The Ring of the Queen (The Lost Tsar Trilogy Book 1)

by Terri Dixon

  Part XVI

  You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anybody or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone.

  -Fiona Apple

  I wasn’t sure if I’d made a good decision in leaving Dr. Zemecki or not, but I couldn’t help feeling as though I had been abducted. I had no idea why it felt right to leave, but it did. I had it in my head that the whole thing was the equivalent of a really bad dream and that all I had to do was make my way back to reality and it would all go away and everything would be fine. That’s what the voices in my head were saying and that’s what I was going with.

  When we walked out the door and into Arbat Street, I suddenly had the feeling that I had stepped back in time. I guessed that there was a reason they called it Old Arbat Street. The buildings were mostly from the pre Soviet era with the yellow or blue facades that had iron railings around tiny credenzas that hung over the sidewalks. It was a throwback to the time of the Tsars, and it was the part of Russia that I most wanted to see. I would rather have seen it under different circumstances.

  “This is beautiful,” Tania said as she looked around the same way that I imagined I was doing.

  “I wish that I could enjoy it, because it is breathtaking,” I replied.

  “Well, we wanted to see Moscow.”

  “Why couldn’t it have been just a trip?” I asked. “Why did all of this have to happen? It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, and it’s happening to me.”

  “Maybe everyone around us is nuts. I think Steve is a total hottie, but I’m starting to wonder if he’s got both oars in the water. Right now, I want to run away and go home. I wish I didn’t want to run away, but I do. This is all too surreal for me. Do you know what I mean?”

  I stood looking at the street. There weren’t many vendors around at that hour, but there was one man left a short way up the street with a table full of Kolkova out for sale. I loved the flower patterns painted onto the wooden dishes, spoons, trays, glasses and so on. It was the painting that made them seem exotic and mysterious like Russia itself. I should have enjoyed seeing Russian collectibles out for sale on the street, but I was so overwhelmed by all that I’d been through that it made me cry. I couldn’t help myself. I was overwhelmed and in the middle of the extreme cold which was suddenly coupled with a snow shower, I sat down on the edge of the street and started to cry.

  Tania sat down beside me. “We’re going to be all right,” she said. “We can figure all of this out. We just need to get somewhere and come up with a plan for what to do next.”

  “I know,” I sobbed. “It’s a lot.”

  “I get that. But, it’s snowing, and I think we should find a place to get in out of it so we can decide what to do. I want to go back to the dorm, but I’m starting to think that we should find the American Consulate. What do you think?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. Maybe someone there would know what the hell is going on with all this ring nonsense. Maybe they could even send us home.”

  “I wish we had our passports.”

  “Maybe someone at the Consulate could go over and get them.” I pointed at the university building sticking up between the buildings in the not so far off distance. “It’s not like it's far.”

  “It looks so close, but I’m so lost and the streets make no sense. I’m looking right at it, and it seems a million miles away,” Tania said.

  “This place is so twisted geographically that it feels like a house of mirrors,” I replied.

  Then I heard a sound. It was music. It wasn’t only music; it was American music. It was “Bad Medicine” by Bon Jovi. I loved old hair band music, and I recognized it immediately. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but I knew it was to my right down the street. I wondered if it could be the Hard Rock Café that I’d heard so much about. I knew that it was in the neighborhood somewhere, but wasn’t sure of the exact location. I thought that it should be a safe place to go. It was one of those spots that American tourists must gravitate to. Maybe, if we were lucky, there might even be someone there that could help us get to the American Consulate.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked Tania.

  “What?” she replied.

  “I hear Bon Jovi music. It’s down there somewhere.” I pointed down the street to my right. “Surely there are Americans at the Hard Rock Café. I bet that’s what I’m hearing.”

  Tania strained for a moment and then smiled. “I hear it now. Let’s go.”

  We made our way past the man with his Kolkova. He looked cold and a little tired standing in the street directly in front of the building where Dr. Zemecki lived. He had on a thick wool coat and an Ushanka (Russian fur hat) on his head. His gloves were so thick that I wondered if he could feel anything through them at all. I’d seen a lot of such outerwear since I’d landed in Russia. It was the way there. It got brutally cold in the winter time and almost everyone dressed for the weather. It was too cold not to.

  As we made our way down the street, the music got louder. I was certain that I was right about the American restaurant that had gone a little rogue and landed in the middle of Moscow. Finally, the canopies that adorned the yellow building, caught my eye. It was the Hard Rock Café, and I was sure that inside I would find some help from a stranger that was also like minded, because they were American. It’s amazing how little you feel you have in common with people just because you come from the same country; then in one moment, you feel as though you should all be best of friends. It’s strange that we feel that way when we’re in danger, since there are 300 million people in America and we don’t all know each other. It’s simply that sometimes all you want is to have something in common with someone in a foreign land where everyone seems to be a completely insane conspiracy theorist.

  “Have I mentioned that you’re a genius?” Tania asked me as she nearly ran for the restaurant with me right alongside her.

  “No,” I replied.

  “I’ve never been so happy to see the Hard Rock. In Boston, we wouldn’t be caught dead in one. It’s for tourists.”

  “Well, here you’re a tourist.”

  “I’ll pass on that one too. I just want to get the hell out of here. I hope someone in there can help us get out of this crazy country.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. I wanted to run screaming from Russia. The problem is that the concept of running from Russia was breaking my heart. I’d dreamt my whole life of going there, and now that I was there, it seemed as though the whole country was nuts. It was heartbreaking that the place wasn’t the coolest place on Earth which was always how I had imagined it.

  We made our way to the entrance. There were no lines waiting to get in. I had heard that there normally were lines to get in a Hard Rock Café. I thought that maybe it was because of the weather which was getting worse every minute. The snow was coming down rather heavily at that point. I hoped that it wouldn’t get any worse. That was just what I needed; for a blizzard to come and make it so that we couldn’t leave and go home.

  Tania and I walked into the Hard Rock Café together. Tania took a quick look around the room. “This is a Hard Rock Café all right,” she said. “They all look alike."

  I’d never been in a Hard Rock Café, so I didn’t know what they were supposed to look like, but my gaze was distracted anyway. I wasn’t noticing the items on the walls or the décor. I was noticing that no one in the whole restaurant was dressed like an American. They were all wearing garb that I was quickly learning to equate with Russians. I realized almost immediately that these people were locals, not tourists. We had run away from Russian people and run straight to more Russian people.

  “Oh dear God, look,” Tania said, pointing to a TV screen.

  I looked at the television that she was pointing to. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was my picture on what looked like the news.

  I listened to the reporter talk.
“If you have seen this woman, remember that she is delusional, possibly psychotic, and may even be armed. Do not approach her. Call your local police or emergency number if you see her. Once again, this American woman is in Moscow, and she is claiming to be Russian royalty. This is a hoax, and it could be a very dangerous one. Do not take any chances. Any information that you have will be helpful in detaining this woman and sending her back to America. Thank you for your help, and your country and President Kostov thanks you.”

  “This is a nightmare,” I muttered to Tania.

  I realized that everyone in the restaurant had heard that report and that most of the people had noticed me and were staring at me. I didn’t know what to do. I felt as though I should call the police myself and save everyone the trouble. I didn’t know how to get back to a building that I could see over the buildings from the street. I had no chance of running from the police in this place.

  There was a man approaching me. “Hello,” he said. “I am Peter.”

  He shook my hand. I didn’t know if it was the situation, or the atmosphere, or the fact that I was losing my mind; but something happened. It sounds hokey and stupid, but our eyes met, and something came over me. When his hand touched mine, I wasn’t scared as much. He calmed me instantly, and I had no idea who he was. I was untrusting and skeptical of everything in my life since I’d discovered that Virgil was gay. This was the first time that I’d felt unwary of a stranger since then.

  “Hi, I’m Stacey,” I said, shaking his hand.

  He wasn’t gorgeous or muscular, but he was tall and had eyes that a girl could get lost in. I figured it was just me, and I wasn’t sure why I was having those thoughts, but there they were. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and dimples. He looked to be around 25, and he was smiling at me.

  He motioned to the TV. “I got that part,” he said.

  “Yes, that was a surprise,” I said. “This is Tania.” I motioned to Tania. “As you can probably guess, we’re not having a good day.”

  “I can see that,” Peter replied. “So, how can I help you?”

  “I think we need to get to a consulate,” I answered him.

  “The Moscow American Consulate is closed,” he said.

  “What?” Tania asked.

  “They were having structural issues so they closed it for renovations. The current operational Consulate is in St. Petersburg.”

  “Are You kidding?” I asked. “A lot of good that will do us.”

  “Why don’t we start by getting you out of here,” Peter suggested. “These folks are all friends of mine, but you never know when some crazy person may wander in off the street. I have an apartment near here.”

  “What do you think?” I asked Tania.

  “I don’t know anymore,” she replied.

  I made a decision on the spot. I couldn’t help but trust this man. I was sure that I would regret it, but my mind was telling me that he was trustworthy. “Okay, we’ll go with you, but you’d better not be turning us in.”

  We followed him out into the night and what was becoming a pretty bad snowstorm. He walked back in the direction that we’d come from. I couldn’t believe it when he motioned us to enter with him into the very building that we had left behind.

  “You have an apartment in here?” I asked.

  “Let me guess, Steve Zemecki is a friend of yours,” Tania said, dripping with sarcasm.

  “Yes,” Peter said. “He rents the apartment from me.”

  “Great,” Tania moaned. “Out of the frying pan, into the fire.”

  The Ring of the Queen