If it was some officer or even a professional soldier then I'd have nothing to hope for - he would not break the protocol so easily. But Novokureevo was a small village, and most of the military personnel there, aside from the high-ranking officers who were in charge of the place, were just conscripts. The man was probably younger than me, and he was there only because he was told to serve there.
"Wow, that's…That's pretty bad timing. So, you're locked up right there, in Novoyarsk? What is even going on down there?" - he asked me.
It seemed strange that he was asking me about that and not the other way around. But then again, perhaps he thought I'd already seen something and wanted a first-hand witness report?
"Honestly, I have no clue," - I told him. "Everyone just left when the sirens rang. Everyone but us. And now there’s some animal outside that attacks people, so we can’t leave."
"Huh, I see," - the man grunted. "I expected the end of the world, judging by how worked up the superiors at our base have become. How many of you are there?"
"Eighty apartments" - I said. "Maybe some other buildings are locked up as well" - I was sure that wasn't the case, as the doors had been sealed from the inside, but I decided that ramping up the civilian count would get us help sooner. "When we heard the sirens, we couldn't leave anymore."
"Oh" - he said. "That's quite a lot of people. Hang tight in there, bro."
"Bro." Such a short yet reassuring word. In an instant, I felt some sort of camaraderie established between us - a bridge he set up between us. It felt good to know that I had some allies somewhere in the world.
But his last sentence made me suspicious, so I asked him: "Haven't you received any orders to help people still in the town?"
"Sorry, mate" - he said. The regret in his voice was sincere. "No such orders have been received. We were told to stay put until the reinforcements arrive."
"No such orders." I felt gutted and betrayed. A part of me wanted to misinterpret the man's words - perhaps he meant that there were no such orders yet? Maybe they didn't know that we're here?
"But they will come, right?" - I asked, trying to bargain with fate. "Now that you know that we're here the army will come for us, won't you?"
"Ehh, sure, I'll report your message" - he was seemingly confused by something. "But if you're saying it's clear down there why don't you just climb out the windows?" - he asked me. "I'm not sure how serious this is or what is even going on, but you should be alright. Just head down the Western road out of town and you'll hit the roadblock."
"We CAN'T leave" - I stressed the word. "Because of the animal."
"What animal?" - he asked me after a short pause. I could tell from his voice that he really didn't know.
"The animal" - I repeated. "There's an animal outside our building, I don't know which one, it appeared at the same time the sirens were sounded and killed a man outside. Some of us have tried walking to your base, but they didn’t make it far" - I patiently explained to him. I was starting to feel frustrated: here I was hoping to learn something, to hear that we were going to be rescued soon – but it seemed that I was the one doing all the talking.
"Haven't they told you anything about it?" - I cried out in frustration.
"Bro, they don't tell us nihuya[8]" - the young man was getting more and more comfortable while talking to me. "You know how the old school officers are - we are not meant to know anything, we just need to follow the orders. I'm not even aware of what's going on out there. Now, you telling me that there's some creature out there - that's the first thing I've learned about what is going on outside of the base."
"So, they keep you in the dark?" - I asked. I was glad that Natasha wasn't around to hear that: knowing that the military kept it all under the lid even from the lower ranks would send her into a fit of panic. While she would be de facto right, I didn't want her to be bothered about that. Yet.
"I'll tell you more: they are not just keeping us in the dark, they've taken away our phones as well. All of them! There was no reception anyway, so why take away our phones?"
"So that you couldn't take the pictures" - I thought, thinking back to what Natasha said: the first priority was not the people - it was keeping everything under wraps.
The man on the other side continued rambling in the meantime: "They swooped the barracks not long after the morning transmission and took away everything, even things we had stashed away. They knew where to look. They left the cigarettes though, so thanks for that."
"Hold up! When you're talking about the morning transmission, are you talking about 'The Cricket'?" - I asked him, bewildered. I was surprised that it didn't dawn on me sooner: "The Cricket" was a military numbering station, after all, and I was talking to a soldier over the radio. If anyone could know something about it that would be him.
"Yes, The Cricket! How do you know about it?" - he asked me.
I thought about dodging the question but then decided that it would be dishonest: the man was giving me the answers, after all.
"I am a radio stalker" - I said, trying to keep my voice even. Suddenly I was ashamed to admit that my hobby was listening to the radio for days. "I was listening to it for a long time, and this morning it sent out a transmission and then went silent."
"Yeah, that's what I heard as well" - he said. "My shift has just started, so I wasn't the one who received it, but the guy who did says that… it was just wild. The base has been fully mobilized since the moment we've received it."
Oh yes. I could clearly imagine the effect such a transmission would have on the soldiers. It was one thing when you're just a radio amateur who eavesdrops on transmissions for fun, and completely different - when the message you receive sounds like the declaration of a war you're going to participate in.
"Do you have the encryption keys?" - I asked him, with a bubble of hope rising in my chest.
'Nah, we aren't allowed anywhere near them" - the man burst in instantly. "We just write the message down and deliver it to the higher-ups. If anyone has the encryption keys, it's them." He thought about something for a moment and then added: "Plus, I wouldn't give them to you, anyway. Sorry, bro, but you're asking for a little bit too much."
"I wouldn't ask about that" - I quickly lied. I felt a bit disappointed, but then again it was silly to expect any other outcome.
"I mean, I'm sure you understand" - the man suddenly started to sound apologetic. "It's confidential information and all that. Everyone here is jumpy as it is. I'm not sure if I'm not going to be court-marshaled just for talking to you. All contact with the outside world has been cut off. Right now, we’re on a lockdown, standing by for further orders."
"So, your base wasn’t involved in the evacuation? Well then, where are they taking the evacuated people?" - I wondered. "I thought since the sirens are a big deal they'd be taken somewhere where the military can take care of them?"
"They are not here, I can tell you that," - the man told me. "Our major took fifty soldiers and took off somewhere - I guess they are wherever your people are. I've also heard over the grape wine that reinforcements are coming - I think they'll be setting up a camp for the refugees."
I tried to remember how many people lived in our town - three thousand, four? Where could you comfortably locate all of them? Sure, some of them probably had relatives living in the nearby villages, but most of them were like me - one apartment, with no other options.
"Got it," - I said. "But you will let them know that we're still here, right?"
"Yes, of course," - he said. A moment later he added: "But I'll have to omit some parts of our conversation. I'm sure you understand, right? They are all really jumpy here since it all started, and I don't know what I was and wasn't supposed to say to a civilian, so don't shill me out, okay?"
"I won't say a thing" - I assured him. Then, after thinking for a moment, I asked him: "Isn't this a military channel? Is anyone else listening to us?"
"I doubt it," - he said. "I switched the frequency randomly after I se
nt the message I was told to send. How did you even find it? Were you just combing through them?"
"Yes, I was searching for someone else in town," - I admitted.
"Any luck?" - he asked me.
I shook my head as if he could see me. "Not yet."
"To be fair, not a lot of people use the radio nowadays to chat with each other" - he said. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be a jab at me or not, but I decided to let it pass. The guy seemed to be too sincere and straight-forward for that.
"Will you let me know if you receive any new orders?" - I asked him.
"Ummm..." - he thought for a moment, no doubt considering the fallout of his superiors learning about his conversations with someone from the outside of the base. "Sure" - he finally agreed. "We can use this channel. But don't contact me first - I'll be the one to contact you, okay? Somewhere between 10 and 12 AM tomorrow, so stay tuned."
"Got it, thanks!" - I was pretty happy with myself: despite being stuck in an evacuated town, I'd already found the informant on the outside.
"I gotta go, talk to you later. Stay safe out there," - the man told me.
"Okay" - I said. "My name's Yuri" - I suddenly remembered that we haven't even introduced ourselves to each other.
"Leonid" - he introduced himself. "Signing off."
I leaned back in the chair and stared into the ceiling. There was just too much information to digest.
First of all, it seemed that Natasha's suspicions were proving to be real: the military was not in a rush to help us out - at least not yet. Sure, they were organizing a camp for those who evacuated in time, but what kind of camp would it be? How can you keep an entire town in a camp without it devolving into a den of misery and infection? And why even set up a refugee camp when the citizens could be moved to another town? Sure, it was far away, but still, wouldn’t it be easier than keeping them in camps?
Second, the military was keeping it under wraps even within their ranks - although that much wasn't surprising. The soldiers were never supposed to think; they were supposed to follow orders. I couldn't help but feel sorry for those boys at the base: had it happened a year earlier or later they'd be civilians - some of them in their late teens, having fun with their peers.
Draw the short stick, be born just in time to serve during the war - and you're not a civilian anymore. You're a soldier, and the lowest grade of a soldier at that - a conscript. A toy soldier who had played with toy soldiers himself just a few years before. Someone whose only value on the battlefield is to serve as a distraction for the main forces. The line between being a civilian and a meat shield of the country seemed to be too thin.
And most importantly, despite gathering a handful of clues, I haven't managed to come closer to solving the mystery of what was going on. I saw that the most drastic measures were being taken, and yet I hadn't a clue why. It felt frustrating, almost maddening. It felt like being locked up for committing a crime without being told what it was.
I could do only one thing. The same thing I had been doing for days before it all even started. I could only keep on listening, hoping to hear something else.
***
It was four hours later when I stumbled on a transmission by accident - as was usually the case with radio stalking. Fishing across the radio waves until you pick up a faint signal, your ears perk up when you catch a bit of some conversation. It was akin to seeing your reel tremble a bit while fishing.
Carefully turning the dial, I tried to home in on the signal. Slowly, without a rush - as if afraid that I could scare it away if I tuned in immediately. By that moment I had spent so much time trying to pick up something that I had already lost hope of hearing anything and was doing it just on autopilot, not hoping to find anything. So, when I thought I’d heard a voice, I thought that I was imagining it. Only when I realized that it wasn’t the case did I rejoice: my quest hadn’t been in vain, after all.
Besides, I was really curious to hear what somebody could be broadcasting at such a critical hour for our town.
Little by little, the voice on my radio started to gain clarity until it finally became clear enough to understand it.
"...and the child will love the parent and the parent shall love their child, and your house will be full of harmony and respect once more.
And forward will come his beasts - his spears and shields. And they will pave the way for the king in rags - both the true king and the king in name only. And he'll bring the judgment to those who write laws, and he'll share with those who have none, and those who partake his blood and flesh shall be made of his blood and flesh, too."
I raised my eyebrow - I suspected that I wasn't the only one with the radio who had been stranded in the town, but I didn't expect the church of all places to start transmitting their messages. But, on the other hand, if there were any safe havens where people could find shelter from the horrors going on outside, it would be a church. Built centuries ago, they had always doubled as small fortresses during the wars and conflicts of the past. Their thick stone walls could endure a direct hit of an artillery shell, and their cold basements were rumored to be always stocked to the brim just in case of a war or another cataclysm.
I had also stumbled across the religious radio messages in the past, though I'd never bothered to remember the frequency, so I couldn't confirm if it was the same one I was listening to at that moment.
And, of course, with what had been going on outside, there was no way they wouldn't interpret it as the judgment day finally coming. If anything, it was their prime time - their best moment to start drawing in new followers.
The man on the radio continued talking:
"And the great wave shall cometh from below, sweeping across this land and giving the power to those who built this world, tearing it out of their masters' hands along with their nails. And the worker shall be the man, and the masters shall be his cattle, and the Earth shall be the earth of his, a blooming paradise filled with awe and colors no human eye has ever seen.
And each and every man and woman shall be made the king in rags, for there will be no kings and no rags anymore, and the meaning of those words will become forgotten and meaningless, and everyone will have just as much as they need and not an ounce more. The men shall bear the fruits of their labor, and each will give as much as they can and take as much as they need.
He is coming. He's in the ground. He's in the air. He's in the water. He is the fire to unbelievers – and the light to his followers.
We have been waiting for this day for a very long time, and the day has been laborious indeed. I know some of you are displeased with how things have turned out, but fret not – His glory is well within our reach. Rest. Gather your strength. In three days, at noon, you will hear from us again. You know what’s coming. Make sure you’re ready when the time comes. Not even your faith can keep you safe when those beasts roam our lands."
With that, the transmission ended. I expected the man to continue his religious tirade, but it seemed that he was done talking - no further messages followed. I leaned back in the chair and contemplated what I'd just heard.
Something about that message was bothering me. It started as a typical Christian end-of-times message - although I'd never heard of them referring to Jesus as "The King in Rags." But somehow, that description was making sense, so I didn't mind. The talks about scorched earth and the beasts rising to cull the unbelievers also matched the church's narrative.
What didn't make sense was that at the end, it started to sound more like communist propaganda - with the talking points like "the workers should seize the land", "end the bourgeoisie", "to each according to his need" and etc. From what I knew, the church and the Soviet State had never gotten along, with the latter actively preying on the former at the dawn of the Communist era. And yet the influence of the Soviet rhetoric was evident in that message.
"Then again," - I reminded myself, - "I'm living in a country where there are religious icons of Stalin and the current Communist Party
celebrates religious holidays. It's not out of the realm of possibility that somewhere on the backwater edges of our country there could be a Christian Communist Church. I wouldn't be surprised if their King in Rags they keep talking about is actually Lenin."
***
The rest of the day was uneventful: I was searching the radio waves for more people, yet I wasn't successful. Nothing was being broadcast. All I could hear was the white noise.
Natasha didn't come over, and I decided not to bother her - if she wanted some company she would've come.
The elders outside got calmer over time: I couldn't make out the words, but I sensed that the tone of their conversations had shifted, becoming less anxious and more mellow. I could hear the clanking of their plates and cups, whistling of kettles, and chitter of the tenants as they were gathering into groups. I could understand them: even the soldiers on the front lines of World War 2 had reported how unbearable the boredom was when nothing was happening.
It was pleasant background noise - it allowed me to forget that we were the only people in that entire dead town. That there wasn't a soul for kilometers around and the only life outside was wild and hostile. We resided in a small, cozy pocket of life, protected from the terrors outside by sturdy walls that allowed us to feel safe even in such tumultuous times.
While I was sitting in grandpa's chair, reading a book that took me far away out of town, I was almost enjoying the quiet outside, allowing myself to forget its context. It wasn't the pressing silence of an abandoned town anymore.
But no matter how hard I tried to focus on the story in my hands, I couldn't bring myself get lost in it, to forget about my situation. My gaze was constantly falling into spaces between words, and instead of roaming imaginary worlds, my mind was navigating the memories of the streets outside. I was thinking about the park, the alleys, the central street which could be reached by foot from any corner of the town in less than thirty minutes, the playgrounds where I'd been playing as a kid…All of those things now housed elusive nightmares that stalked the places from my childhood memories at that very moment. The town that I had grown up in was gone - what was left was some twisted reflection of it that had been hastily abandoned by its inhabitants.
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