S Ison - Russian Doomsday

Dina was careful. She never acted nor spoke vulgarly. Men tended to treat woman as they portrayed themselves. No man would tell his secrets to a contemptable tramp, and certainly no man in power. She was also very submissive and ultra-feminine.

It was her job to make him feel extremely masculine, and, therefore, able to share small secrets to impress her. She’d been taught all this. She’d been taught how to seduce a man or woman. She’d also been taught about sex and how to perform sex. She’d been well educated, and once more she wondered at her stupidity as an ignorant teen.

She’d been gulled into this by the Americans. She wondered if those agents were even alive still. She’d love to tell them now what she thought of their underhanded actions toward a young girl. Using her love and emotions for a boy to manipulate her. She’d tell them that they should be ashamed. She knew that would never happen, but she could always dream.

To date, there really hadn’t been a lot to pass along. But she had no timetable, no deadline. Only that she was to report anything she learned. If she came across intel during the course of her day, she passed that along as well. Knowing Borin was going to a meeting, she’d kept an eye on the memos that flew back and forth across her computer all day. She didn’t know how long she’d be at this assignment; it could be months, or years.

She’d been told that if it took ten years, then she’d be with him for ten years. She had already given a big chunk of her life to the United States. There were no retirement plans for a spy. Once more, she thought of disappearing. Perhaps she would start now. She had the earrings, which she could get a nice sum for. That would have to wait, however.

She hoped it wouldn’t take ten years. She didn’t know if she could stay with the man that long. She knew that, when he grew tired of her, she’d be gone, from the job and out of the company. She’d get new orders, but by then she’d have a plan in mind. She’d need a fake passport with a new identity. She knew of several people who dealt with that. She’d look into that. She also needed to move money around, have emergency cash on hand.

She’d think on it and start her planning. She was done being used. Perhaps she would leave before this assignment was done, not wait until its conclusion.

Margo was tired. At work they were pulling in all the boats and locking up most of the tourist accesses. She had part-time help now; most of the workers in the summer were high school students. But the season was closing for the lake and soon all would be quiet. She would then go to the office, and shift gears, working as a travel agent. She didn’t mind working indoors, and it gave her a chance to get off at a normal hour.

She fed the chickens, who acted like they were starving. The little bantam hen had hatched out three chicks, the other eggs hadn’t developed, and the chicks were scratching alongside their mother. She smiled as she watched them. They made her feel peaceful.

She looked out over the lake. The leaves had turned, brilliant oranges, reds, golds, and yellows. The air was crisp with a hint of winter and woodsmoke. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the late sun, its warmth caressing her face. A delicious shiver race through her body. This was her favorite time of the year.

She watched as the trees rained leaves when the breeze picked up, following their lazy circling descent to the ground, where they were piling up. She’d thought about raking them but had decided not to. It was useless work and a waste of energy. She’d rather let them rot and fertilize the ground and the trees.

The lake was quiet now, and she’d never before enjoyed such a peace here. Most of the tourists had gone, the first blush of autumn had past, and now the locals could enjoy the rest of the fall season before harsher weather intruded.

She and Pike were becoming closer. They spent many evenings talking about the future. One evening, she’d been surprised when he’d admitted he was still a virgin – after several glasses of wine. She’d looked at him closely, closer than she’d done before. She’d been shocked. She’d figured that, like most young men, he’d have been out there trying to date and screw every woman he could find. She’d been approached many times when she’d been out with friends. That’s just guys.

He was a good-looking man, tall, and broad across the shoulders. And he’d gained muscle and weight since coming here. He was doing a lot of outdoor work, getting the place ready for the possible end of days. He had been letting his hair grow longer. His hair was dark brown, but now had lighter streaks from being out in the sun, like her own. He looked like a taller, broader version of Joseph Gordon Levitt, only with a beard and long hair.

He usually kept his hair in a neat low ponytail, though she liked it when he let it hang loose at the end of the day. She knew when he was frustrated because he tended to pull at his hair. He had strong features, blocky eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips. Handsome indeed. Once more, she examined her feelings for him.

The imminent threat of POSEIDON had passed, and now they were working to prepare further. The frantic rush had slowed down with so many things accomplished. Each day they went to their jobs, and then, when home, they had their chores. They were friends and housemates.

Pike was still a geek, watching horrible SyFy movies. She usually fell asleep on the couch while he watched. But now that they were at the cabin, they were beginning to grow out of the need for electronics and had begun to shift ever so subtly toward the land and its rhythms. All of their off time was spent outside, working and prepping.

Pike had become very handy, and spent at least one to two hours a day splitting firewood. They’d also had a cord of wood delivered. Once they’d got that split to the size they wanted and stacked it, they’d ordered another. She had tried her hand at splitting wood and found it was a lot of hard work. Pike made it look easy, but it really wasn’t. He had real strength behind the swings that usually split the wood in one strike.

Most of their time was spent doing hard physical work. They’d dug up and tilled up the garden by hand. They’d bought nightcrawlers and laced the garden area with them. Come the spring, the ground should be richer. They planned to shovel the chicken poop from the coop into the garden before snowfall.

They had also begun to fill up thirty-gallon plastic containers with soil. They’d fill an old rusted wheelbarrow, take it to the container located deep in their woods, and fill it. It took time, but they had seven containers out there, two hundred gallons of rich, safe soil with worms. They’d cut dime-sized holes into the bottoms of the containers, though they didn’t know if that would help keep the worms alive.

There were endless lists to complete, but they were slowly checking off item they felt they needed or needed to do. Pike was her constant companion, and they had quiet times and chatty times. She noticed that he sat closer to her on the couch now, at times touching her hand or patting her back. She smiled gently. She’d always known he’d had a crush on her, and she knew now that he loved her.

But now, she thought, perhaps she was falling in love with him. She knew she had to make the first move. He’d never dare.

It was funny. She’d never thought of him as anything other than as a friend. But the more she got to know him, the more she cared about him and liked him. She really liked the man he’d become. He made her feel safe and cared for. She wasn’t used to making the first move, though. It just wasn’t her way. Who knew. She might just change that for him. She grinned, hearing his truck. Maybe soon.