielded
the light of the torch away from the road.
"The
road winds downhill, but towards them, it's pretty much straight.
We could use it to distract them. Try and capture one of their
cars, and just continue."
Dan nodded,
"we got the AK, a pistol, and a couple knives. Seemed
you carried enough ammo for an ambush. I got water, some food,
and survival kit. I'm loading everything into the bergan and
your shoulder pack, ready if we have to go on foot. You rig
the car?" Unspoken, which one of them had more experience
in what.
"No
problem." Vadim sat down again, cutting some rope to
fix the car's steering wheel and gas pedal and prepared everything,
then nodded to Dan. "Okay. Let's drive this to where
they can see us, crash it into the roadblock, and then flank
them in the confusion. Maybe we can get one of their cars,
otherwise we just leg it."
"Aye."
Dan was already strapped up. Every bit that was useful stripped
out of the car, including the blanket that was kept in each
of the camp's Landrovers, and the shovel that he'd fixed across
the bergan. Rifle left for Vadim, he had pocketed the pistol
and some of the ammo, and they had a knife each. He'd never
part with his favourite one anyway. "Ready." Handing
Vadim's pack, ammo and the AK over. Unspoken understanding
once more, and no time nor space for the anger that had brought
them there. He got into the car and braced himself, glancing
at Vadim. "Jumping out of the car ten yards before impact?"
Vadim
gave him a long glance. "Yes. Don't break anything."
"Fuck
you, too." Dan huffed with no malice.
"I
mean it." Vadim started the engine and checked that he'd
stowed away his kit properly on his body, then started to
roll, headlights on, now, to attract their attention - and
hopefully blinding the bastards when he was heading straight
at them. "Leg it towards that hill, unless we can get
one of their cars. It's fifty clicks, that's not much."
"Aye."
Dan looked straight on. "If I'm too slow, you got a second
map in your kit."
Vadim
shuddered, jaw muscles tightening. "Say that again and
I break something in your body."
"You're
contradicting yourself. You just told me not to break anything."
"I
know."
Dan stared
ahead, one hand on the dashboard, the other on the door handle,
bracing himself. "Whatever the fuck happens, if I don't
make it, I want you to get out and tell them about the shit
here. You got it?" Dan finally glanced at the side, they
had no more than a few mere seconds, the movement in front
of them was getting frantic. "We'll make it. If not,
the other one carries on. Deal?"
Vadim
nodded, didn't trust his voice to speak, instead started the
car, first down the winding roads, then straight onto the
road towards the next mountain, and towards the roadblock.
He fixed the rope to the steering wheel, placed the heavy
stone on the pedal, then began the countdown. The headlights
tore the silhouettes of chetniks out of the dark, and he could
see them aim and fire, as he switched the headlights to highest
intensity, hopefully blinding them, and opened the door to
hit the ground. It fucking hurt, the frozen ground was unforgiving,
and his kit bruised him in several places, but he had no other
chance but to get to his feet as soon as he could, moving
on while the Landrover crashed into the cars that served as
roadblock, and the men behind fired while forced to jump out
of the way. Vadim ran, two hundred yards to cover, running
as fast as he could, then dove in between the trees where
the forest began to thicken, AK out and ready to shoot if
anybody followed them. Waiting for Dan.
But Dan
didn't arrive, not for a long time. Instead there were shouts,
bullets being fired, a round or two of automatic fire, and
voices yelling something Vadim could not understand. Then
a scream, and cursing, while the firing started up again,
and voices yelling with no logic nor order.
Silence,
the firing stopped, then the sound of engines revving up and
racing off.
Vadim
waited, he couldn't make out anything, so he forced himself
to stay down and wait. Dan's words stayed with him. One carries
on. He blinked, realising his vision was blurred, not that
he could see much, but his body felt locked, every joint frozen
with worry and fear, stomach churning. He'd give everything
to get up and check the area, but he listened and waited,
but there were no sounds, no more shots. Slowly, he got to
his feet, and walked back. He couldn't just leave Dan.
He had
reached the area half-way, when a voice called out to him.
Hushed, breathless, but audible in the silence of the freezing
night. "You bastard. I knew you wouldn't do what I told
you."
Vadim
turned towards the voice, just staring in the direction. "You'd
have done the same."
"You
think so, eh?" It was obvious from the disembodied voice
that Dan was jogging towards Vadim, whose silhouette was dimly
visible in the moonlight, reflected by patches of frozen snow.
Dan was getting closer in the typical slow-jog of anyone who
was used to tabbing for endless miles with prohibiting weights
on their back, just that by now, when he was getting close
enough to be seen, his gait distinctly favoured one leg. "I
didn't get out too well." Closer, still, until his face
was near, one side smeared with something dark, could be dirt,
could be blood, but he didn't seem to be in pain. "Had
to take one of their vehicles to get them off my track, didn't
fancy turning into a sieve." He suddenly flashed a grin,
looking as feral as Vadim ever had, after the killing. "Fucking
cunts made me run half of the way back, but they should be
busy for a little while."
Vadim
fell in stride with Dan, heading for the hill. At least nothing
was broken. "We're in the right direction. Just up that
mountain, and there's some kind of settlement behind there,
where we should be able to find cover, and I'll look at your
head. Don't like head wounds."
"It's
just a damned scratch. Looks worse than it is." Dan was
huffing with each step, in through the nose, out through the
mouth. He was fit, could run forever, if only his goddamned
knees weren't playing up. Still, he kept up, because he simply
had to. Mind over matter. "Didn't land on my head, after
all."
"Doesn't
matter, I'll still have a look."
"You
get on my nerves, Russkie." Dan grumped, then shut up,
preserving his breath.
Vadim
fell into an easy trot that he'd be able to maintain even
up the mountain, staying on a dirt track, because he had no
idea whether the area had been mined, but he chose to not
tell Dan of his worries, because, truth be told, they'd be
fucked if it was and it didn't matter if it wasn't. Up the
mountain, always right at Dan's shoulder, making sure Dan
could keep up. No question. He'd never leave him behind, just
like any comrade.
They
got to the highest point and Vadim frowned. "Bad news.
There's not a single light on down there."
"Guess
that means I should take over orientation." Dan shrugged,
no accusation. "Unless you're right and there used
to be a village." Getting the map out, Dan shielded the
light of the torch from view, as he studied the area. "Shit."
"Shit
- there was or Shit - we're lost?"
"Shit,
there was." Dan looked up, "you'll never be lost
with me around." Completely serious. "I made it
across the mountains in the middle of the Afghan winter to
get a hand job from you. I'll find my fucking way across Yugoslavia."
Vadim
grinned. "True. Finding all those caves was damn good
training ..."
Dan looked
up for a moment, deadly intense, before he studied the map
once more, shaking his head. "Can only mean one thing:
it's been 'cleansed'. Suggest we get down there, hoping there'll
be some ruins left to hide in, and no mass graves without
burying." The frown between his brows proof to the gravity
of his words. "They might not expect us down there, and
they might not bother searching a place that's been destroyed."
He shrugged, "worked in Afghanistan, and there's no way
we can make it through the forest and across the next set
of mountains in the darkness. At least not without having
checked them first."
"Yes.
We'd get out of the freezing wind for a few hours, too."
Vadim looked around. "Check directions?"
Fishing
with his gloved hand in his belt kit, Dan produced a compass,
studying map and tool for a moment, before he nodded. "Straight
down, preferably without ankle breaking."
"Or
stepping onto a mine." Vadim shrugged, then straightened.
"Fuck. Let's get moving."
"There's
that, best you walk in front of me, aye?" Dan produced
a fierce grin, before turning and starting to walk. The terrain
was uneven, rocky, whenever they had to get through patches
of forest it became softer, but equally treacherous. Now and
then checking the compass, its face lighting up in the darkness,
and he slightly adjusted the route. It was steep, though,
and Dan's face set into a stoic mask after an hour of walking
down, yet he never let up in speed.
Vadim
did walk in front, letting Dan walk in his steps, fair was
fair, even though Dan protested that he had just been taking
the piss. Vadim forced himself not to think about it. Nor
of the copious amounts of 'mine jokes' that Dima had been
able to tell. Dima. Just where the fuck was the man? He moved
on, adjusting his pace to Dan's, and covering a fair bit of
distance in good time.
Eventually,
Dan stopped again, listening into the silence, slowly turning
his head as the sound of an owl hooting in the distance was
heard. He finally shook his head, adjusted the woollen hat
after another check of compass and map and pointed forward,
slightly to the right. Just in case anyone was still in the
village and just in case they were wrong about it being destroyed,
they couldn't afford any noise, least of all voices.
They
walked on, more carefully now, hardly a sound, and the minutes
stretched out in the darkness. Vadim moved forward, setting
his feet carefully as they moved in a circle, protected. What
the little light showed, however, made the situation awfully
clear: several buildings had collapsed, some dark shadows
were actually charred remains of roofs or beams, or smoke
that had darkened the area above the windows. Vadim knelt
down, watching. No light, no movement. Just dead silence.
Dan remained
standing, leaning against a tree, his shadow merging with
the trunk in the darkness. Nothing, and yet they couldn't
be careful enough. He got Vadim's attention by making a small
sound when he moved his foot, then nodded to him and made
a gesture, indicating he was going to walk around the edge
of the opening to get to the other side. Sliding the pistol
into his hand, the sound of the safety taken off the only
thing audible in the night, as he made his way along.
Vadim
nodded and watched for any kind of movement that wasn't Dan,
for any pair of eyes, the glint of a sight, anything. He assumed
the place was literally dead, but he wouldn't bet his life
on it.
About
ten minutes later, Dan's voice was heard. Quiet, no names,
indicating the coast was clear. He appeared from between a
house and a burnt-down ruin, standing in the faint moonlight.
A shadow amongst shadows.
"Nothing."
Quietly, when Vadim came closer. "We can both take a
guess what happened to the inhabitants." The frown was
back, and with it the stoic expression in his face, which
had turned into a mask that didn't show any feelings, not
even anger. "Best find a place to hole up for the night,
aye?"
Vadim
nodded, didn't want to think that he might have been able
to stop the men who'd done this and who would very likely
go unpunished. "Ideally somewhere under a roof",
he murmured. "Maybe there's food left. No idea how long
we'll be on our feet, but I didn't bring any MREs."
"I
got sandwiches and water. Some chocolate bars." Moving
to the side, Dan went to check out the building to his right
that seemed stable enough. It overlooked most of the open
space and had windows to all sides. No dead corners, no blind
traps. The windows were all broken, more or less, but at least
he building gave some shelter from the icy wind. "Wouldn't
touch any food, though, we have no idea how long it's been
lying around."
"And
they might have added some rat poison, just in case."
Vadim shook his head and looked resigned. Because the other
option was to get murderously angry. They moved carefully,
watching, listening, pausing.
No need
for the precautions, though, once they shone the torch around,
it became clear the building had been ransacked. The furniture
was smashed into pieces, duvets scattered and torn, scraps
of fabric, torn books, papers, everywhere. "Damn unlucky."
Dan murmured, "could do with a fire for warmth, but no
fucking chance."
"No
fire."
Dan made
a huffing sound. "You think I'm a fucking novice, or
what?"
"I
just agreed."
"Ok."
Vadim
looked around. It wasn't quite as bad as outside, but the
houses that weren't burned were likely all in this state.
"You get cosy upstairs, I check out the other buildings."
"No
way, safer downstairs. I'll see if I can set up a shelter."
Dan was taking the bergan off his back, began pulling out
material that could be used for some kind of makeshift shelter,
which would help them conserve as much body heat as possible.
"I'll take the first guard, by the way." He stated,
as Vadim was about to leave.
Vadim
turned. "I won't argue", he answered, then vanished
into the carcass of a settlement, checking houses and moving
carefully. However, nobody seemed to have set up booby-traps,
likely because they didn't assume anybody would come back,
and that, in turn, was testament to the fate of the inhabitants.
It was still eerie that there was no blood, no sign of violence
apart from the smashed up houses, like there'd been a short,
nasty rampage, and then they had moved on. Maybe the inhabitants
were in that camp, or lying in a ditch somewhere.
He didn't
find much - the whole settlement was thoroughly looted, and
he didn't enter the burnt-out houses, which made this a short
tour of maybe half an hour. When he came back, he was sure
that they were the only living souls in that place and also
that they couldn't stay here for very long. Just enough until
light, gather strength, maybe sleep a little, and then move
on.
Dan looked
up at the noise, pistol at the ready, but he lowered it immediately
when he realised it was Vadim. He had built a shelter in one
corner from pieces of broken furniture, using torn-up bed
linen to insulate from the cold. The blanket was out as well,
lying at the ready, with the shredded pieces of duvets on
the floor, having found strips of curtains to lay over them.
All in all a 'cosy' place, which would help conserve as much
warmth as possible. The food had been parcelled out into portions,
and the water bottle was waiting as well. At least water wasn't
a rare commodity.
Dan waited
until Vadim had stepped inside before holding his hand out
for the AK. If he was going to be on duty for the first couple
of hours, he needed to be ready. "Have some food, water,
rest."
Vadim
handed the AK it over. "There's nothing left. No bodies,
either." He sat down, hunched to preserve body heat.
"Strange. I keep thinking, this country must have been
beautiful", he murmured. "Before it decided to tear
out its own guts." He took a deep draught of the water,
had part of his ration, then lay down, watching Dan, who said
nothing.
Dan popped
something into his mouth which he'd had in his bare hand,
then washed the pills down with water. They'd take a while
to kick in, there wouldn't be any point in trying to sleep
now. "Fucking dying for a fag." He muttered, had
checked his stash, less than a packet.
Vadim
inhaled deeply, tried half a smile, still somewhat amused
at the pun of words. A running gag. He checked his watch.
"Wake me in three."
"Greedy
bastard. Meant to give you two, but I'm feeling generous tonight."
Dan lifted the blanket from his bergan, which he'd settled
into the corner, and sat down himself, leaning against his
pack. Lifting the blanket, he indicated the space right next
to him. "Don't be an idiot and lose body heat. It's fucking
cold, I could do with some, too."
Vadim
moved over to lie down right next to Dan, no questions asked.
Remembered the icy, crisp air up in the mountains, the utter
clarity. His body creating warmth on Dan's side, Dan warming
his side. The closest they'd been for what felt like months.
He began to relax, much easier to cling to that warmth and
know he'd be secure. Whatever Dan had done. Whatever bitterness
and anger still lurked. It was about surviving, soldiering,
and he hoped not just that.
Tucking
the blanket in around them, Dan watched Vadim fall asleep.
Hadn't seen him that close for several weeks, and it fucking
hurt, because he wanted to touch that face, feel the stubble
beneath his fingers, how the jaw line went slack, and how
the face turned from concentrated frown to something almost
relaxed, but never quite. Not now, not here. Not since
best not go there. He tore his eyes away, allowed himself
a cigarette instead, and held onto the rifle in his gloved
hands. Memories of the Gulf, of sharing a tiny cave with wounded
soldiers, of heat and dust, and of seeing Vadim, knowing that
very moment that whatever happened, there was no way he could
ever get the other out of his body and mind.
And so
he sat, waited in the silent night, occasionally checking
his watch to stay awake, and letting his mind wander once
more. Across the decades, across the countries and across
the wars. His family, his friends, the sex he'd shared and
the love he'd known. Lust and laughter, anger and jealousy,
and a thousand other things, and he smiled in the end. If
they got him this time, at least he had lived and he regretted
nothing.
After
a little more than three hours, dawn still far away, he woke
Vadim with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Hey, Russkie,
time for me to turn into Sleeping Beauty."
Vadim
stretched, tensed and stretched to wake up fully, and with
regret shifted position, losing some of the warmth. He took
the rifle and watched Dan settle in, suppressing a yawn. "Feel
much better now", he murmured.
"Aye,
hope the same goes for me." No sooner, though, had Dan
burrowed into the vacated space, still warm from Vadim's body,
that he began to drift off. He hadn't realised how tired he'd
been, and kept underestimating the effect of those pain killers.
He was asleep a couple of minutes later, but not before shifting
closer, not realising what he was doing, and wrapping one
arm around Vadim. Just like he would have done if
.
Vadim
shifted the AK a little, freed his hand from the weapon, took
the glove off for a moment and placed his hand on Dan's wild
hair, careful to keep the touch light and not disturb him
unnecessarily. What did it matter what had happened? They
were out in this war, alone, and whatever had happened had
stayed behind. They'd still be caught by it, once they were
back in camp, but not here, not right now. And how fucking
insane that it mattered at all.
Dan slept,
undisturbed, until dawn was breaking, almost four hours later.
Never stirring, not making a sound. Vadim moved his hand under
the blanket to touch Dan's shoulder, and leaned in. "Good
morning. We should break camp."
"Hm?"
Dan sounded and looked bleary, disoriented, but no longer
than perhaps a second, and he forced himself awake, realising
the situation.
"Shit." Mumbled. "What time is it?"
"Almost
half past seven. Figured we could use the sleep with what's
ahead."
"Yeah,
fuck. Exactly what I wanted to do in my old age." Dan
rolled his eyes and stretched quickly, sitting up the next
moment. He reached for his bergan to get to the water. His
stomach made a loud noise and he grimaced, eating half a chocolate
bar before washing it all down and holding the bottle out
to Vadim.
Vadim
took a couple of sips, then waved it off. "I'll pack.
You wake up properly."
"Aye,
need a dump." Dan got up, left Vadim who was already
packing up the blanket, and stepped out of the building, taking
a few pieces of scrap fabric with him. The ice cold air that
hit him almost took his breath, but he moved on and across,
towards one of the burnt-down ruins. He took barely a step
inside, just enough to get out of the wind and the worst of
the icy dampness, and swiftly went about his business. No2
first, then onto No1 once he'd cleaned up, and while he was
pissing into a corner, he suddenly heard the sound of a vehicle
in the distance. He froze, cursed his bladder, prostrate and
whatever else that kept him from just stopping the flow, and
couldn't help it, had to run out of the building, still pissing,
but at least it stopped before he reached the other building.
Tucking himself in, in record time. "Vadim!" Called
out quietly. "Fuck, visitors!"
Vadim
appeared in the doorway, bergan shouldered, AK ready, indicating
with a gesture he'd understood. Trying to locate from where
the sound came, and how to get away best. It was fairly likely
that the chetniks had decided to check out possible places
for them to hide once the first light had broken, and here
they were. Question was, hide or fight?
Dan slipped
into the building, saw Vadim had taken over the bergan this
time, and he nodded, getting the shoulder pack instead. Indicating
to the windows, the broken glass enabled them to hear the
vehicle. Crouching down beside one of them, Dan had the pistol
ready, whispering to Vadim. "Chances to hide? Fuck all.
And we need weapons."
Vadim
nodded and moved towards another window, then caught a glimpse
of the car. He raised his hand, hid the thumb. Four men. All
armed, all likely carrying some food and water, for a snack
during the hunt. The car was even more interesting. He returned
to Dan, crouched. "We should set a trap", he murmured
close to Dan's ear. "Any ideas? I'm tempted to just shoot
them once they get close enough."
"You
sure who and what they are, though?" Eyes peeled on the
vehicle outside, which had stopped, its doors opening. "Check
for badges with a cross and the four 'C's' or a Serbian eagle."
No more than a toneless murmur into Vadim's ear.
Vadim
nodded. Not that Bosniaks didn't kill by accident. This fucking
country had no uniforms, no rights and no wrongs. He moved
again, closer, to get a good look at the men. Seemed like
they were taking an interest in the mostly unscathed buildings,
too. Just their luck.
The men
were outside, talking, and while Dan strained to listen, he
couldn't make out any of the words. Not that he spoke the
language, but he'd picked up enough expressions to get by,
the language similar enough to Russian. It didn't take more
than a couple of minutes of talking and gesturing, before
the fourth man went back into the 4x4 and the other three
split up. When one of them walked past the window, the badge
was visible, and Dan nodded to Vadim. Using sign language
to indicate he was going to follow the one to the left. He
only had a pistol and a knife, but if he used the firearms,
he'd give the game away. The other two moved into roughly
the same direction. Pointing to his pistol Dan shook his head,
then let the knife slip into his hand and nodded. Another
swift glance, then crawling along the wall and towards the
door.
Vadim
nodded, too, indicated he'd head out to the back, making sure
nobody outside could see any motion. It would be a matter
of time - and only short - until somebody checked out 'their'
hiding hole, so he had to be quick. He dove out through a
window, kept in cover, then, peering around a corner, saw
one of the men enter a building. He ran after him, saw the
man check out the building, and Vadim waited outside for him
to return. When he did, a punch to the throat shut him up,
and Vadim grabbed his head and broke his neck while dragging
him inside. He stood there, breathing heavily. He remembered
it had been easier, once. Or maybe his technique was fucked.
Dan had
followed the second man's movements, until he came close to
the door. He watched the guy, his rag-tag mix of kit, mostly
military, and the badge, told him what he needed to know.
Simple. This time. Good and bad and black and white and what
did it all matter. He had to take a life, like he'd done far
too many times before. Had to do it to survive. Again. Afghan,
Russian, Serb. Nothing was more important than his own life.
That simple. Dan moved silently forward, grabbed the man from
behind, and cut his throat. The body in his arms twitched
and gurgled, while drowning in his own blood, but no other
sounds. Like another man, a long time ago. Just that this
time the blood was staining his clothes, before he could put
the body down, pulling the man just inside the door.
Vadim
moved to the next building, carefully stalking the third guy,
who was checking out one of the ruins, and threw a stone through
one of the broken windows. And, sure enough, the amateur soldier
peered through the window. Vadim reached for the man's rifle
and pushed it violently back and up, making him stumble back
and release the rifle. Turning it in his hands, Vadim fired
three successive shots, allowing the weapon to buck in his
hands and the bullets to travel upwards, the final one tearing
a good chunk out of the man's forehead.
Dan was
outside, cleaning his hands on a patch of frozen grass not
far away, when the rounds tore through the silence. Looking
up, then hurried across to where the sounds came from, trusting
Vadim had dealt with the men.
Vadim
checked the body and stuffed what he could use into his own
pockets, feeling the occasional shudder pass through the body
that was still dying, then left the building, moving back
towards Dan and the jeep, meeting Dan half-way.
"Sorted?"
Dan asked, eyes quickly skimming over Vadim, checking for
injuries.
Vadim
gave a wordless 'all clear' hand signal, glancing around while
thinking about the next steps. "We need to get moving",
he murmured under his breath. "You okay?"
"Aye."
Answering with a nod. "Got to hide them and strip what's
useful." Dan glanced to where Vadim had come from. "Start
with yours?" His hands were sticky, but he'd have to
make do until they got to some water. "Damned bastard
was more inconvenient
." while moving towards the
corpses. Never finishing the sentence.
"Stripped
the last one, they travelled light", Vadim murmured,
thinking, for a moment, what was damn inconvenient, but then
swallowed it and pushed the banter away. They were still running
for their lives and should keep focused. Jokes helped deal
with the pressure, but he'd hate being taken out by a sniper
because he'd preferred to crack a joke than look for the sun
glinting off the scope.
Dan reached
a corpse and bent down to take hold underneath the shoulders.
"Seems as good a place to hide them as any." Gesturing
with his chin to a building that still stood but was full
of debris inside. "What's the rifle like? Any extra ammo?"
"AKs
seem in good working order, enough ammo, unless you blast
away like the Americans." Vadim gave a grin, helping
to carry the corpse into the building.
"Good."
Dan flashed a fierce grin of his own. "Mine had a shitty
piece, as far as I could see, but haven't stripped him yet.
Bastard is soaked and got me as well." He dumped the
corpse and stretched. "Where's number two?"
"The
other one's in the building over there. Should be not exactly
obvious. Where's your guy?"
"Back
at the building. I pulled him inside."
"Okay.
That should be enough 'doing the honours'." Vadim straightened,
prodded the dead man's shoulder with the tip of his boot.
"Bastards should be missed within the day. And I assume
there'll be plenty guys looking for them. Let's cover some
ground. Pick up the AK on the way, too."
"Aye,
and the guy who dropped them here could be back any minute."
Dan made his way to the other building, where the corpse was
partly hidden in the rubble. The rifle was on the ground,
close to the door, and so was the ammo. Slinging the weapon
across his back, Dan stashed the ammo in his stained jacket,
and some in his belt kit. "The pack's back in the first
building, let's grab it and see what mine carried."
"Yes."
Vadim went through his pockets, but everything was in order,
just that near-compulsive last check when he was about to
leave a location and move towards the next. "You take
the lead, I cover."
Moving
swiftly out of the building without another word, Dan hurried
across the open space, but no sound disturbed the silence,
nothing shattered the false peace. Only death and destruction
seemed to bring such stillness, where no humans dwelled. He
was soon back in the original building, while Vadim covered
the door, and fleeced the corpse, whose coat was soaked with
blood, but had kept the clothing beneath from getting stained.
Dan grinned when he found some old fashioned webbing beneath
the coat, and gestured to Vadim to help him strip the garment
off so he could get to it. Pockets yielded nothing except
for a map, but the webbing was a treasure trove. Whistling
tonelessly when he found a stick of C4 and a handful of detonators,
Dan slung the webbing across his back, then the AK once more,
stashing the ammo in the more convenient pouches. "I
take the shoulder bag and you the bergan?"
Vadim
nodded and glanced at the body. "The things people carry."
Frowning, he took the bergan and adjusted the straps to distribute
the weight properly.
"Yeah,
like me right now. I look like a fucking donkey." Dan
flashed a grin, which made him dangerous and tinged with a
hint of insanity. Dark skin, stubbled face, wild hair, together
with the blood stains on his jacket.
"The
most feral donkey in history." Vadim grinned back. "Let's
leg it."
Putting
the gloves back on, Dan pulled the chetnik's map out, as well
as his own, comparing both of them, until he was confident
that they did not differ. Using the compass, he pointed to
the east. "There's a main road, but with a dirt track
beside it. It leads roughly into the right direction. I suggest
we take it, stay as much out of view as we can, while making
time."
Vadim
took the map and checked it, too. "I'd kill for a car",
he murmured. "Should be able to cover the exposed area
before noon, there's still some trees so we can do this. Once
we're back in the hills, we should be safe enough."
"Aye.
At least we got some sleep and are kitted out better than
before." Dan walked fast, but he didn't fall into a sustainable
trot before they hit the more stable terrain of the dirt track.
They should be able to hear any incoming vehicle early enough
to throw themselves into the ditch.
*
* * * * * *
That
same day, in the late evening, a vehicle was making its way
along the fortifications of the camp. Driving slowly, like
someone who had nothing to hide and all the time in the world.
It didn't stop at the gates, though, instead moved on, until
it came to a halt not too far away. Right next to the overgrown
bunker.
The man
who jumped out of the large 4x4 was short, wiry, wrapped in
heavy winter gear with a woollen hat hiding his ears and nearly
half of his face. A glowing cigarette hung from between thin
lips in a face that sported more of a stubble than a man should
who was dressed in such expensive kit.
Dima
heard the car approach and looked up, fixing his gaze firmly
on the door. He pushed the blanket apart that he'd wrapped
around himself, and stood, unwilling to be 'found' sitting
on the ground in a corner. The door was open, but he'd only
left the bunker to shit and piss, and nothing else, spending
the time reading, thinking, sleeping, and simply waiting.
"Merde!"
The man muttered, loud enough to be heard inside, when he
stumbled over a few loose bricks amongst the dead brambles.
Puffing smoke, he was looking around, spotted the entrance,
and instead of walking straight through, he moved to the side.
"Dan sent me." He called out, his English heavily
accented with French. "You in there?" Making his
way towards the door and pushing it cautiously open, he never
allowed himself to be a target.
Dima
moved towards the door and pulled it fully open, staying mostly
shielded by the door. "Come on in. My home is your home."
He paused and grinned. "Metaphorically speaking."
Moving
through after a careful glance, the man stepped inside. Casting
a swift look around, then nodding at Dima. "Maurice."
Inhaling deeply, he threw the butt to the floor while smoke
curled out of his nostrils. "Dima?" Pulling the
hat from his shaved head. Dark hair, dark eyes, a complexion
as dark as Dan's, but entirely different. Aquiline nose and
sharp cheekbones in a haggard face. So 'French' he made any
proverb ring true.
"Nice
meeting you. You're my date, then." Dima gave a nod as
Maurice raised one brow, then lit another cigarette as Dima
walked back to the kit Dan had brought him. "You're here
to get me out, yes?" He began collecting what he could
use, trained to leave no traces, stowing everything away.
"Because I'm dying for something hot to drink."
"Oui.
Dan asked me to." Maurice watched him and put his hat
back on, the cigarette hanging between his lips. "Strange
request." He shrugged, then stepped half-way through
the door. "You're a medic, he said. And that you're good."
Dima
packed the kit together, checked again that he hadn't left
anything behind, nothing, not the foil pack of the condom,
nor a food wrapper, and glanced up. "Special Forces medic",
he said. "And you?"
"Spetsnaz.
Oui. That's what he said." Maurice stepped aside and
let Dima through, walking behind him. "I'm the doctor
for the French security detail at the embassy in Belgrade."
Leading Dima outside and to the vehicle.
"Nice
job", commented Dima. "I assume that means proper
pay and heating?"
Maurice
huffed with dry amusement. The smoke, as always, curling in
front of his face, "how well do you know Belgrade? The
embassy is a massive art deco building. You would think we
have heating."
"Sounds
like heaven." Dima walked beside the Frenchman, studying
him closely as if he was preparing to recognize the man for
the rest of his life - one of those strange little habits
that, in total, made it hard to move in polite society. "And
access to proper resources?"
"What
do you mean?" Holding the door open, Maurice waited for
Dima to get inside the vehicle.
Dima
got in, leaning over and opened the door on the other side.
"What I mean is - embassy duty means you have all the
medical equipment you need. Colour me envious. Most of my
career, I had to improvise."
"So
did I." Maurice shrugged, climbed in and threw the cigarette
butt to the ground, starting the car at the same time. "It's
cosy to have all the kit these days, but being out of the
field can get boring." Glancing to the side, "you
look as if you were still in it."
"I
am. That means, I was." Dima turned to face Maurice.
"What's going to happen now? Any idea?"
"Not
sure." Maurice shrugged, driving towards the dirt track
that would take them onto the road to Belgrade. "I take
you to the embassy, sign you in as a long-lost ami of mine,
feed you proper French coffee, croissants, and wine, and then
you'll show me how good you actually are. After that we see
if there's anything that can be done for a Russian in Serbia
with medical skills."
Dima
laughed. "First the wine, then the work? Okay."
But he grew more serious, suddenly. "Where's Dan? Is
he back in that camp of his? Any way to get in touch with
him?" Get in touch was a euphemism if he'd ever
heard one. Damn him, he'd liked too much what Dan had done
to his body, and apart from that very obvious thing, he liked
the man and wouldn't mind having that wine and coffee together
with him.
"Hm?"
Maurice had paid less attention than before, navigating a
particularly tricky and icy part of the road. "Haven't
seen Dan since yesterday, I guess you can contact him tomorrow,
he should be in camp." The weather was turning worse
and the clouds hung low and heavy, promising more snow. "You've
known him for long?"
"We
were both in Afghanistan", Dima said, leaning back in
his seat. "He was fucking my superior officer. That's
the only connection. The world is a small, strange place.
And he found me and freed me from the place I was held a few
days ago."
"He
was
what?" Maurice turned his head so sharply,
the vehicle slipped for a second, before he had it back under
control.
"That
means you're not one of his friends in that sense."Dima
winked.
"What
sense?" Concentrating on the road this time, Maurice
was taking them through the night. Mostly silent, except for
the sound of shelling in the distance.
"Somehow,
Dan scored himself a Spetsnaz captain, later major, good-looking
bastard, if you go for tall, blond, and aloof. And I'd thought
I was perceptive."
"Dan's
gay?"
Dima
felt a moment of hesitation, outing Dan to his friend was
not a nice thing to do, but he'd thought Maurice knew, and
it was too late to back-pedal. "Thank god I'm not bound
by any confidentiality", he murmured. "Because I
just fucked that one up."
"So,
he is." Maurice flashed a nicotine stained grin, before
reaching for his packet of Gauloises. In an afterthought,
holding it out to Dima, who took a cigarette and the lighter,
too, lighting his own and then Maurice's before returning
the zippo. "Didn't tell me, but I never asked. Not the
usual conversation when getting drunk in a bar." Maurice
sped up when the road was getting better. "Anyway, why
in the devil's name are you in the situation you're in?"
"I
can only give you the official story ... I was sent here to
help the Serbs and got kidnapped by somebody, then tied up
and hidden away, where Dan found and freed me. It's embarrassing
to end up as somebody's prisoner in my line of work. I wasn't
even an active combatant ..."
"You
better not be, or I won't be able to help you." The lights
of Belgrade were coming into view in the distance. "If
you've been involved in any of the shit, you're out. So you
were better not involved in it, and just happen to
be a victim caught up in it." Emphasising each word.
"I
was." Dima lied without hesitation, holding onto the
story as promised.
"And
since you are obviously a victim, there might be some interest
of the Serbian brotherhood in their Russian brothers to form
a nice cosy brotherhood of brothers."
"Yeah,
I found Yugoslavia incredibly cosy so far." Dima laughed
and inhaled the smoke deeply. "Fucked up war, fucked-up
country. What's your story? How did the French get involved
in this? You are not a mercenary."
"No.
Used to be in the legion." Moving down the road towards
the town, Maurice elegantly avoided the first part of the
question. "Just doing my job for France." He shrugged
and fell silent.
"Right.
The men without past. I understand." Dima fell silent
as well, gazing out of the window. Still oddly thankful for
the company and the fact he'd be able to drink something hot,
the cold had crawled under his skin. If he was lucky, there
was even a hot bath on the radar. Pure luxury.
And luxury
it was, when they reached the embassy. Its splendour above
and beyond anything else in that city, surpassing most others.
Maurice told Dima to stay in the vehicle, while he filled
in some forms and then asked Dima to come out, who's photo
was taken for a guest file. They were finally done and the
vehicle rolled through the gates and towards a car park, next
to the building.
"I'm
afraid you'll have to sleep in my apartment." Maurice
parked the posh 4x4 and got out, waiting for Dima to catch
up. "The sofa's not too bad, though, have fallen asleep
on it quite a few times."
"No,
I'll be fine. Don't worry. I've slept in some really bad places,
and this ... this doesn't look like one of them." Gazing
up, taking in the complete shift - an altogether different
world. "Nice one. The French do it with style."
"You
can call us a lot of things, but you can't accuse us of not
having style." Maurice grinned, lighting yet another
cigarette. Hardly five minutes between each. He led Dima through
a side door that went up a staircase and towards a separate
apartment. Spacious by all means, with a fire place in the
main room, and a small kitchenette, with two doors leading
off to bedroom and bathroom.
"You
want to freshen up?" Maurice threw his hat over a stand
in the miniature hallway, then peeled his gloves off. "You
look like you need it. I brew us a coffee in the meantime."
Glancing at Dima while shrugging out of his thick jacket.
"Or hot coffee first and bath afterwards?" Out of
the winter boots as well, the man was as wiry out of the kit
as he had looked at first glance. Dressed in black outdoor
trousers and dark flannel shirt, the open collar revealed
a glimpse of a smooth chest, while the stubble in his face
was either artful or perpetual; Dima felt a stab of desire
looking at him, might have been the isolation that had him
focussed on sex, but the Frenchman was certainly interesting.
Only how? Or even, whether?
"Now
that's a difficult question", Dima said, setting down
the bergan and taking off the jacket. "Can't smell too
good. That way's the bathroom?" Pointing at one of the
doors. "I could use a shave, too." He ran a hand
over his cheeks and chin.
"Not
for my benefit, you don't need to." Maurice nodded towards
the bathroom. "Kit's in there. Disposable razors, the
lot. Towel is fresh." He was in the kitchenette, fiddling
with a coffee grinder while the obligatory cigarette hang
from between his lips.
"Thanks.
I'll have a soak first." Dima headed into the bathroom,
stripping the boots, vest, belt, trousers, underwear, every
thread and every single piece of equipment off, even though
it wasn't much compared to active duty. He found a bathrobe
that he assumed was Maurice's and put that on, while the water
ran hot and clear into the tub, steaming up the mirrors. A
quick check unearthed razors and a well-stocked medicine cabinet
that revealed that Maurice knew his painkillers and was a
perfectionist in terms of kit to have around. Not a single
'use by' date run past, they were all good and ready to work
their magic. The bathtub was filling up nicely, but he probably
had some time for the coffee first. Padding outside, Dima
headed for the kitchen.
The scent
of freshly brewed coffee was overwhelming, even above the
cigarette smell. Maurice was perched on a bar stool in the
kitchenette, reading a paper at the breakfast bar, then looking
up. "You're not my size." He commented laconically,
before pointing to the pot of strong coffee. "Sugar?
Milk?"
"Yes,
both." Dima sat down, prepared the coffee with a good
shot of milk and two spoons of sugar when Maurice pushed over
the condiments. "Yeah, the robe is a bit tight in the
shoulders." He grinned. "What's in the news?"
Taking a deep sip and closing his eyes with pleasure. The
Frenchman made a perfect coffee, very strong, the kind of
coffee that had been invented for nightshifts.
"Same
old." Maurice pushed the front-page towards Dima, before
picking up his filter-less Gauloise and lighting another one.
"Nothing a bottle of good Bordeaux won't make more interesting."
With his mug empty, he stood up to reach for a bottle of wine
out of a stash under the cupboards. "You didn't tell
me how Dan came across you?" he prompted while working
on the cork.
"The
guys who kidnapped me held me in a shelled school, and he
happened to pick through the ruins and found me. I guess he
might have seen them leave the building or found traces."
Another deep sip, and a disgusted look at the news. "Yeah,
same old. It's pointless to even try and understand this mess."
Dima listened, and the running bathtub sounded pretty full.
"I better get into the tub ... you may bring the wine."
"Oh,
really? Guess I should be flattered." Maurice rolled
his eyes, but poured a couple of glasses anyway.
Taking
the coffee with him, Dima went back into the bathroom, hung
the robe over the heater, turned off the water, checked it
with a foot and deemed it fucking damn hot, but just right
to exorcise that chill from his bones. He slowly eased himself
in, only pausing when the hot water had reached his balls,
but then eased himself in fully and leaned back with a grateful
sigh. He'd just submerged when there was a knock on the door
that he'd left ajar.
"Come."
Dima didn't move, just floated in the hot water, feeling his
heart pulse with the dilution of the capillaries under the
skin. He'd be red as a lobster when he got out, but the chill
was leaving him, which was the whole point. Didn't cover himself,
that was pointless too, if this guy had been a legionnaire
he'd seen cocks and balls and everything more than often enough.
Especially as a medic.
"Your
wine, Sir." Maurice made an exaggerated bow and handed
the glass of wine to Dima. "Is there anything else your
lordship requires?" Flashing a grin as he sipped his
own wine.
"Thank
you", murmured Dima. "Start to feel human again."
He took another sip, enjoying a different kind of warmth from
a different angle, the relaxation and heat made him feel positively
cosy. Even his fingers didn't act up. "I don't want to
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