ABIGAIL_SPY & LIE

by Rose Fox

  Anton glanced at him quickly and immediately translated his remarks for Adam because he was also perturbed by them.

  “Wait, ask him what there is in Vilkush,” Adam proposed, as he continued wondering about the story of bears in the forest and Anton’s translation of Igor’s suggestions.

  “He says the village offers special hospitality and is renowned for the estate attached to it. He also suggests we equip ourselves to sleep out in the open.”

  “That all sounds great,” Adam remarked, “but what are the dangers of the forest?”

  All at once Anton began to enthuse.

  “Do you know what? Now, I recall what I was told about the hospitality at that estate and I’m determined not to miss out on it.” He crowed with pleasure at the thought of it.

  “Ah, really? So let’s fix ourselves up with a folding mattress and hope that the tent will protect us.” After a couple of seconds, he added quietly,

  “Let’s hope the bears don’t sniff around and discover an interesting meal.”

  “Should we wait here for another day or two?” Anton suggested again and Adam nodded, but this time his fear had been aroused.

  “Anton, our instructions were to constantly be on the move and not to delay in any specific place.”

  Anton cried out in contempt and waved his hand dismissively.

  That was his undoing because those who were following them tirelessly had been waiting for just such a moment.

  They went on their way, loaded with the equipment they purchased and before noon, reached the entrance to the Sochi forest. As they stood outside, Adam stopped to gaze at the enormous tree trunks.

  “Wow, if four people join hands, they might just manage to encircle this trunk. Come, look,” Adam marveled and Anton nodded. He had seen plenty of Russian trees in his lifetime and didn’t find them that interesting.

  Anton began riding and Adam followed him. They penetrated the cool shadiness between the trees and continued slowly along the forest paths. Adam watched the sun's rays peering through the trees as he took care to advance in an easterly direction. They snaked between the trees and bobbed up and down on the bumpy trails. From time to time they saw an animal’s tail escaping or climbing up a tree and disappearing in the tangle of branches. The engine noise of the motorcycles conquered the chirping of the birds and the scream of monkeys that hung down off the branches at the top of the trees.

  Darkness falls early in the forest. The sun had not set, but at six o’clock not a single ray of sunlight penetrated the trees. Their headlights picked their way through the dark and Adam signaled with his lights to slow down and stop.

  Preparations for sleeping in the forest that night were quick. They struck their tent and reinforced it with stakes that they hammered into the ground, inflated the mattress and slipped it into the tent.

  Adam took pitas filled with chicken sausages and mustard out of his bag and the two of them wolfed them down, along with large bits of tomatoes and unpeeled cucumbers they had prepared at Igor’s inn. By nine o’clock the judges were fast asleep.

  In the morning, when they woke up it was still dark in the woods, even though it was already seven o’clock.

  “We slept for ten hours,” Adam remarked “just like bears.”

  Suddenly he remembered. “Talking about bears,” he said, but Anton wasn’t listening to him. His eyes were still swollen with sleep and he grumbled and looked angry. He straightened his mussed hair with his fingers and the thought of a shower, a comfortable bed and the idea of country hospitality in the Vilkush holiday village appealed to him now more than ever.

  Packing up was a little slower because they had to fold the tent and deflate the mattress, but by eight, they were already riding slowly along the paths with Anton in the lead. All at once Anton noticed Adam’s arm waving in the air. He didn’t have to inquire what had happened because he, too, saw the animals, running and jumping ahead of them. Some of them jumped between the branches while others came down from the trees and ran away, screeching.

  “What’s this, what’s happening?” Adam asked in a whisper and Anton shrugged. They both understood that something had disturbed the peace and frightened the animals. Another group of beautiful bushy-tailed squirrels passed before them and Adam doused his motorcycle and laid it on the ground. He stepped slowly over the soft bed of leaves that carpeted the ground and, with Anton in the rear; they progressed in the opposite direction to that of the flight of the animals to discover what had frightened them so much.

  They walked for half a minute till they reached a clearing in the forest. Someone was sitting on an overturned crate leaning his chin on his hand. Through his legs, they saw a fire burning, which explained the rush of animals. The fire burned under a large vat to which pipes were connected.

  “The man is brewing illegal liquor,” Anton whispered. He sniffed in the fumes. “Vodka,” he proclaimed like a specialist and whispered in Adam’s ear:

  “He’s cooking potato peels and preparing liquor from them. Come, let’s get away before he discovers us; I’m not sure how he will react.”

  “Why? Can’t we watch him?”

  “No. It’s illegal and if he is caught, he may even be executed.”

  “Then let’s get out of here right now. What do we care about his vodka?” Adam pulled at Anton’s sleeve.

  They both retreated slowly and the man continued sitting beside his small brewery, not imagining that he was being watched. Or so, it seemed.

  At noon they were riding between trees and Anton signaled that they were at the edge of the forest.

  “How can we tell?” Adam asked, trying to be heard above the roar of the engine.

  “Everything indicates that these are the last trees of the forest.”

  “Where are the signs?” Adam asked.

  He stared at the trees and could not see any signs on them, those that were in front of them or those that were behind them.

  “Look at the light around us. The rays of light are seeping in diagonally and not only from above. Here, come and look.”

  “Then let’s continue; that is encouraging.”

  “How?”

  “Anton, just don’t make me despair now. I don’t know why, exactly, but I feel that someone is maneuvering us", Anton shrugged and picked his motorcycle up. He mounted it and in riding position he pressed on the accelerator and called out:

  “Hey giddy-up, giddy-up!” and he waved his arm in the air as if he was riding a horse and throwing a lasso. Adam was not amused by his high-jinx and stared at him with concern.

  “Perhaps you’re right, Anton, I’ve also had enough of carrying on aimlessly. It seems we’re being made fools of. I think that…”

  He suddenly stopped talking and glanced behind Anton. He signaled to get his attention. Anton didn’t turn round and Adam spoke to him in Hebrew.

  “Someone is standing behind you,” he remarked, thinking that the man, who had appeared, did not understand what he was saying.

  Anton turned his face, got a fright, but also recognized him. It was the man who had sat brewing his liquor in the clearing in the forest. He raised a yellow triangle and quickly lowered it and Adam was amazed. It suddenly flashed through his mind that this was the sign he had been waiting for and here it was, at long last.

  At that moment, he was convinced that the mission was completed, only he didn’t know then that it was only the beginning.

  Anton asked the man who he was in Russian and, instead of answering, he turned in the direction from which he had come and beckoned to them to follow him. They left their cycles on the leaves and followed the man, who led them in a westerly direction from where they had come.

  A white parrot, the size of a chicken, cocked its head feathers like a crown, screeched and disappeared like a gust of wind, leaving a trail of fine feathers around him.

  The further they progressed the higher the bushes on their trail grew, until they reached their chests. The bottoms of their trouser legs were ca
ught by ferns and their tension increased. They wound their way between the tree trunks and put out their arms to defend themselves from the whipping branches and the thorny bushes.

  The man stopped and said a few words. Anton translated for Adam when he asked to see their flag and asked apprehensively, “do we have one like it?”

  “Yes, of course. But we left it there on the motorcycle” replied Adam and Anton quickly translated that to the man.

  That was followed by another question and Anton translated that the man asked why they had come. Suddenly Adam was frightened and wondered if this wasn’t a trap and that, possibly, this man was trying to expose them. So he told Anton to answer him.

  “We’re just regular tourists.”

  Anton looked at Adam in surprise, but Adam pressed him. “Listen to me, tell him what I said.”

  Anton did as he was told. The man nodded and, a moment later, turned to Adam in fluent English.

  “What do you do? I mean what are your professions?”

  “We’re judges and we’re on vacation. Anton is helping me to get around here,” Adam answered in English, surprised at the change.

  “I understood. Continue eastwards all the time, only eastwards. The goal is to reach the Russian-Iranian border.” He waited for a reaction from them and when they did not respond he continued to speak.

  “You will receive a box from me that is heavy but isn’t large. You should pass it between you and conceal it in a different place on your person each time. You must never take it out to examine it because there will always be someone who will see you do that.”

  “And how will we know where to take it or who to give it to?”

  “You won’t know. Whoever is supposed to receive it will meet you. If you go off the track, or if you take a wrong turn, you will be returned to the route and someone will direct you.”

  He looked at them and added, “we’re not the only ones watching you. There are others, who know exactly where you are at any given moment.”

  Adam lowered his gaze, recalled his fear at night and heard the man’s warning:

  “Keep your eyes open and don’t stay in one place for more than a day.” Then, he handed them a box with both hands.

  “It has a thick lead covering that is dense enough to protect you from contamination,” he said. Since they did not answer, he added, “radioactive contamination.”

  Adam was surprised by its weight. In spite of its small dimensions, the box was heavy. He held it with both hands and looked at the man. He raised his arm in farewell and simply pushed aside the bushes in front of him, passed through the opening between them and they seemed to close behind him. The sounds of his steps were heard as they cracked the twigs he stepped on and then died out.

  Ten minutes later they were standing next to their motorcycles. Anton put the package under his shirt and held it against his body. Their mood was gloomy. Although they were now responsible for one small package, the burden felt as onerous as several tons.

  They traveled like this without exchanging signals and once more reached the trees at the edge of the forest. Here they stopped with the motorcycles still running and Adam said:

  “Did you hear what he said? I suggest we do not sleep in the holiday village and we avoid stopping to eat at restaurants. To tell you the truth, I’m frightened that we’re constantly being followed. Come, let’s find a grocery store or a supermarket and organize our own meals. What do you say?”

  Suddenly, as if in response to his suggestion, a dull thudding sound was heard all around, like thunder before the rain. Adam raised his eyes and it seemed to him that the enormous trees moved as if someone had pushed them. His head spun suddenly and he saw that Anton had also raised his hand to his forehead. He felt unsteady as if something was moving beneath him. Then all at once the sensation disappeared and everything returned to the way it had been before.

  Now, there was only the noise of the motorcycles and it was much weaker than the terrifying rolling thunder a few seconds earlier.

  “Did you feel something?” Adam asked.

  “Yes, what was it?” Anton inquired.

  Suddenly the motorcycle began moving under Anton’s legs. He looked up at Adam and then looked down again at his motorcycle, which seemed to have acquired a life of its own as it moved from left to right. They both jumped off their motorcycles and clung to each other. The tops of the enormous trees seemed to bow down and rise up again and waved sideways as if they were thin stalks of grass in the wind.

  In the distance the ground erupted. A long crevasse crawled open before them, zigzagging along like oil paint being smeared on canvas creating a painting as they watched in real time.

  The noise that rose around them was terrifying. Everything erupted, raged and shook. The screeching of animals was deafening and additional cracks opened up in the ground across from them. Sand poured into them and closed them, but others opened up instead. The whole world had gone mad around them and was erupting, completely altering the landscape before their very eyes.

  Adam fell on his face and remained on the shaking earth. After a minute, or was it an hour, it stopped.

  The quiet that reigned found them both lying on the ground. Adam lay with his hands covering his ears, curled up like a fetus in his mother’s womb and Anton lay parallel to his motorcycle, holding on to it with his arms and legs with all his strength.

  Adam got up first, stood up and shook the dust off his clothes. He ran his hands over his face and eyes and turned to extend a hand to Anton.

  Anton got up and said, “what an earthquake. I wonder what happened nearby and in the surrounding villages.”

  Adam was as white as a sheet. “You’re obviously used to such phenomena,” and spat in the sand.

  “One never gets used to something like that. It was terrifying!”

  Adam spat again, sneezed and wiped his face on his sleeve. He picked his motorcycle up off the ground and wiped his face repeatedly as he rolled his tongue round his dry mouth.

  Anton also spat on the ground and cried out,

  “Yuck, I have sand in my mouth and I’m going crazy.” Rivulets of tears caked with sand ran down his cheeks and he pulled his dirty sleeve over them as he snorted and tried to blow his nose.

  Adam rummaged in his bag, pulled out a bottle of water, poured a little in his hand and used it to clean his face. He passed the bottle to Anton.

  “Here, wash your face,” he said and Anton noticed how his arm was trembling.

  An hour later they saw the first houses of a small village that seemed to be having a siesta. Adam’s arms and leg muscles were still quivering and his body yearned to rest. He had not yet been able to calm down from their horrific experience and he signaled Anton to stop.

  “Listen, Anton, my whole body aches. I need to rest and, this time, not on the sand or the grass.” And he stroked his sweaty brow as he turned his face towards the wind, which had turned hot and easterly. He gazed around inquiringly.

  “Where are we?”

  The region was flat and there were cultivated fields on both sides of the potholed road. The landscape was pastoral and relaxing and there were individual wooden houses a short distance from them. On their left, cattle grazed in the pasture and nearby they saw a peasant woman sitting beside a cow, milking it with her hands.

  Anton shrugged and nodded. They continued further. Gently rolling hills rose as they rode on, and the houses became more numerous on both sides of the road. Adam raised his arm and called out:

  “Come, let’s go and see what they have to offer.”

  They saw a signpost on one of the houses and Anton entered and came out with information about a farm in the village called Nironbas, six kilometers ahead. He was told that the farm had a small museum of Russian horses and quite good country hospitality.

  Indeed, the further they progressed, the more signs there were directing them to the hospitality and museum with pictures of large, broad horses on them, horses of a kind they were unfami
liar with. Rain began to fall, but they did not stop to don their protective cloaks, which remained folded away in their bags.

  At long last, they found a roomy suite that consisted of two bedrooms and a clean bathroom. They also paid Andrew, the host, fifty kopeks each for breakfast.

  After they went to the suite selected for them, Andrew picked up the phone to report.

  “The two motorcyclists, who left Igor two days ago, have been housed in the outermost holiday suite.”

  All that day, they remained idle at the farm. They decided not to visit the horse museum and decided to enjoy the rural tranquility that prevailed around them.

  “I feel we should rest here for at least another two days,” Anton suggested, “what do you think, huh?”

  Adam hesitated.

  “Remember the warnings and instructions we received. In my opinion, it’s not a good idea to stay here longer than a day and we’ve been here since yesterday.”

  “Nonsense, we’ve been on the road for more than a week. We shouldn’t think negatively. Nothing will happen if we stay here for one more day.”

  Adam pursed his lips. Indeed, he wasn’t pleased with the idea, but he was also enjoying this respite. Anton stretched his arms out above his head and leaned back in the recliner as Adam peered at him uneasily.

  They carried the little box they had been given in the forest on their person everywhere they went. They took care not to leave it in their bags and nicknamed it ‘Soul’. Now Adam reached out to Anton and the latter put his hand under his shirt and transferred the box to Adam.

  A cold wind rose suddenly and Adam shivered.

  “It looks like it’s going to rain tonight,” he remarked, but there was no response from Anton. He had already fallen asleep.

  It was dark by ten o’clock, when Adam got up and decided to return to their suite. He walked ahead and looked up at the suite and it seemed as though someone was inside. For the moment he presumed that it was someone, who had come to provide service but as he drew closer to the entrance he noticed that the door wasn’t closed. The door swung back and forth on its hinges and he assumed that the person who left the suite had simply neglected to close the door.