The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. You cannot imagine what it was like.”

“I do not have to use my imagination; I fought in the Battle of Stalingrad.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Seeing one horror does not mean understanding another, and I will not force my wife to relive what happened. When you have a family, nothing else matters, not me or you or this country. I did what I must to get them away from the atrocities, and I bear the scars; they are mine alone now,” he said, lifting his shirt to show an ugly, puckered scar running from his right armpit right down his side.

“And you chose Russia? You chose here?” Klitchkov asked incredulously.

Gabriel dropped his shirt and laughed bitterly. “What I paid the captain of the cargo ship for and what he delivered were two very different things, sir. He told us he would sail to Greece, but the ship never docked there and he kicked us out on the eastern bank of the Black Sea. We had no money and nowhere to go, and were shunned by many towns until we found ourselves here. I have done the best I could. I intended to get enough money to move us to Europe, but nobody will give me proper work. But both of our children are Russians; they were born here; they are your own,” Gabriel finished.

The colonel raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak, before stopping.

“Ah… It is a touching story, of course.” It did not look like it had touched him at all. If anything, it seemed to Gabriel, it looked to have amused him. “However, it doesn’t escape the fact that you and your wife have no more right to be here, than that capitalism nonsense.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“But there is a way to overlook this, indeed a way to greatly improve the quality of your lives,” he continued, enjoying the control he had over the room. “As you may be aware, the Soviet Union is in the midst of a situation that the Americans,” he spat the word out as if it was dirty, “have called the Cold War. If they really want to know about cold, they should spend a couple of days in our Siberia! Right?” He said, laughing again at his own joke, before stopping abruptly, his face suddenly serious.

“To go straight to the point, we know that your son,” he paused to flick through a notepad, “ah, Nikita? Yes? I do enjoy how you have given your children such thoroughly Russian names!” He grinned. “Yes, Nikita is fifteen years old, and in a position to be of much assistance to this great nation. In return for his services, we could relocate you to somewhere where your neighbours may be… warmer.”

Gabriel gave a feeble smile and fixed his strong gaze on the colonel. “Mr… Colonel Klitchkov, I don’t have much, anything, in this world. I don’t have any argument with anyone. All I have is my family. I will never give up my son.”

“That’s a very admirable sentiment Mr Allochka, but ask yourself — what sort of life are you giving your family? You live in poverty, outcast by everyone in this town and subjected to daily abuse, with no prospects for the future. You would give your children no hope?”

“I would let them make their own choices, a chance to choose a better life than this.”

“Then it seems like we want the same thing for your family, Mr Allochka.”

“I do not think so, sir. You would take my child away from me.”

“Yes, and make a man of him.”

“But what kind of man?”

“A Russian! The best kind of man!”

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes. His wife, Sophie, was silently shaking her head.

“I have to say no, Colonel. I will never give up my son,” he repeated.

The colonel let out an exasperated noise, but before he could say anything, a small but firm voice interrupted from the doorway. “I will go with you.”

They all turned to see the teenage boy standing almost silhouetted in the doorway. He had a short Afro, and an honest, determined face. Blood was trickling down his cheek from a fresh cut at his temple.

“Whatever it is you want, sir, I will do it,” he added defiantly.

Gabriel stood up hastily, putting Milena gently on the bed. “No, Nikita, you will not.”

Nikita pointed at his temple. “Father, look at this. A stone thrown by an old woman in the town hit me, just for trying to find some firewood in the woods. These people hate us! What happens when they turn on Milena too? I will do this to protect our family.”

“You are a fifteen-year-old child; it is us who should protect you. You know nothing of the world, and even less what they are asking of you.”

Ignoring his father, Nikita turned to the colonel. “What protection will you offer to my family?” he asked.

The colonel had been watching the proceedings with a slightly amused expression. He enjoyed that this filth thought they had any choice.

“My, my, you are a determined boy, Nikita. The Soviet Union rewards determination. This is excellent news. Of course, for the service you will do to your country we will reward you and your family most handsomely. A proper home away from angry eyes, and food all your bellies!” He bent down to Milena. “Would you like to have some nice cake in your belly, Milena?” he asked, showing all of his tobacco-stained teeth.

Sophie Allochka quickly pulled Milena to her. “Please do not try to bribe my children, Colonel,” she said haughtily.

“Of course not, Mrs Allochka! I only want to help your family. Da, Nikita, not only will we give your family a home, but even Russian citizenship. Mother Russia always looks after those who seek to