When we come through those towns, we usually get lucky and find food, water, and shelter. For the most part, we're utterly miserable, though. Karsten still won't shut up, especially after he was fed and watered. He is wearing our last nerves thin.
We encounter no people, until we are well into the second week of our trek when we turn a corner and suddenly find a roadblock blocking both lanes. After a short discussion, we decide that a.) these soldiers are Russian and b.) we'll try our luck and approach them, since making contact with the Russian army was our goal all along.
Six soldiers lean bored against wooden blocks. Two of them smoke cigarettes while talking animatedly with each other until they see us. As soon as they do, ARs go up, as do our hands.
Words are muttered in Russian, which I don't understand, the soldiers wave their guns aggressively into our faces, something I do understand. Colin and I make a show of putting our guns down carefully.
"Do you speak English?" Colin asks.
Suddenly Karsten pipes up and starts talking to the soldiers in Russian. Colin and I stare at him open-mouthed.
He grins. "What? In Germany, we're required to learn multiple languages in school; one of my choices was Russian. Who would have thought I'd actually make use of it one day, heh?"
We shake our heads and stand back as Karsten speaks with the soldiers. I have no idea what is said and can only hope that he's not as annoying in Russian as he is in English.
Finally, somebody steps towards us, his hand outstretched. "Andrei Litvin. Lieutenant. The German says you need help?"
Relieved to find somebody who speaks English, Colin answers. "Yes, thank you. This is Commander Vivian Allister, and I'm Lieutenant Commander Colin Thornton, with the US Militia." I watch Litvin's face, which remains neutral.
"We got separated from our troops and need to get back to Alaska," Colin explains.
"Separated how?" Litvin looks at us suspiciously. "Do you have American troops on European soil?"
Litvin is about Colin's size, the two men assess each other, with a sigh, I step in; I did acquire some experience toning testosterone-charged situations down. "No, it's a long story, but we're working with the President of the United States; I believe your President knows our names if you could take us to him?"
At that, the young Lieutenant laughs. He turns towards his men and says something in Russian that makes all of them laugh so hard, some are slapping their legs.
Karsten looks at me aghast. "You can't just... did you just.... demand to see the Russian President?"
I give Colin a questioning glance, who seems amused, and cocks his head to the side. Whatever, nobody has ever accused me of being diplomatic. I wait until the laughter dies down. "Lieutenant, please. I know it sounds outrageous. Trust me, I know. But I'm serious."
Litvin's lips curl up again, and I brace myself for another round of laughter, but instead, he nods at me.
"You wait here." He orders.
We watch him turn back towards his comrades, talking into something like a walkie talkie which I guess came back in fashion after the cell phones were finally declared too dangerous.
"You really need to work on your diplomacy skills." Colin accuses me.
I roll my eyes and huff. "Whatever, you and that Lieutenant were about to butt heads."
"Is that what you thought?" He looks amused. "I wish you had a bit more trust in my communication skills; I won't get into a fistfight with everybody I have a little more heated argument with."
I give him my best really eye-brow arch, and he has the good grace to look somewhat sheepish. Karsten looks at us like he's lost. About twenty minutes later, Litvin returns to us. "I talked to my commanding officer, General Bulygin. He wants me to take you to him while he'll make some inquiries about your story."
He yells at one of the other soldiers, who comes and collects our weapons. "If you please. I'll need to pad you down."
Colin steps forward, arms raised, and nods at Litvin, whose face turns red when it's my turn to be frisked. I grin at Colin; whose eyes sparkle in amusement over the obvious discomfort of our new Russian friend.
"You're good to go. I have jeep over there, please, I will take you." Litvin waves us towards a larger Humvee and opens the doors for us. I let Colin take the front seat while Karsten, two other Russian soldiers, and I share the spacious back rows. Without another word, Litvin takes off.
It feels good to be able to see the scenery pass us by in a blur for a change; the Humvee is just eating up the miles. Despite me being in the best shape of my life for the past months, my feet are killing me. There is something about nonstop walking that wears you down, no matter how good a shape you're in.
It takes about two hours until we reach a large army base, looking as busy as an anthill. Hundreds of people in uniforms mill about, jeeps and Humvees go this way and that. It almost looks like they are preparing to go to war.
"Drills." Litvin smiles and speaks for the first time since we got into the Humvee.
He stops the vehicle in front of a large building; Colin turns towards Karsten. "You better stay out here."
Litvin says something to the two other soldiers before turning to us. "Don't worry about your friend; my men will take him to get something to eat and cleaned up. We'll take care of him."
"Thank you." I smile.
"Good luck with that," Colin says with a smirk, earning him a jab in the ribs from me.
Litvin leads us inside a large building, which doesn't look much different from the army offices I've visited in the states, except I have no idea what the letterings mean.
