Operation White Birch – Part 5.2
Scandal on a train...
Hello and welcome back, dear old and new subscribers! If you haven’t yet, read Part 5.1 here:
We sprang to our feet and followed Iceman out of our cabin, but he was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere, someone pulled the emergency brake, the train stopped with a loud squealing noise, and the lights went out, leaving us in darkness and confusion.
We heard people opening their doors, gathering in the corridor, first whispering, then screaming – “What the heck is going on?… Is the West attacking us?… The end is nigh… Oh boy, my wife finally tracked us… Put our special stash away… I can’t find my trousers… Lucky you, I can’t find my underpants!”
The lights came back on, showing people in various states of undress and embarrassment. A couple of statuesque young women in flirty babydolls that left little to the imagination were ushered back in their cabins by their older and not so much fit male companions. A quartet of young men in brand new Adidas tracksuits were trying to hide big hand-rolled cigarettes with a strong, earthy smell.
We were saying our goodnights to each other, when we heard a terrible racket. From the end of the carriage, a most bizarre apparition emerged: a dishevelled Iceman, his eyes wide-open in fury, his mouth roaring thunderous threats and inventive invectives, blood and poo spilling from above his head, which a resplendent black and gold phoenix was clenching in its iron claws.
“Firebird, where have you gone? Come back to papa, what’s with these shenanigans? Ah, there you are. Bad birdie, don’t you run away like that anymore, papa was worried sick. Comrade, kindly hold still and quiet, my Firebird is scared, but he wouldn’t harm a fly. There you go, golubchik. Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy! Yes, you are,” said the big man in the Astrakhan hat, gently disentangling Firebird’s spurs from Iceman’s hair, and putting the rooster back in its crate.
Iceman regained his composure, slowly wiped away his face with an handkerchief, all the while giving a death stare to the big man in the Astrakhan hat, and to Firebird, who now looked every inch the dove of peace. Big Man returned him the death stare, holding his gaze until Iceman looked away. Then Big Man became his jovial self again, bowed and apologised for the inconvenience to all the presents, winked at me, and disappeared with Firebird at the end of the carriage.
He seemed oddly familiar now, had I met him before that night?
Iceman gave us all another death stare – which no one dared to reciprocate – and disappeared in the same direction.
Too disconcerted to make comments or laugh, we all went back to our cabins. Baranov, who’d sobered up during the uncomfortable conversation with Iceman, reached out to Pyotr’s vodka and took a long sip. Then another one. And another one.
“Well, I’ll be damned, if it wasn’t the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I met Stalin in my youth. When comrade Iceman appears, Trouble and Doom soon follow. Uh, I knew this trip was ill-fated. I’m going to my cabin now, but I’m sure I won’t sleep a wink. That means, sweet cheeks, you get to entertain me all night long, rejoice! Have you ever done it on a train? All aboard, choo-choo!”
The Brit had to help Baranov to his feet, and then to his cabin.
“He’s out, if he weren’t snoring, you’d think he died. Make yourself comfortable here. When I asked my good wife, if she were jealous that I might have to sleep next to a young woman on the train, she said ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ She knows how to put me in my place. Hopefully, we can finally have some rest tonight.”
“Good night, sir. And tomorrow, we’ll wake up in Leningrad. What a dream!”, I replied.
“And may it not become a nightmare. Sleep tight!”
New to Bread and Roses? Read Operation White Birch first installment here:
Thanks for reading Bread and Roses! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
Thanks for reading! If you liked this post, you can share it, leave a comment, or buy me a tea. I’d be very grateful to you, I’d appreciate it more than I can express!
Bread and Roses is free today. But if you enjoyed this post, you can tell Bread and Roses that their writing is valuable by pledging a future subscription. You won’t be charged unless they enable payments.
What a ride, Portia. Iceman, Firebird, and all the madness. I loved it. Can't wait to see what happens next.
"“Firebird, where have you gone? Come back to papa, what’s with these shenanigans? Ah, there you are. Bad birdie, don’t you run away like that anymore, papa was worried sick. Comrade, kindly hold still and quiet, my Firebird is scared, but he wouldn’t harm a fly. There you go, golubchik. Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy! Yes, you are,” said the big man in the Astrakhan hat, gently disentangling Firebird’s spurs from Iceman’s hair, and putting the rooster back in its crate."
Wonderful stuff, Portia! So much fun and energy here.