Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 6. Chapter 6

As upsetting as what I’d read the night before was, I woke up feeling pretty good! Only, Peter wasn’t where he was supposed to be. We all move in our sleep and he just had…rolled away from me. It was no big deal, but he had rolled on his back and well…guys can snore. Yea, yea…the soft palate and whatever…on your back, you can snore. He was. It wasn’t loud like I’ve heard some. No freight train or inhaling of drapes or anything like that. I smiled at his content face as he slept. I carefully got closer to him resting my head on his bare chest to better hear his heartbeat. Slow, steady and strong. I thought I’d been in love before with Chuck, but…I never had any clue how I could feel about another human being. Completion was what I felt with him. Then his breathing changed and he stirred. The snore stopped and his arms came about me. He wasn’t even fully awake and still, he knew I was there and responded to that presence he knew.

“Was I snoring?” He asked lightly.

I squeezed him. “Absolutely and I don’t know a nicer sound.”

I heard Peter chuckle. “You’ve got it bad if you think snoring is nice.”

I moved up him. “There are times, you can be wrong, Peter. You’re wrong.” My fingers went in his chest hair as they tickled with the familiar path they traveled many times. “I love your snore. It tells me you’re here, alive and…” I shrugged, “snoring might be a problem later, but for now…don’t stop. I adore you, Peter.”

He smiled now. “I know. We are married now. You know that.”

“Yes. We are.” I smiled. “Reading what I did last night. I realized, there are some couples…Bren and Milo that are just made for each other.” I kissed him more gently probing his mouth gently. “Just like I know we are.”

“A part of each other.” Peter smiled kissing more. “This morning, I would like you to make love to me.”

“I love doing that!” I smiled.

We had a good evening and a great morning!

We were spending time with Grandma today, so we came down to breakfast to find Boris doing his thing as Yuri was on a laptop. Boris greeted us with his smile and said he’d make the coffee. He had to, I was afraid of that thing that made it. Boris wasn’t using the cable. The thing was, we never used the ones that used WiFi. We almost didn’t with the phones. We had a connection with the computers we used for the phones. Those wireless connections weren’t safe here, but he was using it. He was looking puzzled at something on his screen. I didn’t look at what he was looking at, I never pry. If I needed to know something, he’d tell me. Peter, did ask.

“Good morning, Boris, Yuri. How is the second happiest couple from Makarovia doing?” He as passed and looked at the screen. “Is this part of the investigation?”

Yuri nodded pointing to the screen. “I found…” he sighed. “I’m not sure, but…” he looked at Peter. “None of you use the WiFi. Is that correct?”

Peter frowned. “No. We use a closed system with WiFi. Our system.”

Yuri nodded, knowing we would never do whatever he was looking at. “Well, someone else is.” He frowned. “And has for a while.”

“Who!?” Peter asked.

I touched Peter. “He’ll tell us when he knows,” I said softly. I grinned. “Trust the man. You reminded me, now I’m reminding you.” I patted Peter’s arm.

Yuri chuckled as he nodded. “I have…a suspicion, who surprises me. Once I confirm…” he brightened. “Enjoy your day with your grandmother! I’m on this!”

“See!?” I said to Peter.

We had a good time with my grandmother.

Peter smiled as he saw me head back into the study. “Back to Milo?”

“You don’t mind, do you? He’s been dead a while.” I reminded him. “I just want to find out what happened.”

Peter nodded. “We know how it ends.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “It is that journey I’m interested in.”

I pulled up the file and I smiled. What had been written…and as I said. Milo was a brave, smart and beautiful man…with just dreadful handwriting. He’d written a few pages by the light of a single candle and the writing was bad. Only now were the pages looking like they were in a book, but the handwriting was only marginally better. It was the content I was interested in.

Saturday, 3 September 1938

Bren’s awake! We travel at night to avoid getting caught. Even in regular clothes…again, I had stolen them as well. I’m not a thief. We sort of standout due to the shaved heads, the shadows are better. We traveled back home to Berlin and yesterday I broke into my own house. The house I grew up in. I don’t know where my parents were and I don’t care to see them. Father was so angry, I’m not sure if he sent those Stormtroopers or not and I don’t care. I’m not the son they want…not the son he wants. It will start getting cooler this month. I don’t know if we dare go to Bren’s house. We need clothes. Warm clothes if I could find them. I left those dirty and smelly striped things across the bed. I wanted them to know what happened. If they were responsible…I didn’t want to think about that. I had to thank him for helping me with the possibility to help Bren. I was planning for my future when I agreed to the tour as I considered a future in medicine. Seeing that doctor or scientist telling about how superior we were as true Germans…he was the one that told me about the penicillin and even where he kept it. I knew of the lab he had at home, so he would have some there. He was going to perfect it, for use with our people. He was experimenting with other prisoners at the camps. They hadn’t even tested it on animals that much, but we were less than animals to them. I was careful, if I got caught, Bren would die. So would I. It seemed to be working on Bren. I got Bren and me hats to cover our heads. We couldn’t spend too much time. Anyone looking for us would come here to check.

Bren was no longer bleeding at all, but it would take time to heal physically. We both would have the injuries to our souls that would take much more time, but we swore to never to leave each other. We discussed where to go. Bren and I talked about heading south toward Switzerland. Getting back to Berlin had been hard from Bergen Belsen and that wasn’t that far. We had to get out of Germany! We considered west to France, but the Nazis were there, too. Every direction had Nazis! We were heading east. No place was safe. Poland was just as bad. Walking at night was the only way. Until our hair grew out…we hid where we could. Food. That was hard to get even by stealing it. You can’t steal what isn’t there. We stuck to the less occupied areas, as few as they were. The water near Berlin was Spree was heavily trafficked with ships and boats. The eastern border of Germany was closest. We didn’t follow Spree, but stuck near there. Bren was still weak and couldn’t move too fast. He needed food! The area was so heavily populated. There was no game available. I would settle for a stray dog or cat! Even a rodent, but we didn’t find any. Bren had to eat!

Thursday, 15 September 1938

It’s slow. I’m not sure where we are. Just east of Poznari in Poland. Not that far from Berlin. We stay away from the roads when we can. I found we are not the only ones on foot leaving. Tonight, I caught a rabbit! Yes! We can eat tonight! We have to be careful. Fires a night were lights that could be easily seen. We did in an abandoned building, a shed not even together very much. Our hair has begun to grow a little and now there was the chill in the air. Risking the fire did two things in feeding and keeping us warm. I skinned it with something sharp and metal and then cooked it on a stick. I kept Bren as warm as possible. He’s going to live. He has to. I tell him often and many, many times…none of what happened was his fault. He and I did nothing wrong. I would have done all I could to protect him and was sorry I couldn’t. Since that…horrible night, I was alarmed when I noticed him…go so deeply into himself, it was like…his body was there, but he wasn’t in it. Only with repeated kisses and touches can I get him out of this…thing. He trusts me. They raped more than his body.

We now were heading a little more south of our eastern journey. We will come to some mountains soon. Surely we’d find somewhere to hide there. What I had taken from that Nazi doctor/scientist is gone now. It was experimental. They were testing on animals now in England…so I was told. Germany was testing on prisoners before giving to Germans.

We were leaving the area they firmly controlled. Getting through Poland we would be in an area of dispute, but we couldn’t stay here.

“Am I interrupting?” Peter asked quietly from the doorway to our study.

Looking up, Peter, to me, was a vision. Dressed in pajama bottoms only, bare-chested with that great chest hair, but the way he said it…was sad. I got up and walked over. “I know…I’m a little obsessed with them.” But his eyes said…I nodded. “You’re jealous.”

Peter was at first…shocked? He was about to deny it but nodded. “I suppose I am.” He looked away a little. “It’s silly. To be jealous of men that are ghosts now.” He waved at the computer. “What you’re reading about happened…what...eighty years ago? Can I compete with ghosts?”

“You aren’t competing. You already won, Peter. I’m yours!” I assured pulling him into a kiss. The taste of his minty toothpaste reminded me I hadn’t done any of my evening rituals. Pulling him into an embrace I added. “You are feeling neglected, I am sooo sorry.” I kissed him again. “Anytime you want me…even if there is nothing in particular you want but to keep you company…let me know. You are my favorite person.” I waved at the computer. “They are close to Makarovia now…or they were in September 1938. I can’t wait to find out what happens. I’ll go get my breath as minty and fresh. I’ll get ready for bed. Pick something from your gift box.” I was about to leave and turned back. “Or you can read what I was sent so far. It’s still up. Start with August 29^th. I saved it on the computer.”

I did do what I promised, but coming back, I saw Peter was still reading as he wiped his face with the front and back of his hand from the tears that were coming. I smiled a little, coming over and bringing a tissue with me, sat with him in the chair and handed it to Peter.

“Thanks,” Peter said taking the tissue and wiped his face. “I read the letter in Makarovian. I knew what happened, but this…” he waved at the translation. “I didn’t know about this…other parts. I knew about the sodomy with the gun. Milo was used, too.”

I nodded stroking Peter’s hair but looking in his face. “Yes, he was. He doesn’t talk about an actual rape to him, but there were some pretty horrible things. Having to watch the man you love as he was raped? I don’t know how I could survive that. I went ballistic when Brad touched you on the crotch in Jocks.”

Peter looked at me and burst out laughing. “Yes, you did.” He kissed me. “I never told you this, but I was so proud of you that night!”

“No one touches my man,” I said in English simply smiling even doing the head swerving and a quick snap of my fingers in the style of many African American women. “Em hum.” I wasn’t African American and I sure as hell wasn’t female, but I think I did a good job imitating it.

Peter grinned and turned back. “Let me finish this and then…” he grinned at me. “The Earl of Stryia is requested to make love to Prince Petro.”

“I look forward to it.” I smiled. “But…” I said pulling his face back toward me. “I, Eric, will make love to you, Peter,” I said kissing him deeper, probing more. “I love you, Peter.”

Peter’s smile softened. “I know you do. I love you.”

“I know.” Again, I was about to get up and Peter stopped me from leaving. “Okay, I’ll stay! I’ll stay!”

Then he asked me to read with him the next entry.

Sunday, 2 October 1938.

We’re in the mountains now. It was hard on foot, but even harder for any military vehicles. We are in a cave. A mine. I didn’t think we’re in Ukraine yet, but I knew we should be out of Poland. It’s getting colder now as the snow was coming now. We had to find shelter. We haven’t seen hardly anyone for a day or so before as we stayed away from the roadways. There are the occasional patrols, but we hid from those. The voices were in German then. They are everywhere! Not in these mountains. The terrain was too steep in places. I was sure they did patrol, but in Ukraine, it was still an area of conflict. It only took a few minutes before we realized it had been a mine. From the look of it, that was a while ago. Bren and I looked for wood to burn while it was still daylight and for game. I feel like I’m a caveman. It got us out of the snow and wind. Yesterday, we were startled when a voice came from the entrance of the cave. It wasn’t speaking German! That was a plus! I didn’t recognize the language. It sounded Ukrainian, but not quite. We heard the footsteps and hid again deeper in the cave. The man stopped at the burned out wood from the fire we made last night and his eyes widened. A voice, it wasn’t German, but that Ukrainian sort of language asking something to the other man. He joined his friend and looked as surprised as his friend was.

“We know someone is there.” The man said in German! Then in French, Romanian and would have gone on. “We aren’t Nazis.” He said in German. “Do you need help?”

Bren poked me and pushed me a little. “We’re starving, Milo.” He whispered pleading. “They’re not Germans!”

“Why would they say it in German?” I asked.

“Ask him!” Bren said stepping out. “Fine, I will. We were Germans.” He said to this man. “We left Germany a few weeks ago.”

This new man nodded. “There have been others from there, Poland and all through Europe.” He looked at us sympathetically. “You look almost sick. I know you’re hungry.” The man smiled and pointed out of the cave. “It’s cold out there.”

“We’re fine,” I told the man not willing to trust yet.

“Milo,” Bren said to me and turned to these men. “We are hungry.”

The man smiled. “We can bring you something, but perhaps you should think about moving. This was a mine. They will be opening it again. There’s another that we can take you to.”

His friend said something to him in that language I didn’t understand. The man came back at him a little testily. The first man nodded. “You aren’t criminals.” He said telling us what the other man had said. “He wants to be sure.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “We have stolen on the way here because we had to, but we don’t kill or hurt anyone.”

The man that discovered us came toward us carefully. “I’m Symon.” He said offering his hand. “This is Boyko. He can speak some German, but…” he came closer and we backed away. “We won’t hurt you.”

“My name is Milo,” I said taking his hand. “This is Bren. We are hungry.”

Symon smiled. “I’ll send Boyko to get you something.” Then he said something to Boyko in that language again. “I was telling him I was going to take you to the mine we know. It was pretty tapped out. It won’t be open again.”

“That language,” I asked. “I sort of recognize it, but it’s not Ukrainian. This isn’t Ukraine?”

Symon grimaced. “That depends on what year it is.” He muttered. “Sometimes it is and sometimes it’s not. But it is always…” he waved at the cave, “welcome to Makarovia!”