When Rafe awoke, he was still tied to the pole. It took him some time before he could wriggle his hands free from the ropes, which tied them behind his back. As soon as the knot was released, he collapsed to the ground. He lay there for several moments as the sun rose in the sky. The mosquitoes, as big as small birds and so common to this area, had been feeding on his exposed skin. He was empty inside, physically and emotionally. He didn't know if he could recover. However, ever so slowly, his strength started to return, and eventually he rose to a sitting position against the wooden pole.
The first thing he noticed were the pikes, which held the cloth banners with symbols on them. Instantly he remembered the night at the amphitheater at Tsaritsyno. The symbols were the same. There was again the man with the lion head, holding two keys, wrapped by a snake. There was the soldier slaying the dark bull, and there was the triangle with a human eye in the center. The pikes were placed randomly about the compound, for all to see, their banners fluttering in the wind. He made a mental note to research the later symbology more thoroughly the first chance he got when he made it back to some form of civilization.
The horrors of the night slowly came back to him, and he glanced at the now smoldering pile of ashes, which used to contain his family and newfound friends. He became physically ill, emptying what was left in his stomach. The sorrow washed over him. He again crumpled to the ground. His mind fought for control, fought to move forward. Let it turn to something else, Rafe told himself. You still can save your daughter. Clare is still out there somewhere, and you have to find her and save her from this evil. You now have no other purpose in life. Rafe stood and attempted to restrain the feeling of helplessness, the feeling of approaching doom.
His thoughts now slowly turned to how to survive this situation, for he was alone in Siberia with no food or water. The majority of the homes were burned to the ground. He slowly stood and walked among the still smoking ruins, looking for anything of value he could use to stay alive. He was so far from anywhere, so far from civilization, anything could make a difference. There literally was nothing. Everything was burned. When a structure wasn’t totally destroyed, there was nothing of value inside to suit his purpose. Rafe became distraught and found himself fighting again to control his emotions. Stay calm and think! he told himself. He then remembered the truck in which he had driven to the community with Roman. It was still parked down near the forest, where Roman had left it, looking for a place to possibly build another home, as he was considering moving to the compound to be with the extended Old Believer family. Rafe started walking in that direction. Thankfully, ever so slowly, the vehicle came into view as he walked down the dirt road in its direction. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the truck and walked around it, checking for any damage. There was none. He looked inside. The keys were in the ignition and there was a half tank of fuel. That will get me somewhere I guess. I might as well get going, there is nothing left for me here.
“You are still alive?” a familiar voice said from behind him.
He turned quickly to see Roman walking out of the woods. Rafe was overjoyed and ran to him, embracing him in a bear hug.
“How did you survive?” Rafe asked.
“I was out here sitting under the trees as evening set in, thinking of making this my new home when the raid happened. I saw the whole thing but was too scared and ashamed to do anything about it. My concern for my own personal safety stopped me from confronting those people. I feel I am to blame for what happened. My god, what is the world coming to?”
“You would have only been killed as well,” added Rafe.
“I…I did nothing to save my own family. But they let you live!” said Roman forcefully. “That means they want something from you.”
“Yes, I was told again as much, but, I have no idea what that is.”
“We need to leave this place. It is evil. I did not know there was a temple close by. I did not know the history of this place, all of the people who died here. My brother and his father discovered the gulag after they had settled here. Then they found the temple. They really did not know what it was. They did not know about the visitors being here. They thought they had found paradise, free of these marauders. They have been telling me all of these strange things for years, but I never understood the danger, until now. These people had to destroy our family. Our brothers and sisters stood in the way of their agenda, as they have for centuries.”
“Yes, let’s leave. We can find our way to the coast and to civilization.”
“Then what will you do?”
“I need to find my daughter. The only person I can think of who can shed some light on the entire situation is your brother and he’s now in Alaska.”
“Yes, he will help you. I’m going with you.”
“You don’t have an American visa.”
“I don’t think that will matter. We will get in through the docks. I know people who will help us. I don’t plan on going through your immigration.”
“I guess that sounds like a plan. At least we now know where we are going.” Rafe and Roman got in the truck, started the engine, and drove away from the still smoldering compound, never looking back.
The boat lunged to one side, and both Roman and Rafe were thrown against the portal, the water crashing into the glass, trying desperately to enter the hull of the ship. But the ship held and the water retreated. They were safe for the time being.
“I can’t take much more of this,” Rafe complained.
“You have no choice. It’s not as bad as it could be,” replied Roman.
“How much longer do you think?”
“I think we have another day and we will be in Alaska.”
“I’ hope you’re right.” Rafe tried to buttress himself against the hull to try to get some sleep. It was no use. The storm was too strong, and his head banged against the bulkhead with the next surge. He put his jacket, balled up into a wad, under his head and held on for dear life.
The two of them had taken the truck as far as they could on the fuel that remained. They made it to another village one hundred and fifty miles away, towards the coast. There, they bought a ride on a truck headed for Vladivostok. In the port city, it did not take them long to find a captain that was headed north and would be willing to deposit them in an Alaskan port. Rafe had paid for this privilege with hard currency he had withdrawn via a bank downtown. That was days ago, and the experience of being hidden down below was not a pleasant one.
Vladivostok was closed to outsiders during the Soviet years as it was the home of the Soviet Pacific fleet. Upon the fall of the communist system in the early nineties, the city was opened to the world and its infrastructure upgraded. Currently it was a major tourist, conference, and trading center for the eastern half of the Russian Federation and a major shipping port as well.
Occasionally when there was no chance of being close to any other ocean traffic or being spotted by satellite, Rafe and Roman were allowed some time on the upper deck, usually under an overcast night sky. They had bonded during the time together. However, both of them were very concerned about what their destination would bring. They hoped they could stealthily enter the U.S. and find their way eventually to their extended family’s community. The future remained a terrible mystery.
Rafe had had enough. Angrily, he sat up and considered puking again. He decided to try to tough it out a little longer and started up a conversation with Roman to block out the misery.
“So what do you think we are up against? Why have they taken my daughter? What do they want?”
Roman stared at the ocean out the small, round window for a while and then spoke. “This group of people have been around a long time, for centuries in Russia anyway. Before that they were involved in other empires, Rome, et cetera. I think it’s safe to say their agenda is not a good one. I don’t pretend to understand their motivation or where they are from, how they originated, but they have fought to keep Russia a backwards state. They have fought progress. They have fought morality and religion. They have fought success and enlightenment. And they helped the Mongol invaders centuries ago. They were instrumental in the fall of Byzantium against the Ottomans. They helped form the Soviet Union for God’s sake. They nurtured the communist, totalitarian evil. They don’t like us because we represent something in their way. We represent the opposite of everything they stand for."
“What do they stand for?”
“Evil, misery, pain, sloth, you name it.”
“Why would they want Clare? Why would they want me?”
“I think it is obvious they wanted Clare to control you for some reason. You are valuable to them. They want something important from you. You have to figure out what that is. I cannot do that for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think you are meant to yet. I have a foreboding feeling that everything will become crystal clear to you in due time and not in a good way. Rafe, that is a scary thought.”
“Aren’t we endangering the Old Believers in Alaska by coming to them for help?”
“Well, I know that my brother would want to help us no matter what, and, there is no one else who can help us understand what is going on. We are in a bigger struggle than for just the safety of a few old religious families. But yes, we are endangering them. I have not heard of a temple near their community. So possibly the circumstances will be different. But we have to be aware and be careful. I do not care about my own life. I care about you and the other younger members of our family. My brother’s life is almost over as well. We will meet him away from the others and see what light he can shed. We will see what he can tell us, and then we will take what life gives us and be thankful.”
“Such wisdom. I for one will carry the guilt to my grave for what happened to these people. I came here and this happened to them. I suppose I can learn a lot from you, Uncle,” said Rafe. “I can feel my life changing. I will never be the same again after all of this is over. If it is ever over.”
“Try again to get some sleep,” said Roman. “We may not have much time for it soon.” Rafe laid down again against the hull as the sea had quieted somewhat. Roman sat watching out the window, worry etched into deep caverns across his ancient face.
The sun broke over the horizon, streaming its bright rays across the green landscape of Alaska in the distance. There was something different about this country, something special. It was the last frontier. The colors of Alaska were more vibrant, the smells more sweet, and the weather more dangerous than the boring states of the Lower Forty-eight. If you stretched Alaska from the bottom of the Aleutian Chain to the North Slope, it would be the same distance as from Los Angeles to New York. And, there were less than a million people living in the state. The bush was overrun with wildlife and blessed with magical scenery. Alaska was a land like no other.
Slowly the land came into view. Roman and Rafe were on the bridge, searching with the rest of the crew for the first glimpse of terra firma, although they had passed Kodiak Island some time before. Rafe had seen several grizzlies on the Kodiak shoreline, pawing for fish at a river emptying into the ocean. Kodiak bears were famous for their size as well as their numbers on the island.
"Land ho!" the captain shouted. "Time for you comrades to go below decks and to your respective containers to sneak ashore." Roman and Rafe nodded, thanked the captain, and followed a sailor who led them down to ensure their concealment. Soon they were ensconced within separate containers, hidden behind spare parts for a Russian helicopter, being legally imported into the U.S. The large aircraft were used in certain situations in Alaska, primarily for heavy lift in the oilfields. Helicopters were a bright spot for Russian exports. They had captured a large market share as they were known for their simplicity of design.
The Russian freighter had traveled up the Gulf of Alaska and was now making her way up the Cook Inlet towards Anchorage, a natural, sheltered harbor and the largest city of the state. Anchorage sat nestled against the Chugach Mountains and was therefore protected from most of the severe weather of the interior. Fairbanks, many hours' drive to the north, was not so lucky. The city was annually buffeted by horrendous winter conditions and frigid temperatures.
Hours later, both emerged into the night air as they unhooked the container locking mechanism, which had been rigged for access from the inside. They met towards the south end of the shipyard, which was blackened due to lack of lighting. Soon, they had hopped the fence and were now safely, and illegally, in the United States. They quickly made their way to a local hotel, where Rafe paid cash for a room with two double beds, avoiding any contact with law enforcement. Roman had never been in the United States and was nervous but fascinated at the same time. "Alaska reminds me of Siberia. Possibly because it used to be Russian," he said with a smile on his face.
After ravenously eating a hurried dinner at the local family restaurant, they slept soundly, unafraid of being molested by the police or other dangerous groups. The morning came quickly.
The route to the village near Homer, Alaska, on the southern tip of the Kenai Peninsula, was arduous and took several days. Unwilling to expose themselves to the mainstream population, if there is such a thing in Alaska, the two chose to travel at night and primarily with truckers making their way across the state during the warm summer. Their beards long and their clothes soiled, they fit right in with the local culture of the working man and the loner, living his days in the northern frontier. People didn't ask questions in Alaska; they lived and let live. That attitude sat well with Roman and Rafe, as the less people that knew they were here the better.
Extending down from Anchorage, the Kenai was a large peninsula that punched directly into the Gulf of Alaska. It was famous for its fishing and beauty, as well as its hardy residents. When the salmon were running, combat fishing was the norm. Anglers lined the banks of the Russian River, named for its use by the early Russian settlers, and other waterways by the thousands. Fishermen tried to entice one of the running silver or king salmon to bite. It was easy to snag one of the large fish with a hook and yank it out of the water, but the technique was highly illegal. The park rangers regularly would fish along the banks in disguise, waiting to catch someone snagging a fish. One could lose his fishing gear, pay a large fine, and even lose his car for the offense.
And you also had to watch out for the bears during fishing season. The main threat were brown bear, and there were lots of them, looking to fatten up for the winter on the running fish. If a brown bear made its habitat along the coast, he was called a Grizzly. If he lived in the interior, he was just a brown bear. The best way to avoid a bear encounter was to let them know you were coming. Hikers and campers wore bells on their packs to make noise as they walked. The worst thing you could do upon confronting a bear was to run. The bear then would see you as prey and literally try and eat you. Weapons, unless extremely powerful, were of little use as well. Even if you stopped a bear's heart, he still could run for another ten to twenty seconds, enough time to close the distance with you and do real damage. And bears were fast, known to run at upwards of forty miles-per-hour. Experienced people in the bush usually carried pistol grip shotguns, loaded with alternating buck and slug shells. If you were lucky you could put a slug in a bear's shoulder to cripple him, or a load of buckshot to his face, hopefully blinding him if he charged. If no weapon was available during a bear attack, the best thing to do was to ball up into the fetal position with your hands interlocked behind your neck and let the bear chew on you for a bit. If you didn't move, he might lose interest and leave you alone.
The eighteen-wheeler slowed and stopped with a loud squeal and a blast of air at the outskirts of the village. The onion-domed church could be seen in the distance, announcing to the world the Old Believers were still around. Roman and Rafe opened the door of the cab and jumped to the ground. It was a warm, and the sun was moving towards its peak for the day in the sky. They said their goodbyes and thank-you to the driver.
Once the truck had left, Rafe took out his phone to call Neal. He had not spoken to him in some time, as the shock from the attack on the Old Believer community, combined with the lack of signal on the freighter, prevented him from communicating. However, they had a plan now, and he wanted to let Neal in on their way forward.
"Where in the hell have you been?" Neal screamed into the phone when he realized it was Rafe on the other end.
"I've been quite occupied with events, and you frankly were not my priority," responded Rafe.
"Well, I should be your priority! I've got a lot invested in you, Rafe. So why don't you tell me what the fuck is going on?"
"Let's just say I'm in no mood to take it anymore." Rafe recounted the last few weeks to Neal, including the murders in Siberia and the continuing danger to his daughter from the visitors. Neal listened in shocked silence.
"I can't begin to offer any words that would be helpful or healing in regards to the losses you have suffered," Neal responded. "I can however tell you I am still here to help you, and we have more and more information coming in that may help you in your quest."
"Go on," added Rafe dryly.
"The visitors, as you call them, at least the ones that are frequently traveling to the areas we have identified, are primarily made up of media and academic circles. And the number of people we have confirmed on the list is growing, slowly but surely. That being said, are you safe now? Do you have any protection?"
"From what I have seen, my English friend, there can be no protection." Rafe told Neal his plans, to visit the village and learn all he could from the elders. He promised he would report back in with his future decisions on how to move forward.
Neal hit the red button on his device and terminated the call. For some reason, he was reminded of a line from an old rock and roll song from the seventies "Oh, and it's a hollow feelin', when it comes down to dealin' friends. It never ends." Murder, and children at that. I didn't sign up for this. This is spinning out of control
Roman and Rafe watched their latest hitchhiking benefactor disappear into the distance. The wheels on the large truck generated clouds of dust that rose into the sky like small tornadoes. There were no other vehicles around that they could see. Soon they could no longer even hear the eighteen-wheeler. The two men turned and set off towards the village of Nikolaevsk. As they walked, a bevy of vultures circled overhead, scanning for prey.