Homeward Bound Ch. 10

The girl held tight to anything could look like a handle inside the UAZ, and tried to answer in the shortest and harsher possible way to the attempt of conversation (if not of "advances") that the Tajik soldier who drove the car was addressed to her. He had nothing against the Tajiks or the Asian guys in general, but a Tajik philanderer is still a philanderer...

The Tajik guy adored the Russian girls. Blondes, blue eyes, tall and healthy, usually showing their legs and their cleavages... so different from the tadìjik girls, so small, always jet-black hair, always small, always so clad... And words passed that they were quite easy to get to have sex... especially with nice, passionate Asian guys... As he was sure to be...

"You are very brave, if you have accepted a job here... " he insisted. "As brave as nice!"

"And you are really fool, if you keep looking at me and not on the road in front... What if the "Dushmani" come?"

"Oh, they will not come... And if they come... "

A barrage of bullets prevented him from explaining to the girl what he would have done. The Tajik had swerved to avoid a too deep pit on the road, so the bullets didn't hit him and the girl, but the hood of the UAZ started pulling smoke. The Tajik got pale in a second, jumped out of the car, knelt down with his hands up looking at the slope at the side of the road and cried something in a language that was Russian no more, but the girl just heard "Allah u akbar!" before another burst shook and pierced the body of the Tajik from side to side. He collapsed, silent, face down on the dirt road. The girl was still in the car, panicking. He saw the gun the Tadjik did not even think to get, at least to die like a man. She took the gun and get out of the car, aiming the gun at the men who were coming down by the slope, They aimed their rifle at her, but without shooting: they have seen she was a woman.

It was not mercy, it was lust. The girl knew that, she was sure of that. They wanted to have a good time with a "kafir" girl like her, before to kill her. They were too many to be killed with a gun The girl felt her hands trembling, while she tried to aim the gun to a warrior, then to another. They were smiling. Some of them could die, "Insh Allah", but the other will have possessed a Russian female... One by one, in all her holes... A nice prey for Fighters of the Holy War as they were...

The girl decided what to do. The one thing to do, to die without surrendering to them all. She walked to the brink of the road and looked in the escarpment, into the abyss... A real abyss, she thought: it was too deep... And she could not die at once, if she jumped down from there. She could survive for hours, with broken bones, bleeding and feeling pain everywhere in her body... No, not that way. She aimed the gun at her head, closed her eyes, and heard the "mujahedin" laugh: they did not think she had the guts to pull the trigger...

Then she heard a shot, but she had NOT pulled the trigger yet. Then a man's cry, then a volley of automatic rifle, then another, then another, and other men crying and cursing in foreign languages. They were dying! Dying! All of them! And she remained alive, healthy and intact!

She opened her eyes, but she did not see Russian soldiers or Speznaz. There were three more "Dushmani". They had killed all the other, but maybe, surely, they wanted from her the same thing. So she closed her eyes again and aimed the gun back at her head...

"Hey hey hey! "Niet strak"! How the heck you say? "Niè striliàite"! Stop!" a man's voice said. And besides the few Russian words, that man was NOT speaking an Afghan language! He was NOT a "mujahideen"!"

"Kto vy!" the girl asked, her eyes still closed, the gun against her head yet. Who you are?

""Niè bòysya, my vsyè svaì!" a woman's voice said. A pure Russian voice, no foreign accent, no mistake! No worry, we are all on the same side!

The girls opened her eyes again. One of the "Dushmany" raised his "Chitrali" beret, smiling, and showing blonde hair with a typical Russian military haircut. The other "Dushami" did the same, without smiling, and she saw "he" was a young, stern, Tatar-faced woman. Though the third "mujahideen" had no beret, he really LOOKED like a "Dushmani". But clearly he was not. He shrugged and smiled to her, as to say "You see? No danger!"

The girl looked at her three saviors, at the abyss behind her, at the gun she held in hand, and to the three newcomers, again.

And then she started to laugh, hysterically...

Katya questioned the girl, while the medic and the soldier perform the usual operations, what had become a routine after an ambush: collect the food and the ammunition, sabotage the weapon you cannot take away. The girls looked at them working, calm and precise, as professionals, and she thought they were Speznaz. But the story Katya told she was even more incredible. Regarding herself, she had to get to a place that was not on that road. Or at least, neither Katya, nor the medic, nor the soldier had seen. Maybe the soldier had taken the wrong way, anywhere: he was too busy flirting with her... However, she insisted for him to be buried as it took. Only him.

Yuri tried to restart the engine of the UAZ, but it was a wasted effort. Too many blows in too much vital parts: the battery, the radiator... All gone. There was nothing nobody could do, they had to walk away. And when the girl protested that she could not go back walking all the way, Katya shouted that she would have done EXACTLY that. "Kak vsyè", as everyone. Then she entrusted the girl to the soldier boy. And he did not wait anything else: he started to talk with her, with a low voice, reassuring her that she could make it, that Katya was not such a bad girl, just a bit nervous... And when he got the glance of the medic, he blinked at him, smiling,

Nothing else so exciting happened, until the evening.

The medic was on watch for some time when he heard a rumor and a breath behind him. He did not turn his head to look at it.

"Drusyà ili vraghì?" she said, calmly.

"Tovàrishi!" Katya said. The man snorted. Katya came closer to him and sit at his side.

"I am not a "tovàrish," he specified.

"What? Do you find that offensive?"

"No!" the medic snorted. "It's just that... When someone call you that way, in my country... either he wants to compliment you... Or he wants to tease you, provoke you... or fool you... "

"I don't want to fool you." she said ,firmly.

"I know it."

"Then, you don't like the compliments."

"I prefer if people have not too big expectations about me. The less the people expect from you, the less you betray these expectations... And disillusion those people... "

"I had to call that way many people very worse than you... "Tovarish" director, "tovarish" professor... " she shrugged. He snorted again. Then he nodded with his chin at where the soldier and the other girl were.

"We are becoming a gang... "

"There is not two without three... "

"And the fourth has to be... " the medic completed. Katya shrugged. "What do you think about her?" he asked. Katya snorted.

"Turgènyevskaya bàrishnya!"

"That is?"

"A china doll, a wussy. As many female characters of Turgenyev... Compared to her, that soldier boy is a full-blown Speznaz!"

"Hey, don't talk as a sergeant... Are you all obliged to stop running horses?"

"Hmm!" she snorted. "We have to do more than that! We are strong, and our males take advantage of it! You know that line? "Women do all, and the men do the rest"!"

"And you think that we are different? We are not so better than yours!"

"Example?"

"Example... I am a nerd at cooking... I don't know how to wash my socks... " the medic said. She laughed.

"Uh! A man who is good at cooking an can wash his own socks... He does not need a woman! Maybe for a night, but not for life!"

"But you would like him. Every woman would like to have such a man... "

"Yes, but... it's not the point... " she sighed. "I know just one thing about my man, if I ever had another man... He has to be "nepyùshi"!"

"That is?"

"He doesn't have to drink! If he doesn't drink ,and give a bit of a help at home... I will wash all his socks, and all his knickers.. All he wants!"

"And if he is good at cooking?" the medic asked. Katya wore her "pattu" on her head and cover his mouth with a part of it. Now she looked like a real Oriental, central Asian young woman: sweet, submissive, loving, and damn sexy...

""I'm your slave, my lord: command me, and I will obey!" she breathed with a soft tone he never heard from her. He was so surprised that he started to laugh: she COULD NOT BE that way, seriously, for no one!

"Well... however, I am out! I would do anything to have a cold beer, right here and now!" he sighed, And it was Katya's turn to laugh.

"Oh, dear! Beer is NOTHING! We give beer to those who are drunk, the morning after, to ease their hangover! You say "beer", I mean VODKA! Or even Samogon! Alcohol you have distilled on your own! Have you ever seen someone drunk of that stuff! It's awful!"

"Maybe no... But I've seen a man, blackout drunk with gin, in a pub, in London. I don't think there could be something worse than that!"

"Have you been in London? How it was?"

"Eh... The first days, I thought I was in America, in New York... But the more I stayed there, the more I thought that if New York was that way, it was not for me!"

"Why?"

"Ow... too much people, too much rain, too much beggars, too much... you know, you sneeze and your handkerchief turns black, it's not a hoax, it was real... And the food! Do you know why the British conquered the world? Because wherever they went, the food was better than at home, for them!"

The girl laughed. A Homeric laugh, relaxed, innocent. That Italian man made her forget where she was, what was happening all around, what had happened and could happen to her. But it was not possible to forget it for too long. So she calmed down, sighing, and kept mum for a while.

"Do you ever think of those we have killed?" she asked. The medic looked at her, surprised.

"Strange question. I was sure that YOU never thought about them."

"I don't say "repenting" or the light," she shrugged. "But... can you leave them behind you? Simple as that?"

"No, not at all." he said. Then he looked at her, put a hand on her spine. "Just think that way: you did not kill any persons. You just shot first sometimes. If not, they would have killed you."

"Hm.. .too easy, maybe. Is it enough for you?"

"Not so much. But what's the other choice? Sense of guilt for a lifetime? Or letting them kill you?"

"Hmm, you're right... " she nodded. Another silence. "Do you think you meet your friends, somewhere? I mean... can you meet them... Later? After... you know... Can you?"

Later, after... Yes, the real, ultimate "after... "... He shrugged.

"Maybe... But you have all the time to discover it."

"Why?" she asked, smiling.

"Because when someone is there, he can go nowhere else... " he snorted. She smiled wider, moved as if she wanted to kiss him, then stopped, shook and tilted her head, as to say "Sorry, I can't", and caressed his rough face with the back of her fingers.

"Go to sleep, doctor. I will stay here."

The medic stood up and walked a bit away. it was strange, for a man like him, who had had enough sexual experiences with many women, the effect which a single caress could have. A simple caress, nothing more: very likely, he would have never had her again, and he knows about that. She had had a moment, of... say "weakness". But she would have hardly had another one. And he had no intention to bother her for another "gift". She belonged to another man. To the memory of another man.

Yes, she had said "I know one thing about my man." She had definitely renounced to the idea of growing old alone. Good and right thing. But her REAL man was six feet under. The next, whoever it was, would have been a wise, a deputy, an acting chief. She would have given him her affection, her body, her care, and of course, her faithfulness: more than many men can dream of. But not her "love". Dogs with wolf blood, dogs of only one master...

He did not feel the same about Francoise. Sure, he had loved her, nobody could ask him to forget her. But he was ready to love another woman, and not only "faute de mieux", because she was not around anymore. On the other hand: he was not a Russian... "Yes, loving so, as our blood loves, no one of you loves anymore. You have forgotten: there's a kind of love, which sets on fire and cuts to pieces"... Yes, maybe he was a bit generalizing: not all the Russians had to live that way... But likely, she was THAT kind of Russian...

He lay down at a safe distance from the place where the soldier and the girls were. Maybe they saw him, maybe not.

"Kto on? Kiem on?" the girl asked. Who is he? What he does to live?

"On vrach. I on molodièz!" the soldier said. He is a doctor, and he is smart. The soldier had shown the girl his wound, healed by the medic. Stupid manly vanity, maybe, but it got the point home. The girl felt as if she was in a movie. And he was one of the heroes.

"He and that rude girl... have done it... right?"

"Yes... " the soldier said, shrugging. It was not his business, after all.

"Why?" she insisted. What a strange question, the soldier snorted. Why a man or a woman does it? Why a man AND a woman do it?

"Because he is smart, she is nice... And tomorrow... "

"Tomorrow? Does she think he will take her with him in the West? It's impossible!"

"Maybe... But I mean EXACTLY tomorrow, not the future... " the soldier said. Then he turned his head to see the girl in the eyes. "And tomorrow we could all be dead... "

The girl had no difficulty in believing him. He had heard the bullets hitting the car, and at least one of them passing through the cabin. If the "dushmani" would have shot at them a second later or sooner, some centimeters right or left, she could have been "na tot svièt" already, passed through the veil... Maybe the next time she would have been not so lucky... Likely not... The eyes of the soldier were calm, reassuring: those bad moments were behind. But there was something else in them. The boy came near. He was strong, but gentle: The girl had no difficulty in believing him. He had heard the bullets hitting the car, and at least one of them passing through the cabin. If the "dushmani" would have shot at them a second later or sooner, some centimeters right or left, she could have been "na tot svièt" already, passed through the veil... Maybe the next time she would have been not so lucky... Likely not... The eyes of the soldier were calm, reassuring: those bad moments were behind. But there was something else in them. The boy came near. He was strong, but gentle: he had talked with her all the day, consoling her after the rude words of the other girl, who had talked with her as if she was a recruit, and the other girl was her "praporshik", her drill sergeant... so she had felt she could lean on him...

She bent till she put her face on his shoulder, her eyes open, her arms hugging him, not to stop him, but to calm him, to show him she accept him, and what he wanted to do to her: she would have not resisted him, but she just wanted kindness from him. He understood the message, caressed his spine with a hand and his hair with the other hand.

"Niè povredì menyà." she said. Don't hurt me. Take me, do to me what you want, but don't hurt me.

"Yà niè bùdu!" he whispered: I will not. He caressed her right breast, with the same kindness he used with her hair, She startled and let him do, and he knew his course. He simply unbuttoned her blouse, unsnapped her bra, slowly, with no haste, and she winced again when she felt his hands on her naked skin. He had nice hands, nice fingers, long and light on her defenceless body... And his finger got where they wanted to go... She blenched feeling them through her pants, and then BEYOND her pants, directly on her skin, on her flesh... Always light, and long...

It was clear she was ready for more, but he insisted caressing her all around her slit, till her goo greased her fingers completely. She was moaning lowly, as if she was sleepy and he was disturbing his sleep, but then she began to breath harder... She was coming, "finishing", her sex ready to greeting the male's one... If before it, she had been ready to surrender without any useless resistance, now she desired to be taken... Just slowly, gently, the same way he was touching her, preparing her to the unavoidable conclusion.

"Yà tebyà khachù... no yà bayùs... " she moaned. "I want you, but I am afraid... "

"Nu... they shtò, dyestvènniza?" the soldier boy wondered. Are you virgin?

"Pochtì" the girl confessed. Something alike. "Yà sdèlala, but bylo bòlno... òcenh bòlno!"

The soldier boy smiled: the girl had just one experience, and very painful.

"Niè bòysya. Yà - expèrt!" he said. No worry, I'm an expert. A lie for a good cause...

He penetrated the girl with two fingers, slowly and attentively. The girl moaned softly and sweetly, willing to belong to that gentle male.

"Ty glubòka y mòkra kak Baikalskoe Osero! " the soldier said: you are deep and wet as Lake Baikal. "But òchenh tyòplee!" he added: but very hotter... The girl smiled, relaxed, while he plowed him slowly, calmly, without hurting her a bit. She felt his dick till the boottom of his sex, but she was happy about it. A man was inside of her, and she greeted him, just as a woman. Not as a whore, not as a victim: as a woman. She had accepted it. She had wanted it.

The soldier came inside of her, with no protest on her behalf: she had enjoyed the sex with him till the bitter end. He pulled out of her and lay on his back. She rolled over him, and in a minute she was sleeping. Totally abandoned to him, totally trusting him. It was the first time the soldier felt responsible for another human being, let alone a woman. Yes, when they would have got home, he would have thought seriously to her, talked with his father and all the rest. But then and there, the future was a quite vague concept. Virtually it did not exist.

The soldier breathed, satisfied with himself. It was his second sexual experience, some "expert". But if, at home, he was the pupil, there, he has been the master! And all thanks to the teaching of the other girl. Don't worry, don't hurry, take it easy. Use your fingers, your hands, your mouth, your lips, before to use your dick. She had insisted till he had kissed her own sex, a thing Russian males did not appreciate so much. But he could not deny anything to his kind and patient teacher of sex, so he had done it too: not so bad, indeed.

No, he did not try to do the same with the girl who was sleeping over him. The conditions were not so favorable. Maybe the next time, she snorted. Or maybe at home...

He asked himself if the medic had heard something of his showdown with the girl... So what? He did not disturb them: a real gentleman... "Normàlny mujìk", a man as it takes...

He looked in the direction of where he thought the man was, and winked at him.

A few meters away in that direction, the medic slept like a stone. He had heard nothing.