Arctic Sunrise

by Robert G. White

  Arctic Sunrise

  written by Robert White

  I would like to dedicate this story to you. Yes, you! The reader, the one that has the power to craft this story into a bad one, a average one or a good one. I hope you enjoy it and thank you very much for taking some of your own time and spending it on some unknown fool's ramblings. And even though we have never met and we probably won't in this lifetime I still believe in my foolishness that these simple black on white shapes and markings we both recognize as letters brings us closer somehow if just for a brief moment.

  ''Romans 12:2 Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.'' I guess even God is sometimes right.

  ''This world is cruel and unforgiving yet beautiful...and I'm just standing here catching clouds.''

  ''Angels rarely venture outside the gates of Heaven but when it happens, it is a sight to behold''

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter Zero A week's work

  Chapter I A new world

  Chapter II History

  Chapter III We were friends

  Chapter IV Men of action

  Chapter V Final Station

  Chapter VI Hard times

  Chapter VII New Babylon

  Chapter VIII Tired

  Chapter IX Far North

  Chapter Zero A week's work

  There's no end to any of this...maybe only in death. Blind people dream only in black and white. Why is that? For some reason, Dmitri can't get this question out of his mind as he lurches oddly up and down the dark and narrow halls on the sixth floor of the Grand Sala hotel in Saint Petersburg. What a luxurious palace of decadence and disgust. Every few steps he can hear the fake tired moans of prostitutes from beyond so many doors, echoing and intensifying again and again...he covers his ears for a moment as sheer distain takes hold of him but he regains his composure and clenches his fists in his pockets as his mouth dries up again. He can smell the sea of sweat...his eyes are blood red, like the eyes of a dying addict and the small purple blue veins surrounding his eyes are bulging, almost etching a map of hatred on his face. His palms are once more sweaty even though he's wiped them off on his coat several times...he feels tired and overflowing with emptiness. Dmitri is waiting for something. Dmitri hates waiting(almost as much as he hates himself). The air is sweet from all the cheap perfume like a poisonous mist seeping into his every pore...Dmitri thinks that although it's not great to be alive, it's a lot better than rotting in the ground...maybe. Or maybe not. Death has always been with him since childhood but forever silent.

  His phone finally vibrates gently in his jacket pocket shattering the tension that consumed his senses. He calms down and answers the phone but doesn't say one word...he listens.

  A thick, panting voice scratches his ears with three simple words ''tears of blood as rain''. How he yearned for those simple words. Dmitri's eyes widen as he ends the call and picks up the pace, almost running until the he sees the number 318 on a door. He simply puts on a pair of white leather gloves and reveals a Remington shotgun from his long jacket. No more calm, it's time for the natural order of all things...chaos. It's time for him to shine in the only way he knows how to. Maybe he'll even get lucky and die...

  Dmitri breaths deep; slowly and steady; cocks the shotgun; kicks the door in and unloads two shells in the first figure that appears before him. A man, half naked, wearing only short pants collapses on the floor as his torso and chest are riddled with pellets. Another man lying on a couch reaches for a pistol on the closest nightstand. Dmitri blasts his chest wide open and blood spurs out of his mouth and nose. The dying man grins and with burning anger he whispers ''fuck you'', staring straight at Dmitri's face.

  Dmitri blows off the top half of the man's head at very close range. The blood, brains and pieces of his eyes spread on Dmitri's clothes and face...not a flinch or a trace of emotion, not even a blink. Killing is the easy part of his life, the only time when he is truly calm. Dmitri's breathing hastens. He makes his way to the second room, moving silently and carefully.

  The second room is dark and only a dim lamp reveals a frightened man in his forties holding a young boy on his lap and a grenade in his left hand. Dmitri lowers his shotgun and mutters ''is that a M67 hand grenade with an effective radius of five meters?'' the tone of Dmitri's voice is deep and unnatural.

  ''It's been known to kill even at fifteen meters'' the man says, clearly surprised by the fact that this strange man covered in blood and holding a shotgun already identified his grenade in such poor light.

  ''The fuse has a five second delay that can't be modified and I am very fast'' Dmitri says, placing the shotgun, barrel down, in a corner and stepping closer to the man on the chair.

  ''Who hired you? Tell me that and maybe we can all survive this!'' the man screams at Dmitri.

  ''What does it matter? You're dead anyway at this point, go out with a bang, pull the pin and let's all get shredded to pieces! Do it, you fucking coward, do it now!'' Dmitri threatens.

  ''What? Are you crazy or something?'' the man whispers, his words reeking of fear.

  ''Never mind, I know that somehow even if that grenade were to go off I would surely survive, God doesn't want me dead, he wants me to suffer but enough of that. That boy's father asked for a favor. He's a powerful man with even more powerful friends. We need men like him to owe us.'' Dmitri says and pulls out a lighter and shows in its flame the tattoos on the back of his right palm.

  ''Oh no, no, dear Christ, that means my family...'' the man in the chair whispers in terror at the sight of the strange markings on Dmitri's hand. He recognizes them and fears them as most men in Russia do.

  ''Yes, a few seconds before I entered this hotel room your two cousins that were involved with this boy's kidnapping were brutally killed after more than two days of torture. Soon every member of your family, of all five men involved in the kidnapping will die but they will die quickly because they did not know what you have done. They are only responsible through the blood ties. You have a girl named Tania, age seven, innocent exactly like the boy you are threatening to blow up. I know where she lives, we know and soon if not now, there will be men there, soulless and ready to shred her to pieces if I only say one word.'' Dmitri says.

  The man's hands soften and shake, he drops the grenade on the floor and it rolls to Dmitri's feet. The boy on his lap runs into a corner of the room frightened. For a second Dmitri imagines the grenade exploding, blowing him to pieces but he quickly snaps out of it...it won't be that easy.

  ''Not my daughter, please. Take my life and make it the end of this.'' the man pleads Dmitri. He crawls to Dmitri's feet as the child curls in the corner crying.

  ''You know who we are and that we almost never kill children but you also know that when you set out to cause harm to others, you risk more than just your life. I shall spare your child and the children of your accomplices but no one else because...I hope one day they grow strong and come after me. The rest of your families will die. Now get out of my sight.'' Dmitri says while pointing towards the window.

  ''I'm going to Hell, aren't I?'' the man asks.

  ''There's no Hell, all the demons and devils are here amongst us. Farewell.'' Dmitri says.

  The man thanks Dmitri for his kindness briefly and then turns to the window and dives through it without even flinching, six floors, smashing his head like a pumpkin on the concrete sidewalk. A few screams in the street and sirens in the distance. Dmitri holsters his shotgun to the strap
on his leg, grabs the boy in his arms, comforting him and whispering ''we're going home, back to your dad, stop crying.'' Dmitri covers the boy's eyes as he walks out in order to protect him from the gore in the first room. There are people in the hall, woken up by the loud shots fired, they all stare at Dmitri but nobody dares to even say a word.

  ''Vory v zakone business, get back to your whores!'' Dmitri shouts and almost instantly everyone disappears back into the rooms they came from...the hall becomes as silent as a morgue.

  Their sights linger for but a brief moment and pale quickly at Dmitri's brutal appearance. Nobody saw anything when the police arrived and asked, it's as if nothing had happened. In Saint Petersburg nobody has eyes in such matters...

  Almost a hundred kilometers of road before the boy in the backseat says something ''are you a policeman?''

  Dmitri chuckles and checks the rearview mirror to see the child's face.

  ''I'm your uncle, I've been away for the last couple of years, this is the first time I've seen you, you're such a handsome boy.'' Dmitri says smiling, trying not to scare the child.

  ''Those men were bad, they took me from my kinder garden and beat me'' the boy says.

  ''Don't worry about them, they are gone and they will never come back to bother you.'' Dmitri's hand squeezes the leather steering wheel. He knows about truly bad men, he remembers the orphanage...by the time he wakes up from his horrors, the child is asleep. In many ways he envies this child. He takes advantage of the child's slumber to stop in a gas station and clean the blood, flesh and brains from his coat and face.

  It's almost three in the morning when he reaches the select neighborhood of Moscow. The guard at the barrier stops him and asks what is his business within the premises.

  ''Wake up judge Romanov, I have his son returning from his grandparents.'' Dmitri says. The security guard whose nametag can't be read leans to the back window and sees little Petro, the always smiling son of judge Romanov.

  ''And who I might say is calling?'' the nosy security guard asks.

  ''You're testing my patience worm and I have no name. Just press the button and lift the barrier before I get angry.'' Dmitri says while not even looking at the man sitting right next to his half lowered window.

  The clearly pissed off security guard goes inside his tiny booth and makes a call. The barrier raises and Dmitri's car engine purrs of excitement and accelerates into the night.

  The judge's house is somewhat unimpressive to Dmitri. He was expecting something much more glamorous. Only two floors, at most seven rooms, bad architecture, looks like the house was designed by a child, drawn on some piece of paper. The lights on the first floor are all on. Dmitri parks, takes the sleeping boy in his arms and carries him to the door.

  A woman's figure opens the door and runs towards Dmitri (he quickly grabs hold of his shotgun, ready to take it out and fire it. Dmitri trusts only men in this world. Only three men.) and wraps her arms around Petro, kissing him, crying and whimpering ''my baby, my sweet baby, oh my God''. Dmitri releases the child into her arms and walks inside the house. A man is sitting in the dining room on a chair in front of a huge table, a table for ten at least, his hand shacking on the edge of an ashtray.

  ''Is my son unharmed?'' the man asks in desperation.

  ''A few bruises, scared out of his mind but he will be all right in a few days. My contract is almost completed, judge sir.'' Dmitri says, taking a seat on the chair next to Romanov. It's the first time he's meeting the man in person, the wrinkles on his face disgust Dmitri for some reason. He believes that people should die young, while still strong...not fade away with age.

  ''What do you mean?'' Romanov asks.

  ''A week ago, you offered a half million Euros to my boss Ivan for the safe return of your son. My boss declined and asked only for favors to be named later. I am naming them now. First of all, you have a debt of over a million Euros from mostly gambling to Alexander, a ruthless mob boss that will kill you and your family.'' Dmitri says.

  ''How do you know that?'' Romanov asks, shivering.

  ''I knew Alexander before he joined the thief's world and I know him better than most people. Even if you give him the money he will still kill you. But that's not your worry now, I've personally taken the debt in my name from you.'' Dmitri says, patting the judge on the shoulder in order to calm him.

  ''But why would you do that?'' Romanov asks and a glimmer of hope appears in his eyes.

  ''Because I was ordered to, I have no decisions or choices, I am not a person, I am an extension of Ivan and I do as commanded. My life is very simple.'' Dmitri says.

  ''I don't understand, you save my only child from certain death and then save my entire family? what do you want in return?'' Romanov asks, smoking nervously and fast, his eyelids twitching.

  ''You are and always will be an asset to our organization and mister Ivan thinks that owning you is a far better choice than letting you die. Besides we don't need money, we need influence or how you may call it power but that cannot always be bought just with money.'' Dmitri says.

  ''Owning me? What does that mean?'' Romanov asks infuriated.

  ''How about you shut up and let me talk? You have at least ten years until you retire and you will help us by ruling in our favor whenever we need you to. We own you now, you are a worthless piece of shit gambler and addict but you have a position we can benefit from. It's a good deal, your son, your wife, your life and all your debts cleared for a few unfair decisions. Take Ivan's hand when he offers it. This week he ordered me to get your child back and many men died in achieving that but next week, depending on your choices, he may order me to kill your child. Ivan is a rational man but makes swift and cutting decisions. Blame yourself for all your problems. It's the only way to live.'' Dmitri whispers and stands up.

  ''All right but what about the KGB?'' the man asks, frightened.

  ''It's been cleared with them already, we don't interfere with the political trials and verdicts anyway. We only deal in penal law, land deals and so forth. Their interests and ours do not intersect. I work for them too just like yourself so don't worry!'' Dmitri orders.

  ''Fine, I will do whatever you say. I only have one question, would you really kill that sweet, innocent boy just because someone tells you to?'' Romanov says and guides Dmitri's gaze with his hand towards Petro and his wife, sitting in the doorway and smiling through tears. The way the moon binds with the light from the hallway on the woman's face...she looks like the only honest woman Dmitri has seen in years...

  ''I've done worse, I won't enjoy it the slightest but I will do it. Why? Because I'm going to Hell anyway and because the world I live in couldn't be more different than yours. You know what we are. Someone will contact you soon and instruct you.'' Dmitri whispers into Romanov's ear and slowly walks out. He gently pinches Petro's cheek on the way out the door as Romanov's wife's eyes are set on Dmitri, beaming happiness and gratefulness. Dmitri doesn't know how to respond so he smiles and nods. A faint smile, fake and empty. He knows nothing of happiness anymore.

  ''What is your name? I'd like to pray for your health...'' the woman asks.

  ''They call me Dmitri but that's not really my name, I don't have a name, never had one. Enjoy your family while it lasts.'' Dmitri says and leaves.

  Just as Dmitri reaches his car, the phone in his jacket vibrates.

  ''Is it done?'' a thick voice asks.

  ''Yes, now all we have to do is take care Anatoly and then go to the Arctic.'' Dmitri answers.

  ''We'll do it tomorrow, get some sleep, I need you in good form.'' the unknown man almost commands.

  ''I haven't slept in months, stop tormenting me, you stupid bear.'' Dmitri jokingly says and ends the conversation. The night is dark even with an almost full moon but cold and Dmitri fires up a cigarette, looking for stars on the sky. On the way out of the neighborhood, the guard at the barrier stops him again and as he approaches the car and waves Dmitri to lower the window a single whisper, a pop, disturbs the night.
Dmitri steps out of the car, leans towards the dying man and reads his nametag.

  ''I said don't test my patience.'' Dmitri says as the man's blood flows on the street and his eyes fixate on Dmitri's face. Dmitri presses the barrier button inside the small booth and accelerates into the night as the guard draws his last breaths. If he could...he would do the same thing to the entire world.

  Chapter I A new world

  ''Dmitri where are you ?'' a gentle voice whispers.

  ''I am... drifting away and I can't move.'' Dmitri answers, staring at the yellow ceiling.

  Ana braces herself on her elbows, shaking( Dmitri is shocked to notice how weak Ana has become, how her beauty has faded, the paleness in her cheeks, the sadness in her eyes...but mostly what really hurts him is the simple fact that he can't cure her disease, he can't help her) and with her left palm she guides Dmitri's face to hers, their lips barely touching. Dmitri's blood feels like it's boiling and his entire body tingles, it's not lust, it's something much deeper.

  ''Where are you Dmitri?'' Ana asks again, this time louder, searching in his eyes.

  ''I am in room 65 on the fifth floor in the left wing of the hospital...'' Dmitri is silenced by Ana's kiss. She presses their lips together, tighter, hard, painfully and Dmitri notices tears in her eyes, in the eyes of the only woman he has ever felt something for.

  ''You have to let me go Dmitri'' Ana whispers between tears but Dmitri is already asleep, gone in a place far away.

  A few days later, maybe, or maybe a few years later.

  Dmitri is driving to Murmansk and although he left Moscow more than a day ago it seems that only a moment has passed. The car's ashtray is almost full and for some reason this bothers him immensely. He stares at the houses on the outskirts of Saint Petersburg and is mildly amused at the irony of driving a brand new GLK Mercedes through the poverty that surrounds him in every direction. Dmitri understands poverty very well and even though he has defeated it years ago, it still frightens him in a way.