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Red Death

Ch. 492

A story about overthrowing the Soviet Union The formatting may be a little bit off but 100 time better than SBYNH formatting

Red Death

 

            The waves of the Black Sea crashed against the bright yellow sand along the shore. Boris was rocking back and forth in his hand-crafted, mahogany rocking chair. The mahogany wood was beautifully crafted in the rainforests of Brazil and got shipped to him while on assignment to spy on the Department of Defense in America.

            “Hey Boris!” exclaimed the mailman. “Long time no see. I haven’t gotten a piece of mail addressed to you for a while now!”

            “Oh hey Mikhail!” stated Boris, “What do you have for me?”

            “There is a piece of mail in here addressed from the Kremlin in Moscow,” the mailman retorted.

            Mikhail walked up the rickety steps of Boris’s beach shack and gave him the letter. Boris began to open up the letter.

            “Hey did you hear about that famine in Uzbekistan?” asked Mikhail.

            “Yeah, already 10,000 people dead in Tashkent and even more in Samarkand.”

            “Well I’ve got to get going!” the mailman proclaimed.

            “Bye!”

            Boris opened up the letter with his Father’s antique letter-opener from the Tibet.

            The letter read:

           

            To: Boris Yaltsavshchin

            From: Soviet Department of Justice

 

            On June 9, 1963 at 10:31 AM. Boris Yaltsavshchin’s Mother, Alyona Yaltsavshchin was executed for crimes of conspiracy against the government.

 

            “Wait a second. That can’t be!” Boris yelled out loud. “How could the government? How could she have committed conspiracy? How?”

            He broke down sobbing. His tears were as blue as the now nonexistent Aral Sea. His face was turning red from all of the tears. Tears running down his face onto the rocking chair and into the deck.

            “This can’t be!” he yelled while crying.

            A seagull on the fence flew away from the shrieking of sadness.

            A while later Boris was on his bed sobbing. He took out a picture of his Mom’s wedding photo from a box and put it on the bed stand. Alyona and his father, Vlad, in the picture were smiling as they had just completed their vows. Alyona was a wearing a long white dress flowing down to the ground. Vlad was wearing a tuxedo with a rose on it.

            “I need to do something about this. I need to avenge my Mother,” Boris thought. “But… the government is extremely brutal. I have first-hand experience with working for them. They had me ruthlessly spy on the US, Canada, and France. Once they find out the slightest thing about me wanting to destroy them, they will just crush me.”

            Boris got up from his bed and went to his phone. His hands shaked as he dialed the number of his Father. About to tell him the news he just received.

            “Dad.”

            “What?”

            Boris proceeded to cry into the muffle of the phone.

            “What?”

            Boris answered still sobbing, “Did you get the news?”

            “Umm? What news? What happened?”

            “Mom’s dead!”

            Vlad retorted, “What? How? She just left for a trip up to Moscow with her friends!”

            “The government executed her,” replied Boris.

            “What?!” exclaimed Vlad.

            “I’ll read off the letter. To: Boris Yaltsavshchin, from: Soviet Department of Justice On June 9, 1963 at 10:31 AM. Boris Yaltsavshchin’s Mother, Alyona Yaltsavshchin was executed for crimes of conspiracy against the government.”

            Vlad didn’t answer. He then slowly started to bawl. The call then was closed, probably by the call reaching the allotted amount of time the government gave.

            Boris went to bed. The knitted blanket he got three years ago as a present when he visited Irkutsk for leisure, he covered himself up in. “I can't believe I can’t do anything,” Boris whispered to himself.

 

            The next day was a bright, beautiful day, the sky was blue with the occasional wisp of clouds, perfect for swimming in the often cool Black Sea or performing other activities outside. As it had rained the previous night, there was fresh snow at the top of the Caucus Mountains overlooking Gudauta, where Boris lives, making it perfect for skiing. It was warmer than usual adding onto the perfectness of the day. “You know, I can’t just sit here and mourn. I am going to make a change. I will overthrow the government!” Boris shouted out loud.

            Boris went back into his house and got out his pistol he got from the KGB from the attic. He entered his garage and got his car running. The car was a gorgeous blue Lada. He got it as a reward by the KGB when he was able to expose American plans to interfere in the newly established rulers of Honduras setup by the Soviets. The KGB is the Soviet spying department similar to the CIA in the US or the GCHQ in the UK.

The car had a little figure of a worker with a hammer. There was also an antenna near the windshield wipers tuned to state channels.

            As the car was warming up, he ran back into the house to get onto the phone to call his father.

            Ring… Ring… Ring…

The phone went to voicemail. “So… Hey Dad. I know you are probably still mourning over Mom but I just want to tell you I will be gone for a while. Bye!”

            Boris opened up the door to the Lada and went in. He drove out into the heart of Gudauta. The buildings were grey and cracked, from neglect of the Soviet Union. He pulled out onto the Leselidze Highway and drove the rest of the way until he got to the Abkhazia-Krasnodar Krai checkpoint.

            There were very few cars near the checkpoint as only rich people could own them. Even then rich people going on vacation in Abkhazia would much rather just take the state owned airline, Aeroflot, rather than driving from a large city further up north.

            At the checkpoint there was a sign that stated:

 

                        Welcome to Krasnodar Krai. Home of Krasnodar and Sochi.

                        Вэлком ту Краснодар Край. Хом ов Краснодар анд Сочи.

 

            The sign was crumbled and reeked of archaic wording from a century ago. There were stoic guards looking out of a small building with a red and yellow gate. The building was grey with a small one-way glass window. Boris pulled up to the gate.

            “Reason of travel?” asked the soldier with his green hat and a sickle and hammer figure located in the middle.

            “Leisure,” Boris responded.

            “Name?”

            “Boris Yaltsavshchin.”

            “Final destination?”

            Boris had to think. He already said his last name is Yaltsavshchin which could be entered into a database and found out that his mother was recently executed. He could not say Moscow, which was his final destination. He ended up opting for something less suspicious.

“I’m going to Astrakhan to see my friends.”

            “Okay. Path of choice?” the Soldier inquired.

            Boris pulled out a road map made by the state, “I will take A-147 to Adler. I will then take A-148 to Sochi. From Sochi I will take A-147 to Dzhubga. I will then turn onto M-4 past Krasnodar to Rostov. I will get onto Rostov-Na-Donu along the Don river until I’m in Volgodonsk. I will then take Tsimlyanskoye sh. To Morozovsk. After I get to Morozovsk I will turn onto E-40 to Volgograd. Once I’m in Volgograd I will take E-119 down to Astrakhan.”

            “Okay, fair enough, you are allowed into Krasnodar Krai. I will alert guards in Adygea.”

            “Thank you! I hope I’ll get to see you on my way back through.”

            “Go now before we detain you,” the soldier stated in a deep voice, now less stoic, but rather angry.

            “Oh, okay sorry,” Boris stated as he then drove away along A-147 to Adler.

            By the time Boris made it to Adler it was starting to get dark but Sochi wasn’t much further so he decided he would stay in Sochi. As he drove through Adler he saw the grey dilapidated buildings. They were all destroyed when a protest took place in the city a few years ago. The small coastal town was now rubble, especially after the government hit it with a few airstrikes.

            Boris finally made it to Sochi where there were bright lights coming from the resorts shining into his car. Sochi was a big city with thousands of wealthy tourists. Behind Sochi were tall mountains with fresh snow laid upon them. Boris found a parking spot on the side of the street and got out. The city was much better looking than Adler. Since the city is where many wealthy people go from communist nations across the world from China to Chile, the government wants people to get a good impression from the city.

            Boris walked into one of the resorts to see if he can stay for the night. The resort is owned by a western company for Americans and Brits who travel to the Soviet resort city.

            “Hello. I would like to get a night here,” Boris asked to the woman at the front desk.

            “Okay, yes that will cost 90 American monies,” she stated

            “What? That’s a lot of money!” Boris exclaimed.

            Once he said that, he thought of the perfect plan. He would pretend to be a current KGB spy trying to get info on a wealthy British tourist who is staying here. “Well, I have a government worker card right here. I am a part of an investigation to find out what a wealthy British tourist has done illegal to our government.”

            “Can I see your pass?”

            He pulled out his KGB card from when he worked for the government.

            “Okay. Your room is 102. Here is the key,” the woman stated and gave Boris his card.

            “Woah, I can’t believe that actually worked!” Boris whispered to himself.

He walked into the seating area and turned left. There was a long hall with dim lights and a familiar hotel smell that all hotels have. Towards the end of the hall there was an old Kyrgyz-looking lady vacuuming the rug. Only a few meters away from the turn was Boris’s room. He then used the bronzish key he was given to open the lock on his door.

            The room was small with one queen-sized bed. The bedsheet was brown with red, green, and blue circles. There were two lamps hanging off the wall, one of which was turned on. The air-conditioning was fiercely blowing making the room extremely chilly.

            Boris turned on the TV to the state-run news channel.

            “Welcome to the 22 o’clock news. Today a riot was suppressed in Chechnya, in which fourteen rioters were killed. This is the third riot in Chechnya within the last year; once again our superior government has shown their beautiful might.”

            Chechnya is a primarily Sunni Muslim area similar to Azerbaijan and Iran the US and UK controlled Iran. Chechens often terrorize or attack the government often for stopping their religion and trying to replace Islam with state-atheism.

Ugh, just another reason to stop this horrible regime controlling the people. Boris then turned off the one light that the maid kept on. He moved the many pillows laid on the bed to a more comfortable position, curled up into his blankets and went to sleep.

 

            The next day Boris woke up to the sun shining into his eye. He walked out of his room back into the hall where he turned into the lobby. It was only six o’clock so there were no receptionists in the lobby. On the front desk there was a small, purple, basket with a makeshift sign that said, “Please leave keys here.”

            Boris dropped the keys into the basket where they made a tinkling sound with the other few keys in the basket. Afterwards he left the building to his car. The parking lot was empty with small puddles of dew reflecting the sunlight. Boris got into his car and pulled back onto the A-147.

            He sped down the A-147. Along the drive the street stuck itself to the beach while on the other side of the road were mountains as big as the Empire State Building that Boris saw while stationed in New York City. After an hour of driving Boris made it to Dzhubga.

            Dzhubga was a small town about the size of Sokhumi. There were a few grey apartments in the town of 3,500. There was one gas station on the outer side of town. Boris pulled off the road into the gas station. There were 4 pumps at the station each with a bright sign with a cigarette and a no sign that said:

No Smoking

Но Смокинг

 

            Boris put the black gas pump into the fuel tank and waited for the next minute until it was full.

            It was only eight o’clock so Boris continued onto the A-147 and merged onto M-4. The M-4 was a long curving dangerous road running through the Caucasus. Once Boris got to the top there was a curvy, winding road on the way down. Along the way there were multiple ramp off-shoots for trucks who lost control in there breaks, similar to the ones he saw while driving in-between Tennessee and North Carolina.

            Finally, after the long drive through the Caucasus, Boris made it to Goryachy Klyuch a city of 30,000 people. The town was bustling of bikes and mopeds due to a fair that was happening that day. Normally Boris would have drove along the M-4 but he needed a gas station so he went into the heart of Goryachy Klyuch. In the downtown part of the city there were many people walking, biking, and driving. The fair going on was for the newly harvested wheat. Many parts in Krasnodar Krai produce quite a bit of wheat, in fact the areas of Ukraine, Belarus, and western Russia all are a part of this part of the Soviet Union named the bread basket, named for the bread and wheat produced in the area.

            Boris drove down the main avenue with great caution making sure not to hit any pedestrians. A little later down the avenue was a small gas station with only 2 pumps.

            Boris pulled in and started pumping the leaded gas into the car. After 15 gallons were put in Boris pulled back onto M-4 and sped down towards the next checkpoint.

            The checkpoint was wide with only one gate open to funnel the cars through. There were few cars at the time so Boris was at the front of the line. At the top was a long yet skinny roof with wording onto of it saying, “Welcome to Adygea.”

            “Hello. Name?” asked the internal border guard.

            “Boris Yaltsavshchin,” he responded.

            “Okay, you are put down in the database, you are cleared to Rostov-On-Don without needing to stop.”

            “Thank you. Good bye.”

            “You too.”

            Boris now needed to drive through Adygea for the next 15 minutes to get back to Krasnodar. On the east side of the road was a large man-made lake called, Krasnodarska Prehrada. The lake was made by a dam on the Kuba river that runs through Krasnodar.

            As Boris speeds past it he crosses the dam that made the lake. On top of the dam Boris saw the whole of Krasnodar. Krasnodar was a big city; with 700,000 people it was one of the largest cities in the whole of the Soviet Union.

            Boris didn’t have any time to stop though it was only noon so he had plenty of time left to get to Rostov-On-Don. He then went on down the M-4 through the plenty of wheat farms. After an hour of driving he stopped at Kushchyovskaya to get a bite to eat and gat more gas. He pulled off the M-4 and found a line of people waiting for bread. Boris integrated himself into the line and waited.

            An hour later the line has barely moved. Ugh, I’m so hungry, Boris thought to himself. His stomach rumbled as he sighed in annoyance. Two hours later Boris was finally at the front of the line where he got a whole slice of bread. “That’s it?”

            “Yes sadly so,” responded the person handing out the bread.

            “Can I have one more?”

            “No,” he retorted.

            “I’ll give you my pistol.”

            “No.”

            “Ugh,” Boris stated as he marched off in anger. Boris’ stomach was still growling, maybe even worse than it was before.

            “I’m never going back to this horrible town again. I bet even the Ukrainians have more food than the people in Kushchyovskaya,” Boris thought to himself.

            Boris got into his car and went along ul. Krasnaya on his way to M-4. Along the way he crosses the Yeya river. The river isn’t very wide, maybe at most 100 meters. The river was dark though, extremely dark it wasn’t the regular royal blue found in rivers like Yenisei or Volga but much similar to navy blue.

            Along ul. Krasnaya was a gas station so he quickly pumped his car full of gas and went on his way on the M-4.

            It was now 16 o’clock meaning that by the time he arrived in Rostov it would be 17 o’clock.

            Along the M-4 there were countless wheat farms all with laborers watering and harvesting the wheat. There were small canals dug into the ground mostly made of water from the Kagalnik river.

            After an hour that seemed like an eternity he came up upon the might Rostov-On-Don. Rostov-On-Don was a ginormous city. There were multiple skyscrapers towering above in the cityscape.

            Boris then crossed the large Don river. Rostov-On-Don was built around the Don river and the delta of the Don.

            Boris went into town where he saw another western hotel. He pulled over, got of his car and opened the doors into the hotel.

            “Hello, how are you doing?” the receptionist stated.

            “I’m good, you know you speak good English. I would like to get a room,” Boris responded.

            “Thanks. Do you have a reservation?”

            “No,” he retorted.

            “Okay, then it will cost three thousand Ruble.”

            “Okay,” Boris said as he got out his wallet, “Here you go.”

            “Your room is 913.” She responded

            “Cool, so I’ll go to the ninth floor?” Boris asked.

“Yes you will. Thank you very much I hope you enjoyed your stay!”

            The woman gave Boris his keys. He then walked further down into the lobby. The area was big with a large rotunda making up the lobby. In the rotunda was a mural at the top depicting Lenin with a hammer and sickle, the rotunda also had balconies along the rotunda with doors to the rooms. There were three long hallways going in the other cardinal directions. In the ground floor of the building there was a continental breakfast with a few waffle machines, biscuits, and jam, towards one side Boris spotted the elevator.

            He walked over to the elevator and punched in floor nine. The elevator slowly crept up until it finally opened on floor nine. Boris started walking counter clockwise where he was greeted with the numbers counting down from 932. Boris walked the whole way until he was finally at 913.

            Boris put the silver keys into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. The room was larger than the one in Sochi but still a little cramped. Boris was tired of driving all day so he straight-away went to sleep.

 

            Boris woke up at four in the morning. He wasn’t tired so he decided to put his shoes on and go down to the continental breakfast. He grabbed quite a few waffles to be sure he doesn’t get stuck in a bread line later on.

            He gives the key to the receptionist, exits the building, and enter his car. Boris then drives off through Rostov onto the E58 heading towards the Donetsk Oblast in the Ukraine.

            After half an hour of driving through farmland, Boris made it to the Rostov Oblast-Donetsk Oblast checkpoint.

            There were multiple guards at multiple different gates giving entry to the cars that were there. After waiting a few minutes Boris pulls up to one of the gates.

            “Hello. What is your name?”

            “Boris Yaltsavshchin.”

            “Okay… Sorry, you were listed as going into Volgograd Oblast, you can’t enter.”

            “Dangit. Let me in now. I work for the KGB.”

            “Show me the pass then.”

            “Here you go.”

            The guard investigated the card and read each piece of it, “Hmmm. This is invalid,” The guard stated.

            “What? That can’t be!” Boris lied.

            “Well since the card is expired, and you aren’t registered as allowed into here we will be taking you to day jail.”

            “Ugh fine,” Boris responded.

            “Please exit your car.”

            “No.”

            “What do you mean by no?” the guard asked.

            “No! I will not get out of my car,” Boris retorted.

            “Excuse me, you have to get out otherwise we will punish you more severely.”

            Boris looked into his seat pocket and took out his pistol. He shot the guard. Molten red blood spilled all over the gate Boris was at. “I… I… just killed some… one… I can’t believe I just did that,” Boris whispered to himself with extreme regret.

            The loudness of the gunshot could be heard from all around. The other guards came.

            “You are under arrest!” One guard shouted.

            Boris wasn’t resisting so instead of killing him the Guards pulled him out of his car and put handcuffs on him.

            After a few minutes of waiting a cop car came by and picked Boris up. The car was white with the rear seat windows blacked out. When Boris entered the rear seat there were iron bars separating the officer and Boris.

            The car drove for an hour to go to the Oblast jail. The highest of all the jails in Donetsk Oblast. Due to Boris’s crime being potential murder, the officer could not risk putting him in a small local jail. The officer drove for about an hour until he got into Donetsk. Donetsk is a large city in eastern Ukraine, the fifth largest in all of the Ukraine area.

            “We’re in Donetsk right?” Boris asked.

            “Umm sorry, I don’t speak good Russian,” the officer responded.

            Boris forgot about the language barrier. Even though Ukrainian is similar to Russian they are still two very different languages. Boris wouldn’t be able to speak to anyone in Donetsk, so he had to convey things through his body in the jail.

            The officer had finally made it to Donetsk after the hour to two-hour long drive. Four guards were located right outside of the car where they rushed Boris into the sorting room.

            The sorting room was a large room with cameras and guards working the cameras. “Click. Click. Click.”

            The cameras were clicking taking photos of the prisoners as they were being shuffled through the jail.

            “Hello. Your name is Boris Yaltsavshchin?” the guard asked.

            “Yes,” Boris responded.

            “Hmm… Are you related to the high-profile execution of Alyona Yaltsavshchin by any chance?” the guard inquired.

            “Umm, yes I am,” Boris answered.

            “Okay interesting. Stand in front of the camera. Smile, move over a centimeter or two, no the other way,” the guard stated, “Actually the other way, no, never mind move forward a bit.”

            “Ugh! Where just point to where I should be!” Boris shouted at the guard annoyed at all the shuffling being done to him.

            “Okay there perfect!” the guard exclaimed.

            “Click.”

            Another guard then came up to Boris and took him in the direction of the cells. The guard stated, “Okay… cell… here… 9… 7...”

            “Sorry I can’t understand you. I don’t think we speak the same language.”

            “Your cell is 9173-D1.”

            “Okay thanks.”

            Boris entered the cell where there was another man.

            “Hello,” the man said.

            Boris’ cell mate was most definitely Ukrainian. He had a very Ukrainian accent. “Umm hello, what did you do to get into here?”

            “I tried to keep all the wheat on my field to myself,” the man responded, “Oh yeah my name is Kazymyr.”

            “Ok I am Boris.”

            “Will all prisoners please go down to the mess hall for dinner,” played over the intercom.

            Boris didn’t even notice it was this late. Finally, after about 15 minutes the guard came to cell 9173-D1 and let them out.

            Boris walked down to the mess hall where he was greeted with five lines of tables lined up with all different types of men; Russian, Ukrainian, Estonian, Kazakh, Tajik, Siberian, and many others.

            Boris got into a line he saw being made. It turned out to be the bread line to get food. After about 15 minutes of waiting Boris finally got a slice of bread. He walked over to a table that he saw Kazymyr in. He ate the slice of bread slowly to savor it and then got clearance to go to his cell.

            Boris’ cell was small with a bunk bed. Kazymyr slept on the bottom and Boris being smaller slept on the top. There was sink with an old mirror. The mirror was cracked with marker on it. The sink had a leaky faucet and the area around the pipe at the bottom had a puddle formed around it. There was a toilet with a broken top that didn’t have one joint correctly attached to the area where the seat is connected to the bowl.

            “Curfew has started, all need to be asleep by 22 o’clock,” the intercom stated.

            Boris then climbed up the ladder, curled himself up into his blanket, and went to sleep.

           

            The next day the intercom called everyone down for breakfast. Boris exited his cell and was got into a bread line.

            A guard was walking around the place which was typical, especially to look after the prisoners or to suppress riots. The one guard walked up to Boris and stated, “Please come this way with me.”

            “Okay.” Boris responded.

            The guard put handcuffs on him and walked Boris to what looked like a questioning cell. A man then walked in and said, “So what exactly went through your mind when you killed Kyov Khazhkiyshch?”

            “Who is Kyov Khazhkiyshch?” Boris answered.

            “The man you killed!” the man responded.

            The man was tall, about two meters tall. The man wore all black and had a pair of aviator sunglasses on his head, but not over his eyes. He held a blue pen writing down everything Boris was saying in a very meticulous manner.

            “Ah, him. I’m sorry about what I did...” Boris sighed.

            “Can you please explain why he did this?”

            “Oh yeah, I plead insanity,” Boris responded

            “That is not a reason,” the man stated.

            “Whatever,” Boris sighed again.

            “Ok…” the man looked down at his paper and wrote something down, “I think we may be sending you to the gulag.”

            “Wait. You mean the gulag?”

            “Yes, I mean those labor camps,” the man retorted.

            “My goodness! That is harsh!” Boris exclaimed in anger and disbelief.

            “There is a bus leaving in the next hour. Along the way it will be picking up more prisoners. The bus started in Chișinău, went through Odessa, Mykolaiv, Dnipro, and will stop in Donetsk to pick you up.”

            “Where is the camp you are sending me too?” Boris inquired.

            “That I am not allowed to tell you,” the man replied.

            Boris was sent up into his cell to wait for an hour where he was then taken outside greeted by a prison bus.

            The bus was red with blacked out windows not allowing the prisoners to see outside. Boris then entered the bus where he was greeted with a few other men speaking Romanian and Ukrainian.

            The rest of the day was spent in the bus heading towards somewhere in Russia, Boris did not know as the windows were blacked out.

            At the time the bus crossed over into the Rostov Oblast leaving from Luhans’ka Oblast Boris had fell asleep.

            After four hours of sleeping, Boris was woken up suddenly from the sound of the bus releasing its hydraulics to let a prisoner on from Volgograd. Volgograd isn’t far from the Bokey Orda District in Kazakhstan but the bus needed to pick up people in a few other cities

            Over the passing days the bus went north along the Volga River to Saratov, it passed further north to stop at Samara where it turned south towards Uralsk, after stopping in Uralsk the bus went east to Orenburg, the bus then turned north towards Ufa, after going to Ufa the bus went east to Chelyabinsk, then after Chelyabinsk, the bus went south and let all the prisoners out in Astana.

            Astana is a labor camp on the Ishim River, which is a tributary of the Irtysh River which its source comes from the Tian Shan mountain range bordering China.

            The now numerous prisoners were handcuffed by guards at the gulag and were walked single file along the Ishim River to get to the main part of the gulag.

            Boris walked in and saw a horrible sight. There was a putrid smell of human feces and urine as people can’t even dispose of anything. There is one giant room with hundreds of beds laid next to each other. In the room there isn’t one air conditioning unit making the room extremely warm full with other people breathing and sweating. All of these things mixed to make the worst place ever for a human to be.

            Immediately after getting to the Gulag, without time for the prisoners to stretch their legs, they had to start making canals. Around the river there are plenty of farms but after the recent drought a new canal was needed to provide irrigation to the farms outside of Astana extending into the vast Kazakh steppe.

            The prisoners were immediately handcuffed and pushed around to the Ishim river where they were greeted by shovels. Boris picked one up and went over to the project engineer and asked, “Hey, do you know where I should start digging?”

            “Yeah go over a few miles south near the airport where you will find the Ozero Maibalyk lake. You will be digging out a hole around the runway of the airport for right now,” the engineer responded.

            “Okay thank you.”

            Boris started walking towards the Ozero Maibalyk lake. After 30 minutes of walking he finally found the airport. He shoved the shovel into the dirt and started digging around the northeastern part of the runway.

            “Zhoooom”

            “Zhoooom”

            Boris looked up to see where the noise was coming from. Right above was a Tupolev Tu-160 landing on the runway. The plane was white and long with a delta wing meaning that it was most likely a supersonic aircraft. Boris could see the afterburners turn off, flaps increase, and landing gear lock into position. The plane then started to flare as it approached the runway following the glideslope as per the PAPI lights. The plane then landed still flaring when it deployed its spoilers taking it to a stop half way down the runway.

            Around Boris was constant steppe. There were brown weeds and grasses surrounding the airport and the Ozero Maibalyk lake. As with all over the Kazakh steppe, the land isn’t very arable and made out of rocky and dry soil.

            Boris continued digging for the next hour. He dug a two-meter-deep hole that is 500-cenimeters-wide and a few decimeters long. Boris continued working for another few hours when the hole was finally a meter long. Boris spent the next 30 minutes walking back to the camp at the Ishim.

            Boris saw the project engineer and asked, “Okay I finished a foot of the canal. What should I do next?”

            “Please talk to the warden about that,” the engineer answered, “He is in the side building.”

            Boris walked towards the side building. The side building was a white shed with a grey, metal roof. The shed was a perfect 5 by 5-meter square.

            Boris knocked on the door where he was greeted by the warden.

            “Hello who are you?” the warden politely asked.

            “Oh I am Boris Yaltsavshchin. I was told by the product engineer to come here after I was done with the canal. Is there anything I am supposed to do next?” Boris inquired.

            “How long is it?” The warden asked.

            “A meter,” Boris replied.

            “Sorry you needed to complete way more than that. I’m sorry but we will be not giving you any bread for the rest of the week,” the warden politely stated.

            “A week?” Boris exclaimed.

            “Yes along with that you will be reassigned to a much harder task you will have to complete,” the warden responded.

            “What is that?” Boris requested.

            “You will be performing some dangerous repairs to the bus that you were driven to here in,” the warden answered.

            “Now?” Boris queried.

            “Yes now,” the warden retorted.

            “But there is only an hour left of daylight!” Boris exclaimed.

            “So be it. You still will have to complete it though. Also no breaks.”

            “Ugh,” Boris stated disgustedly as he marched off towards the bus.

            Boris walked along the Ishim river as he got to the bus. The bus looked to be in perfect condition but there was no one to talk to so Boris would not be able to inquire what the problem was. “Maybe it’s just reverse psychology,” Boris thought to himself, “Maybe the warden is just trying to get me hurt or waste away my energy.”

            Boris opened the Bus’s hood, but everything looked right. Boris was no expert on how automobiles worked but with a quick glance everything looked okay. Boris then went into the driver’s seat, rummaged around the dashboard until he found the keys, and put them into the ignition. There was no smoke and everything seemed right so Boris took off the parking brake. Nothing happened. He then put on the hydraulics. Nothing happened. He changed gear. Nothing happened. He drove forward a few meters. Everything seemed right. Boris then pressed the brake yet nothing happened. The car looked perfectly drivable. Boris then opened the hood and turned off the bus all together.

            Hmm… You know… I could steal this bus… Then I could drive to Moscow… And my plan would work perfectly!

            Boris would wait though. The perfect time to execute the plan would be at the night. The warden would think that Boris was still working on the bus even though he had actually commandeered the machine. This would work perfectly.

            It was finally about midnight so Boris turned the key in the ignition and the bus turned on. He left the Gulag and drove to the A1. For the next 3 hours he drove through the pitch black darkness of the night to get to Kokshetau. Once in Kokshetau he turned onto the A-13 and spent another 5 hours driving to Omsk. As he crossed into Pobotshchino Boris stopped for gas and continued going towards Omsk. While stopping for gas it started turning dawn as Boris turned onto the P393. Boris dropped the bus off at a junkyard and started walking through Omsk.

            Omsk was one of the largest cities in Siberia. It was once the capital of Siberia along with that Omsk was one of the biggest industrial centers in the Soviet Union. The city itself is located on the Irtysh River and is a great place for political exiles who disagree with the popular belief.

            Boris started walking along the river just thinking what he should do next.

            “Hey I got a ticket to Moscow for the two of us. I also bought an extra one on accident,” some man walking on the street stated.

            “What will we do with the third one?” the other man asked.

            “Give it to whoever wants one,” the man answered.

            All the while this conversation was going on Boris was eavesdropping. This could be work. Boris thought to himself.

            “Hey. I guess I could do with that ticket!” Boris exclaimed.

            “Sure here you go,” the one man said.

            “Oh yeah my name is Boris, what is yours?” Boris asked.

            “I am Levranti and he is Andrei,” Levranti replied.

            Levranti then handed the ticket to Boris. “Oh yeah by the way were walking right now towards the airport,” Levranti stated.

            “Okay that’s fine I will come along then,” Boris responded.

            The three men then continued to walk toward the Omsk airport. Boris looked down at his ticket. At the top left there was a hammer and sickle and the word “Aeroflot” on it. In the middle part the ticket says “OMS-SVO” on it.

            After a few minutes of walking the three men were at the entrance to the first terminal at the Omsk Tsentralny airport. They walked in and there was no security. They walked right up to gate 3 and immediately departed for Moscow.

            The plane they were flying was a Tupolev Tu-154, a common long-medium haul airplane. The plane on the inside was white with few seats occupied. Only rich people were able to take airplanes so they ended up not being used a lot by the common person. After 15 minutes on the ground the pilots got taxi clearance and removed the chocks. The plane then taxied to the end of one of the runways where the pilots moved the throttle up to 100 percent and started the takeoff role.

            After the plane took off the pilots adjusted the angle of attack to be 5 degrees nose up. They then adjusted the heading moved to 37,000 feet above the ground and took off for Moscow.

            “Hey thanks for getting me this ticket,” Boris stated.

            “No problem, we had an extra one and you seem like the best person in the world I could give it to,” Levranti replied, “Also, by any chance can you tell me why exactly you want to go to Moscow?”

            Boris knew that if he said he was trying to attempt a coup that something bad to happen to him. He didn’t know if Levranti or Andrei were government workers so telling them something that they might get mad about could end up horribly. So Boris would claim tourism.

            “I want to see Moscow for tourism. I really want to see Basil’s Cathedral and all the other cool things on Red Square.”

            “Okay, cool,” Levranti responded.

            Three and a half hours then passed of Levranti, Andrei, and Boris talking together about their life, what they do, and so on.

            The plane then started to descend. The plane’s heading changed as the pilots were vectored out towards the western side of a runway. After 15 minutes of approach. The pilots finally put out the flaps, put down the gear, flared, landed, deployed spoilers, and taxied to the gates.

            The plane had just landed in Moscow. There was no jet way open that would connect to the Tupolev Tu-154 so the ground crew moved a stairway to the plane as the few people who were in the plane got out. The passengers then walked into the main part of the Moscow airport.

            Moscow is a big city with a big airport. While walking into the gates part of the airport there were many airlines from all over the world; Air France, British Airways, Turkish Airlines, JAL, ANA, Cathay Pacific, Pan-Am, Air Canada, Lufthansa, and Delta.

            Boris then exited the airport and got a taxi to a hostel. The hostel was grey as with most buildings in the Soviet Union. He entered and got a room right away.

            The room Boris got was very small but that’s what he would expect with a small hostel.  There was one lamp and a bunk bed. Each bunk bed had minimal amounts of covering on them which was surprising for a city that was so often cold.

            Boris then exited the hostel to walk around the city. It was early morning by the time Boris arrived in Moscow due to the time change from travelling westwards.

            Now was time to activate Boris’s plan. He would need to throw a coup by getting enough of the military and civilians to side with him. The coup would need to overwhelm the military making it easier to take eastern Soviet Union but harder for the western parts. Some parts of the Soviet Union would want to leave the more than others. The Baltic nations, Armenia, and Ukraine will especially want to leave so the civilians there will be much easier to persuade.

            The hard part though would be organizing all of this. The government could open up any mail they deemed suspicious so constant mailing back and forth as a mean of communication was out of the question.

            Boris decided to go up to an old woman he saw begging for food. He would make a deal with her.

            “Please give me food,” the woman stated.

            People continued walking past her on the busy street.

            “Please. I am hungry. I have no way of feeding myself,” she stated again.

            Another few people walked past her without batting an eye.

            “I’ll give you the coffee from the coffee machine in my hostel if you are willing to do something for me,” Boris told the woman.

            “What is it? I will do anything!” The woman asked.

            “Join me in a coup,” Boris stated bluntly.

            “A coup!” she exclaimed.

            “Also do you have many friends?” Boris inquired.

            “Yeah I do. Why do you ask?” the woman replied.

            “I need you to get them to join the coup,” Boris answered.

            “Okay, there is a whole network of beggars who know each other.”

            “Please tell all of them this. Tonight I want every single one of you to come to Lenin’s Mausoleum so we can tear it down. Also make sure everyone takes a sledge hammer, pickaxe, etcetera.”

            “How exactly will the tearing down of a statue help?” the woman asked.

            “It’s a show of power and disapproval with the government. Also it may work as a publicity stunt to get more people to help out,” Boris replied.

            Boris went into his hostel, made the woman a large keg of coffee, gave it to her, and started exploring the grand capital of the Soviet Union.

           

            It was night and Boris was standing outside Lenin’s Mausoleum.  The mausoleum was made out of a tall red obelisk and a small, square building making up the base of the obelisk. Around Boris was the red square. St. Basil’s Cathedral was glowing yet no one was visiting it at midnight.

            An hour later the beggar woman showed up with a group 250 or so other beggars. The beggars all had brought an object of some sort to destroy the mausoleum. Boris then directed them towards the mausoleum.

            “Ready? 1… 2… 3… Swing!” Boris shouted into the crowd.

            The beggars than started swinging at the mausoleum violently. Red brick crumbled beneath them as they swung more and more at the obelisk.

            “This is what you get Lenin!” A person in the crowd exclaimed.

            Fifteen minutes later the entire obelisk fell. A crashing sound was made and the dust of the bricks spread everywhere. The dust made it impossible to see anything. It became so dusty that the lights of St. Basil’s Cathedral or the Kremlin could not be seen.

            The whole crowd then fled from the scene as they did not want to get arrested. Boris joined in and ran all the way back to his hostel until he thought it was safe.

While walking past the nightclubs he realized that the people running the hostel seeing Boris come in at around the same time Lenin’s Mausoleum fell would be suspicious. He decided he would come much, much later pretending to be out and about in the entertainment district.

 

Finally, after a few hours of pretending to be at the entertainment district Boris went all the way back to his hostel.

The hostel has a TV that plays the State run news channel in the lobby. Boris decided to get a cup of coffee and watch the news.

“At two this morning a large mob of thuggish, barbaric savages destroyed Lenin’s Mausoleum. The obelisk destroyed the glorious founder’s body and created large amounts of debris in the Red Square,” the anchorman stated

            Boris finished his cup of coffee and went to his bed. The destruction of Lenin’s Mausoleum was just a pre-cursor to worse things. It was a show of might, it showed the government that the civilians disapprove of the communist rule that they are currently receiving.

            It would be hard to get together large groups of the military to overthrow the government. They would not be willing to so Boris had to think of a different plan. He would bomb the Kremlin. It was the only way.

            Boris then left the hostel to find a dumpster. Right next to the hostel was a greasy alley way with a dumpster belonging to an apartment. In the dumpster was a crock-pot. This would be perfect for bombing the Kremlin.

            Boris then went back into the hostel and waited until night. Once night arrived he took down the TV in the lobby in between the shift changes of the receptionists at the front desk. He then brought the TV up to his room. There he began to disassemble the television. He put the wires into the crock pot and after a few hours of trial and error he finally got it perfect.

Boris then ran towards the Kremlin. The Kremlin was under ultra-high security, but during the night that was lowered to a few security guards with batons. There was an open window on the first floor towards the back of the building. He entered. The room he entered was of Vlad Shankozvy, the transportation secretary. Boris then snuck out of the room where he was greeted by a long hall with many doors to different types of bureaucratic offices.

He turned down the south-facing part of the hall. Once he got to the end he found a legislative assembly. He opened up a vent to the air-conditioning and put the bomb into it. He then set the timer to noon and ran back towards the hostel. Boris needed to sleep. He had been awake almost constantly for the past two days.

Boom!

A loud, startling noise woke Boris up. He looked around and from his window he saw smoke billowing from the Kremlin.

Boris did not expect the damage to have been like that. He expected a few people to die, not the whole building to crumble in on itself and be destroyed!

Judging by the size of the cloud of smoke it was likely that the President’s Palace inside the Kremlin may have been destroyed. That means the leader, Nikita Khrushchev, may have been killed.

Boris may have just destroyed the government with one blow. The military was already stretched thin over the massive amount of land that the Soviet Union owned and the regional squabbles that took place over the country. This would mean that the military might just surrender. No matter how many nuclear weapons and aircraft carriers they had, the military would just be too weak without a central head of power and the large amount of land it is already covering.

Boris found a phone in the lobby and called his father.

Ring… Ring… Ring...

“Hello? Who is this?” Vlad asked.

“It’s your son, Boris,” Boris responded.

“Oh hi! My goodness, something crazy happened, the Kremlin just exploded!” Vlad exclaimed.

“Hmm, I guess someone avenged my mom,” Boris replied.

“Yep. Well I hope this is for the better. I hope this means we will get democracy and capitalism,” Vlad stated.

“Yeah I hope,” Boris said.

Wait! Okay, so Boris, I was just watching the news some more and the second-in-command just surrendered. The Soviet Union has just collapsed!” Vlad exclaimed.

“Hey Dad, I need to tell you something. I am the one that bombed the Kremlin and helped destroy Lenin’s Mausoleum,” Boris stated.

“You did! Well good job getting us free. Maybe you can rule the new Russia,” Vlad responded.

“Maybe…” Boris answered as he then hung up on the phone.

Boris left the lobby to see what was happening on the streets. Many oppressed people were chanting in joy as the old regime has fallen. Large amounts of joy filled the streets with thousands coming outside to dance, eat, and have fun.

Boris then saw the woman who was begging for food, she exclaimed, “Hey! It’s the man who dissolved the Soviet Union!”

Many people then started swarming his way shouting, “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!

The swarm then took him down to Red Square where he was put onto a large, crumbling pedestal that once held Lenin Mausoleum.

That day the people of Russia swore Boris Yaltsavshchin into office.

 

A few months later most of Russia has split up. Estonia, Karelia, Murmansk, Latvia, Lithuania, Ukraine, Moldova, Abkhazia, Chechnya, Georgia, Ossetia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Sakha Republic, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan had all left Russia to become their own independent nations. Russia was still extremely large, still the largest country in the world dwarfing Canada, USA, China, Brazil, and Sudan.

Boris was setting up the first election when he came to the realization; he had so much power, he had nuclear weapons, large amounts of military at his disposal, and 100 million people worshipping him like a king. Boris could become a dictator, he could have all the power, all the oil, all the people, and all the military. So he decided to not go for freedom but for power. It was all a person would ever want; power and fame.

 

            A month after Boris decided not to hold elections he got a call from his dad.

            “You know everyone dislikes you right now,” Vlad stated bluntly.

            “What? Why? I saved their country!” Boris exclaimed.

            “Because you did not hold the elections you promised everyone,” Vlad responded.

            “I still will not do the elections!” Boris replied.

            “Why?” Vlad asked.

            “Because I have so much power!” Boris answered.

            “I am your father, you need to hold the elections, you gave everyone the freedom you wanted and now you are giving the people who rallied behind you the same opportunity that they got under Soviet rule. You created Russia and destroyed the Soviet Union. Keep the Soviets dead, don’t become one,” Vlad said.

            Boris then hung up. A few hours later, while not much of a drinker, Boris was sipping on a shot of vodka in a building to the right of GUM, a major Soviet shopping mall for tourists. Boris did not want to become a dictator. He wanted freedom, he could hold the elections and be even more famous. He would be the man who saved Russia, the man who held the elections and created freedom for all those living in Russia.

            So he came on the news and broadcasted, “Next year on the day the Kremlin exploded we will be holding elections. Anyone 18 or older can vote. Anyone 24 or older can run for prime minister and anyone is free to campaign.”

           

            Finally, after a year of campaigning the results were in. The winner was Levranti Shakhzindshcha, the man who gave Boris the plane ticket.

            Boris now needed to go back to Abkhazia. He decided that he would take a flight from Moscow to Anadyr where he would get a taxi back to Gudauta.

That next morning Boris went to the Moscow International Airport and took an Aeroflot flight to Anadyr. Aeroflot was bought by Pan-Am in a high profile deal between Levranti and Juan T. Trippe, the Pan-Am CEO at the time.

 

            The terminal he entered was rather large compared to the Omsk airport. There were new duty-free shops located in-between each gate. After five minutes of walking Boris found gate 27 with a flight heading to Anadyr.

            The airplane was a new Boeing 737 that Pan-Am moved to Moscow to fly to the other cities in Eurasia.

            After waiting for another 15 minutes Boris boarded the plane heading to Anadyr. The flight would be about four hours long.

            A few minutes of taxiing went by, then the plane took off. The plane was vectored out towards northern Moscow to make room for a plane that was about to land. While flying over Moscow Boris looked out his window to see Red Square with St. Basil’s Cathedral in all of its colors.

            Once the plane left Moscow and was on its way following the scheduled IFR flight plan Boris could see many farms planting seeds of wheat. The communism that was once instilled upon farmers only allowed them to plant certain things and at certain times, this often lead to famine. After the Soviet government fell farmers could pant whatever they want.

 

            “Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 394, please expedite your turn to 235 degrees. Do you copy?” the Rostov Center Air Traffic Controller asked the plane Boris was on.

            The plane didn’t answer.

            “Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 394, please expedite your turn to 235 degrees. Do you copy?” the Air Traffic Controller asked again.

            Once again the plane didn’t answer.

            “Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 394 can you hear me?” the Air Traffic Controller asked

            Again the plane never answered.

            “Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 781 do you see Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 394?” the ATC asked another Aeroflot plane in the area that Rostov Center controls.

            “Yes we do, Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 781,” the pilots responded.

            “Alpha Foxtrot Lima Tango 781, we believe that 394 is heading in our exact direction, 3 miles away speeding at 450 knots. Our ITAP system isn’t telling us to pull up or down, what should we do?”

            “781 please climb to 38000,” the ATC responded.

            “394 is climbing the same way as u-…”

            That was the last message transmitted by flight 781. The two planes crash at 37500 feet both landed in the Kuban river outside of Krasnodar. On flight 394 only two people survived, on flight 781 no one survived.

            In the investigation done upon the crash, flight 394 had its antennae that would connect to ATC hit with runway rubble taking off from Moscow. The antennae were functional until the plane was over Rostov. The plane lost all connection to ATC. While trying to avoid disaster by hitting flight 781, flight 394 pulled up. Flight 781’s ITAP system had stopped working meaning that the planes could not communicate to each other to cause one to pull up and the other to pull down.

 

            Boris found himself in a large reservoir. He was bleeding and his head was searing with pain. Beyond the reservoir he could see what looked to be Krasnodar. He looked around where he saw plane parts and luggage floating around. He saw his plane and another plane that also had the Aeroflot livery on it.

            A helicopter then flew over the Kuban river, Boris waved to the helicopter to go down and pick him up. The helicopter was red and black with yellow ladder being hung outside to pick Boris up.

            “Come in!” the pilot yelled.

            Boris jumped up to the ladder and started climbing. The force produced by the wings upon the helicopter were pushing down on Boris. After a minute of struggling up the ladder Boris made it to the helicopter. He was placed on a small bed where he then passed out.

            A few days later Boris woke up in the Krasnodar hospital. Boris looked down onto his leg where he saw blood that coagulated and scabbed onto the skin.

            “Hey, so you are awake! Okay, so essentially you got a concussion from the force of your head hitting the plane seat, you also sprained your ankles due to the force of your foot hitting the cabin floor. The blood came from a flap coming off and cutting your leg when the plane started to overspeed. Any questions?” the doctor said.

            “How did the flap hit me during the overspeed?” Boris asked.

            “During the overspeed some of the windows broke, along with that the wing sheared off and the flap on the wing cut you,” the doctor replied.

            “Okay, thank you,” Boris stated.

            “You will be in the intensive care unit for the next week when you will be completely recovered,” the doctor said.

           

            After a week Boris started to feel quite a bit better. He got his ankle casted to quicken the healing process and had enough resting and therapy time.

            Boris got a taxi to leave towards Gudauta. A few hours later driving through farms and mountains the taxi got to the town of Gudauta. Boris saw his house and the Black Sea for the first time in a year. The car he had was gone and was wherever the Soviet Government put their contraband.

            The house was painted blue which it wasn’t when Boris left. He walked up to the porch where he saw a not that stated, “Now that the government fell, there is no control on color, so I painted you house blue! –Mikhail.”

            Boris then walked into his house where there was an extremely musty smell from Boris not being there for over a week.

            The whole adventure made Boris quite tired so he went to bed immediately once he got there.

           

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