by Various
The women sat around the old, scuffed dining table. The potatoes they’d been peeling were abandoned in front of them, knives set aside. Around the room the men leaned against walls or had their arms folded across their chests. Their faces were contorted in anger, lips set in firm grimaces.
It was then Vlad knew it was no joke.
“We have to do something about it.” This came from the man who preached God’s word to the Community. His ragged white beard was stained yellow from chewing tobacco. Vlad knew he smelled like rotten vegetables, too.
“What?” Vlad’s father stepped forward. “Do what? You can’t mean…”
“I do,” the preacher spat. “You’ve always been a sympathizer, Boris. It’s a surprise to each of us you followed your wife here, leaving your glamorous job and modern house in St. Petersburg.”
Vlad sensed the attitude shift in anger towards his father. He waited for Mother to defend him, but she didn’t come to his aid. Instead, she picked up the half-peeled potato in front of her and slowly began peeling it again. The other women followed.
Betrayal sunk into him. He could tell his father felt the same, too, as he watched him beg Mother with his eyes.
Finally, he looked away from her at the group. “I believe in the Community, otherwise I would not be here.”
The preacher grinned. “Good. Then you’ll go with us tonight. They won’t go down easily.”
Now…
The motel room was dingy. Based on the thick layer of scum in the bathroom and the spoiled scent of the bed, Vlad doubted it had been cleaned in months, if ever. Once last year, he and Lucy spent money on a nice motel, one with an ice machine and clean sheets. When Cheslav found out, he broke Vlad’s nose. Lucy tried to straighten it, but it still had a big bump right on the bridge.
Vlad laid out the sheets he stole from their last mark while Lucy changed out of her tiny dress in the bathroom. When she came out, her face was raw from scrubbing away makeup.
“How’d we do?” Lucy asked. When she was calm, her Russian was much better. She sat down opposite Vlad on the bed. Her thin frame swam in the oversized sweatpants and shirt she wore. The clothes were adorned with a yellow cartoon bird and she’d had them for years.
“Very well,” he said. He reached down to pull up Lucy’s backpack from the woman they got yesterday. “Between all we got this week, it’s the best we have ever done.”
Then he saw it. Sticking out of her sparkling black purse was the butt of a handgun. He released the backpack and instead plucked the gun out and set it on the bed. Lucy looked at him, then at the gun, then back again.
“I took it off the man from tonight while you were gone.”
He tried to keep his voice in check. “Why? What did you plan to do with it?”
“You know.”
“We don’t kill.”
“I know, but—”
“We do not kill. Killing is evil and we aren’t evil.”
Lucy frowned. She slid off the bed and wandered to the window where she stared at the snow. “How else will we escape him? If we don’t kill him, we can never leave this life.”
“I would rather stay a prisoner than be a murderer,” he countered. “We can’t give in to this life, Lucy. The second we do, it’ll swallow us and we’ll never escape.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll kill him.””
“No.” Vlad shoved the gun towards her. It scraped against the watches and jewelry heaped on the bed. “You have no idea what the burden of killing someone will be like.””
“Neither do you!”
“I’ve relived enough memories of those who have to know. Get rid of it.”
It was startling how many people had murdered another human. Whether it was an accident or intentionally, the guilt was something that followed them every day of their lives. Once, he’d read the memories of a man who stabbed to death the man who raped and killed his daughter. The cause was just, as far as Vlad believed, but each memory Vlad sifted through was tinged with the misery and regret of his action. Vlad could’ve gotten rid of this memory, but he kept it. He kept it as a reminder of what could be and filed it away with all the others.
Lucy picked up the gun and shoved it in the depths of her pocket. “Some days I wonder if you want to stay with Cheslav.”
He knew she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t. “You promised me there would be no more talk of killing. I already have to erase the memory of this. You know how much that hurts me.””
Angry, she pulled on her jacket and left the motel room.
In an hour, she’d be fine. In the meantime, Vlad took a deep breath and began putting away their stolen goods. He needed to sleep.
Their haul sparkled even in the dim overhead light. Watches, rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings. The finest silk ties. Stacks of cash. He spotted a locket peeking out from under a pile of American dollars. He tugged it free and opened it
A woman and her baby smiled back at him. He recognized the woman. Two nights ago, he and Lucy were eating dinner at a cheap diner in the University area. An older woman—not old, just old to him, he supposed—wandered in. She was a little drunk, stumbling to a seat at the bar. Her fur coat looked real and her fingers glinted with beautiful rings.
Lucy told him to go. They had to get six marks or Cheslav would be angry. Lucy was the best at it, being a beautiful young blonde woman, but from time to time Vlad could snare a few himself. He hated it as much as Lucy did.
Regardless, he wandered over to her and sat down. Behind the hard glint in her eyes and the aggressive flirting, he saw loneliness. He’d touched her bare hands more than once and knew she was a good mark. Her husband recently left her, her daughter left for France and no longer spoke to her. Not that she’d speak to her daughter since she’d fallen in love with a chimeric. Blasphemous.
The divorce left her wealthy and bored.
She took Vlad home in a taxi. Lucy narrowly caught a cab of her own and followed them back. Just as he and the woman entered her home, Lucy popped out and put her to sleep. They dragged her in the house, closed the door, and got to work.
Now, looking at the locket, he saw what the woman once was. Full of life, vibrant, with everything to look forward to. The baby, he guessed her daughter, was innocent and simply happy to be there with her mother.
He dropped the locket back in the pile. The baby was like his sister Natasha. The first dead body he ever saw. The first time he learned being chimeric was a curse.
Then. Eight years ago…
The wind threatened to tear down their small house. Each hard gust made it shudder and groan. A steady leak dripped into a bucket their mother placed in the corner of the room to catch invasive drops of water. Vlad was afraid of storms like this. He wished he could grow up faster so he could be like his older brothers. They feared nothing. Even then, both slept deeply despite the howling outside.
Beside him, his younger brother whimpered.
“When will it end?” Petor asked.
“Shh, quiet,” Vlad murmured. “It will end when it ends.”
They laid in silence. Vlad wished he didn’t have to share a bed with Petor. At ten years old, he felt entitled to a bunk of his own. But there was no room for it. His two sisters shared the top bunk. The two older brothers shared one bed. Only Oleg, the eldest, got his own narrow cot. The baby of the family, Natasha, slept with Mother in the second bedroom.
None of his brothers or sisters had seen Natasha yet. Father was away on work and Mother kept her in the bedroom. She said Natasha was too weak to meet her siblings and they had to give her space.
Father left for the concrete jungle to work, often for months at a time. Mother hated it. It helped that other men in the Community had to also. Vlad heard them fighting many times, where she accused him of never wanting to come out to the country to begin with. He told her someone had to bring money in to support them or they’d die. Mother didn’t care.
“I’m scared
.”
Vlad turned on his side to face Petor. It was too dark to make out much more than the general shapes of his face. “Mister Lion will protect you. He protected me when I was young.”
The stuffed lion was passed down from Oleg to Artur, to Vasily, to Vlad. Vlad gave it to Petor, who was honored to take it. The lion was missing both eyes and patches of fur all over. It was not pretty, but the family had no money to buy new toys. Someday it would go to Natasha.
“He’s under the table in the kitchen. I forgot him.”
“Don’t worry,” Vlad assured Petor. “I’ll get him. Stay here.”
He was proud to be brave for Petor. His father told them bravery was the only way to fight fear. Vlad slid out of bed. His feet touched the cold wood floor, sending a chill up his body. He felt his way out of the room and into the hallway.
Mother’s light was on. At first he thought nothing of it. Adults could stay awake as long as they liked, of course. Maybe Mother was also afraid of the storm?
Then he heard Natasha crying. Her tiny screams were shrill and painful, carrying over the wind. His heartbeat quickened. He rushed to the bedroom and pulled open the door. His mother stood by Natasha’s crib, staring at the baby. Instead of a nightgown, she wore her winter jacket, pants, and boots. She looked at him and frowned, taking a few steps closer to him.
“You should be asleep.”
Natasha’s screams came to a gurgling end. He looked from his mother to the crib, then back again.
“What’s wrong with Natasha?”
“Leave, Vlad. Now.”
Mother’s face was blank. He couldn’t stand it. Something was wrong with Natasha! Why wasn’t she helping her?
Just as Mother went to push him out the door, he darted around her and ran for the crib. He was tall enough to peer right over the edge.
His mouth dropped. Natasha was not a regular baby. Her skin was shiny. As he looked closer, he noticed the scales. Tiny, delicate scales on her entire body that reminded him of the fish he and his brothers caught in the summer. Natasha’s mouth gaped open, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Dark, green blood splattered around her face and on the crib.
“She’s dead,” Vlad said, turning to face his mother.
Mother stood still, eyes cast on the ground. “She was a chimeric, Vlad. Do you know what that is?”
“No,” he said. “Was she…was she a monster?””
Vlad remembered long ago when he heard the adults talking of monsters. He’d been afraid for months. He’d finally forgotten about it until just then.
“Yes. Sometimes people are born monsters, even to a good mother and father like me and your papa.” She bit her lip and came to Vlad, dropping to her knees. “Chimerics are evil, Vlad. They aren’t made by God. We live here so we can be far away from other people, from these monsters. Natasha was one of them. If she grew up, eventually someone would take her away. They’d kill her or do bad things to her.””
“All things are made by God. Papa said so.”
“Not chimerics.”
“Then Papa lied?”
“It’s not his fault. You know about the devil. He makes your papa think things that aren’t true. You’re still too young to understand.” Mother reached out for his hand. He snatched it away before she could grasp it.
“Did you kill Natasha?”
Mother shook her head. “No, no. Natasha was sick. She’s been sick since she was born.”
“I don’t believe you.” Tears welled in his eyes. It wasn’t right to kill anything, even the strange baby inside the crib. He was sure his mother was lying to him. He believed what Father said, that all things were made by God and should be loved.
His stomach churned and his blood seemed to tingle. Something deep within him shifted. It started in his chest, a gentle thudding, then spread through his body until it felt like the storm outside was confined into his small frame. A moment later, it settled in his mind and quieted. Like a pulsating ball of energy, something rested inside the center of his brain.
A voice spoke. He did not understand it—the language and voice weren’t human—but somehow knew what it wanted.
Vlad reached out and touched his mother’s face. Images flooded him in reverse. Mother feeding a bottle to Natasha. Her making the bottle. Mixing rat poison inside of it. Pulling on her work clothes.
Then the thoughts. He felt them like they were his own. Her anger and desperation. Self-loathing that she carried a monster in her womb. If anyone knew she’d given birth to it, they’d kill her, just like the men killed the Yenin woman and child and all the other chimeric in their Community.
So she had to kill it first. Mother did not think of it as a baby. She had been taught since she was a girl that these people called chimerics were bad and should not be allowed to walk the earth. She forced Father to move away to a thing called a commune where they all believed the same thing and suffered proudly for their beliefs.
The memories became jagged. They started to flash in sequences that didn’t make sense. One moment it was Mother as a young girl riding a bike. Then she was in a dark, warm place, the sound of a heartbeat thumping around her. Memories unraveled and now she was looking at a young Oleg with love and adoration.
Vlad stepped back and gasped. Mother looked at him curiously. Only seconds had passed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Vlad answered. “I need to get Petor Mister Lion.”
As he turned to leave, his mother grabbed his hand. Vlad was glad her bare flesh was gloved. He didn’t want to see any more of her memories.
“You can’t tell anyone about Natasha. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said. “I understand.”
Now…
The train from Moscow back to Klin took just over an hour. Vlad enjoyed that time where all he had to do was sit and watch the landscape fly by. Outside of the dirty, loud city, he felt more at ease.
“What do you think, love?”
Vlad looked away from the window at Lucy, who held her wrist out for him to inspect. Her face was fresh and unmarred by the thick coating of makeup she applied when they carried out their schemes. She wore jeans, boots, and a fluffy tan jacket with a hat she knitted herself. On her wrist was a thin gold chain with a single charm. When Vlad reached out to take it off, she snatched her hand back.
“Lucy, you can’t keep that. If Cheslav sees it…”
They lapsed into silence. She removed the bracelet and slipped it into her backpack. Vlad’s attention had finally settled back on the snow covered fields and trees when she spoke again.
“When will we run away?”
He sighed. “Someday.”
“You always say that.” She sunk farther into her seat. “Every time we come out here, every night at home, we talk about escape. Yet the only way to escape is to do the one thing you won’t do.”
There were three ways their conversation of escape went. One was a fleeting complaint they both wallowed in, like gossip of a mutual hated friend. Second, was a joyous, fantastical planning of what they’d do once they escaped. Last, where the conversation was headed now, was a fight that never had any victors and left both depressed and regretful.
It surprised him she brought it up again after their tiff over the gun last night.
“Even if the old man was out of the picture, who would help us? We don’t know anyone. We have no money, nowhere to go.” He lowered his voice. There were few patrons on the train at this time of day headed to Klin, but he wouldn’t risk being overheard. “And no, we will not run our own cons for our own benefit. We’re no better than Cheslav if we did that.””
Lucy opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Something was on her mind and she wasn’t telling him. One year ago Vlad and Lucy promised they wouldn’t use their powers on each other. Right then, he wanted to defy that promise. Normally they spoke their every thought to one another——they had to, since they were one another’s
only friends—and to see she kept something from him filled him with dread. It would be easy to reach out and brush his hand against hers, search through her memories of the past minutes, and glean her inner feelings and thoughts.
“How wonderful would it be if we made it to America? I’d wear a sparkling white bodysuit with a cape made of silk. A Venetian mask to cover my eyes. What would they call me?”
Her voice was flat, lacking her usual gusto in discussing their American daydream. Vlad indulged her. “They would call you Lady Luna.”
“And you, Vlad?”
“I would wear all black and gray, with a long cape and hood of course, and gloves that let my fingertips show so I can use my powers. My mask would cover my entire face except my eyes. They would call me The Leech.”
She laughed. The tension eased between them. “I still don’t like The Leech. It sounds like a villain’s name, not a hero’s.”
“If you have a better idea, please let me know, Lady Luna.”
They spent the rest of the train ride discussing which American superheroes they would befriend once they arrived, if they would have an arch nemesis, and how much Americans would love them because of their accents. Lucy made him speak in English as much as he could, because part of their daydream meant he needed to speak it.
The train began to slow as it approached Klin, its brakes screeching until the train shuddered to a stop. It was snowing again, tiny flakes swaying in the cold air as they descended. Their bags of stolen jewelry, money, and other valuables were heavy on their backs and slung in the crooks of their elbows.
He led the way out of the train station, through the small market nearby, to the corner where Cheslav was supposed to pick them up. The smell of street food made Vlad’s stomach rumble. He was very aware of the last time he ate in Moscow. It was too long ago.
After thirty minutes of shivering in the cold, Lucy kicked the ground. In English, she said, “That manky cad isn’t coming. You would think he would do that much at least.”
Vlad repositioned his bags and began the two hour walk home. “Don’t act surprised, Lucy. It isn’t as though this hasn’t happened before.”
