by Dana Burkey
The living room, much like the outside of the house, was devoid of color. The remaining furniture was broken and covered with years of dust and grime. What looked to be old family photos lay broken on the ground, many of the images almost completely destroyed over time. I noticed in one less damaged photo a man and a woman smiling for the camera. Without a child with them, I could only assume this was not where Olena grew up. We were likely walking through Uri’s house.
The kitchen presented more of the same gray scenery. Everything looked like houses back in Ohio, just worn down and covered in dust. For some reason I expected things to be packed or stored safely. But without a warning everything was left as if a family was planning to return, but never got the chance. This continued on in each room we entered and each hallway we walked down. Finally, we entered a small bedroom, broken wood littering the floor. Staring at it for a moment I could feel the breath catch in my throat when I realized what I was looking at.
“This was a crib,” I whispered, shocked to think Uri was killed despite having a young child. “You never said Uri had a child.”
“He did not,” Olena replied, kicking the wood out of the way so she could walk to the closet. “My aunt was four months pregnant when the explosion happened. The radiation was too much for the baby to keep growing.”
Olena did not continue the story, but I did not need her to. I could imagine what followed. A wife, mourning the loss of her husband, forced to mourn the loss of her unborn child, thanks to the accident that took her husband as well. I could feel tears welling in my eyes but blinked them away. We had too much at stake for me to get emotional now.
“Here, give me a boost,” Olena said to Steven after she had entered the small closet.
Going to her side Steven lifted Olena enough for her to reach the boards above her. Pushing on its surface, what appeared to be a normal part of the ceiling shifted to reveal a small storage space. It had blended in enough that anyone who stopped at the house over the years to deprive it of valuables would not have known to check for it.
After moving the square of wood aside Olena pulled herself up with her hands, forcing Steven to hold her feet for support. Watching the two of them, I was convinced Steven was about to drop her when Olenas feet disappeared as she climbed completely into the crawl space above.
Moving to stand next to Steven, I counted how long Olena was gone. Much sooner than I expected, she shooed us with her hands before climbing back out of the space. She did not bother to put the trick door covering back where it was found. As she turned to face me I saw what we had come for. In her hand was a small metal lock box.
Running her fingers over the box I watched silently as Olena set it down then removed the locket she had given me for safe keeping years ago. It had always bothered me that I could not open it, so my jaw dropped as Olena twisted it in her hands. Turning the top of the locket that connected it to its chain, I watched as Olena unscrewed the hook that connected the locket to the chain, pulling it apart to reveal a key that had been hidden inside the entire time. With a deep breath, Olena used the tiny key to open the lock box.
Peering over Olena’s shoulder I held my breath as she began pulling the contents of the box out one at a time. Tears rolled down her cheek as she pulled out first a family photo I could only assume was of Olena and her parents. Turning it over she read the back, where a note was left for her to find. Next she pulled out a few letters, some labeled to Olena while others were labeled to Katarina and Gevorg and other names I did not catch. Then, once the other items were removed, Olena picked up the film canister, a smile growing on her face.
“The film,” I gasped. Despite hearing so much about it, seeing it for the first time was still a shock.
Nodding, Olena inserted the film into the camera then handed it to me. I slipped it around my neck without question as Olena handed the letters to Steven. She then closed the lock box and slid it into the closet before shutting the door. Putting the key back into the locket, she put it around her neck once again.
“Time to go,” Olena said simply to us before turning and walking back out of the house. Any sign that she had been crying has suddenly vanished.
Part of me was shocked we were already heading back, but then I remembered; we only had 40 minutes for this side trip on our tour. Stepping out of the house I blinked a few times, not believing what I was seeing. Not only did we have to race back, it was starting to snow now. Taking a deep breath I let it out slowly before heading after Steven and Olena, who were already jogging back to the bus.
Olena began to slow her pace once we were still blocks from the bus. She pressed her body to the building next to us, causing Steven and I to do the same. We crept along the building, turning each corner after quick peeks around it. It seemed like it was all for nothing, but then again I was new to the world of sneaking through a dead city.
After what felt like an hour, we finally were back where we started. Standing in the alley we had first turned down, Olena peeked around the corner before her shoulders finally relaxed. Watching her begin to calm down was all the sign I needed. We had made it back before the tour group and we had a chance to catch our breath before we were going to have to rejoin everyone.
“How are you feeling?” Steven asked, moving to stand next to me and placing one hand on the small of my back.
“Tired,” I nodded, glad it covered my state due to the running and also for my fake sickness. “I think I will sleep nice and good tonight.”
“We should go sit on the bus for a while,” Olena suggested, her breathing back to normal. “It is getting a little too cold to be good for you now.”
My body was still warm from the run, but the snow was starting to fall harder and harder. The ground was coated in a thin layer of white, and more was still coming down. Our breath puffed out around us, still much harder than if we had been sitting for the last stretch of time.
As Olena turned the corner to head back to the bus I followed her, my eyes down and on the camera. It would not be long until we could finally develop the photos and see the truth that got Uri killed. With my eyes down I did not see Olena had stopped, but rather bumped into her. Steven’s hand suddenly gripped my arm. His grip was much too tight to simply steady me for running into Olena. Looking up, I understood instantly.
Standing before us were two men, both holding guns pointing our way. I allowed my eyes to glance behind them and noticed a car parked next to the bus, hidden from view when we had peeked moments earlier. The tour had still not arrived, but when they returned it was clear we would not be waiting as planned.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I took a step closer to Steven, my eyes trained on the open end of the guns pointed at us. It took me a moment to realize the men were speaking, their fast words lost on me completely. They were both massive, their muscles showing even through their wool coats. Although they were both tall, one had to be close to seven feet tall, his spiky black hair making him look even more intimidating. His partner had a shaved head that bulged with muscles I was not aware most people even had. What I noticed more than that, however, was a scar that traveled from the corner of his eye down to the edge of his jaw.
While they spoke I tried hard to catch what they were saying, but only caught a few words. As they spoke about Chernobyl, Pripyat, Uri, and even Olena I began to notice that Steven was edging in front of me, creating a barrier between me and the loaded guns. Finally, I stepped behind him, clinging onto his hand and also the camera on my neck. Unfortunately, this step was a big enough motion to get the men’s attention away from Olena and onto me.
Olena and the men exchanged words quickly, her tone angrier with each sentence. It was clear they wanted the photos, but at the same time were not going to kill us just yet. They glanced over their shoulders every now and then, as if trying to hurry things along before the tour group returned. Finally, the bald man stepped closer to Olena and swung his gun out, striking her in the temple with its cold hard metal.
“Olena!” I screamed as Steven held me back, knowing that getting closer would just mean getting hurt. Then two men laughed as Olena rose from the ground, blood seeping from her now wounded forehead.
As she stood, Olena’s hand brushed her pocket and what I had assumed to be maps fell to the ground. Lying on the snow-covered earth I could see they were actual photos of the Chernobyl plant peeking out of a manila envelope. Before Olena could grab them, the same man that had hit Olena scooped them up from the ground. While the two men flipped through the photos Olena began to cry and shout at them. It was clear she wanted them to believe that these were the real photos. Steven released me now to hold Olena back.
The blond man let out a chuckle, muttering a few more words to Olena before lifting his gun to her head, his finger poised on the trigger. Steven and Olena instantly froze. It was clear that now that they had the photos, we were no longer needed alive. Reaching out to grip Stevens’s arm I stepped closer to him as the other gun was raised to point my way.
Knowing it could be my last moments I pressed my lips closer to Steven’s ear. He needed to know I felt now, in case I never got another chance.
“I love you Steven,” I whispered, before closing my eyes tightly and waiting for the sound of gunfire.
At the sound of people shouting and laughing from across the open area we were standing in, I slowly opened my eyes. Looking past the men that still had their guns trained on us I watched as a few tour members headed our way, hurrying to cover the distance to the bus in the cold weather. I breathed a sigh of relief as they got closer and closer, finally causing the two men to put their guns away. After exchanging a few tight lipped words to the men in Ukrainian, Olena turned to me with a look that almost resembled a smile.
“We should get you back on the bus,” she managed, her words forced.
I nodded, not able to find my voice. Steven gripped me tightly, walking quickly to the bus. We took our seats up front quickly before staring out at the men who were now talking to the tour guide and bus driver. The other tour guests gave me sad looks as they entered; clearly the stress we were facing was causing me to look sicker than ever before. Olena used the time to pull a winter cap from her bag. Slipping it on her head she managed to cover most of her open wound.
“What’s going on?” Steven asked finally, as the tour guide ended his conversation with the two men who then got into their car and drove off ahead of us.
“They are joining the tour, I think,” Olena quickly whispered to us before the tour guide boarded the bus.
While the tour guide announced that we would be headed to the power plant next for our final stop I glanced at my watch. It was 1 o’clock. According to the pamphlet I read earlier we would begin driving back to Kiev at 3, arriving there at 5. I did not like the math on this one. In less than 4 hours I could be once again facing the men determined to kill us.
“It’s going to be okay,” Steven whispered, pulling me closer to his body. “Olena will think of something to get us out of this.”
Looking up at Steven I tried to put on a brave face, but inside I was in a panic. I could not imagine how Olena could get us out of the situation we were in. The men were driving right ahead of us, as if leading us to the power plant and our deaths. Sure, Chernobyl no longer emitted enough radiation to kill anyone instantly, but we had worse things to worry about than reactor 4.
“So, uh,” Steven began slowly. “Did you mean what you said back there?”
I could feel my cheeks burning with blush as I remembered my confession of love for Steven not long before. Although said in the heat of the moment, the feelings it was inspired by were real. Now, however, saying the words again seemed almost silly.
“Well….ummmm,” I paused, not knowing what else to say.
“Hey,” he smiled, planting a quick kiss on my forehead. “We’re going to get home safe and then we will have all the time in the world to talk about things.”
Too embarrassed to say anything I simply leaned my head on Steven’s shoulder. Glancing over at Olena I saw she was staring at her hands in her lap, deep in thought. I could only guess at that moment what she was thinking about. After walking through her uncle’s home for the first time in over 13 years, receiving a letter from her family, and handing me the missing piece to the puzzle of what really happened that fateful night, Olena was suddenly in more danger than ever.
Closing my eyes I tried to imagine how we could get out of the mess that seemed to be drowning us. By the time we pulled to a stop a few minutes later I was still completely lost as to what could work. Sitting next to us in the lot was the car that held the men that wanted us dead. Little did they know the photos they took from us were not the ones Uri had taken. Hopefully that information would stay hidden, even if we were gunned down.
“Alright everyone, we are going to go to a few monuments and locations around this area, but please stay close,” our tour guide announced. “Do not wander off please. Radiation levels in this area are still high, so we want to leave on schedule.”
“Who are those men?” someone near the back of the bus called out.
“The men who joined us work at the checkpoint,” the driver explained. “They will be joining us for the tour for additional safety. There have been some wild animals spotted in the area recently so they want to make sure nothing happens while we are looking around.”
Although the answer appeased the others on the bus, I knew this could not be farther from the truth. Looking at both Steven and Olena I could tell the next two hours were not going to be easy. These men were “protecting” our tour group, so if someone happened to see their guns they would not think anything of it. And once we headed back to Kiev, it was likely they would come up with a reason to stick with our group yet again.
The seconds ticked by slowly. At Olena’s coaching I did my best to act normal. I was thankful that in my case that also meant not feeling well. Still, I tried to stick with Olena and Steven as we walked around the safe area near the Chernobyl power plant. Olena told us staying at the bus was just asking for trouble. The more we were with the other tour guests, the safer we would be.
Despite my life being on the line, I found myself taking in the damage to the power plant in the distance. We were not allowed to get closer than 200 meters, but even from there the destruction was evident. Much work had been done to the power plant since the initial explosions so long ago, but the crumbling buildings were still all around us. In the distance I could see the unfinished cooling towers that were beginning to fall apart, and thanks to our tour guide I was able to tell the difference in building materials used from the original reactor buildings and the newer additions to both fix and also contain the damage. I listened to all the information, pretending to take photos with the camera that held the truth about it all.
I watched Olena as she took in everything. It was hard to imagine her visiting her dad here when she was little, seeing the plant up and running. To anyone else it would look like she was simply quietly observing the area out of respect for the other people around her. But I knew. I knew now that Olena was no doubt wracking her brain for a way to ditch the men who were trying to kill us while also grieving the loss of her family.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the two men, smoking near the bus and sneering at the plant. They knew the truth we were still waiting to finally see. For them this was a secret they did not want out, and it was worth any cost or life to keep it hidden.
“Look,” Steven said with a smile as he pointed behind me.
Following where he pointed, I watched as Olena walked towards us with a determined look on her face. It was clear she had a plan.
“Did you know there is a US Embassy in Kiev?” Olena asked, gesturing to the building ahead of us as if she was telling us something about reactor four.
“What is that?” I asked. I had heard the term before, but was not sure how it could actually help.
“It is a place for US diplomats to
come to when they are in the area and have work to do,” Olena said quickly. “But it is also where Americans can go if they lose their passport or have other issues when they are in the country where the Embassy is located. If someone is in trouble, they can take refuge in the Embassy so they are not wrongfully accused or punished for something they did while not in the US.”
“So we need to get Claire there?” Steven asked, Olena’s words sinking in quickly.
“All three of us,” I corrected.
“Only US citizens can truly take refuge there without local authorities getting involved,” Olena paused before continuing. “And since you have the film it is most important for you to get there and hand it over to people we can trust.”
“Alright, but how do we get away from them?” I asked, with a nod of my head towards the two men with guns.
“We need to slip away when we get to Kiev,” Olena said simply. “Steven, you need to keep Claire safe and get her to the Embassy. I will get the men to follow me. When we get off the bus you can hand me something that they will mistake as more photos so hopefully they will think you guys are safe to lose sight of for a little while.”
“And what if it does not work and they follow us?” Steven asked, his grip on my hand tightening.
“All we can do it hope and pray that does not happen,” Olena shrugged.
Nodding my head I stared ahead at the damaged building before us. People died in that building, killed by the flames and also by the radiation that spread through the air. Looking down at the camera hanging around my neck I knew we didn’t have a choice. Sure, we would be risking our lives, but this was bigger than us. There were hundreds and thousands of people who were killed or affected by the tragic events that took place only a short distance from where I stood. Getting the pictures into safe hands was about more than just helping Olena’s family. It was a way to help people understand and come to terms with such a tragic event.
