The Man From Belarus by C. G. Cooper

Author:C. G. Cooper [Cooper, C. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JBD Entertainment, LLC
Published: 2020-07-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixty-Six

VOLKOV — MOSCOW — 1980

Cold—real cold—becomes the great equalizer in any situation, even among boys who’ve spent most of their lives in barren climates, resplendent with howling blizzards. That first year was not kind to the recruits who’d arrived with Aleksandr. Twenty got frostbite. One lost a foot. Another boy, whom Alek had come to loathe for his lack of personal hygiene, fell off a cliff in the middle of a snowstorm. No whoosh. No scream. Just a silent fall into the great unknown. And then, no ceremony. Just a permanent marker scratching the boy off that day’s chores list. Alek picked up the slack with his now-characteristic solitude.

He sat on his cot and picked another dead toenail from his battered feet. He’d only gotten grazed by frostbite, had a few dead spots that would heal over time, but what had him going now was the fact that he hadn’t stepped foot on a real ski slope since coming to this hellish white hole in the middle of nowhere. They could’ve been on the surface of Pluto and he wouldn’t know the difference. No TV meant no news. No news meant that when they had the time and energy to talk, mostly late at night before being shushed to quiet, they spoke of laggards who’d left, or an older boy who the speaker wanted to shove into a snowbank and whack in the back of the head with a snow shovel.

If there was a frozen hell, this was it, Alek was convinced. And yet, he didn’t complain. He went about his tasks with resolute calm, even when the others wailed through frost-bearing wind like needles on the skin, even when his peers made comments about his manhood. Even when he might pass out from bone-weary exhaustion.

“Volkov!”

Alek jumped to his feet landing at the perfect position of attention, just like he’d been taught. “Sir!”

“Come to the office.” It was Mr. Pus Face, the only one of the elders who pestered Alek. He had a nasty habit of sneaking up on him and tripping him from behind and pushing him face down into the snow. The day before Alek had anticipated the move and guided the pimple-faced bastard onto his own face. That turned into a tirade and Alek suspected it had something to do with why he was being called to the office after hours.

He went to put his boots on.

“You won’t need those,” Mr. Pus Face said through a sneer. Yes, this was going to be bad.

Alek didn’t let it get to him. He was used to shoving down his indignation by now. He didn’t have friends. He had whatever this slave-like life was. Still, at least they were fed well. Much better than home. And he was pleased to see that he continued to grow both in height and muscle. Not all the boys could say the same.

Mr. Pus Face pushed him out of the room, then rode his rear until they hit the door to the outside. Alek opened it and waited for his ‘friend’ to follow.

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