by L. Todd Wood
"What is this place?" asked Rafe incredulously.
"It's one of the old labor camps built by Stalin. It's a gulag," responded Vladimir. “Thousands of our Russian brothers and sisters died here, a long time ago.”
"Really? It's amazing, but why are you bringing me here in the dead of night? I don't get it."
"You will see," responded Roman. They kept walking and Rafe followed. They entered the old prison camp and soon were headed toward one of the main buildings. It looked like it had at one time been the commandant's residence. The main door had been broken in at some point long ago. The structure still seemed sturdy enough, and soon they were inside. Vladimir eventually found a doorway that led to a cellar of some type. Vladimir opened the door. There was a flight of stairs leading down into the darkness. Rafe followed the other two men as he started downwards, the boards creaking dangerously under their feet. Soon they were standing on a dirt floor in a small room. Stone bricks lined the walls, cut by slave hands years before. How many died to build this place? Rafe wondered. Vladimir was shining the light on the far wall, seemingly trying to find something.
"It's been a long time since I have been here. It is here somewhere."
"What?" asked Rafe.
"The door," he replied.
The door to what?
"Ah, here it is.” Vladimir pulled on one of the edges of a line of bricks in the wall. Part of the wall began to move. Rafe glanced at Roman and saw that his eyes were wide. He obviously had never been here before. Vladimir pulled harder, but he was having trouble with the opening in the wall. "Help me!" he said demandingly. "Don't just stand there!" Rafe and Roman moved to apply force to the edge of bricks as well. Slowly the outline of a stone door emerged in the wall as they pulled it towards them. A few minutes later, a dark outline of a tunnel became clear to Rafe as his eyes adjusted to peering into the darkness.
Vladimir spoke to both of them. "Don't be afraid, follow me." Rafe and Roman did as requested. They went about ten meters into the earthen tunnel, and then Vladimir stopped. He turned to his right and held up the lantern to another opening. They stepped inside the cavern hewn into the earth and supported with wooden beams. It was a Mythraic temple.
The design was the same. There were two long, stone slabs running down each wall with a long, stone bench connected to each one. There was old tableware strewn atop the tables, as if long ago there had been a feast. Across from the entrance was an altar. Above the altar was the image of a soldier atop a massive bull, stabbing a spear into the animal's side.
"I'll be damned!" exclaimed Rafe. "I don't understand. What is this doing here?"
Roman spoke up this time. "Our people have been fighting this evil for centuries, Sasha. It has been around a long time. It is an evil cult. A cult of destruction. A group of people who try to stop the advancement of civilization. As far as I know, they have been around throughout the ages, since the beginning of time. They worship in these temples. This is where they plan their evil activities."
"This is exactly the type of temple I have seen in Spain, Rome, all over Europe. Are you saying they had a part in the fall of the Roman Empire?"
"Yes," said Vladimir. "And many others, including our own. We moved our families here decades ago to get away from them. To get away from the persecution. But as you can see, we were not so lucky."
"But why would they want to persecute you? The Old Believers?"
Roman responded, "Because we represent order, civilization, religion, you name it. The cult influenced the tsars throughout history. And the Caesars before that. Tsar is the Russian word for Caesar, you understand. They influenced Peter the Great to distance Russia from the church, to distance Russia from her past, from Christianity and the idea of the third Holy Roman Empire."
"Yes, I am aware of that history," replied Rafe.
"And then the final coup de grace," replied Vladimir. "They got rid of the influence of the church altogether by encouraging the Soviet Revolution. The USSR was an evil empire, dedicated to destroying the church, the great Russian people, and the human spirit. The cult was at the apex of their power during those times. Look around you, this entire camp was built by thousands of slaves who came here to die. Their only crime was being an intellectual or having been denounced by some other citizen or even by their own children. Tell me that is not evil."
"So they were worshiping here in the gulag?"
"Yes, all over the Soviet Union. We were one small thing that was standing in their way. We were reminding Russia of her history. A history that was intertwined with the church, and Russia was on her way to greatness. The cult destroyed her and she has struggled to recover."
"It makes sense now. The temples, the rituals. But what do they want with me? Why do they have my daughter? I don't understand what they want from me!"
"Neither do I. However, we are worried. We are worried you have brought them here. We are worried they will come and destroy us and our community. They will destroy what we have built."
"We have to leave, Sasha," added Roman. "We are going to depart the day after tomorrow. After you've had a day to get to know your family. At least what's left of it. We will go back to Moscow. Then we will decide how to best find your daughter."
Rafe replied, "I thought you mentioned there was a patriarch here, instructing Vladimir on your traditions and history. I have not seen him."
"My teacher has moved on to another community. An Old Believer group in Alaska actually, which was part of Russia at one time you know. He is passing on the torch there. His work here is done. I am the patriarch now. I am leading my people," Vladimir announced.
"I look forward to getting to know you and my history, brother, but as I'm sure you can understand, I first must find my daughter."
"Yes, I understand. Let us go now back to the compound." Vladimir moved towards the stairs and began climbing.
Rafe lay sleeping in the comfortable bed, oblivious to the world around him. The sheets and blankets had a country, soft feel to them that brought more memories back of his childhood. It had been a long several days traveling to the Siberian village. His body needed the sleep badly, and he was in a deep REM state.
The bedroom he occupied was in Vladimir's rustic home. He had spent the day and dined with his family, getting to know them. They were a simple group of people but very kind and gracious. They had given him access to everything they had, and he was grateful. Vladimir's wife was young and attractive, even beneath her religious garments, as Russian girls tended to be. Her five-year-old daughter, Ksyusha reminded him very much of Clare. She had jumped in his lap when he sat down earlier in the evening, and they had become fast friends. She was enjoying having her Uncle Sasha around the house. Rafe slept happily and contently for the first time in weeks.
The first scream sounded like the wail of a mother cow who was bleating in sorrow. It was a deep, gurgling howl of a mother's emotional pain. The sound woke Rafe in an instant, but he was not sure what he had heard, or hadn't heard. The second scream was that of a small child. Rafe immediately sat up in bed and then dashed for his clothes. He ran out of the house into the night, now awash with sounds of horror.
He saw a hundred horsemen, dressed in white, hooded robes and carrying bright torches galloping through the compound. Many of them were armed with swords. They were dismounting in front of the cabins and pulling all of the residents out into the dark night. Then they torched the houses. Several of the men tried to stop them but were cut down by the sword, never to rise again. The women wailed and the children cried. Rafe wondered if he was living a nightmare. The scene was medieval, from the Dark Ages.
He caught a glimpse of the leader of the mounted marauders. It was the man he had met in Red Square. There was an evil grin on his face as he murdered men, women, and children alike, slashing them like stalks of corn at harvest. The flames licked into the black sky like Hell itself. They were killing all of them, all of the Old Believers.
Suddenly Rafe saw baby Ksyusha runn
ing out of her home toward him. Her parents lay dead on the ground behind her. Rafe ran to meet her; he wanted to scoop her into his arms and get her away from this evil. He desperately wanted to protect her, as he had not protected his own daughter. He was about halfway to her when the leader bore down on her with his horse. Before Rafe could catch her, the little girl was trampled by the giant steed. Rafe screamed in horror and grabbed a nearby post on the ground and swung at the man. Suddenly another rider jumped down behind him and hit him from behind with some type of weapon he was carrying. Rafe crumpled in blinding pain.
He awoke again to the flickering of fire, except this time he was standing. His arms and shoulders screamed for relief. His legs ached from the blow he had received to the back of the knees. He noticed ropes were wrapped around him. There was a foul stench in the air. Dawn was breaking over the horizon.
"You are awake! Good," he heard the man say behind him. Rafe looked around. The horsemen had dismounted and were piling the bodies of the Old Believers into a mound, which had been doused with gasoline and lit. The funeral pyre burned high and emitted an ungodly odor. Rafe saw his brother and his wife thrown onto the burning mound. His mind refused to accept what he was witnessing. Roman was nowhere to be seen, but Rafe was sure he was dead. Rafe realize he was tied to a fence pole that surrounded what was left of the community. The houses were all gone, mostly burnt to the ground. There was no one else alive.
Suddenly, the man from Red Square walked in front of him and stared him in the face, a few feet away. "You disappoint me. You have been trying to find out how to deceive me, trying to get the best of me." Rafe tried to talk but couldn't. His mind was still foggy, and his speech was not coming out right. "Don't worry, you will recover. Tomorrow you will be as good as new! Nothing is broken," the man said laughingly. "I can't say the same for the rest of these animals!" He pointed to the burning bodies. He turned back to Rafe and his voice became harsh, evil if you will. "You listen to me! You have thirty days to complete our bargain, or your daughter will meet the same fate as little Ksyusha! Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Rafe whispered.
"Good. I'm glad we have an understanding. You will continue to look for what I want you to find. Then we will talk again. At my discretion. And just so you have a good idea of what lies in wait for Clare, here is a reminder."
One of the white-robed horsemen walked in front of Rafe, carrying little Ksyusha's broken and bloodied body. He threw it onto the burning pile of flesh.
Rafe closed his eyes in horror, but not before looking into the horseman's eyes and realizing that this man too he recognized. Perhaps from where would come to him later. He passed out from pain, emotional and physical.
Chapter Eighteen
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 th
e 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.
