The Atlantis Scrolls

Chapter 8

Unlike the unfortunate prisoners who did not appease the commanders of the brigade, Sam, Nina, and Alexandr had the privilege of eating with the members that night. Around a huge bonfire in the middle of the chiseled rock roof of the fortress everybody sat talking. Built into the walls were several booths for guards to watch the perimeter at all times, while the obvious watchtowers that stood on each corner of a cardinal direction were vacant.

“Smart,” Alexandr said, observing the tactical trickery.

“Aye,” Sam agreed, biting deep into a large rib he clutched in his hands like a caveman.

“I’ve realized that to deal with these people — just like those other people — you have to constantly think past what you see, or else they will catch you off guard every time,” Nina remarked accurately. She sat next to Sam, holding a piece of freshly baked bread between her fingers and breaking it off to dip into her soup.

“So you are staying here — are you sure, Alexandr?” Nina asked with a lot of concern, although she would not want anyone else but Sam to go with her to Edinburgh. If they had to find Renata, the best place to start would be Purdue. She knew he would surface if she went to Wrichtishousis and broke protocol.

“I have to. I have to be near my childhood friends. If they are going to get shot, I’ll be sure to take at least half these bastards with me,” he said, and raised his newly stolen canteen in a toast.

“You daft Russian!” Nina laughed. “Was it full when you acquired it?”

“It was,” the alcoholic Russian bragged, “but it is just about empty now!”

“Is it the same stuff Katya fed us?” Sam asked, pulling a hideous face in reminiscence of the vile moonshine he was given during the poker game.

“Da! Made in this very region. Only Siberia makes it better than here, my friends. Why do you think nothing grows in Russia? All the grasses die when you spill your Samogon!” he laughed like a proud maniac.

Across from the tall flames Nina could see Bern. He merely gazed into the fire as if he watched a tale play out inside it. His icy blue eyes could almost extinguish the blaze in front of him and she felt a twinge of sympathy for the attractive commandant. He was off duty now, one of the other leaders taking reign for this night. Nobody spoke to him and he was fine with that. At his boots was his empty plate and he scooped it up just before one of the ridgeback dogs got to his scraps. It was then that his eyes met Nina’s.

She wanted to look away, but she could not. He wanted to erase her memory of the threats he made to her when he lost his cool, but he knew he would never be able to. Unbeknown to Bern, Nina found the threat of being “fucked raw” by such a strong and handsome German not altogether repulsive, but she could never let him know that.

From the incessant hollering and babbling, music faded in. Just as Nina had expected, the music was typically Russian in melody with its upbeat tempo that made her envisage a group of Cossacks hopping out from nowhere in a line to form a circle. She could not deny that the atmosphere here was wonderful, safe and merry, although she definitely could not imagine that a few hours before. After Bern spoke to them in the main office, the three were sent to have hot showers, they were given clean clothing (more in keeping with the local flavor), and they were allowed a meal and one night’s rest before their departure.

In the meantime Alexandr would be treated as a fundamental level member of the Brigade Apostate until his friends should provoke the management to believe their application was a charade. Then he and the Strenkov couple would be summarily executed.

Bern stared at Nina with an odd longing that made her uncomfortable. Next to her Sam was talking to Alexandr about the layout of the area all the way up to Novosibirsk, to make sure they navigated the country correctly. She heard Sam’s voice, but the mesmerizing look of the commander made her body flush with immense desire she could not explain. Finally he rose from his seat, plate in hand, and went to what the men affectionately called the galley.

Feeling compelled to speak to him in a private capacity, Nina excused herself and followed Bern. She descended the steps to the short offshoot corridor where the kitchen was and, as she entered, he was coming out. Her plate slammed against his body and shattered on the ground.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” she said, and collected the pieces.

“Not a problem, Dr. Gould.” He sank down next to the small beauty, helping her, but his eyes never left her face. She could feel his stare and felt that familiar heat rush through her. When they had gathered all the big shards, they stepped into the galley to dispose of the broken plate.

“I have to ask,” she said in an uncharacteristically self-conscious way.

“Yes?” he waited, as he brushed the excess chunks of soupy bread from his shirt.

Nina sank her face in embarrassment at the mess, but he only smiled.

“I have to know something… personal,” she hesitated.

“Absolutely. Whatever you wish,” he replied courteously.

“Really?” she accidentally spilled her thoughts again. “Um, okay. I might be mistaken on this, captain, but you have been leering at me a bit too much. Am I just imagining it?”

Nina could not believe her eyes. The man blushed. It made her feel even more like an asshole to put him on the spot like that.

But then again, he did tell you in no uncertain terms that he would copulate with you as punishment, so don’t feel too bad for him, her inner voice dictated.

“It’s just that… you…” he struggled to reveal any vulnerability, so talking about the things the historian asked of him was nearly impossible. “You remind me of my late wife, Dr. Gould.”

Okay, now you can feel like a right asshole.

Before she could say anything more, he continued, “She looked almost exactly like you. Only her hair was down to the small of her back and her eyebrows were not as… as… groomed, as yours,” he explained. “She even behaved like you.”

“I’m so sorry, captain. I feel shitty for asking.”

“Call me Ludwig, please, Nina. I don’t want to get to know you, but we are beyond formalities and I believe those who have exchanged threats should at least be afforded the grace of first names, yes?” he smiled modestly.

“I agree fully, Ludwig,” Nina chuckled. “Ludwig. That is the last name I would have associated with you.”

“What can I say? My mother had a thing for Beethoven. Thank God she didn’t enjoy Engelbert Humperdinck!” he shrugged, pouring their drinks.

Nina squealed with laughter, imagining the stern commander of the meanest brutes this side of the Caspian Sea with a name like Engelbert.

“I have to concede! Ludwig is at least classical and legendary,” she sniggered.

“Come, let’s go back out. I don’t want Mr. Cleave to think I am moving in on his turf,” he told Nina, and placed his hand gently on her back to usher her out of the kitchen.