by Storm Jk
After a couple of hours, the truck pulled over and the group left the truck and hid in the bushes.
‘I think I know where we are,’ Sven told the women. There’s a shelter nearby.’
They reached an old barn by nightfall. Too scared to light a fire the group huddled together, with Vladimir in the middle, to keep him warm. Finally falling asleep, Valeskia wasn’t surprised to find Dusana waiting for her in her dreams. They were in the same field again.
‘Oh Dusana, why didn’t you join us?’ Valeskia asked her.
Dusana looked so beautiful. She was wearing a lovely white dress and as she smiled at Valeskia she said, ‘It wasn’t my time to leave. I must wait for Thomas to return. Jonas will escape but not for many years, for he will lead our people until they are free.’
‘Oh Dusana, you should have told me,’ Valeskia cried. The tears that fell on her face felt so real.
‘Valeskia, I promise we will see each other again one day but until then, every night we can meet here and be together.’ Holding her hand out to Valeskia, Dusana added, ‘Come, let’s lay together in the sun and you can tell me a story.’
And so, for many nights after that, Dusana would come in Valeskia’s dreams and Valeskia always looked forward to her slumber. It was the only time she was ever complete.
The group decided, after a while of being together, to part ways. Varrick was looking for a group. So Valeskia tied a piece of cloth around her head to hide her hair and, as it was coming into winter, Vladimir wore a woollen cap. No one noticed her and the child.
The years passed and, trusting Dusana’s vision, she trained Vladimir to be all that he could be and while every night she was with Dusana, during the day her heart ached to be with the young girl again.
Chapter 12
Dusana had just turned 17, and while she was small and heavily pregnant she could still move very fast. She had never been so afraid in her life and she could hear the dogs getting closer and the pains in her belly were so strong now, she was unsure how much longer she could go on. Suddenly her feet slipped and she fell down on her bottom, hitting the ground so hard she lost her breath for a moment. She slid down a small hill, stumbling onto a road and almost got run over by an old truck. The man driving pulled over to see what he had almost hit. At first, the dark lump on the road did not move but as he stepped closer he realised it was a young girl and under her coat he saw that her belly was swollen with child.
‘Please mister, help me,’ Dusana pleaded.
She was so out of breath he could barely hear her but he could hear the dogs getting closer and whatever trouble the girl was in, he should just leave her to it. But as he looked into her face she reminded him of his granddaughter, almost the same age.
‘Quick, get in the truck.’ As he pulled back onto the road, he saw two men with dogs appear and prayed to St Lucy that they hadn’t recognised him.
They drove in silence for a few minutes before Dusana screamed; the pain in her belly was so strong and it hurt so much. Not sure what to do next, the man only knew he wanted to get rid of this trouble and fast.
Reading his mind, Dusana said, ‘Please, can you take me to Jelm village? I have a friend there, she’ll help me.’
It was fifty miles to Jelm and the man didn’t think the child could hold off having the baby that far, but he turned down the road that would take them to the village and when Dusana screamed again, he pushed his foot to the floor of the old truck.
It was midnight when they stopped in the village square. There was no one around and by now Dusana’s pains were only five minutes apart. Her water had broken in the truck and for a moment, between the pains, Dusana had felt embarrassed. The man opened the door for Dusana and helped her from the truck.
‘Mister, you saved my life,’ Dusana whispered, and reached for his hand and kissed it before turning and moving off into the shadows. Hearing the truck take off, Dusana realised that she hadn’t even seen the face of the man who had saved her. For a moment Dusana paused; she needed to get her bearings and racked her brain for the instructions from her dream. She caught her breath again as another contraction gripped her small body. Then she caught sight of a sign with a lion on it and realised that she was close. Dusana stumbled on and finally, when she felt as if she could no longer move, she saw the blue door with a white handle and a cross on it. Using the last of her strength she went to the doorway.
As she knocked on the door, tears were streaming down her face and she prayed, ‘Oh Madonna, let this be the right door.’
After a long moment the door opened a crack and suddenly she was in Valeskia’s strong arms being carried inside. Dusana swooned with relief, she could feel the warmth of the room around her. As the next pain ripped through her small body she became fully awake. But her fear was gone, she was with Valeskia, who was so strong and brave; she would fix everything, she always did.
As the women locked eyes, a deep understanding passed between them and Valeskia gave Dusana her rarest gift, a smile of real gladness on seeing her friend. The next contraction was so strong but the baby was on its way. Dusana had worried that she wouldn’t know how to give birth but her body took over and after three more contractions the baby was out.
‘It’s a boy!’ Valeskia said, cutting the cord. She wrapped the small infant in a warm towel and placed him into Dusana’s arms. But she could see the life leaving the small girl, there had been too much blood. The trauma of the night and the many nights before had been too much for her, but the last words that Dusana spoke were very clear.
‘His name is Eric,’ and in the last moment before her death, her body pulsed with joy.
A moment passed before Valeskia could move, her mind was racing. Survival was her only goal and she knew that with the arrival of Dusana, others would follow. There was a small window of time to escape the danger that would surely follow.
Lifting the child out of the arms of her dead friend, Valeskia looked at the boy who was already sleeping the infant’s slumber that most babies sleep just after they are born. Laying Eric on a small pile of fresh laundry in front of the fire, she pulled out a pack that had all the essential items for a quick escape. Valeskia added a few more items to accommodate the infant and walked into the next room. She paused looking at her young son sleeping on a bed. He was seven and already big for his age. Valeskia was tall for a woman, over six foot with a straight back, and a grace that many men admired. A few had tried to press their advantage, but they had been cut to the core by Valeskia’s stern tone and manner.
Apart from her rare smile, her most striking feature was her long hair, which was a deep chocolate brown with warm red highlights that flickered in the sun. When she let it down, which was rare, large curls would tumble all over the place. Most of the time she kept it bound tightly in a bun although a curl or two would always escape.
Going back into the kitchen, Valeskia removed a heavy blanket from a cupboard and gently wrapped Dusana in it. She scooped to pick up an old pocket watch and a map that had fallen out of Dusana’s coat pocket and put them in her pack. Then she left the small house and carried Dusana halfway across the village to the lake. Gently laying Dusana down on the grass, she found some large stones and tied them into the blanket. Then, taking the bundle she waded out into the cold lake until the water was up to her neck. After saying a prayer she let Dusana’s body go and allowed herself a minute to cry, remembering how sweet the girl had been. Dusana had been a funny girl who had liked to play jokes. She had been the only one who could get Valeskia to smile when they were in the camps.
‘Oh my friend, I’m so glad you’re free. I worried every day we were separated.’ Valeskia prayed. Her love for Dusana had been the truest she had ever felt.
Then, knowing that she had spent too much time there, Valeskia turned and waded back to the bank. As she left the water she shook herself; she would no longer allow himself the luxury of grief, she would channel the emotion into action.
When she arrived back at t
he house, she found her son, Vladimir, sitting in a chair holding Eric. She was surprised at how tender the child was with the infant. Bending down, she spoke softly to the boy.
‘We need to leave here right now, so change into warm clothes and put your walking shoes on.’
Vladimir knew they lived in danger but his Mother would never tell him what the danger was. He trusted what she said was real; he could sense her fear. He carried the baby into the small bedroom and didn’t put him down until his clothes had been gathered and then he quickly dressed. Reaching out again for Eric, he held the baby to his chest.
After changing out of her wet clothes, Valeskia checked the packs one last time. Realising that Vladimir would carry the baby she made a sling and put it around his neck. Before they left the house, she pulled an old wool hat off a hook and placed it on Vladimir’s head, wondering again why his hair was grey, as it had been from the day he was born.
They put quite a few miles behind them as the sun rose. They would stay off the main road and would move like this for a week or so until Valeskia was sure that they were safe again. She needed to find a village large enough that a new woman and her children would not be noticed.
‘Don’t worry, Môn vieux,’ said Vladimir, using a term he had heard a neighbour call his friend, ‘I will protect you.’
Hearing this declaration from her son, Valeskia felt rage at the injustices done to them all. She vowed that one day she would take revenge. The small group did not stop again until it was dark…
Chapter 13
Sixteen years after Eric’s birth Valeskia had barely changed. There were a few fine lines around her mouth and eyes but her hair was still the same rich, chocolate colour and there was always a curl she couldn’t control. The latest village they had moved to was by the sea. Valeskia liked the village. It the first time they had stopped by the sea and every morning she would walk down to the beach and along the sand with her shoes off, smelling the salty air. It had a busy port and both Vladimir and Eric worked on the docks.
Vladimir was a young man of twenty-two but his heavily muscled frame, grey hair and serious manner had earned him a leadership role with the dock crew. Eric, while lightly muscled, was still stronger than boys his age and could move faster than anyone in the small village. He had a part-time job running messages around for all the businesses and when he ran his body was graceful and his movement fluid.
On this particular day, Vladimir had been unloading a shipping container. Most of the work needed to be done by hand and as his crew were the strongest, they made extra bonuses for speed.
‘Be careful with that,’ Vladimir instructed. The piece was a piano and two of his crew were struggling to lift it. Vladimir beckoned to the men to hold one end of the piano and he picked up the other, taking most of its weight. His men were no longer surprised by his strength and boasted about Vladimir’s ability in the local pub.
It was late in the afternoon and as Vladimir packed up for the day he wondered where Eric was. Earlier in the afternoon the mayor of the village had asked Eric to deliver a parcel to a nearby village less than five miles away and it should have taken Eric just over an hour to get there and back. Walking back to the small house where he lived with his mother and Eric, Vladimir began to feel uneasy. Valeskia had always been so strict about times and it was unusual for Eric to be late.
Still, Vladimir thought, he might be caught up with Rachel. She was a pretty young girl, the same age as Eric, who had set her sights on him and it amused Vladimir to see her try and catch Eric’s unsuspecting eye. Vladimir had taken a few lovers but he had not fallen in love; it hurt to leave without saying goodbye, a lesson he had learned early.
Arriving at the small home, Vladimir paused before entering the house. Usually he would be greeted with the smell of dinner and smoke coming from the chimney but tonight, as the light was fading, the house looked dark and cold. Slowly pushing the door open, he looked into the kitchen and at first it looked normal. Valeskia was a neat housekeeper, nothing stayed out of place for long.
Maybe she is still at the market, Vladimir thought, but the hair on the back of his neck was raised and his mother had taught him to trust his instincts.
Moving through the house quietly he entered his mother’s bedroom – his heart sank. A chair that she kept by the bed was tipped over. Nothing else was displaced but Vladimir knew she had been taken. For a split second Vladimir felt lost. Many times Valeskia had lectured the boys that if something liked this happened they were to run, but he could not leave Eric and he would never leave his mother.
Leaning down to look under the bed, Vladimir pulled out three packs that were always ready for their escape. Moving quickly, Vladimir moved to the back of the house. He would hide the packs in the woods at the edge of the village and try to pick up some clue as to what had happened to Eric and Valeskia. As he walked down the lane, Vladimir imagined that a dozen eyes were on him and at the end of the street he broke into a run. While he could not move as fast as Eric, Vladimir was still fast for his size.
By the time he reached the woods the day had finally ended and, feeling more secure in the darkness, Vladimir placed the packs at the bottom of a tree trunk, picking up some ferns and brush to cover them.
Now his mind was racing, where could they be? He pondered for a moment then decided to circle the village to see if he could pick up a clue. Vladimir wished that Valeskia had told him more of what the danger was, but when pressed all she would always say was, ‘Later, later.’ Now it was too late and Vladimir wasn’t prepared.
But his Mother had trained him well with complex problems and challenges from when he was a small child; staying one step ahead of the danger had become a game. Both Eric and he had never been to school so Valeskia had taught them literature, history, mathematics and, most importantly, war strategy. Vladimir and Eric had learnt five languages, including English, from his mother – he was proud of how intelligent she was.
Vladimir had almost circled the village once before seeing a new car that he had not seen before. It was parked outside the pub that his dock crew frequented. Creeping up to the window, he could see a few members of his crew talking to three strange men. They were all laughing in a friendly way but Vladimir could see that there was something wrong, their body language was off.
Suddenly Vladimir felt a sharp sting to his neck and then another. Reaching up he felt a small dart and then the world began to spin. By the time he hit the ground he was unconscious.
*
Waking suddenly he found it was still dark and he was stripped naked with shackles on his arms and feet. As his vision cleared, he saw that Eric was beside him. He was also naked and shackled the same way. As he worked his way onto his knees Vladimir exchanged a look with Eric, he could see that Eric was trying to be brave.
‘We will be fine, Môn vieux,’ Vladimir said, his voice was calm – he would remain calm. ‘Are you hurt Eric?’
‘I’m not hurt,’ Eric replied, but there were large bruises along his torso and blood around his mouth. He had obviously taken a beating.
‘Do you know where Mother is?’ Vladimir asked, praying that she was still alive.
‘I think she’s in that tent,’ Eric indicated the direction with his head.
Looking over to the tent, Vladimir saw that there were two guards standing outside of it. Seeing that Vladimir was now awake, one of the guards went into the tent and returned with another man. The man looked at the boys and Eric gasped; he was an older version of Vladimir. Going back into the tent he returned, dragging Valeskia whose hands were tied tightly behind her back.
‘Well, my dear, I can see you have done a good job raising these boys.’ His voice was gentle yet he was rough with Valeskia as he dragged her closer to Vladimir and Eric. Pushing her to her knees he asked her, ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to them?’
Valeskia stayed silent. She would not do anything for this man. Realising that she wouldn’t speak he faced the boys and said, ‘I a
m Varrick De Weller and you are both my property.’ Looking at Vladimir, he remarked, ‘So far you are the only one of my seed to have survived to adulthood.’
Stepping closer to examine Vladimir he was pleased with what he saw – his son’s body was powerful and well formed, there was intelligence in his eyes. He then examined Eric. ‘Yes, I remember your mother, such a sweet girl. I forget who mated with her.’
Eric tried to leap at Varrick but the shackles stopped him.
‘I see you have a temper, must be from your father’s side,’ he taunted Eric. Turning back to Valeskia he said, ‘You know my dear, I enjoyed mating with you and I have to say I’m pleased with the results.’ Her beauty and manner thrilled him and he cupped her face in his large hand. He remembered the many nights he had been with Valeskia. Her reluctance at the start had made him want her more.
‘Let them go,’ Valeskia pleaded. Her voice was soft, she would use her charms – she would do anything to see her boys safe.
Varrick smiled at her coldly. ‘Of course I will let them go but I want you to come back with me, I plan to breed with you again.’
Valeskia was confused. This was too easy. Why would he let the boys go? Varrick gave another cold smile and, turning to the boys said, ‘But before I let you go I intend to finish your training,’ and he reached into his jacket and pulled out two syringes filled with a dark purple fluid.
‘No!’ screamed Valeskia, ‘Not my boys, please let them go.’
Turning back to her, Varrick smashed his fist into her mouth, knocking Valeskia onto her back and yelled, ‘Shut up, woman! For years, I have looked for you and my spawn. Did you honestly think I would let you go?’
Gesturing to the guards, they pulled Vladimir along the ground, his shackles were groaning with the strain of his muscles against them.
‘I will kill you,’ Vladimir declared. He was controlled and his calmness was unnerving. This pleased Varrick.
