firewood with them, preparing computer lessons, or lending a hand to build the cafeteria. For at least a brief time, everyone had been young and enthusiastic and full of good spirits, calling the boat he leaned against Vasily’s Ark because back then it was the largest boat, the one used to bring supplies over from the left bank. Better days when he brought dogs and cats from the left bank for pets. Unfortunately, all but a few cats remained because cats could hide themselves and sometimes birthed kittens beneath the buildings.
The aluminum skiff had outgrown its usefulness when the gray inflatables arrived. The inflatables were larger, faster, and stable in currents and waves. The inflatables, with their powerful outboard engines, were symbols for all that had gone wrong at the compound. On one side, Lyashko’s men had isolated the peninsula from the mainland with their fence and guards, and on the other, across the reservoir, they had taken over an old campground. Most inflatables stayed there, at the campground dock, with only one or two here on the beach.
Another change that came with Lyashko’s men was the increased use of drugs, especially when indoctrinating new arrivals. Vasily disliked the use of drugs because he knew it was spreading, being used even to sedate the handicapped they were supposed to care for with open hearts, according to the man he once admired.
Pyotr Alexeyevich Andropov was proud to share the first and second name with Pyotr Alexeyevich Romanov, Peter I the Great. Like Peter I, he was tall and with silver hair, an imposing figure to one and all, even Vasily, who knew more of his past than the others did.
Vasily knew Pyotr was once a trafficker of teenagers. Vasily knew Pyotr kidnapped teenagers and allowed traffickers down the chain to threaten their families. But Pyotr insisted he’d experienced an epiphany. Vasily knew Pyotr faked religiosity and justified it with his so-called good works in caring for Chernobyl offspring brought to the compound. Vasily had known Pyotr when the Chernobyl offspring were grotesque children no one wanted. Now they were in their twenties and needed more care than ever. Especially the ones who were psychotic.
As Vasily stared at the stars, he wondered if he could ever speak, as they say, out of two heads, as Pyotr did. From one head, Pyotr spoke of God as a comrade who sent him prompts from some kind of heavenly computer network. Perhaps Pyotr did talk to God on a heavenly Internet. Perhaps everyone did. From the other head, Pyotr spoke of God’s representatives on Earth as fools; all organized religion nothing but hypocrisy.
When Pyotr began the compound, he and Vasily had long discussions. Vasily felt Pyotr was being honest with him. These days, the discussions were not as long and, Vasily felt, not as honest. Yet Pyotr still insisted on these discussions with only Vasily. No one else on the peninsula shared this access to Pyotr in the main cabin on designated evenings.
A bat flew over, blocking out stars and agitating the air near Vasily’s face. Then there was another sound, the unmistakable flip-flopping of sandals coming down the path. Vasily slid off the boat and took a step away. He saw Ivan walk onto the beach, the green Soviet Army trench coat Ivan had recently begun wearing visible in the moonlight. The greeting Ivan gave—raising his arms like Pyotr giving a blessing—made Ivan look like an officer addressing his troops.
“Greetings, Comrade Vasily.”
“You are insane,” said Vasily.
“Of course I am,” said Ivan. “We are all insane. We save children and bring them here to become servants of Chernobyl cripples because we do not appreciate the making of art films. Good versus evil. Enemy entrails spread across this sandy beach. Their blown-off pricks like aborted fetuses bleeding in the sun.”
“You are at home here,” said Vasily.
“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Ivan.
“The vengeance is bloody, and you enjoy
The aluminum skiff had outgrown its usefulness when the gray inflatables arrived. The inflatables were larger, faster, and stable in currents and waves. The inflatables, with their powerful outboard engines, were symbols for all that had gone wrong at the compound. On one side, Lyashko’s men had isolated the peninsula from the mainland with their fence and guards, and on the other, across the reservoir, they had taken over an old campground. Most inflatables stayed there, at the campground dock, with only one or two here on the beach.
Another change that came with Lyashko’s men was the increased use of drugs, especially when indoctrinating new arrivals. Vasily disliked the use of drugs because he knew it was spreading, being used even to sedate the handicapped they were supposed to care for with open hearts, according to the man he once admired.
Pyotr Alexeyevich Andropov was proud to share the first and second name with Pyotr Alexeyevich Romanov, Peter I the Great. Like Peter I, he was tall and with silver hair, an imposing figure to one and all, even Vasily, who knew more of his past than the others did.
Vasily knew Pyotr was once a trafficker of teenagers. Vasily knew Pyotr kidnapped teenagers and allowed traffickers down the chain to threaten their families. But Pyotr insisted he’d experienced an epiphany. Vasily knew Pyotr faked religiosity and justified it with his so-called good works in caring for Chernobyl offspring brought to the compound. Vasily had known Pyotr when the Chernobyl offspring were grotesque children no one wanted. Now they were in their twenties and needed more care than ever. Especially the ones who were psychotic.
As Vasily stared at the stars, he wondered if he could ever speak, as they say, out of two heads, as Pyotr did. From one head, Pyotr spoke of God as a comrade who sent him prompts from some kind of heavenly computer network. Perhaps Pyotr did talk to God on a heavenly Internet. Perhaps everyone did. From the other head, Pyotr spoke of God’s representatives on Earth as fools; all organized religion nothing but hypocrisy.
When Pyotr began the compound, he and Vasily had long discussions. Vasily felt Pyotr was being honest with him. These days, the discussions were not as long and, Vasily felt, not as honest. Yet Pyotr still insisted on these discussions with only Vasily. No one else on the peninsula shared this access to Pyotr in the main cabin on designated evenings.
A bat flew over, blocking out stars and agitating the air near Vasily’s face. Then there was another sound, the unmistakable flip-flopping of sandals coming down the path. Vasily slid off the boat and took a step away. He saw Ivan walk onto the beach, the green Soviet Army trench coat Ivan had recently begun wearing visible in the moonlight. The greeting Ivan gave—raising his arms like Pyotr giving a blessing—made Ivan look like an officer addressing his troops.
“Greetings, Comrade Vasily.”
“You are insane,” said Vasily.
“Of course I am,” said Ivan. “We are all insane. We save children and bring them here to become servants of Chernobyl cripples because we do not appreciate the making of art films. Good versus evil. Enemy entrails spread across this sandy beach. Their blown-off pricks like aborted fetuses bleeding in the sun.”
“You are at home here,” said Vasily.
“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Ivan.
“The vengeance is bloody, and you enjoy
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