The Eagle and the Wolf: Subtle Differences (343 hits)
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Submitted by HighVoltage900 (View user info) at 2007-07-16 09:22:56 EDT
The Eagle and the Wolf 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/109863
The Eagle and the Wolf 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/110036
For a moment that seemed to drag on forever, I couldn't think. I couldn't even move. Memories of intelligence briefings flickered through my mind. Names and faces of enemies, of people who were trying to tear down my home country, who were trying to actively destroy the freedoms and liberties I so dearly wanted to defend.
In the picture he had looked different, his face had been clean shaven, rather than covered in stubble, he had a mustache, instead of a bare upper lip, and his hair had been dyed a strawberry blonde color, but it was him. The moment he sat down close to me and I got a good look at his facial structure, it rang true in my mind.
He showed up on our radar in 1969 and was code named Timber Wolf, with his brother, a fellow KGB agent code named Gray Wolf, who was killed on April 16th, 1972 in the Nguyen Hue offensive in Vietnam.
And now the Timber Wolf was here, at my father's funeral, handing me flowers. An enemy of the state that I defend, and possibly a servant of the state that killed him.
He looked at me with intelligent brown eyes and a neutral face. I'm sure my face wasn't as blank as his.
"I uh...." I stammered. It was the last thing I had expected, so deeply lost in grief, so deeply hurt, I just didn't have the energy to try and be clever on the spot.
"When my brother Pyotr was killed, I remember sitting with my family for hours at his grave. Every year I came back on the same day, making the same trip, and pay respects to my brother." Timber Wolf said impassively as he looked on at my father's casket. I stopped gapping at him and let my vision wander back to the patch of ground I had been watching for some time now.
"Yeah. Things never really work out the way you expect." I said. My instincts and my heart were screaming.
THIS IS A TRAP! He is going to kill you! He killed your father! If you act now you might be able to kill him before any accomplices get you!
We both starred at our respective objects of interest for a moment in silence. My heart was pounding in my chest. I wanted to ask if he killed him, if he knew who killed him, I would torture him for that information, but I couldn't. Not now, and maybe not ever.
"You have a very pretty country at heart. Very warm, very different." He said finally.
"Different?" I asked.
"Erm.... How do you say... mixed?" He said searching for words. His English seemed quite good. It had a slightly British edge to it.
"Do you mean varied?" I said in Russian. He cracked a grin and turned to me.
"Yes. Varied. Many different things in this country. Mountains, deserts, beaches, plains, much like home." He said still smiling at my Russian. I paused.
"I know." I said. "Russia was very nice the last time I went there."
Pause.
"Not much for the modern architecture though." I said finally remembering the drab buildings that were being erected everywhere. Ugly things that took over the spots of historic buildings.
"I'm sorry?" He asked. A very British response, his file did say he had spent two years in Britain, a popular place for Soviet's to learn English without getting harassed too much.
"Never mind. Why are you here?" I asked finally, barely avoiding asking if he knew who destroyed my last close family member. He sighed and looked sadly at the ceiling of the funeral home.
"We are all just people. Each one of us is a person, but together we become soulless in the collective. Would you kill an innocent person? No of course not. But would you, as an agent of the CIA do something like that? It is much more likely." He began explaining. "Through the entirety of this whole... conflict... I would like to end up with some memories of me being truly human. Of some instances where I stepped out and stopped being a soldier for the cause, and was an individual."
I thought that over.
"But that is the exact opposite of what you are supposed to stand for. It's the exact opposite of your cause. Your cause is to give for all others, so that others may thrive equally isn't it?" I asked confused.
"Yes it is. That is my 'cause'. Or is my cause merely to better my country and through doing so, better myself in some small way? Don't the causes change many times over the years, but in the end it is still the same family who lives in the same farm generation after generation. I fight not for the cause as much as I do for the motherland, for home and for myself."
Fighting for home and fighting for the self. Why do I fight? Isn't it for the same thing? Isn't my home, my country in some way a reflection of myself?
"The betterment of others and the betterment of yourself go hand in hand I find. When you help others, it gives you a perspective on life that can make yourself into a better person. But a lot of times that path that helps others isn't clear." I said thinking of my days in the Army, remembering Vietnam and what a hell hole that was. For some reason, I felt that maybe my companion was thinking the same thing.
"It is not wrong to try and be a good person, but whenever you question the path you have to take to get to that point, it isn't normally the path you should take. The good path is unquestioned, for it needs no justification." He said reaching into one of the pockets of his over coat. He fished around inside of it for a moment before pulling out a few with a small numbered disk attached to it.
"This opens a locker at Union station. Inside is a plane ticket to Vera Cruz, Brazil, and information that will give you access to a Swiss bank account in which you will find $50,000. Why don't you take a long vacation to deal with your grief?" He asked me putting the key on top of the flowers he had set down beside me.
A plane ticket. Money. So they want me to leave, to be out of their hair. A long vacation, one that if I actually took it, I might never return.
The Timber Wolf got up and straightened his over coat.
"If not, I will be most disappointed. Despite the assignment you received earlier telling you to contact the British ambassador, I should let you know that he is under my protection, and will not be bullied." And with that he nodded respectfully at me, turned on his heel and walked out.
I sat there for a long while, thinking about my dad, thinking about the key, and thinking about the man I had just spoken to.
I thought for a long while, before getting up and leaving the key, flowers, and my grief on the bench in that funeral home.
User Reviews
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2007-07-16 17:39:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2007-07-16 09:57:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Aside from a few typos "gapping" and "starring", this was ok. Kind of a brief rest and explanation between action.
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Doubling of consonants? Admit it, HV: Caul wrote this piece.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-07-16 13:55:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2007-07-16 10:37:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by lover101 (user info) at 2007-07-16 09:58:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Susie_Derkins (user info) at 2007-07-16 09:57:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Aside from a few typos "gapping" and "starring", this was ok. Kind of a brief rest and explanation between action.
Submitted by RabiedRooster (user info) at 2007-07-16 09:48:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
*Tumbleweed*