When The Tundra Calls / Remnants - Finish the Story Contest #58

in #finishthestory5 years ago (edited)

It's been a while since the last time I entered the Finish the Story contest. I don't even remember the layout I used for the posts.

In the last two editions, I procrastinated until I had no time to write the story, but this time I made it by a nose hair.

Here you can find the prompt post for this awesome contest.


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Photo under CC0 / Public Domain License; Source


When The Tundra Calls

[by @f3nix]

"СКБ Прогресс". Space Missile Center Progress.

The writing stood out on the roof of the latrine, indelible against the cobalt blue metal, sparkling under the dirty white sky of a first spring attempt.

Gennadiy waited impatiently, hopping from leg to leg in the mud and throwing stones at the door of the makeshift bathroom.
Not far away, Drogol pointed to a litter of kittens wagging his tail, the snorting nose pressed between the mesh of the net surrounding one of the last houses before the forest. From his sharp eyes and outstretched ears, a curiosity shone halfway between the festive and the ferocious.

"Stop it with these stones, Genna, or there's no deal."

The Siberian husky slipped off his nose from the net, the time to direct a dry bark in the direction of the voice filtered by the rotten wooden boards.

"Even Drogol is annoyed with your complaining, Anton. The sun sets quickly." Gennadiy said, throwing another stone with a theatrical gesture as if he were casting a dark curse. The dirty pebble ended up right in the crack above the door.

"You're a bastard, Genna. Forget me leaving this pisshole”.

Perhaps, it was better to leave him in peace, free to concentrate. It was not only the hours of daylight but also their fathers, who in a few hours would be home with the day's loot and would certainly have wanted to find them ready to help with the recovered material. The boy stared at the makeshift latrine with the mark of the nearby Pleseck's cosmodrome: a missile and a satellite with its orbit in evidence stood out against the blue background and the white silhouette of a planet.

That symbol often appeared in the most unthinkable places of Dolgoščelę, an insignificant village in the Russian region of Mezen, a stone throw away from the Arctic circle. It seemed as if over the years millions of spores from the nearby cosmodrome had taken root and proliferated among the simple urban elements of that group of houses between tundra and sea.

From the time of the cold war, when the launch program intensified, for the population of the region to recover the pieces of the rockets embedded in the snow became an essential second job. One that, eventually, could replace the traditional activities of hunting and fishing and grant those poor families better odds against the sublime yet sharp immensity of nature. Sifting through the snow of the tundra in winter was easier than in summer when even the streets flooded and boats built with rocket shells came back to use after the seasonal dormancy.

Recovered metals such as gold and titanium could be sold to Arcangelo's black market. The activity ended up involving all family members, each with a task in an efficient recycling chain.
The door of the latrine opened wide. Anton, the son of the country's pastor and Gennadiy's inseparable friend, now stood out against the shining metal like a war hero.

"Anton, if they discover us because of your endless shitting, I swear this time your bike is mine."

"Stop worrying and think, instead, of their faces in front of our loot," replied Anton with a seraphic expression.

"East, beyond the lake. Where the caribous' footprints stop," said Gennadiy absorbed, his mind already gliding on the untouched expanse of snow of that spot deep in the forest.

"Aha. Today we go hunting for the wrong pieces," Anton urged hinting a smile.

Both friends nodded solemnly before answering to the tundra's call.


Remnants

[my continuation]

Gennadiy was feeling almost like an arctic Aladdin, if the cave of wonders had been a dump of frozen metal objects. That was the paradise of strange, rusty equipment and remnants of some obsolete alien technology.

That asshole of Anton had decided to go over the hill:

"Let's make a bet, Genna" had told him with his usual scorn ripple at the corner of the Slav imperturbability mask. "I'm going to the right of the hill, you to the left. If I find better stuff than yours, you will give me five bottles of that vodka that your old man keeps hidden in the crate under the bed."

"Ok, but if I win, you will have to go around for a month with a sign hanging around your neck… with the words I like reindeer’s ass" Gennadiy had replied on the spot, already thinking of his father's hands, heavy as mason’s bats, if he found out they stole from his reserve.

Now, however, as he filled the sleigh with twisted and gleaming fragments that seemed to be detached from a flying saucer, he felt reasonably sure that he wouldn’t have to risk his back for any bottle.

A low growl shook him from his dreams of glory.

"Shut up, Drogol! It's just the wind! Even the lemmings would have the balls frozen out here."

The big husky did not pay attention to him, he continued to head towards the hill, growling strangely, his thick fur standing on his back. The boy had never seen him like this.

"Drogol?" He murmured doubtfully, laying down a piece of control panel.

Then something rolled down from the lower ridge, raising a white trail of snow. A continuous and desperate cry accompanied the ruinous fall:

"Blyaaaaaaat!!!"

Anton's voice was distorted as he cursed. Gennadiy barely recognized him in time, before something else stepped over the ridge: a huge, brown silhouette, launched in pursuit.

A rush of terror crossed the boy as his friend joined him, with his eyes almost out of their sockets, and Drogol exploded in a succession of paroxysmal barks.

"Bear! Fuck! Bear!!!" Anton repeated, with his breath broken.

The two friends and the dog were already fleeing without even being aware of it, but Gennadiy was struck by a thought, clear and sharp like an icicle falling from a gutter: they were dead.

They could not hope to distance a running brown bear. That avalanche of fangs, muscles and fur would have been on them in no time. The roar and stench they felt behind them was the prelude to hell.

Suddenly there was a prolonged and piercing whistle. The heavy thuds of the clawed paws slowed. Gennadiy risked a look behind him and saw that the bear was stopping, with the huge head turned to something behind him.

"Oooh Igor!” exclaimed a strange character, emerging from behind a snowdrift. He was wearing an old Red Army uniform, over which a voluminous coat composed of several layers of fur was thrown.

The man passed next to the bear, who bowed his muzzle resignedly, and spat his whistle on a white patriarchal beard.

The two boys, open-mouthed, almost did not realize the AK-74 barrel sticking out from the layers of fur, pointing straight at them.

"You're in big trouble, guys" the old man exclaimed, mumbling the words in his almost toothless mouth. "This is a military zone, forbidden to the kolkhoz population. Fortunately for you, you saved yourself from the claws of good old Igor, but you will not escape from the military law of the Soviet Union!"

Gennadiy and Anton looked at each other in amazement.

"Kolkhoz? Soviet Union? Grandpa, it's better if you lay the cannon, we need to talk..."


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You open in wonder, and contrast it so beautiful with the harsh reality. Aladdin, and the familiar sense of amazement and magic, and possibility of something greater against Gennadiy, thinking of his father, and his stash of bottles, and the harsh reality of hands like mason's bats.

The relationship between the boys, the way they talk to each other, the depths of rivalry that is equally almost affectionate in it's own way. Although like the first half, you maintain it so it could be read either way, it is just so so well done. You guys! <3

Gennadiy was struck by a thought, clear and sharp like an icicle falling from a gutter

Damnnnnn what a brilliant way to describe a thought that just pierces the mind.

Did not expect the bear. Surprise bear! Who doesn't love bears. The way you build the tension up for it's appearance, I was expecting aliens, a military descendant, all sorts, and yet somehow the bear just felt right given the way you had gone with it.

AND THEN IT WAS A PET BEAR!!!! Love it!

Too good, @calluna!

Looking back, I'm more proud of the first part. I am satisfied with how I managed to convey the sense of a tough and harsh childhood, but still full of that magical look that children have.
The second part, with the bear and the old soldier ... should have been much longer than that. I truncated in order not to exceed the limits too much (even so, they are more than 600 words), but I had thought of a much more complex story. What is left is a bit bizarre and, if I say it, it could have been better.

It's the hardest thing - slicing up, cutting down, taking out, stifling and knowing that all of what you wanted maybe isn't in there. I can understand what you mean, because to you, you read it and see what you wanted to include and didn't get to, you see holes no one else can. There are brilliant lines in the second half of your second half

That avalanche of fangs, muscles and fur

which is that same careful word choice, it could only be a polar bear!

I think I can see what you mean about how you would have liked more in there, think we all might have this round lol but then, we can only answer so much in so little, and this is very entertaining, carries plenty of suspense, and packs a lot in there (even if it is slightly over) just means you'll have to join in again next week ;)

They were lucky to escape the bear but still in danger. Drogol should have at least gone after the bear to give them some time, but he was escaping with them. Nice story.

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I didn't have the guts to make the bear rip off the poor dog

Aww, I'm glad they were all saved though

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Gennadiy was feeling almost like an arctic Aladdin, if the cave of wonders had been a dump of frozen metal objects. That was the paradise of strange, rusty equipment and remnants of some obsolete alien technology.

This is such a great image to start the story with. I really had no trouble visualizing it in my head. The sense of play, characterizing the 'child character' was distinct.

I really enjoyed the banter, too. Children use foul language, and are generally terrible to each other, so reading it is fun. This felt realistic.

Also, bears are terrifying.

I agree. You both created a credible and fun interaction between the two boys, that's a plus.

I have a lot of brothers and I grew up doing the worst things with a gang of peers, between cornfields and construction sites ... I still remember something, and when they talk to me about the innocence of children, I smile (unless innocence means lack of filters) ;)
I'm glad you enjoyed!

Hi marcoriccardi,

This post has been upvoted by the Curie community curation project and associated vote trail as exceptional content (human curated and reviewed). Have a great day :)

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Thank you so much, @curie!
Your support is really invaluable for all those who try to contribute to the exchange of culture and entertainment on Steemit.

Big heart!

Happy that you wrote another story Marco because this is great! The banter between the two flows naturally and I love the 'reindeer's ass' sign. 😂

Though now I want the backstory behind the man and his trained bear!

Thank you for reading and commenting, my friend!
First version of the sign was even grosser, I had shame of myself... same meaning, more explicit words.

The backstory behind the man was something similar to Japanese holdouts that remained for decades in some small Pacific islet thinking the war wasn't over... swapping atoll with tundra and Japan Empire with USSR; many years of solitude to tame a bear.

Obviously, the Aladdin simile was a little stroke of genius and an effective hook. I also loved the oxymoronic idea of an "obsolete alien technology". A fresh and entertaining entry with a lot of action, good dialogues, a twist and the final cliffhanger. What could I ask more? :-D

I tend to resort to the similarities a little too often, but I wanted to keep it. I thought of a boy's eyes, how he could see a heap of objects and parts with an incomprehensible function, but with charm and value.

I'm glad you can't ask for more, but I DO ask myself more... next time! Ahahahah!

What a nice twist in the story. I'm glad that it ended up with some fun. I already saw blood everywhere, limbs flying around and then comes grandpa - the savior. A little out of his mind but still their savior :)

Well done! Thank you for sharing and have a lovely day!

Thank you for visiting and reading!
I'm not a big fan of stories that end completely good or bad, so I ended up with the idea of an old Soviet veteran lost in the tundra, a bit like the Japanese left on some islands without knowing the war was over...

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Hahaha. A Russian Rip van-Winkle?
Interesting story. Governments, even of extinct republics, certainly can be more damaging than the wildest animal :)

I was thinking about Japanese holdouts ;)

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