Coercion (24 page)

When Major Maximov showed up unexpectedly for the third time in as many weeks, Vasily felt his lungs shrivel within his chest.  Was he about to find himself all alone? 
First Igor, then Yarik … now Victor?  It couldn’t be.  And it wasn’t.  In fact, this time the news was just the opposite.

“Yarik’s alive.”  Vasily repeated.  “How is that possible?”

Major Maximov smiled.  “Three people parachuted from the plane before it exploded.  They found tracks and harnesses.” 

“Is he okay?”

“They think so, but they can’t be sure because they don’t know where he is.  The team investigating the crash site found eight bodies, none of which was his, so they’re assuming Yarik was among the three jumpers.  One of the jumpers had a problem with his parachute and didn’t survive the fall.  We don’t know who he was—the wolves didn’t leave much—but he had hair.”

“Where do they think Yarik went?”

“He ran off in pursuit of the other survivor.  The details are scant.  According to the senior officer at the scene, the few remaining tracks indicated that a heavy jumper set out in pursuit of a lighter one.  Judging by the tracks both men appeared healthy.  That’s all they know.”

“How’s the search and rescue going?”

“There isn’t one.  The trail was already a day old when they got there, and the terrain was too rough to follow them in a jeep.  What’s more, the location is too remote for helicopters to service it efficiently—there’s no place to refuel.  The government is not going to make that much fuss over one man, even a general.  Yarik is on his own.”

“So we just sit tight and wait for him to call?”

“That’s all we can do.”

“For how long?”

“Could be days.  There’s nothing out there.  But you know Yarik, he’s no doubt enjoying himself.”

“Yes,” Vasily said.  “No doubt.

Anna was feeling good for someone so cold and tired.  She was aglow with the contentment of a missionary, and her own physical discomfort was more than offset by the echo of yesterday’s grateful voices.  Her mobile clinic made a difference in people’s lives, and they weren’t nameless, faceless people either.  She got to look them in the eye, hold their trembling hands, and share in their relief.

It was just before seven in the morning now, and dawn had not yet broken.  She and Vova were driving home in their ambulance, with a hundred and fifty kilometers still to go.

They had driven down to the village of Krasnoe the morning before, bringing medicine to its invalids.  The line of those sick and suffering had been a long one for a village of that size, and neither she nor Vova had the heart to turn anyone away.  By the time they finished passing out pills and giving shots the blizzard was upon them, and staying the night was the only option.

A couple of Krasnoe’s grateful residents had made them comfortable, but Anna still wished she were home.  She had not prepared for an overnight stay and she really wanted to brush her teeth and soak in a tub.  As it was, and assuming the roads had been dutifully cleared during the night, she might have just enough time for a quick shower at home before reporting to the hospital.  Mondays were always busy.  She could not be late.

Sitting there jostling along in the passenger seat, Anna’s thoughts drifted back to a nagging comment she had heard two nights before.  It had come from the peanut gallery, the row of babushkas
that habitually lined the benches before her apartment building.  The war widows congregated there like crows on a telephone wire.  She had come home early from visiting her own mother and as she passed through the granny gauntlet one of them had asked, “Where’s you man, Dear?  It’s Saturday night.”  The broader meaning of the question had not escaped her. 
Ouch
.

Her impending spinsterhood had obviously been a topic of lengthy discussion there on the bench.  Anna had brushed it off with her usual retort, “I just haven’t found the right one yet,” but the comment had struck a nerve.  She was twenty-eight and still single
with no prospects in sight.  That was unusual for someone who was not unattractive or otherwise undesirable.

Ironically enough, she had met
Vasily at the hospital Friday with the specific intention of avoiding the gaggle of grannies.  Now she wondered if that had been a mistake.  Sure, they would have chewed it over like a herd of camels at a peanut butter factory, and of course, they would be asking about The General every time she came home thereafter—peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth—but at least the taunting would stop.

Another
unforeseen side effect of her preventive medicine was worse than the contamination she tried to prevent.  Her date with Vasily had come to Akchurin’s attention.  It was as if the goddess of gossip were punishing her for bypassing the bench, for circumventing her altar.  Anna couldn’t win.

The ambulance bra
ked suddenly and Anna looked up with the realization that she had been dozing.  “What’s up?”

“Thought I saw a body by the side of the road, although it might have been a bear,” Vova replied, backing the ambulance up carefully.  “Probably a drunk that got hit by a car,
Dear, although I can’t imagine where he would have been drinking.  God knows we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

It seemed everyone was calling her “Dear” these days.  Anna didn’t like it because it made her feel that
people did not take her seriously.  Not that she should complain: with a last name that meant bunny rabbit, it could be worse.  And she couldn’t get upset with Vova; he was great.

Vova was her age, modestly attractive, and had a heart as big as Buddha.  He was also very gay.  While this might be her loss on one hand, on the other it made him an ideal companion for these outreach trips.  It was important to Anna to have a man along both for safety reasons and to help with the larger patients.  His sexuality actually proved to be a bonus as transportation hang-ups like last night’s blizzard were as common as the cold in rural Siberia.  She couldn’t imagine being stuck in a situation like that with Ruslan
, for example. 

Vova stopped the ambulance by the dark mound and they hopped out.  The arctic blast nearly blew Anna back into the vehicle as she pushed at the door.  Unless this guy was dressed as warmly as Professor Petrov had been, there wasn’t much hope for him—not that things had gone particularly well for Petrov either.

The mound was a man, and he did indeed appear to have been hit by a car.  Anna had seen enough blood to know what it looked like even when caked and frozen.  She rolled him over to check for a pulse and found a weak one.  “He’s alive.  Let’s get him in the back.”

With some effort—the man was wearing a lot of clothing—she and Vova managed to haul him onto a stretcher, which they then lifted into the back of the ambulance.  They both hopped in after him and quickly pulled the doors shut behind.

Their patient was wearing what appeared to be a sleeping bag on top of his other winter clothes.  It was obvious that he had not planned to use it for sleeping, however, because he had cut holes for his arms, legs, and face. 
There must be a story behind that
.

After Vova removed the bag Anna began cutting away at the man’s hat, which was stuck to his head by a thick matting of congealed blood.  “Looks like his injuries were caused by an animal attack rather than a car,” she said, examining an ugly, deep gash in his head.

“And the smell of vodka is conspicuously absent,” Vova added.

The man’s eyes suddenly sprang open and he sat up.  “What?  Where?  Where am I?  Who are you?”  Anna thought he sounded afraid.

“Lie down and relax,” she said.  “You’re safe, but you need to rest.”

“Where am I,” he repeated with more force, ignoring both her words and Vova’s attempt to nudge him back into a lying position.

She would have been frightened if he didn’t look so pathetic.  “You’re on an ambulance.  We’re doctors.”

“An ambulance?  Why aren’t we moving?”

Perceptive guy
.  “We can’t drive and look after you at the same time.  But now that you’re awake, we can get moving again.”  She nodded to Vova.

“Maybe I should strap him down Anna, so he doesn’t hurt himself while we drive.” Vova nodded as he spoke.

“I’ll take care of it,” she replied, using a tone that she knew he would not argue with.

“Where are we headed,” the patient asked.

“Academic City.  It will take us about two hours,” Vova shouted back from the front.

At the mention of the city a look of concern flashed across the patient’s face.  Then, as Anna moved to give him a shot he grabbed her wrist with a speed that was unexpectedly fast for someone in his condition.

“What’s that,” he asked, looking her in the eye.

“Antibiotics.”

He released her arm.

“I would also like to give you pain killers and a sedative.”

“Pain killers would be most appreciated.  No sedative though.”

“All right.”  She would crank up the
pain killers—he could clearly use them—and the effect would be the same.

“Thank you. 
And sorry about that.  I’m … I’ve had a bad day.”

Anna smiled but did not reply.

He continued.  “Do you happen to have anything to drink?”

Anna poured him a cup of tea from her thermos, and then on instinct pulled a couple of apples out of her handbag.  Without further comment she started tending to the wound on his head.

He smiled at her then gulped down the tea.  She refilled his mug while he started on the apples.  When they were gone he turned to her as though they were having tea in her kitchen and spoke.  “You’ve been very kind to help me.  Thank you.  I was beaten up by the KGB, but managed to escape before they took it too far.  If they find me again, I’m afraid they’ll spoil all your fine work.”

His last few words faded, as though he was getting very sleepy.  That scared him and he seemed to fight it, but he was beyond fighting.  “It’s just the pain killers,” she whispered, and lowered him gently back onto the stretcher. 

Anna strapped him in for safety’s sake, gave him a couple more shots to help fight shock and inflammation and went back up to sit in the passenger seat.

“KGB got him, eh,” Vova said.  “The
animals.”

Anna just nodded.  The KGB were supposedly
there to help Russia’s citizens, but unfortunately
help
was defined by a very specific subset of Russians.

Although they had never discussed it, she was sure that as a homosexual Vova had a store of personal knowledge about incidents where “the KGB got him.”  Perhaps her patient was gay.  Even through the dirt and stubble, she could see that he had a handsome face.  The stubble indicated that he had been out there for a while, and she hoped he wasn’t an escaped criminal.  It occurred to her that if he
was, he probably would have pretended to be a wounded hunter rather than someone fleeing the authorities.

Anna had gone through a bad experience with the KGB herself.  Her neighbor Sveta had received a knock at the door in the middle of the night and her husband had been led away, never to return.  It happened all too often.  In their quest for “state security” the KGB followed a standard operating procedure.  As soon as they found one person
remotely connected to a “crime” they would literally beat a list of cohorts out of the poor soul.  Then they would round up the people on that list and repeat the same ceremony.  Eventually they would find whoever it was they were looking for, but a trail of suffering innocents would pave the way.  Sometimes the interrogation would go too far, and the person would never make it home from that knock in the middle of the night.  That was what happened to her neighbor’s husband.  Poor Sveta didn’t learn what happened until the morgue called a week later looking for burial money.

Anna had suffered months of nightmares after Sveta cried herself to sleep that night in her arms.  Ever since then, every nocturnal noise sounded like the infamous knock-at-the-door.  When you got
the knock, there was no way to win.  The only question was how badly you would lose.  Anna didn’t know for sure how she would hold up under questioning, but she didn’t think she would cope very well at all. 
Let’s change the subject
.

The Russian language and culture are replete with examples of malicious coincidence and its resulting superstitions.  While Anna might take an extra step to avoid walking under a ladder or shaking hands through a doorway, she had always considered superstitions more the crutches of the weak minded than the wisdom of the ancients.  Nonetheless, the first thought to pop into her mind after Vova’s next
words was
speak of the Devil and he appears
.

“Anna, there’s a road block ahead.”

“KGB?”

“Who else.”

“Slow down.  Give me a minute.”  She went back to her unconscious patient and began wrapping his head in gauze.  Half way through the procedure Anna realized just what it was she was doing and was surprised by her own bravery and resourcefulness.  Instincts were funny that way.  Then she shouted forward to Vova, “He’s got an unidentified disease.  Could be very contagious.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Anna made it back to her seat just as they pulled to a halt in front of the jeep with the flashing lights.

Two young men in KGB uniforms got out and one of them came around to each window.  They looked cold and bored, but the one on her side seemed to perk up when he got a good look at her face.

“Good morning.  What are you doing out here so early,” the soldier at Vova’s window asked while his companion strained his neck to see through Anna’s window into the back of the ambulance.

“We got stuck overnight in Krasnoe because of the storm.  Now we’re trying to get back to Academic City before work.”  Then he added, “We’re physicians.  Went down there for the day to help people who couldn’t make it to the hospital.”

The soldier rolled his eyes.  “Who’s in back?”

“Don’t know his name, has a nasty disease though.  Don’t know exactly what it is but it’s ugly and looks like it could be contagious so we’re taking him back with us for further testing.  We like to get a head start in situations like this in case things are going to start dropping off people.”  Vova glanced down at the soldier’s crotch.

“You say you don’t know his name?”

“It’s
Professor Arkady Petrov,” Anna answered. 
Was it okay for her to butt in like that?  Or did it make her appear nervous?
  A moment later she got her answer.

“We’re going to have to take a look at him.”