Chapter 31
The Trees are Watching
The next journey was much quicker than the last. Instead of ten days, a little over ten hours.
Ludwig sat there on the train, still and quiet, just like before, as Ivan slung a heavy arm over his shoulder and crooned away in his ear. He didn't comprehend the words. He just stared out of the window, and watched the little towns and forests pass, dressed in his silvery uniform and the gun at his belt too heavy. He was on his way to his own little town outside of Kyiv. Did it have a name? Maybe. Did it matter?
No. Ivan would crush it all the same.
Lifting his eyes up to the grey sky, Ludwig watched the clouds and, absurdly, tried to catch a glimpse of a little airplane on high.
Toris might have already been there.
Maybe Toris wouldn't show at all. What if the plane crashed, or poor Toris simply couldn't free it from the Siberian ice to get it underway? What if Toris wasn't there when they arrived? Couldn't stand the thought. He needed to see Toris. Ivan was god; so he needed Toris, because Toris was human, and so was he, and he needed that reassurance of an equal. Of someone who had done this all before. Of someone who was experienced and seasoned.
He needed Toris, if only to have living proof before him that everything would turn out alright.
Good god, they couldn't possibly get worse, not worse.
Needed Toris to tell him that it was gonna be okay.
Beside of him, that heavy arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders, Ivan leaned into him, and buried his face in the side of Ludwig's neck with a weary moan. Maybe a little hungover.
Hours passed.
His thoughts were muddled and disjointed. Darkness that came and went.
Tried so hard to pretend last night hadn't happened at all, but couldn't because it was the only reason he was on this train right now. Couldn't forget, because Ivan had him on the warpath. Standing up on top of the tank yesterday had been the work of fate, perhaps; Ivan was taking him out into a military excursion, where he was expected to stand upon the tank again, only this time he had to be in command of it and the men below.
Oh. He felt sick.
Ivan had too much faith in him. Couldn't even shoot a gun. How was he supposed to raze a town?
The white trees passed by in a blur, and his breath fogged up the glass as he turned his eyes back and forth.
Panic mounting.
Ivan's breath was warm on his neck as he slept away. Rocking back and forth, back and forth, as the train lurched forward.
Terror. As much faith as Ivan had in him, he didn't believe in himself. He was going to choke, and then he would turn around only to see Ivan shake his head in disappointment. Letting Ivan down. That was what he was most afraid of. Wasn't afraid of the prospect of his raid so much as the thought of letting Ivan down.
The hours passed quickly, Russia turned into Ukraine, Ivan woke up as the afternoon sun hung high in the sky, and Ludwig looked at his reflection in the window of the train, trying to keep his face calm.
Beyond the sky, behind the passing trees, beyond the snow and the grey and the cold, himself. He looked fine. He looked professional and ready.
God help him, he didn't feel that way.
He wanted to turn to Ivan and ask exactly what he would be doing, but some part of him really didn't want to know, and maybe not knowing in this instance was the only thing keeping him from becoming a puddle of nerves. He would wait and see, and hopefully Ivan would give him a briefing on the way. A briefing. Ha; like he was actually military. This role of imposter was starting to feel a little normal. Maybe in time, he could fall into this so well that he just forgot that he had ever been a civilian in the first place.
Like Toris. He wanted to be like that. Wanted to be just like Toris. He wanted to see Toris. To look to what to be. Ivan trusted Toris. Toris did everything Ivan asked, with skill and precision. Toris went off on his own into the world and knew how to interact and survive.
He looked to Toris.
When afternoon faded into evening, Ivan started to perk up a little and look around. The first thing he said, when he was alert, was, "It's warm here!"
Well. Warmer, maybe. As they approached Kyiv the snow seemed to get wetter and wetter, and the icicles on the train started to drip a little with the humidity. And that, to Ivan, was no doubt warm.
The fields turned into houses, and then a city. Kyiv.
The train station came soon. Just as densely populated as the station in Moscow. Just as noisy.
When the train came to a halt, Ivan stood up and slid the screen open, and led him out into the open. People were making their way to the door, but Ivan didn't seem to enjoy lines, pushing through them without a second thought. Ludwig, as usual, could only try to keep up with him.
People all around. None of them knew what was going to happen out here. They passed through the crowd with relative ease, and, with an eerie repeat of the journey to Moscow, there was a black car waiting in the street.
Déjà vu.
The car was in front of him a little too quickly, and when Ivan held open the door, and there was no turning back. He got in. Even though he knew that this car would take him to somewhere he may not have really wanted to be. No going back. He had to push forward.
They drove for an hour or so, leaving the tall buildings of the city behind and going out into the country, where the houses were few and far between. Some quiet little village in the middle of nowhere was laying right in the path of destruction. Roads passed. Hardly any cars out here.
As they came closer, they had to stop, and Ludwig saw why.
A roadblock was set up. Armored vehicles and men in uniform blocked the path, rifles in hand. It was only when they saw Ivan's uniform that they lifted the gate and let them pass, and Ludwig realized with a bit of nausea that they had closed down the roads not so that no one could get in, but so that no one could get out.
So no villagers would flee the target area.
This had been set up days in advance. Had they opened the gates, he wondered, for women and children that had wanted to leave? He doubted it.
After the roadblock, the ride continued for half an hour, and then the car pulled into a field. There were no signs. No gates. No buildings.
Just a field.
The sight of it lit up Ludwig's terror like a fire.
It was full of tanks and vehicles, and soldiers that leaned back and smoked as they waited for the general to arrive. Most of them looked quite bored. They were probably wondering, above all else, why they needed to wait for a general and a colonel for what was to them surely a very simple and very easy mission.
How could they have known that this was meant to break the 'colonel' in?
Maybe it had been explained to them that this was an exercise to show the GDR how things were done out here in the heart of the Soviet Union. Maybe they had been told that the major had suddenly had duty elsewhere and didn't have time to do this anymore.
The car stopped, but the engine didn't turn, and Ivan said, simply, "Wait here."
Ludwig did, already cold-sweating, and watched from the window as Ivan stepped out and went out into the middle of the soldiers. Minutes of talking, planning and mapping, and the soldiers saluted and broke off into their vehicles.
Everything felt a little blurry.
The tanks started lurching upwards, working their way up the muddy field. The armored cars followed, and when Ivan leapt back inside, their own car cut into the middle of the line and began its slow crawl upward.
There was no road. They just drove up through the high grass and the mud. Why go this way, if the roads had all been blocked? Why try to sneak up, if the students already expected them? What was the sense?
He didn't understand any of this.
He didn't understand why these students had ever been deemed a great threat when all they ever really did was start riots in the streets and read things they weren't supposed to. They weren't dangerous, weren't criminals; just wanted to know what was going on in the West. That was all. How was that dangerous? How was that a crime?
Things were so different out here. Back there, a riot in the street had earned a man a night in jail, if he caused a great disturbance, and maybe a fine.
Not death.
The car rocked back and forth as it fought with the mud. He clenched his hands in his lap, turned his eyes to the window, and tried not to give away his nervousness. Ivan saw it anyway.
Warm breath on his neck, and then a low whisper. "Don't worry so much. You'll do fine."
How could Ivan know? How could Ivan have such faith in him? He didn't understand that, either.
He sat still, and didn't move a muscle, staring out at the passing fields. He could hear the tanks barreling forward ahead of them and behind them. He tried to be strong, and act brave, even though he didn't really feel brave.
Ivan expected so much of him.
As if reading his mind, Ivan suddenly reached out, slung an overbearing arm around his shoulders, leaned in close, and whispered, "You've come so far! I'm so proud of you."
Mystified and dazed and maybe a little hypnotized, he could only turn to look at Ivan, and breathe, "Really?"
He wanted to ask, 'What if I fuck this up? Will you still be proud of me?' but no such words came.
And when Ivan gave one single, fervent nod, it didn't matter anymore.
He was sold.
The confidence that such simple words brought up was amazing. He straightened up, slung his right arm up on the windowsill, leaned back, and watched the trees and grass pass.
Proud. Making a man like Ivan proud was next to impossible. Confidence crept up and took over the nervousness. Ivan's dominance and self-assurance made it a little easier to believe in himself. For a while there, as the car bumped up and down and as Ivan's arm hung above his shoulder, Ludwig smiled. The life of a soldier was just to follow orders. An easy life. Not thinking about what you were doing was sometimes a blessing.
Just do as he was told, and not think about it. Like Toris.
The car crept up the field slowly, stuck in between the languid tanks, and the sky began to darken as the sun ever lowered. The high grass rippled in the breeze. The air was cold. Damp.
Finally, he could see the outline of little houses in the distance. Smoke rising from chimneys. Quiet. Calm.
They stopped, all of them, cars, tanks, military vehicles, outside there, in the mud. Outside of the town limits. Waiting for the moment to spring. Their car finally came to halt, amidst the vehicles, and Ivan stepped out. Ludwig lingered, for a little, a bit overwhelmed and a bit stunned and a bit scared.
Seeing the town dampened the confidence.
A noise at his side startled him, and he looked over to see Ivan standing above, holding the door open for him and smiling. Abashed, Ludwig stepped out, stifling the churning of his stomach and the tremor of his hands as he tried to return Ivan's smile.
Ivan, perhaps in an attempt to calm him, shut the door, and whispered, lowly, "I apologize. I didn't realize you liked to have the door opened for you. I'll be more of a gentleman from now on."
He tried to laugh. A weak, rough scratch came out.
Confident? Nope. All gone. He felt suddenly so nervous. Daunted. Seeing the little town up there...
It was different, somehow, than what his imagination had offered him.
Ivan placed a quick hand on his shoulder, trying to urge him along, and he felt himself walking mechanically, keeping his shoulders tensed and eyes straight ahead. They rounded the car, and came into a clearing, where the soldiers were gathering.
The soldiers had impressed him before, but in that moment, there was something else that caught his eye, something else that lit up his veins with adrenaline and made him want to run over.
Toris.
Oh, god. Toris. Toris. That beautiful bastard. Hadn't ever wanted to go running to Toris before and crawl into his arms, but he sure as hell did now. Couldn't, though, not now, and that was rather painful.
Standing there in neat uniform, arms crossed above his chest and looking over the men with something very close to a sneer, Toris was speaking lowly to another officer, and it struck Ludwig, instantly, that Toris looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. Toris looked calm. Impassive. Ready to set this thing in motion and see it off, however it went. Confident.
That what who he wanted to be. He couldn't really recall why he had ever felt any pity for Toris in the first place. Toris had this all down. That was how he wanted to be. Like Toris, who stood there amongst these men and didn't even miss a beat, gliding above them with authority that was real in the way that he wielded it. Toris, who stood there with gun at his side, looking as if this was just business as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Toris.
Their eyes met suddenly, Toris stopped in the middle of speech, just for a fraction of a second, the look on his face that of concern, and it was only Ivan standing there that kept Toris from rushing forward. Breaking the contact, Toris turned his head and continued his conversation as if nothing had happened, and Ludwig looked up at the sky, and waited. Waiting. Just waiting. All he could really do. The language barrier prevented him from being like Toris and Ivan and conversing casually with other officers.
Other officers. Like he was one of them.
Sometimes...
His head hurt.
Sometimes being somebody was almost as scary as being nobody.
Ivan started to wander farther and farther away.
The second Ivan left to go off and speak to the men waiting beyond and was out of sight, Toris ended the conversation and sped over to Ludwig, grabbing a fistful of his sleeve, hissing quietly, "Ludwig! Are you alright? Huh? You okay?"
Ludwig stood there for a second, too numb to react. He didn't know what to do. He was out of his element. He was a little scared. A little distraught. But, for all of it, he was alright. So, finally, he nodded his head.
Wanted to cry, honestly, and burrow his head under Toris shirt, but that wasn't really an option out here, now was it? Better to pretend, and try to take comfort in Toris' presence.
Toris looked around suddenly, and then tugged his sleeve, and Toris dragged him off towards a car, where they were out of earshot from the others. Warm hands fell on his shoulders as Toris studied him up and down very intently, as if checking him for injuries.
"You're alright? Are you sure?"
He nodded again, and tried to appear easygoing, even as the nervousness crept up. Toris still looked so worried.
"I'm glad. I was... I thought something had happened to you. If you ever need me, don't wait until something happens to call, got it?"
A numb, "Yeah."
Toris finally let him go, and reached up to tug irritably at his collar as he furrowed his brow.
"Well! I am glad you're alright. What happened last night?"
He didn't really want to speak about it, not all of it, and simply said, "Pavlov backed out."
Luckily, Toris seemed to understand very well the implication, and shook his head.
"And left it all on you, huh?" he muttered, a bit bitterly, and Ludwig just shrugged. No changing it. He could rise up to this occasion, if he really tried.
"It's alright. I guess it was gonna happen sooner or later, huh? I mean... You do this all the time, don't you?"
Toris' brow lowered and his nose crinkled, and he almost looked annoyed. Toris opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out, and in the end he only scoffed and looked over. Ivan was coming back. Toris backed up, sent Ludwig one last look, and then went to Ivan's side. Ivan fell into step with Toris, and they spoke lowly. Together, they passed by each and every tank, no doubt relaying plans and orders.
Ludwig stood behind, alone and awkward, and felt so out of place. He didn't know what to do. So, he just stood still, and tried to emulate what he saw. He watched Toris more than Ivan, because it was easier to feel like he could manage to perform the actions that Toris did. Since Ivan was god? Kinda hard to even think of following in his footsteps. He watched Toris, who walked straight and sure and kept one hand in his pocket, the other loose at his side, who kept his shoulders squared and chin high and expression blank. Toris was easier to imitate.
His observation was cut short suddenly, when Toris disappeared within the group and Ivan suddenly reappeared much closer than before, striding towards him with a smile.
Ludwig fell still, and tried to appear unfazed. He tucked a hand in his pocket.
Toris made it look easy. His heart was thudding.
Ivan settled in next to him where he stood, and turned to stare off in the distance, folding his arms behind his back.
"Well. Everything's set. We're about ready to move. We're going off in three groups. Get them all around, you know."
Ludwig tried to speak, failed, and only nodded. Felt distant. Dazed. Surreal and far away.
"Ludwig."
He looked up at Ivan's voice, and straightened up at attention as Toris had taught him. In the field, Ivan wasn't Ivan. He was the general. The boss.
"There are three groups. Three commanding officers. You, Toris, and myself."
A horrible sinking in stomach. He understood. Oh, no.
Ivan, staring straight ahead, arms still behind his back, only lifted his brow.
"Left or right?"
Too stunned for a minute to really comprehend, he only furrowed his brow, and looked around. Left or right?
Ivan looked over at him, now, and his smile was still there. A good sign.
"Well? Do you want the left or the right? Toris is center." Ivan tilted his head up to the waiting town. "Left is mostly forest. Right is field and houses. They need to be run out. They'll run into the forest once it all starts. They've got a little 'barricade' or some such off in the center, but that's no problem! Toris can take care of that easy enough. The tanks will run it right over. So. Left or right? You choose one, and I'll take the other. We meet Toris in the center. Which is it?"
It was just a choice. Left or right.
"The field will take longer, for the houses."
Just a choice, and Ivan was nudging him towards the easier direction.
And so he didn't really know why his chest suddenly threatened to clench up, and why he had to tuck his hands deep in his pockets so that Ivan wouldn't see them shaking.
Left. Forest.
Right. Field.
Oh. Couldn't they have just stayed together? He didn't want to go off alone.
Ivan was waiting. No choice. Orders were orders. He had to decide. Bracing his boots in the mud, he cracked his knuckles against his thighs, absently, and finally said, "Left. I'll go left."
"Left it is."
Ivan reached out, clapped him on the back, and then walked off.
And Ludwig was alone.
He could have held it together well if Ivan had just stuck with him, he knew he could have. But alone? His hands were shaking so badly that he could barely keep them in his pockets.
Ivan's section suddenly started rolling out. Toris' was already gone.
Oh, shit.
Whirling around on his heel, adrenaline the only thing keeping him standing upright, he stalked over to his own half as fast as he could. A group of soldiers stood patiently in front of the forest, and even when they looked at Ludwig at perfect attention, awaiting his orders, he just felt so sick. He just wanted to go back home all of a sudden. He didn't know what to do.
But they were watching him, and Ivan was already gone, and the trees were swaying in the breeze as the sky turned ever darker. He had to try. Time to go. The left was his. Ivan was counting on him.
The men watched him as he approached, and since there was a language barrier, he did what he had seen Toris do when telling men where to go; he raised two fingers, and pointed straight at the forest.
So damn terrified that he was surprised his arm could even stay there in the air at all.
Luckily, these experienced soldiers seemed to know exactly what to do, and everyone started moving. He was glad. Easy enough. He followed behind, even though he wasn't really sure if he should. Officers such as Ivan and Toris and himself (himself! Ha) shouldn't really have been doing field work like this, not on the frontlines, but Ivan wanted to test him out, so he really didn't have a choice.
Felt so helpless, thrown out into the middle of the ocean with no life-vest.
He followed them.
The trees rose up all around him. As soon as stepped into the forest, where light was all but gone and the air was very different, he felt a sense of something almost like foreboding. Wandering into these ancient forests with dark intentions...
A bad start to every single bedtime story ever written.
The wind didn't reach deep into the trees, and everything became still. The soldiers pushed forward ahead, guns ready before them, stepping carefully and quietly and keeping a good eye on their surroundings. Once the battle started out in the open, the town would flee into the forests. Maybe some of them were here already, waiting in the dark for them to step near. Maybe they had set up an ambush.
Every noise within the forest seemed suddenly ominous. At least out in the field, it was easier to see what was going on around them. In here, restricted by the trees, it was harder to maneuver and harder to see and harder to focus or pinpoint movement. Ludwig put his feet down as lightly as possible upon the forest floor, careful not to make much noise, but every so often a twig snapped underneath someone's boots, and every time it happened he tensed up and looked around in silent alarm, afraid they would be heard.
But nothing happened.
Walking.
The forest was huge. How could they possibly be expected to keep watch over the entire thing? They should have split off into a line and expanded their visual capabilities. But he didn't know how to say it, how to explain it to them, so he kept quiet and followed behind.
Footsteps over the pine needles. Patches of snow, here and there. It was cold.
Some of the soldiers held low conversations with friends under their breath, and sometimes they looked back at him as if contemplating engaging him, but he neatly avoided their gazes and kept his brow low. Trying to appear uninterested. Maybe they'd go back later on, and say that he was too serious. Oh, well. Not the worst thing they could say about him.
He just hoped they wouldn't say that he was incompetent. Even though he was.
They walked on, the trees passing by without great event, and with every step, he hoped that maybe Toris' center had simply blocked anyone from fleeing into the forests. That would really make his job easy.
Oh, god, he wasn't expected to actually take out his gun and shoot, was he? He was just here to lead them through the forest, right? That was it. It was their job to shoot. Not his. Hadn't been able to pull the trigger last night. Wouldn't be able to today, either, he was sure.
Minutes passed within the trees, and he wondered if the villagers had any tales about this place, any stories or legends. He wondered if anything lived out here. Monsters or spirits or demons. Forests were strange places. Lost in mist.
Or maybe his head was the misty one. The headache was a growing twinge behind his eyes.
Tried to think of other things.
Everything was quiet. Calm. The trees had a pleasant, musky aroma. The branches above shifted with the fluttering of birds, woken from sleep by their movements. Peaceful. This forest was not frightening, not like the one back home. There weren't any tigers here, ready to leap out of the shadows and grab someone by the neck and drag them off. Just a normal forest, uncut and not bothered by humans. He was right to choose the forest. Better than the fields, maybe, if only because it was so empty.
Some of the soldiers had fallen behind him, keeping an eye on the flank. They knew what they were doing. This was nothing for them. And, hell, maybe they longed to impress as much as he did. All in the same boat, perhaps.
Something shifted off to the side. He turned his head.
The silence was suddenly and randomly shattered.
An explosion.
A great noise to his left startled him so that he jumped, and when he looked over, bristling in alarm and eyes wide, he saw that the soldiers under his command had started to open fire.
The birds fled.
For a moment, dazed and uncomprehending, he tried to raise his hand, to say, 'Stop, you idiots, they'll hear us!'
But then he heard shots on the right, and he realized that the forest was not empty. They were not alone.
He stood frozen, as sparks of light and fire lit up the darkness of the forest. He should have gotten down, taken cover, but he was stuck in place. Mindlessly, absurdly, he took his gun out of his belt and gripped it for dear life. Ha. As if this little pistol stood a chance against sub-machine guns. Oh, man. He remembered suddenly the very first time Toris had hooked the gun onto his belt.
I hope you don't think it's loaded!
He looked down, at the steel gleaming in the dim light of the dying day outside, and for an awful second he almost started giggling. Fuckin' gun might not have even been loaded. Ivan had sent him out here without any defense. As if Ivan just expected him to walk out of this whole thing unscathed. Alive. Ivan didn't seem to think he could die. Easy for Ivan, who may or may not have been immortal, but he was very much human, and very much capable of getting shot and bleeding to death.
This was not what he had expected. He didn't know exactly what he had expected, really. But not this. Not being caught in the middle of a field of bullets. Not this. Hadn't expected this.
He was too stunned to even bend down or get behind a tree.
Shouting.
He stood there, unmoving and unbending, as the gunfire erupted all around, and he could only watch the soldiers, and admire, however blearily, their fearlessness. Their bravery. They pushed forward in the forest, even in the dark, and didn't really seem to mind that people were shooting at them.
As the shock started to wear off a little, he managed to focus his eyes and ears, and hear differences. Quick fire to slow fire. Different sounds of discharge. The students weren't shooting with machine guns. Pistols, and maybe rifles. Brave? No, the soldiers weren't really brave, because this wasn't a fair fight at all.
No match.
Ludwig couldn't really see the students, not for the dim light and his own daze, and he was glad for that. He'd rather not see them fall. He kept his eyes instead on his own soldiers. None of them had fallen. Not a single one. Good. Would Ivan judge him on how many soldiers he brought out of the forest alive? Did a dead soldier subtract a few points?
...should that thought have even crossed his mind?
No. But it was so much easier to take himself out of this situation and look at everything as just numbers, and not people. It made it a hell of a lot easier. Instead of a dead man, it was just one down. Two down. Three down. So forth. Easier.
He didn't look at the students.
The gunfire suddenly stopped, as quickly and randomly as it had begun.
Silence.
He thought he heard a strange cry from within the trees. The sound of death.
He pushed it aside, and stared ahead. As he stood there, tall and unmoving in the line of fire, a soldier suddenly passed him, and fell to a halt right beside of him. Ludwig looked over, dumbly, and the soldier lowered his gun to his waist, and he sent Ludwig a great smile and a deep laugh, and then, predicting the miscommunication, he gave a thumbs up.
Good job. For what?
Or maybe, 'you've got a lot of balls for just standing there while they're shooting all over the place.'
He wasn't brave—he was just too stunned and too dazed to move. Too damn stupid to duck for cover.
The soldier suddenly saluted him then, still smiling in that cheeky way, and the movement was enough to break through the stupor and remind Ludwig that he couldn't stall and he couldn't waver, because Ivan had left him in charge of these men, and he was a colonel now. He couldn't falter. He couldn't freeze.
And if Ivan said he couldn't die, then he couldn't.
This was his group. He had chosen them. Even though they knew what to do, he still needed to try and keep in charge of things. Being in charge of things had seemed so damn amazing yesterday. Now? Not quite so much. Too much goddamn pressure.
The gunfire had startled him. He'd never heard anything like it.
He tried his best anyway, and placed his gun back in its holster, and with a sudden squaring of his shoulders, he gave the soldier a quick nod and then pushed off into the trees. The only thing he really knew to do was try to get ahead of the group once he caught up to them and try to pretend like he knew what the fuck he was doing.
He ran through the trees as fast as his unsteady legs would allow him, the soldier that had stopped with him hot on his heels.
The farther he walked, there was more gunfire. Not as intense as the first time. He didn't bother to keep his hand above his gun; he wasn't sure it was even loaded, and if it was, then he wasn't even sure that he could pull the trigger. He'd flunked that test once already.
He wound through the trees, passing some of his soldiers on the way. How many did he even have? Fifty or so? Less?
The gunfire ahead was starting to slow, as he ducked and shoved his way through low-hanging branches, patches of snow and dead leaves crunching beneath his boots as he went, and it seemed now with every long stride he was passing by another soldier. Another, and then some more, and then the gunfire stopped altogether, and he fell to a complete stop when he realized that he had gotten back ahead. At the front of the pack.
He turned around, trying to get his bearings, and felt the old rush of adrenaline. The soldiers were behind him, standing still, guns in their hands and waiting for him to order them. Oh, god. What now? He hated them watching him like that, like they were expecting something great from him.
He had no clue. No clue. But, like Ivan said, it was just a game.
He straightened up and set his feet, and asked, as loudly as he dared, "Anyone speak German?"
No one raised their hand. Just looks of blankness. Alright.
"Anyone speak English?"
He looked them over, and oh, Christ, never had he been so relieved to see someone raise their fuckin' hand. He was no English scholar, that was for sure, but he'd learned enough to fumble at least this. He'd learned. From who?
Better dead than Red!
Did it matter? Nope. He was too busy to think.
He waved the soldier over with an errant hand, trying for all the world to look like this was exceedingly boring, and when the man stopped at his side and saluted, he reached out and grabbed him by the arm, maybe a little too forcefully.
The soldier lowered his salute, and said, in a low, apprehensive whisper, "I only speak, ah, a little?"
"Me too," Ludwig replied, as he tugged him over close enough to where he could speak quietly.
He could do this. He could. All he had ever wanted in his life was for someone to be proud of him. He could impress Ivan with this. Just by not choking.
With the thought of a proud Ivan in his head, he leaned his head in towards the soldier's and said, hiding the anxiety very well, "We split up in three. One goes up, one goes down. One goes front, with me."
Mimicking Ivan and Toris. Easy enough.
"Yes, sir!"
Sir. Damn right, sir.
...that was kinda neat.
Despite the awful sounds of gunfire. He hadn't seen anything, not really. So it wasn't so bad. He just had to live up in his head, and keep his eyes turned away. The ends justified the means. In this case, these awful deeds were worth it, all worth it, if Ivan just thought highly of him.
The soldier was already dividing the men into groups.
At the last second, Ludwig stepped up next to him and said, "You're comin' with me."
"Yes, colonel."
"Clear the forest. Meet up at the front of the trees."
"Yes, sir."
"Let's go."
A quick translation, and they set off.
This time, he didn't freeze, and stayed up front, walking at the side of the soldier who could understand him (if only a little), the others walking quietly behind.
Maybe he should have stayed behind the guns, but, well, he wouldn't lie. He wanted word to get back to Ivan that he had walked in front, with no weapon in hand. Because that was a good thing, right? He wanted them to respect him. He had never been anyone.
Being so important all of a sudden was probably not the best thing for his ego. His pride would kill him one day.
The others were gone, lost in the trees and their stealth, and Ludwig could only walk straight ahead, keeping a mind of their silence, and after a while, he started to feel as though maybe he had been a little ridiculous earlier, for freezing up like he did. This wasn't really so hard. As long as he kept on a straight path. He'd done harder things than this.
It wasn't like he was alone. Ivan and Toris weren't here, sure, but he had backup in the form of the Soviet Army. That was more than enough. It seemed highly unlikely that any of the unorganized and untrained students would be able to get close enough to him to put him in harm's way with all of the soldiers around.
He wasn't worried about himself. There was just something else nagging him, underneath the surface...
Something he couldn't quite grasp.
They kept pushing forward through the trees, the soldiers behind him chatting quietly amongst themselves about who knew what. One of the soldiers behind him burst into quiet giggles, surely at some dumb joke, and by now Ludwig had to squint a little to see around him, as the day continued to die.
Night.
The soldier at his side stopped sometimes and tilted his head, when he thought he heard something, but in the end he always carried on without event. So far, so good. He let his mind wander.
The smell of the forest was damp and musty. The air was cold. Humidity was high. For it all, he'd rather be home. He had gotten used to the freezing, dry, clean air of Mirny. Home. When had Mirny become home? He couldn't exactly remember. Not that he really needed to; as far as Ivan was concerned, Mirny had been home since the instant Ludwig had first walked through the door.
A shuffle.
Sounds. Footsteps.
He stopped now, as did the soldier beside him, and perked up his eyes as he attempted to pinpoint.
He didn't really have much time. Footsteps broke over the silence, louder and louder, and when three or four men suddenly burst through the trees, he barely even had time to react before the explosions started and the bullets whizzed through the branches. Yeah, he should have stayed behind the guns; one bullet came so close from behind him that it ripped the embroidery on his shoulder.
A brief heat on his skin.
Shouting.
It happened very quickly. One second, bursts of movement and noise. The next, nothing. The fleeing students, all gunned down in quick succession, fell down in the snow and leaves. They didn't move. They fell right in front of Ludwig. He couldn't help but see them. Even if he didn't want to.
He looked down at himself, feeling as though everything were suddenly in slow motion, and when he noticed the rip on his shoulder patch, there was a horrible, burning rush of anger.
Oh, god. He couldn't—
Fury.
Whirling around, he stomped his foot on the ground and barked, in the harshest voice he'd heard himself use in years, "Who did that?"
Ivan, perhaps, would have pulled his gun out and shot whoever dared to nick him. The closest he'd ever come to being shot. They gawked at him in obvious alarm, shifting their guns and shuffling their feet, but no one copped up, and oh, he couldn't even keep his chest still he was so angry.
He wasn't angry over the uniform. He wasn't angry over the brush with a bullet. He wasn't angry at any of them.
He was angry at everything.
A horrible feeling, that he couldn't place, and he hadn't been so angry in so long, and his chest suddenly ached and his head hurt like hell.
Students.
A terrible image in his mind, of a group of students, sitting around a table and plotting to overthrow the government, laughing and joking and playing with guns, and amongst them sat a man with tired eyes and hair so pale that it shone out silver in the lights above, older than the rest and yet still laughing like a little kid, thinking he could get away with such stupid things—
Oh, he felt dizzy all of a sudden.
Reaching up to place an irritable hand on the back of his neck, he turned back around, where the students laid there on the ground, and the only reason he managed to take a step then and carry on was because he was gonna be sick if he stood there and stared at them.
Dumb kids. What did they think they could accomplish?
He stepped over them. He had to go. He wanted that feeling of anger and something else to go away. He wanted that image in his head to go away. Because that man didn't belong in his head anymore. He shouldn't have been thinking about him. He shouldn't have been thinking about what if it had been him out here, if it had been him...
It wasn't. So it didn't matter.
He walked as quickly as he could, his long legs serving him well in keeping a pace ahead of the others, and he was glad for that because they wouldn't be able to see the look on his face as he struggled with the sudden urge to burst into tears. So long he had striven out here to rid himself of uncertainty. Feeling it again was unpleasant. Feeling as if something was not right. As if what he was doing was not right.
He hated that feeling.
There were more shadows and more footsteps as he sought desperately the edge of the forest, but he paid no mind to them, trying to force himself to lose his thoughts, and when the gunfire erupted on either side of him and bodies fell close enough to feel the air shift, he did not stray. He kept walking. He didn't stop. He couldn't.
And he didn't look. One thing he had learned well from Toris.
The gunshots made his ears ring, as close by to him as they were, and this time, no more stray bullets; the soldiers had widened the distance between them so as not to nick him as they shot above his shoulders. If he hadn't felt so light-headed, he might have been pleased that they were afraid of angering him. Since he had come with Ivan, he could only be assumed to be the same as Ivan. They didn't want to cross him.
He stalked onward, searching for the break in the trees.
Students. What did they know? Thinking they could ever prepare for this. Not for this army. No one could. History had proven that. They had never stood a chance. He just didn't look down. They fell below the level of his eyesight. He couldn't see them. He kept walking. He was close.
Look at you.
The gunfire seemed far away as he tried to focus on finding the edge.
Don't look.
The dead leaves under his boots were soft; yielding. He kept walking. Salvation soon.
Don't look.
Who are you?
As soon as he made it out of these woods, it would be done. He would have completed his first mission. Successfully. And it would all be worth it. It had to be worth it.
This dusky forest in twilight, the scent of snow and pine, the feel of branches and bark beneath his hands, the damp aroma of fallen leaves, the obstacles in his path, the whispering behind him, the gunshots all around, the trees closing in all around him, the rustling of the breeze moving the branches above, the coldness of the air and the awful clamminess in his palms.
It would be worth it.
Light. The edge was near. He could see it, in the light bursting through the trees, and in the smell of the air. He ran, as fast as he could. The soldiers followed behind, and there were no more students that crossed their paths. Thank god. And when he broke free of the forest, and burst into the field, he could have cried for the relief.
Oh, thank god.
The center. He had reached the center. He'd done it. He'd made it. His side was clear. And just like that, those horrible thoughts and feelings brought on by the dark forest were gone.
The image of him was gone.
As soon as his feet hit the clearing, he broke into a great, breathless smile, feeling somehow as though, by breaking through the forest, he had conquered the Earth itself.
The wind was back.
He placed a quivering hand on his hip, and nearly laughed. Absolute exhilaration. He'd done it, all on his own. Granted, he hadn't used his gun, but that hadn't been his job. His job had just been to lead the soldiers and utilize them in a manner that made the forest impossible to pass through. And he thought, in just that, that he had done a pretty damn good job. For his first time. He'd get better. Once he got the hang of it.
The other soldiers were coming out of the trees, too, up and down, and keeping themselves planted on the forest line, to make sure no one else passed. The forest was clear. He had done it. All on his own.
He reached up to clear his forehead of the sheen of sweat from his sprint, and looked around. Toris and Ivan were not here. He'd finished first. His smile widened in another burst of exhilaration. It had been one thing to finish, but to get here first was a damn amazing thing. Maybe Ivan had led him, somehow or another, into the easiest path. If so, then it was alright. It was only his first time.
He turned around, to the soldier that understood him, and said, "Get back in. Wait inside the trees, in a line. Make sure no one passes."
They did as they were told, and vanished in the trees. The forest was impassible. He had made it that way. Turning back around, he gazed out at the field. Maybe he could go over, and join Ivan. His side was clear. Why not?
He looked around, and saw, for the first time.
Fire.