William Wu - Dictator

“Are you saying that shelter will be difficult to find?” Hunter asked.

“No. Actually, thousands of people are living in schools and empty warehouses. Soviet factories have been moved east across the Ural mountains to get them away from the Germans, so lots of big buildings are empty. We should be able to join a crowd of people in one of them. After all, it’s only early evening. Everyone will still be awake.”

“Good.”

By the time the team had entered the city streets, Hunter could see that the city was still active in its relative darkness. Crowds of people were trudging home on the sidewalks from their daily responsibilities, a few laughing and talking but most quiet and exhausted. From behind all the drapes and shades in the windows, hints of light revealed that people were inside.

Jane wrinkled her nose. “What’s the smell? Something’s burning?”

“Coal,” said Judy. “They burn it to heat buildings. The smoke always smells like that.”

“Yuck.”

Judy nudged Hunter and pointed down one block, where a big truck with an open back had stopped. A large group of people, mostly women, were climbing down and going into the entrance of a building. Hunter changed direction and led his companions down to the entrance.

Two dour men of average height but substantial girth stood by the doors in heavy overcoats and scarves, watching the crowd stream inside.

“We should pose as a family,” said Judy quietly. “They will view us better that way.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Given our looks, let’s present you and Jane as brother and sister; I’ll be a cousin. And you must have some reason for not being in the army.”

“What reason will work?”

“Can you affect an exaggerated limp?”

“Yes, I understand.” Hunter nodded and began to limp on his left leg. “This will fit perfectly with our possession of the military duffel bag. And it is time for us to switch to speaking Russian.”

When the team reached the entrance to the darkened building, one of the men guarding it moved to block his way. “Yes, comrade? I have not seen you before.”

“Our home is destroyed,” said Hunter. “We need a place to stay.” He hefted the duffel bag on the strap. “We have no other belongings now but this.”

“Where was this home?” The other man glared suspiciously at him.

“To the west of Moscow,” said Judy quickly. “On a collective farm. Overrun by the Germans, now.”

Hunter could see that she had been caught off guard by the question. He did not respond, concerned that he might contradict something she would say. She still had the best chance of answering to the guard’s satisfaction.

“The Germans have been in their positions for weeks. Where have you been until tonight?”

“A warehouse,” said Judy. “It was too crowded. They threw us out.”

“You are husband and wife?” The guard looked back and forth between them.

“No,” said Hunter. He nodded toward Jane. “This is my sister.”

“Yes,” said Jane. “Our parents died in the war.”

“I’m his cousin,” Judy added.

“And where did your parents die?” Jane hesitated. “I was so upset when it happened…” She turned to Judy uncomfortably.

“We were on the run,” said Judy, with more confidence now. “They were killed somewhere along the highway from Minsk, near Smolensk.”

“And where exactly was your collective farm?”

“Just south of Smolensk.”

“What was it called?”

“The Smolensk Collective Number Two.” The guard studied her face for a moment, apparently without more questions.

“You sustained an injury, comrade,” said the other man, more patiently. “What happened?”

“My cousin was wounded in the Battle of Leningrad,” Judy said proudly. “He was nearly killed. When he could walk, they sent him home to take care of us.”

“Welcome, comrade,” said the second man. “Let them in, Yevgeny. We cannot have them freeze all night.”

The first man nodded and stepped aside.

Hunter led his team inside. They found themselves in a very large, single room that took up the entire ground floor. Two stories high, with windows that had been painted black, it was already crowded. A few people had brought chairs or cots, but most were spreading blankets on the bare wooden floor to mark their personal territory.

“Looks like a warehouse,” said Judy. “It probably housed industrial materials that were shipped east with the factory equipment.”

“People are favoring the sides and the front,” said Hunter. “The back corners are not taken yet. Let us move there quickly and take one for its relative privacy.”

Hunter patiently picked his way through the crowded room to the right rear corner. It was far from the heating vents, but not too cold. He set down the duffel bag.

“Over there,” said Judy, pointing across the room. “Look. An old woman is passing out blankets to some people.”

“We should get some for the two of you,” said Hunter.

“You stay here,” said Judy. “Protect our space. I’ll get them.”

“Take Jane,” said Hunter. “I shall watch you carefully from here.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re in immediate danger.” Judy headed for the blankets and Jane followed her.

Hunter observed that his concern was overstated. Under stress, humans could be short-tempered and violent, but the people here had fallen into a regular routine, beaten down by the hardships of war and exhaustion. From what Judy had said, this society itself also regimented them severely.

Judy and Jane returned with some blankets.

“They’re wool,” Judy said, handing one to Hunter. “Scratchy, but clean and heavy.”

“I’m not complaining,” said Jane. “It’s the only padding we’ll have on the floor, too.”

“Use mine for your padding as well.” Hunter gave his back to Judy.

Judy and Jane spread out the blankets to sit on. Hunter sat down on the bare floor and leaned back against the cold wall. He saw that no one was close enough to overhear him if he spoke quietly.

“Judy, where would MC 4 go in order to prevent the most harm with the least effort?”

“Well…” Judy glanced around. Then she whispered, switching to English. “He might try to stop the NKVD-the Soviet secret police. They act paranoid, and are irrationally cruel to everyone. Their own people are their primary target. They are always hunting out potential security risks to the government, but that often means execution or lifetime imprisonment for people who merely ask for information or express an opinion. And for talking about them, English is even better than Russian. We can’t chance being understood.”

“Are they actually a greater danger than the upcoming battle itself?” Hunter shifted to English, leaning close to her and lowering his own voice to a whisper.

“The battle will cause a lot of suffering,” said Judy. “But the Soviets will win the Battle of Moscow. It’s their first major victory of the war.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to speak English?” Jane whispered, glancing around. “If we’re heard, they’ll know we aren’t Russian peasants.”

“For the NKVD, yes,” said Judy. “We’re better off raising suspicion than being overheard clearly.”

“On this subject, then, we shall risk it,” whispered Hunter. “However, Judy, the Soviets do not know they are going to win. MC 4 mayor may not know; I cannot assume his motives or information in choosing to come here. Jane has surmised that he has come here because of his responsibility for ethics in Mojave Center, but we have no certainty. So my question about the danger from the NKVD still stands.”