Tatiana and Alexander: A Novel(197)

"There's no one here," said one of them.

"We know you're here, Belov," said another. "Just come out and nobody will get hurt."

Alexander said nothing.

"You have a wife you should think about. You want her to live, don't you?"

Tatiana heard the quiet creaking of the ladder.

Alexander lay so still you could have walked by him and not known he was there. There was another creak.

One of the officers below said, "If you come out peacefully, your wife will get amnesty."

Another said, "We are all heavily armed. You cannot escape. Let's do this reasonably."

Alexander barely even leaned over. He just tipped the Commando downward and fired a .357 bullet into the head of the man on the ladder. The man flew backward in a spasm, the other men crouched, raising their guns, but they couldn't raise them fast enough, nor hide. Alexander aimed fired, aimed fired, aimed fired. The men didn't have a chance to take cover, much less open fire.

He jumped up and turned to Tatiana. "Let's go," he said. "Can't stay here another second. If the farmer has a telephone, he's on it right now."

"Maybe he doesn't have a telephone," Tatiana muttered.

"Can't count on that, can we? Hurry." Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She quickly collected their things while Alexander reloaded the revolver.

"Nice weapon, Tania," he said. "Some recoil on it, though. What's the muzzle velocity, do you know?"

"The man who sold it to me told me it was four hundred and fifty meters per second."

Alexander whistled. "Immense power. Almost like my Shpagin. Are you ready?"

They glanced out the window to make sure no one was coming, and then descended the ladder, stepped over the dead men at the door--though not before Alexander reached into their pockets and relieved them of their Soviet cigarettes--and were out. From their truck, Alexander took one light machine gun and one ammunition belt. Tatiana asked how he was going to carry another machine gun, this one with a bipod, plus a sub-machine-gun, three sidearms, and all the ammo.

"Don't worry about my end," he said, throwing the metal ammunition belt around his neck. "Just worry about yours."

"We could take their truck," Tatiana suggested.

"Yes, good idea, we'll drive it to the next checkpoint."

They ran through the fields, away from the farm, into the forest.

They walked until noon.

"Can we stop?" Tatiana pleaded. They were about to cross a stream. "You must be tired. We'll wash up, maybe have a bite to eat. Where are we, anyway?"

"Nowhere," he said, reluctantly stopping. "Barely four miles from the farm and the Soviet army."

"Four miles south?" she said with hope. "That would mean that we're only about--"

"West. We're not heading south."

She stared at him. "What do you mean, we're not heading south? Berlin is south."

"Hmm. That's where they think we'll be going."

"But eventually we have to go south, no?"

"Eventually, yes."

She didn't want to say anymore. They washed their faces and brushed their teeth. "Just don't give me any of that morphine toothpaste," Alexander said.

She unpacked a few things to eat. She had Spam--with a smile. And he actually smiled back, and said, "I like it. But how do you plan to open it?"

"Ah, because it comes from America," she said, "it has a little can opener built into the cap."

She had some dried bread, dried apple chips. They ate, drinking water out of the stream. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Okay, let's go," he said, springing up.

"Shura," she said, glancing up at him. "I'd like to go in the water. Wash. All right? It won't take long."

He sighed.

After he had smoked two or three cigarettes, he undressed and went into the water after her.

They were sitting on a log next to the stream in the canopied and secluded woods. They were both astride the log, she in front of him, with her back to him. He was wearing his skivvies. She was wearing a white tank top and underwear. They weren't speaking.

Presently Alexander leaned down to her and, kissing her neck under her ear, whispered, "I want to see those freckles." Tatiana purred in a soft chime, and turned her head to him. They looked at each other a moment, and then they kissed. The brush fell from his hands as they went around her neck, touching the wedding bands.

He bent her head all the way back, as his hand moved down to her breasts, to her stomach, to between her thighs. She undressed and straddled him on the log, standing against him. He cupped her breasts, and pulled her to sit on top of him, bending to her nipples.

Her soft moans echoed through the woods.

Alexander carried her to their open trench blanket. She lay on the blanket in front of him, and he kneeled in front of her and put his fingers on her, but only for a short while, too short a while. She was too fevered. He climbed on top of her, and she began to cry out and cry--

Suddenly Tatiana stopped moving. Stopped making a single sound except the panting which she could not control. Clutching Alexander to herself, she whispered, "Shura, oh my God, there is a man watching us."