Locket full of Secrets

by Dana Burkey

  “Yeah, but we want to leave for Poland really early still,” Olena nodded. I assumed we were not actually going to Poland since Olena already paid for another night at the hotel. But if someone was listening they would be put on the wrong track at least for a little while.

  At the talk of Poland, a woman in the seat in front of us turned to Olena and began asking her where in Poland we were heading. Apparently, the woman had just come from there with her new husband, who was sitting with her as well. Listening to Olena, it really sounded like we were planning a trip to Warsaw and the concentration camps from the Holocaust. Glancing at Steven, I saw he was staring out the window at the country scenery that passed us by. He looked almost sad as we drove by farms and patches of trees, all dusted with an early morning frost.

  “Hey,” I smiled, nudging his arm to get his attention.

  Glancing at me, he gave a little smile before taking my hand.

  “Can you image what it was like for people, having to leave home?” Steven asked, his fingers lacing with mine.

  “I bet it was really scary,” I nodded, emotion tugging at my stomach at the thought of Olena being one of those people fleeing home. “Do you think a lot of them got to go back and see everything?”

  “People are allowed to visit, but it can’t be easy,” Steven shrugged. “Some people even worked at the plant for a while but had to still live in Kiev the whole time since it was not safe enough to stay in Pripyat anymore.”

  His words made me remember the commercials I used to see on the TV as a kid. There were organizations that would send kids to the United States or other safe countries for the summer to help them have time away from the radiation and also to get better medical care. The kids were always sad in the videos, often shot in black and white to match the dreary images of their former hometown.

  “Did you know they have a Ferris wheel and bumper cars in Pripyat still?” Steven asked, lightening the mood at least a little.

  “Like, you can still play on them?” I asked in return.

  “No, but it’s really crazy to think that everyone was getting ready for a celebration when everything happened,” Steven shrugged. “They have a pool too that just closed a few years ago. People that still worked at the plant after the accident would go swimming in it and everything.”

  “You learned all of this in your European history classes?” I asked, wondering how I had never heard these things on TV or in high school.

  “I read a book about everything a few years ago too,” he explained. “It was talking about when the Soviet Union fell, and Chernobyl is one of the big reasons people think it happened, so there were a few chapters about it.”

  “I think after we get home I need to spend more time reading up on history,” I laughed, trying to make light of the fact that I was once again the weakest link in our group. I couldn’t seem to stay uninjured, and I also knew the least about everything we were facing.

  Opening the pamphlet I had been given earlier, I did my best to read everything I could so I felt a little less behind on everything. Thankfully, I was able to read it a few times and let the information soak in before we came to our first stop.

  “Alright everyone,” our tour guide announced, standing up at the front of the bus. “Have your passports and bags ready. We will be exiting the bus to get searched before entering the exclusion zone.”

  Pulling my passport from my bag, I noticed the slight tremor in my hands. This was it. If we made it past the checkpoint, we were one step closer to safety. But, if the guards worked for the men looking for us or thought we were up to something, everything we had done up until that point would have been for nothing.

  Our search at the checkpoint was over before I knew it. With a quick glance at my passport and a peek into my bag I was allowed to board the bus once again before we drove the rest of the way into Pripyat. Even with the rest of the people traveling with us, the check had taken less than 20 minutes.

  After driving a few miles past the checkpoint we came to a stop, this time to start the tour. Looking out the window as we waited for those ahead of us to exit the bus I could see buildings on either side of us that were clearly long since abandoned. With broken windows, crumbling walls, and graffiti decorating their cement and brick exterior, each building gave me a chill. This used to be where families lived, and now it was unsafe to visit for too long.

  “If you follow me we will be entering the Pripyat community center which you see to our left,” our tour guide announced, repeating his words in Ukrainian, Russian and French before leading the group down the debris littered road.

  “Hey Claire, get a photo of that one,” Olena urged me with a knowing look.

  “Oh yeah, sure,” I quickly recovered before lifting the camera and adjusting the focus for effect. I needed to remember to treat the camera like it was loaded. It would hopefully help cover the real plans we had for it later.

  Despite knowing the photos were not real, I began to “take pictures” of everything around us. Even if I was the only one who would see the zoomed in shot of a baby doll left at a door step, or a tree growing in someone’s kitchen, the view through the lens helped me to distance myself from everything around me. I could feel my heart breaking as I thought about the people, including Olena, who once called this area home. How many others like her left for safety, only to still be affected by radiation and suffer terrible fates?

  As we walked up the steps of the community center and looked at the pool Steven had told me about on our drive into town, I looked out the window to see the Chernobyl power plant in the distance. I knew we would get a closer look later, but even from this distance it was massive. Holding tight to the camera I ignored my cold chills and focused on our tour guide’s information about the city.

  “Alright everyone, we are going to head out the back steps here over to the location of the famous Ferris wheel,” the tour guide announced, eliciting a few excited remarks from other tour guests. It was apparently one of the favorite stops for people on the tour who were not looking to avenge their family’s murders.

  Walking down the steps ahead of my friends, I glanced back to see Steven put an arm around Olena’s shoulders. The friendly gesture gave me butterflies at seeing how considerate Steven truly was. Despite his action looking casual, I knew the truth behind it. He was comforting her as we walked through what remained of her childhood. Olena might not have liked that Steven and I were dating, but at that moment I silently cheered the victory of them maybe becoming friends. A smile played on my lips at the touching moment, before fading as soon as I stepped outside.

  The Ferris wheel loomed ahead of us, its rusted metal and empty carts creaking in the strong wind that had picked up over the last hour of the tour. While the others on the tour walked closer to get a better look and take photos, I found myself rooted on the spot. I tried to imagine how it felt for children to look forward to riding the massive structure for so long, only to have the chance taken away by the meltdown at the power plant.

  “Can you get a picture of me in front of the Ferris wheel?” Olena asked, brushing past me. I nodded and took a photo on my fake camera, thankful for the distraction from my thoughts.

  “Lunch is after this,” Steven explained as he took my hand and slowly headed closer to the Ferris wheel. “The cafeteria is closer to the plant, but none of the food is grown here or even kept here from day to day.”

  I nodded, thankful for the information. Without it I could just imagine myself refusing to eat, afraid I was going to melt from the inside out or something. Snapping a few more fake photos I stopped suddenly and turned to Steven.

  “What if I need to change my film?” I asked Steven, keeping my voice at a whisper.

  “No one is going to notice that you don’t,” he shrugged. “But if you get really worried I can hang back with you a moment right now. When we meet up with Olena we can claim we had to change it loud enough for people to hear. Just in case.”

  “Yeah, let’s do t
hat,” I agreed, turning so my back was to the Ferris wheel. I held the camera up closer to me and looked down at it, hoping anyone that looked our way could not tell I was pretending with the device yet again.

  “I wish we had brought a real camera,” Steven sighed, his eyes roaming the area around us. “This place really is beautifully tragic.”

  Allowing the camera to hang from its strap around my neck, I rested one hand on Steven’s arm as I leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. With a smile he took hold of my free hand and gave me another kiss before turning so we could walk back to the group. It felt almost natural, walking with him as if we were just here to see the sights.

  “What did we miss?” Steven asked Olena as we found her near a broken Ferris wheel cart lying on the ground. “We had to re-load Claire’s camera.”

  “We are getting back on the bus in a few minutes,” Olena explained, her casual expression weakening slightly.

  “Lunch is next, right?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.

  “Yeah, and then we get to go to an area closer to the plant,” Olena replied.

  As she said this her eyes shifted quickly from me to Steven and back again. It was clear that this would be when we took the next step in heading to where Uri’s film was hidden. I was not sure what that step would be, but it was too late to back out now.

  Following the group back to the bus moments later I squeezed Steven’s hand extra hard, trying my best to keep the fear and anxiety off of my face. Things were about to get immensely more dangerous in every sense of the word.

  “The soup is really good,” Steven commented, resting his hand on my knee under the table.

  I nodded, picked up my spoon, and tried to force some of the warm liquid into my mouth. It was hard to swallow, knowing we were near where thousands of people received lethal amounts of radiation. Not only that, but we were closer and closer to finally getting our hands on what we had come here to find.

  Steven leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek before he continued eating his lunch. He was either not affected by everything, or much better at faking it than I was. Taking a deep breath, I forced down more of the lunch that sat in front of me on the table. It really was delicious, I just was in no mood for food at the moment. Once swallowed, even the soup felt like a brick in my stomach.

  Looking across the room, I noticed Olena was once again chatting to the couple who she met on the bus. They were studying a map, likely showing Olena where the good sights in Poland could be found. I had a feeling more was going on, but then again I could have been reading into the situation. It was likely just Olena getting her mind off of the current situation we were facing.

  “We will be leaving in ten minutes,” the tour guide announced at the front of the cafeteria. “Our next stop will be the Kapachi School then on to reactor 4.”

  Turning to Steven, I was about to ask him about the school when Olena sat down next to me suddenly.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, placing a hand on my forehead. “You look pale. Maybe we should sit closer to the front of the bus on the way to the school so you can get some air.”

  Opening my mouth to reply I stopped short, suddenly realizing this must be part of the plan. Closing my eyes a second to think I opened them slowly as I pressed a hand to my cheek.

  “That’s a good idea,” I nodded, leaning into Steven. I might have been overdoing it a little, but I had a feeling my “sickness” was very vital at the moment.

  “I think something at breakfast did not agree with her,” Steven explained as he draped an arm around me. “She barely touched her lunch.”

  “I should be okay though.” I paused to take a sip of my water. “I don’t want you guys to miss out on the tour.”

  “Well, we should get you outside so we can get some air and then a good seat on the bus,” Olena suggested, picking up my nearly full lunch tray while Steven guided me to the door.

  A few people glanced my way as we walked outside, most of them giving me sympathetic looks. I almost smiled at them, glad they were falling for it, but instead just leaned into Steven more and continued to the door.

  Stepping into the open air I was shocked by how cold it had gotten. The gray clouds that were covering the sky earlier were getting darker, sending a chill through me. Pulling my sweater closer to my body I turned my back on the wind, the sting of it on my face bringing tears to my eyes. Steven wrapped his arms around me to warm me up and also comfort me in my “sickness.” This helped some, but what I really wanted was a coat. The unseasonably cold weather was not accounted for by Olena when she bought our clothes back in New York.

  “You’re doing great,” Steven whispered in my ear as he rubbed my back and arms to warm me up. “Really believable.”

  I nodded, not wanting to let him know how sick I was actually feeling. Well, not sick so much as worried like crazy we were about to get gunned downed in a radioactive town. It seemed like it was not the best to bring it up so I simply snuggled closer to him while Olena was off asking people if it was alright for us to trade spots with them on the bus. Most people had kept their seats each time we got on and off the bus so checking with them was a good idea before just sitting where they had been.

  “Time to load up everyone,” our tour guides voice announced a few minutes later. I let go of Steven enough to walk to the bus, his arms still around me.

  “Here,” Olena nudged me, holding her hand out to me. “They said you should try to drink more water.”

  Taking the unopened water bottle from her I removed the lid and took a few sips. With my high stress levels it really did help. Hopefully it looked like it was helping my stomach and not just my frayed nerves. As we boarded the bus I gave the women a half smile before sitting where they had been most recently. They looked concerned for me, but smiled back all the same. Taking a glance around the bus I saw even more people looking my way. I must have looked truly sick to be receiving this much attention.

  Plopping down in the seat I pulled my legs up onto the cushion and rested my head on my knees. Steven rubbed my back, a truly comforting gesture during this high stress moment. I was convinced someone would suddenly announce that I was faking and call the authorities to take us back to Kiev.

  “The camera!” I suddenly remembered, sitting up and turning to Steven.

  “It’s okay, Olena picked up it,” Steven assured me quickly.

  Looking across the aisle I saw Olena studying a map. The camera was around her neck, no longer on the lunch table where I had last touched it. With a sigh I leaned my head on Steven’s shoulders and closed my eyes for the short drive across town.

  I only half listened to the tour guide as he described the evacuation of the town, the people who never left, and also the efforts to make Chernobyl safe once again. It was hard to hear him over the sound of my heart beating, still racing with the thought of what we would be facing next. Before I knew it the bus came to a stop and I opened my eyes to see the tour guide standing next to our seat.

  “Is she doing any better?” he asked Steven, despite the fact I was sitting right there.

  “I think she needs some more fresh air,” Steven explained quietly, as if not to disturb me.

  “Do you think it would be okay if we stayed by the bus for a little in case she wants to sit?” Olena asked, her map now folded and tucked into her pocket.

  “Absolutely,” the man smiled. “We are going into that building there to look at a few apartments. We’ll go out the other side of it to see the school, so if you want to meet us you can walk around or through it. But if you stay here we will be about 40 minutes I would say.”

  That was it. 40 minutes. This was our chance to find the film Uri lost his life over.

  We stayed seated as the bus cleared, many people glancing my way before exiting. After a few concerned looks I closed my eyes again, not wanting to see their faces. Finally, the bus was empty and we could hear the tour guide start telling everyone about the building they were standing i
n front of. As the sound of their footsteps began to head away from the bus, Olena stood suddenly, causing me to open my eyes.

  “Ready for that fresh air?” Olena asked, a gleam in her eyes.

  Nodding, I stood alongside Steven and grabbed tightly onto his hands before we both walked off of the bus. We left our packs, bottles of water, and everything else aside from the camera. Olena appeared to have the map in her pocket still, but did not pull it out yet.

  “I think I see a bench over there. We should rest there for a little.” Olena pointed just past the corner of a building a few feet away.

  Still clinging to Steven, I followed after her. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the rest of our tour group entering the building the guide had pointed out. Once we turned the corner we would be out of view from anyone still outside as well as from any windows of the building. Turning back to Olena, I felt my stomach roll as she turned the corner and took off running. With a quick glance at Steven I ignored everything but the task at hand and sprinted after her, further into Pripyat.

  I did my best to ignore the sting of the wind as we ran. It was the least of my worries. Not long after we began our run my legs began to hurt and my lungs felt like they were going to explode. Running was not something I did very often. Turning between houses at Olena’s lead, I willed myself to go on, knowing the importance of what we were going to uncover. Finally, just as I was certain I could not take another step, Olena slowed to a stop in front of a house at the end of the street we had just finished running down.

  The house before us was small and all but identical to the home next to it. The paint on the shutters and front door were a dark gray, matching much of the surroundings. The one thing that stood out, however, was the yard gnome next to the front porch. Its plastic had retained enough color to stand out amongst the weeds and dead bushes.

  Murmuring something to herself, Olena slowly walked up the front steps and pushed open the warped door. Its hinges creaked loudly but opened all the same, allowing the three of us entry to the tiny home. Steven and I followed Olena, our eyes taking in the worn and battered house around us.