by Dana Burkey
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “What do we need to do for this to work?”
“Here we are everyone,” our tour guide announced as we parked in front of the travel agency back in Kiev. “Feel free to tip the driver on your way out. And be sure to tell your friends about your time with us. We hope to start offering daily tours soon. Thanks for a great day, everyone.”
Pretending to fiddle with my camera, I allowed the others to exit the bus as we had planned. The car we had met in Pripyat was parked next to us, the men standing by the hood smoking. They seemed unaffected by the falling snow and cold weather. I, however, found myself shivering.
“Are you ready?” Steven asked quietly.
Afraid to speak, I nodded my head in reply. My passport was tucked in my cargo pants’ pocket along with a wad of cash. It was the only items I would need besides the camera I was still wearing. I had placed a few clothing items into Steven’s bag so I could leave mine behind. Olena explained that since he had a bag the men would go after him instead of me in case they followed the two of us. It made me nervous for Steven, but hopefully no one would follow us to begin with. I wish we had left everything at the hotel, but Olena insisted we had to be ready in case things did not go as planned. Clearly, she anticipated that for a good reason.
Once about half of the bus had cleared out we made our move. Crouching low, we exited the bus behind some other college students who were carrying large bags. They provide cover for an extra moment as we turned right, racing down the sidewalk and away from the men waiting for us.
Behind me, I could instantly hear the men yelling as we reached the street corner. Giving Olena a quick glance, I turned left on to the side street. Steven did the same after handing Olena the letters that had been in the lockbox a few hours ago. I knew they were items Olena would want to keep, but if it could get the men off our trail long enough to get help then it was worth it. Olena took the papers then turned right, cutting across the main street. All I could do was hope I would see her again.
As planned, we began to make our way towards the US Embassy. Steven and I wove our way through town, cutting between buildings, down streets, and through crowds of people. I could feel my lungs burning in the cold air and my legs straining for the second time that day, but I tried to just push on. Getting across Kiev was the only option at the moment.
“We’re being followed,” Steven said breathlessly as we rounded another corner. We still had three more blocks until we were at the Embassy, and then we still needed to get inside.
A deafening noise sounded in my ear as we cut through another back alley. The wall beside us exploded in tiny shards that flew out way. I let out a scream as I ducked down and continued my pace. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Steven remove his pack and take something from it before tossing the bag aside. Turning my head towards him I watched in shock as he pointed a gun behind us and fired.
“Steven?” I managed between my panting breaths.
“Keep running,” he replied, before once again shooting at the man behind us.
As we exited the alley and continued onto the sidewalk, I could see the Embassy down the street ahead on our left. We just needed to make it a little farther. As if in response to my thought, my body exploded with pain. Fire seemed to rip through my left leg as stars exploded behind my eyes. Dropping to the ground I cried out, the sound covered by Steven once again shooting behind us.
“We need to hurry,” Steven mumbled as he picked me up from where I lay on the sidewalk. As he pulled me into his chest I could see the cause of my pain. The area above my knee was soaked with blood. It appeared that the bullet had passed through my leg, leaving a ragged hole on its exit point on my inner thigh.
“No...no….” I moaned as the jostling from Steven’s running caused my leg to throb with even more pain than I thought possible. It was only a matter of time before I passed out. I watched as blood pumped out of my leg, fueled by my racing heart.
A sudden yell ripped from Steven’s mouth as his grip on me loosened. He faltered in his step only slightly before recovering and racing forward once again. His strength was clearly running out, his endurance after carrying me fading.
My eyes swept around us, taking in the Embassy now just feet away. It felt like time was moving in slow motion as we spun through the revolving doors. I watched in a daze as the men and women inside the building began shouting, drawing their weapons and pointing them towards us. Their voices echoed off the walls, distorting their words.
“Please help her, she’s been shot!” Steven called out, dropping to one knee while still holding me in his arms. His eyes darted around the room in panic, but no one was responding.
I tried to speak, but only managed a moan of pain. The entire thigh of my pants were soaked with blood, some of it now smeared on Steven’s shirt as well.
“Help her, she’s American,” Steven called out again, now setting my body down before raising his arms up in a show of surrender. “Please just help her.”
One of the guards approached, asking Steven something in Ukrainian. The man was yelling, clearly trying to make sense of us. I tried to reach for my passport in my pocket but my hand stayed limp beside me. I was fading fast.
Turning to the man with his arms still up in surrender Steven spoke to the guard. He talked quickly, gesturing to me. The only words I could understand, however, were my name. But that was suddenly the least of my concerns. Steven had just spoken in what sounded like perfect Ukrainian.
“Steven?” I whispered. My voice was quiet, but his eyes locked onto mine.
“I’m sorry Claire,” he said softly, before turning to talk to the guard once more in Ukrainian. I closed my eyes then, giving up the fight to stay conscious.
The next few days of my life passed in a blur. I was in and out of consciousness both from pain killers and blood loss thanks to my injury. The memories stacked up in my mind like photographs rather than moments.
Steven speaking Ukrainian.
Guards carrying me somewhere.
Traveling in an ambulance.
A mask being placed over my mouth to knock me out for surgery.
Waking up and seeing my leg wrapped in a thick bandage.
My mother’s voice over the telephone.
Traveling yet again.
Another emergency room prepped for surgery.
When I finally woke up with a real sense of alertness I had no idea what day it was. I knew we had toured Chernobyl on a Monday, but it was hard to tell what day it was now. I could feel a dull throbbing in my leg despite the morphine drip I had been on since waking from my second surgery. It was making my brain foggy, but as I glanced around the room I could feel my head finally beginning to clear. My leg was propped up, its wound still masked below layers of gauze. It did not hurt, which was only a small comfort in light of my extreme confusion. I also noticed that my arm was re-bandaged, the gauze looking more precise than what Steven had applied.
The room around me was very basic, its features the same as most of the hospital rooms I had been in. Looking next to the bed I found what I was searching for. Reaching my hand out I pressed the call button repeatedly until a nurse entered. She immediately asked me if I was in pain, but I ignored her to ask my own question.
“What day it is?” I asked, speaking as if my mouth was full of cotton.
“It’s Friday,” she commented, while hurrying to get me a cup of water. I sipped on it for a moment before speaking again. I had noticed her slight accent when she spoke but could not tell where she was from yet.
“Where is Steven?” My only response was silence. “Is Olena okay?”
The nurse looked confused at my questions. She looked to be just a few years older than me, so it was likely information was not given to her unless necessary.
“We have word that your parents will be arriving first thing tomorrow morning,” the nurse smiled, checking my vitals and taking notes on her clipboard. Hearing her speak more did not help in identifyi
ng her accent. It did not matter much anyways. What mattered was that I was safe.
“Where-” I paused, not sure if it was safe to ask the question forming on my lips. “Where is my camera?”
At this the nurse simply shrugged as she finished checking my charts before heading out of the room with a polite smile on her face. The silence after she left was haunting. I laid my head back on the pillow and began counting the tiles on the ceiling above me, hoping it would help to calm me down. There were 26 of them, one of which had a stain from a water leak. I stared at the stain until I heard the door open once again. Turning to see who it was I watched as two men in suits walked towards my bedside.
“Hello Claire,” a man said in perfect English, with no hint of an accent. “I am Agent Hodwell, and this is Agent Kace. How are you today?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted slowly. I struggled to sit up, causing Agent Kace to move to my side and help me. Propping a few pillows up behind me after raising the back half of the bed, he smiled kindly at me before stepping back and pulling out a notepad and pen.
“We have a few questions for you if you are up to it,” Agent Hodwell began, reminding me instantly of the last time I was in the hospital, after Olena had killed Alexi. When I nodded he continued. “Can you please tell us about your time in the Ukraine?”
“We got here Monday,” I started, but was cut off before I could continue.
“Who was with you?” Hodwell asked as Kace held his pen over his paper, ready to write the details.
“Steven Jackson and Olena Kozak,” I paused, waiting for another question. After a moment of silence I continued. “Well, we got here Monday, then we went around town for a little bit looking at souvenir shops and stuff. Then we went to our hotel for the night. It was the big one over by the water.”
Hodwell nodded, looking at me intently. He was not taking notes, but I had the feeling he would remember every word I said. Clearing my throat, I began telling the hard part.
“Tuesday morning we went on a tour of Chernobyl.” I paused to take a sip of water. “We had booked it the day before, and had to meet there at 9am to leave. We were on the tour all day, but after lunch we kind of left the tour for a little.”
“This was when you got the film that was in your camera?” Hodwell asked.
“Yes,” I said before adding, “it was from Uri’s house. He was Olena’s uncle that died when the power plant had the big accident. The photos-”
“What happened next?” Hodwell said, cutting me off.
“When we got back to the bus there were two men with guns,” I went on, my voice shaking from the memory. “They took some already developed photos Olena had with her and then were going to kill us, but the tour group came back. So we got back on the bus and continued on with the rest of the tour. The men were following us, claiming that they were there to protect us in case wild animals attacked.”
“Wild animals?” Agent Kace asked, his first words since entering the room.
“Yeah, like bears I guess?” I shrugged. “That’s what the tour guide told us when we asked.”
“Let’s talk about what happened when you made it back to Kiev,” Hodwell suggested, his eyes more piercing than ever.
“We knew that getting to the Embassy was the only way to ensure our safety,” I explained. “So Steven and I took off one way while Olena went another way. One of the men followed us though, so we had to run the whole way while he was shooting at us. And Steven-”
My voice caught in my throat as tears instantly sprang into my eyes. The two men were no longer a concern of mine as my body was wracked with sobs. Everything was still all too emotional to process. After a few minutes I was able to calm down enough to continue.
“Steven shot at the man too, but I still got hit,” I said with a shaky voice. “Then we were here. And, I guess, I passed out.”
“You said Olena headed in the opposite direction and was being chased as well?” Hodwell asked, one eyebrow raised. When I nodded he continued. “What did the man look like that followed her?”
“He was really big and bald,” I said quickly. “And had this nasty scar on his face.”
Hodwell nodded at Kace once. Agent Kace turned then and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with Hodwell. I watched in silence as he pulled a chair closer to my bedside and took a seat. He sat back in the chair, not slouching or leaning forward. It looked like he was trying to get more comfortable, but relaxing was clearly not something he did often.
“We found the body of the man who was shooting at you on the sidewalk down the street. Then, last night we found a body that matches the description of the man that you said was chasing Olena,” Hodwell explained. “There was no sign of Olena. Although your story matches the boy’s.”
“Steven?” I croaked, more tears forming instantly.
“Yes, the boy you called Steven,” he nodded, before leaning closer to me. “His real name is Gevorg Moskovitch. He is cousins with Olena Moskovitch. He was assumed dead last spring after a car accident in Canada that took the life of his mother as well as Olena’s mother.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the pillow. Tears were spilling down my cheeks once again. Steven lied to me. He was not who he said he was, and even more, he and Olena had been keeping me in the dark for so long. Part of me was glad he was alive, but it did nothing to lessen the pain and heartbreak I felt at knowing everything between Steven and I was a lie.
“We have kept him in custody until we could confirm his story with yours.” When Agent Hodwell continued, his voice was softer. “He has been asking to see you.”
“What about the photos?” I asked using the back of my hand to wipe the tears from my face. I refused to look at Hodwell now, knowing his concern would push me even further over the edge.
“We have developed them and are looking into their credibility,” Hodwell replied curtly. I had a feeling there was more to the story than that, but it was likely information for only a few important people to know as of yet. “You did the right thing bringing the film to the Embassy.”
Opening my eyes, I looked at Hodwell while his words sunk in. We did it. We got the photos to the right people, finally shedding some light on what happened that day so many years ago. Something about his words bothered me, however.
“Where are we now?” I asked, looking at Hodwell finally.
“We are in a hospital outside of Berlin,” Hodwell explained. “Your wounds needed immediate attention, and based on the film you had with you we felt getting you out of Kiev was the safest option.”
“And Steven?” I held my breath while I waited for the reply.
“He is in Kiev still,” Hodwell replied, ignoring the fact I refused to call him Gevorg. “Now that we confirmed his story he will be turned over to the Ukrainian government for protection until Olena can be located as well. Finding her is the key right now.”
Hodwell stayed for a little longer, explaining to me that although the information Steven gave them was useful, they needed to hear about the photographs from Olena as well. They needed proof that what they were seeing in the images was real. I had a feeling that whatever it was those photos told us, it was about to change what we knew of history.
When Hodwell finally left I could feel the walls inside me breaking down. Olena was still in danger, and Steven had lied to me even more than I realized when we first entered the embassy. I cried, my chest heaving with sobs. It felt like I was suffocating, my breath ragged as I faced the gravity of all I had just learned. Eventually a nurse came in and adjusted my IV. I could feel it as the additional morphine coursed its way through my body. Sinking deeper into the bed beneath me, I allowed the drugs to put me to sleep. I could only hope that when I woke up there would be good news from Kiev.
The next time I woke up it was the middle of the night. After pressing the call button for a while a nurse came and brought me some juice and crackers. The doctors had been pumping fluids into me for a while, but having real fo
od helped to settle my stomach some. Falling asleep once I was satisfied, it was late the next morning when I was woken up by my mom’s voice.
“Oh Claire!” she whispered in shock as she entered my room. Her voice had me up and alert immediately.
My mom cried and hugged me while my dad did his best to pull her off of me before I got hurt. Thankfully he managed to get her in a seat next to my bed before she pulled my arm off my body. Holding hands, we both cried while dad went off to the cafeteria to get me some hot tea and soup for my sore throat. Between crying and being heavily medicated it felt like I had been swallowing glass.
“Agent Hodwell told us everything that he could,” mom explained while wiping her eyes. “I still can’t believe all you went through sweetie. I wish you would have told us.”
“I wanted to,” I sniffed, trying my best to smile and make my mom feel better. “But I didn’t want someone coming after you guys, too.”
“Let’s not worry about all that now,” mom sighed. “The important thing right now is that you are safe. And the doctors said the surgery went really well. There was a lot of muscle damage, but with some physical therapy and maybe another surgery it should heal nicely.”
“Did the doctors or Agent Hodwell mention anything about Olena?” I stopped myself before asking about Steven. I knew asking about him would only bring back all the emotions I finally was more or less numb to.
“Not yet, honey,” she frowned. “But they are looking for her all over Kiev and they are confident they will find her. Hodwell said they lot of information from- Well, they have a lot of information now.”
“It’s okay mom, you’re allowed to say his name,” I sighed, despite the tears already welling up in my eyes.
“We can talk about that later too. For now I think just being here together is enough.” She held my hand tighter and leaned closer to me, her chin quivering with more emotion.
