At the end of October, the Freedom Movement of the Rus made its first major rally in Lithuania. Artur Tschistokjow had chosen Vilnius, the political center of the country. At the same time, there were also some smaller demonstrations in five other Lithuanian cities.
About 10000 men and women marched through the streets of Vilnius, where they encountered a much more aggressive police than in Belarus. After just half an hour it came to heavy riots and firefights. The roughly 500 armed troopers, who were led by Frank and Peter Ulljewski, had a short shootout with the Lithuanian security forces and thirty guardsmen and several officers were killed.
Artur Tschistokjow eventually stopped the rally, before they had reached the inner city and Frank and his friends from Ivas fled to Vitebsk. This time, the media of the administration sector “Eastern Europe” reported about the failed demonstration of the Rus with their usual scorn. The newscasters spoke of “criminals”, “terrorists” and “rioters”. The agitation lasted almost two weeks. Nevertheless, Artur and his followers were not discouraged. After all, the smaller rallies in the other Lithuanian cities had ended peacefully. After the rally in Vilnius, also Igor, the leader of the Lithuanian section, was arrested by the police and a little later executed, because of “breach of the peace”. The media extensively reported about it again.
“That was big shit!”, hissed Frank, picking in the mashed potatoes on his plate which Alf had cooked.
His tall friend nodded and replied: “I won`t join another demonstration in Lithuania, this is too dangerous for us. We will only attract the attention of the authorities to our village!”
“It has been Wilden`s brilliant idea – once more!”,
grumbled Kohlhaas.
“If we would really take over the power in Belarus one day, we can also liberate Lithuania”, returned Bäumer and brought the next pot of mashed potatoes.
“How old are they anyway?”, inquired Frank, pointing at the steaming metal pot.
“What?”
“The potatoes! How old?”
Bäumer scratched his head. “They are from our stock in the cellar!”
Frank made a disgusted face. “They even taste like this…”
His roommate waved his hand and left the kitchen. “You find luxury elsewhere!”
“Will you come with me to Linda?”, asked him Frank.
“Another rally?”
“No, we want to distribute newspapers!”
“Yeah, sure!”, replied Alf and came back into the room.
“Anyhow, I play some “Doom 8” now, buddy!”, said Frank, putting the half-empty plate aside. Then he went into his room and booted the computer.
Thorsten Wilden was again in Belarus and discussed with the inner circle of the Freedom Movement of the Rus his plans and ideas. Guardsmen units should occupy important strategic aims in a large, nationwide action, when the day of revolution had come. These aims were police stations, town halls, television stations, radio stations and press houses. Furthermore, several factories and supply centers for food, water and electricity. Tschistokjow himself propagated the march on Minsk, and planned to lead his armed troopers and tens of thousands of people to the presidential palace in the inner city, in order to force Medschenko to abdicate.
In the meantime, Frank, Alf, Sven and thousands of other Rus spreaded Tschistokjow`s propaganda in all parts of the country. For meetings with Julia, Kohlhaas had no more time in these days.
Some of Tschistokjow`s men also prepared a general strike of the Belarusian workers and infiltrated numerous production complexes and factories. At the beginning of November, there were further demonstrations all over the country, which were organized by the local group leaders. Meanwhile, the police mostly avoided confrontations with the rebels.
Tschistokjow himself had also ordered his followers to use violence only in emergency situations. This brought the Rus a lot of sympathies among the frustrated policemen and the local administrators, who slowly realized that something had to change.
Finally, the winter of 2035 came over Belarus, Lithuania and the surrounding countries like an angry nemesis. Already in December, the land was assaulted by a harsh wave of ice and snow which was wrapping everthing in an unbearable cold. Hundreds of homeless and poor people froze to death within a few days in the cities and villages in the Baltic countries and in Belarus. Right now, in the days of massive price increases for oil and gas, the people were haunted by cruel, freezing temperatures, causing a state of wrath and despair in millions of households.
Many Belarusians feared not to survive the cold period. In addition, the rest of the still intact domestic economy collapsed, and also the transport system broke down, as a result of the first massive snowfalls. It was that state of hopelessness and despair, which Artur Tschistokjow and his followers had always hoped for. The rebel leader called the upcoming cold snap, with a certian cynicism, a “gift of God”.
Hundreds of thousands of people who had so far behaved quietly, and had not shown their displeasure with the government, were now driven into the arms of the Rus by freezing temperatures and social hardship. The winter whipped them out of their lethargy and literally forced them to show their colors.
At first Artur Tschistokjow went to Moghilev, where he held a mass demonstration of more than 50000 people, who mostly came from the city and the surrounding villages and small towns. The freezing and starving crowd besieged the city hall and attacked the police. This time, the armed guardsmen had a lot of problems to maintain peace, but finally prevented a bloody street fight.
Some Belarusian policemen even joined the march at the end, because they suffered more and more under the lack of salary payments and the rising prices for food, oil and gas. In the middle of December, the situation became still worse. This onset of winter was so extreme that the food supply collapsed in some parts of Belarus.
Frank, Alfred and all their comrades took this opportunity to spread the propaganda of their political leader even more vigorously, hammering the slogans of the revolution into the heads of the despaired. Armed units of the Freedom Movement of the Rus took over the power in many villages and small towns in the north of the country - with the connivance of the local police and the authorities, that partly joined the rebellion.
The local administrator of Vitebsk was lynched by an angry mob in front of his house, a few days before Christmas. One week later, Artur Tschistokjow came to the city and spoke in front of almost 30000 people. The local police accepted his march through the streets and avoided any conflicts. Meanwhile, Medschenko had already lost control over the situation. In Moscow, St. Petersburg, Kiev and other cities in Russia and the Ukraine, it also came to riots and hunger revolts, which could be quelled by the security forces after a few days.
Any Christmas parties and the New Year`s festival were cancelled in Ivas this time, because the most inhabitants of the village were helping the Rus, supporting their nationwide propaganda campaign. Now, the Belarusian capital of Minsk had to be taken. The time seemed to be ripe for the great march on Minsk, Tschistokjow was dreaming about since years. However, the preparations were in full swing.
”The new year must end with the victory of the revolution!”, repeated the rebel leader incessantly.
So they took up all their power, their hate and their hope, to begin the all-important, large-scale attack on the wavering enemy in January 2036.
Frank yawned and crawled out of his bed. Since two days he was back in Ivas and tried to enjoy some free days. Last night the snow had covered the small village with a giant white sheet. They were completely snowed in.
“Damn!”, whispered the young man to himself, looking out the window. Ice flowers studded the glass and blocked the view at the small garden behind the house, which had been smothered by a thick blanket of snow.
“Now we are trapped in this dump!”, he heard a voice behind him.
It was Alf. The tall man was shivering from cold and trudged to the old wood fired oven in the living ro
om.
“What a mess! I`ve never seen so much snow in my whole life. Hopefully, our roof won`t crush down sometime”, muttered Frank and entered the kitchen.
The two men drank some coffee and slowly awaked. After a while they felt the upcoming heat, which was crawling from the living room to the still cold kitchen, giving the room a tolerable temperature.
“The revolution must start without us!”, joked Frank and looked for something to eat. Suddenly he startled up. Someone was knocking on the door.
“Yes, we are already here. Take it easy!”, roared Bäumer annoyedly and hurried down the hallway.
“Alf, thank God, you are at home! Let me in!”, Frank heard a familiar voice behind the front door.
It was the voice of Thorsten Wilden. The village boss was exhausted and confused, his clothes were wet and he was staring into space, while Kohlhaas came nearer.
“They got Julia!”, he said and ran into the kitchen. “Do you understand? They know everything!”
Frank and Alf looked at each other, not knowing what to say. “Thorsten? Are you okay?”
“They have my little angel, the GSA!”, stammered the gray-haired man, gasping for breath.
“What are you talking about, Thorsten?”
“Julia has driven to Grodno - three days ago. She wanted to meet that Viktor, I don`t know any details. This morning, a call, the GSA! They got my Julia!”, lamented Wilden.
Frank spat a big splash of coffee on the table and almost fell out of his chair. “What? You`re kidding…?”
“The GSA has called me this morning, telling me that they have kidnapped Julia. They know about me and my influence on Artur Tschistokjow. They know everything about us - and Ivas! Damn!”
Bäumer eyes almost fell out of his skull, Frank was chalky white and puffed quietly. “I hope you are kidding, Thorsten! This can`t be true!”
“No! This is not a stupid joke! It`s the truth! I swear it!”, cried Wilden.
His facial expression did not look, as if he was joking, not at all. Wilden`s eyes stared around with sheer horror, then he began to wail. Frank and Alf offered their guest a chair and the man sank down, totally exhausted. Finally he started to cry and incoherently stammered something. Frank had never seen him in a condition like this before.
“This is a fucking nightmare! God!”, muttered Bäumer, holding his head.
After a while Wilden was able to describe the situation, more or less understandable. Apparently, Julia had driven to Grodno three days ago, after Viktor had asked her to forgive him and had further invited her to some kind of “peace talk”.
In spite of the dangerous weather, the pretty daughter of the village boss had accepted Viktor`s offer and had immediately driven off. Since then, Mr. and Mrs. Wilden had not heard anything from her. Until this morning, when Wilden had taken a disturbing phone call. Someone, who had introduced himself as a GSA agent, had told Wilden, that they had kidnapped his daughter. He had described her appearance in detail, and a few minutes later Julia had been allowed to talk to her father.
“That`s the truth!”, wailed the old man and tore his hair. “I haven`t forbidden her to drive to Grodno. God, I`m such an idiot! This weather is dangerous enough…God!”
“Why Julia?”, asked Bäumer with confusion.
“These swines know about me! They observe us since some months, and they seem to know everything about Ivas – and, above all, about me. That guy from the GSA has told me that they know about my big influence on Tschistokjow. Furthermore, they are informed that Artur is planning an assault on Minsk…”
“And what shall you do for them now?”, asked Frank.
“I shall dissuade Artur from the march on Minsk!”, cried Wilden, banging on the table.
“Dissuade?”
“Artur mostly heeds my strategic advices, you know that. I shall confuse him, make him indecisive and tell him that the attempt to conquer Minsk is madness. Moreover, I shall stop the financing of the freedom movement immediately. I have managed it with a lot of secret accounts yet!”
“I can`t believe it!”, stammered Frank, holding his head totally overwhelmed.
“If I don`t cooperate, they will kill Julia!”, said Wilden.
“Those bastards!”, growled Alf and smashed his cup against the wall.
Frank tried to think clearly and nervously scratched his back of the head. “How do they know all that?”
“To hell! I don`t know it!”, lamented the village boss.
“She wanted to visit Viktor?”, muttered Frank, while his face contorted itself in rage. Then he hissed: “More exactly please, Thorsten!”
“How many times has Viktor actually been in Ivas?”, inquired Bäumer.
“Several times! He often stayed with us. He wasn`t very interested in politics, this was my impression. Anyway, we didn`t talk very much”, answered Wilden.
“But he still leads the group in Grodno, right?”, said Kohlhaas in wonder.
“More or less, he has quickly given the leadership to another man and finally retired into private life. At least, in the second row. I just don`t know it! Shit!”
“I thought, that Julia and Viktor had agreed to part ways?”, grumbled Frank and seemed to fume with rage.
“Yes, I thought so too. I have no idea, what is going on in Julia`s head. These GSA men must have observed her for a while…”, replied Wilden and continued wailing.
Bäumer angrily looked at Frank. “Do you suspect Viktor? This is nonsense! He isn`t responsible for all this!”
“I haven`t said that!”, said Frank and turned round.
“What shall I do now?” The village boss broke out into tears again.
“Where does Viktor live? Do you have an address?”
“Oh, Frank! Yes, somewhere at home. I think, Agatha has his address. After all, he has visited us several times. Yes, we must find…”
Kohlhaas put on a coat and dragged the whining Wilden out of the house on the street, Alf ran after him. “Come on! We will need you!”
Bäumer wondered and did not really know, what he should do now, while Frank and the village boss trudged through the high snow towards Wilden`s house.
It took over an hour until Agatha Wilden had calmed down a bit, and again and again she sobbed and whimpered silently. Fortunately, however, she had kept the address of Viktor.
“I need to go to Grodno!”, said Frank, while Wilden was wailing quietly.
“To Grodno? How do you want to reach it? There is a whole meter of snow on the roads which lead out of Ivas. Since last night, nobody can leave this village anymore!”, snivelled Agatha.
“Maybe by plane!”, answered Kohlhaas and waved Wilden and his wife nearer.
“Maybe...”, muttered the village boss desperately.
“Follow me!”, said Frank and opened the front door. Then he walked down the snow-covered street. Wilden was trudging after him.
Steffen de Vries, the good-natured Fleming with the reddish beard, looked a little baffled, when he had to leave the breakfast table, because Frank and Wilden had yelled something in front of his house. He surly opened the door.
Kohlhaas explained the situation with all necessary urgency and the horrified Belgian followed his remarks. Thorsten Wilden was silent and just whimpered quietly.
“Flying? In this weather? This is more than dangerous, Frank”, meant Steffen.
“I know that, but it doesn`t snow right now, this might be a chance to get out here. You just have to bring me out of the village, then I will get to Grodno on my own”, said Frank, and also tried to reassure Steffen de Vries now.
“This is risky!”, muttered the Fleming.
“You will do it!”, shouted the village boss and the thick Belgian cringed.
“I will call Alf and get my gun and my cell phone. See you soon!”
Frank raced through the deep snow as fast as he could and finally came back with Bäumer, who was still overwhelmed with the situation and only mumbled away to himself.
Shor
tly afterwards, Steffen de Vries brought the two men to Varena. When Alf told him, that the village community was no secret anymore, the Flemish family father was horror-struck and remained silent for the rest of the flight. From Varena, Frank and Alf finally continued their trip to Grodno by train. They arrived at the city in the early evening and found a place to sleep in a small guesthouse.
“Basically, that stupid cow hasn`t deserved anything else!”, growled Bäumer and went to bed.
“I`m mainly doing this for Thorsten and the revolution!”, answered Frank and yawned.
“A likely story, Kohlhaas!”
“Do you want to start an argument with me, before we go to sleep?”, grumbled Frank angrily.
“Thus, I`m doing it only for the revolution and not for that stupid bimbo!”, scolded Alf.
“She is no bimbo!”
Alf grinned cynically. “Nevertheless, your beloved valkyrie behaves like one!”
“Anyhow, the revolution must come now, otherwise we are all fucked up”, said Frank with concern.
“I know. This is nothing but a nightmare.”
They talked for another hour and had to force themselves to sleep. Much to deep, the fears and sorrows stuck in their minds. Today they had learned, that their warm and safe nest, the little village of Ivas, was no longer secret. And troubles with the GSA were no fun at all. It was a disaster.
“This is the Staraya Ulitsa!”, said Frank, pointing at a rusty street sign.
“Viktor lives in number 117. Finally, Grodno is pretty big - and ugly”, answered Alf and fetched his DC-stick.
Some minutes later, they reached a gray apartment block. A huge load of snow had piled up on the edge of the sidewalk and a lof of blue garbage bags stood in front of the exterior wall.
Frank pressed a bell button and waited for a short moment, then the entrance door opened with a hum. They went up the stairs to the fourth floor. Now, someone was yelling in Russian in the hallway. It was Viktor. Frank ran towards him. The athletic man looked a bit puzzled at first, but then he put on a smile.
“Hey, Viktor! I`m Frank. Can you remember me?”
Alf came from behind and welcomed the young man too.
”Yes, hello Frank! And hello Alf! What are you doing here in Grondo?”
”We have to ask you a few things. Can we come in?”, said Kohlhaas and Viktor stared suspiciously at him.
He hesitated for some seconds and looked around. Finally he nodded. “Yes! Sure! Come in, my friends!”
They followed him and sat down in a beautifully furnished living room. The young man disappeared into a side room.
”Do you want to drink something?”, they heard.
“No, thanks!”, answered the two in unison.
The Russian came back, sat down in a chair and lit a cigarette. ”What can I do for you?”
“We are looking for Julia! Her father, Thorsten Wilden, has told us that she has gone to Grodno - to visit you”, said Frank.
Viktor looked at him thoughtfully and scraped with his fingers on the leather of the armchair. Then he answered sadly: “Yes, Julia wanted to visit me, but she never came. Where is she?”
“She did not come to you, Viktor?”, asked Alf.
“No! I`m still waiting for her, my friends. I wanted to talk to her. We are no couple anymore, just good friends...”
“Just good friends!”, muttered Frank and nodded, staring at the ceiling.
“I`m full of sorrows!”, remarked Viktor.
“Same here!”, said Frank.
The handsome young man waved his hand and made a sad impression. “I can not help you, my friends. Sorry!”
Frank and Alfred looked at each other and did not answer him.
”Shit!”, hissed Kohlhaas.
Then Viktor talked with them about all kinds of unimportant things and asked them to tell Julia, that she should immediately give him a shout, when she would reappear. The Russian suddenly stood up and went to the toilet. His two guests remained on the sofa, totally frustrated.
“Do you think, that he is telling the truth?”, asked Frank his friend.
”Why should he tell us crap?”
“I don`t trust the guy!”
“You hate him, because Julia still seems to like him!”
“Well, maybe you`re right. Anyway, he can`t help us. We should go...”
Meanwhile, Alf had put is forefinger in a narrow gap between the seat cushions of the sofa, moving it back and forth absentmindedly. Suddenly he sensed a tiny piece of paper and pulled it out. Frank had closed his eyes and looked tired.
“The disaster takes its course. It was all in vain”, he thought to himself and let out a sigh.
In the meantime, Alf tried decipher the Cyrillic text on the piece of paper which he had pulled out of the gap between the seat cushions. It was a receipt of a gas station, from 06.01.2036.
“Vladimir Zolinski, gas station, Prienai”, he read out quietly.
Alf crumpled up the little piece of paper, without thinking.
A toilet flushing resounded, while Bäumer put the receipt into his coat pocket. The Russian came back into the living room again.
“Thanks! We have to go now!“, explained Frank and they went to the door.
„Okay! I hope Julia is all right!“, returned Viktor and shook their hands.
After a few minutes, they had almost reached the entrance door of the apartment block. Frank kicked angrily against the banister and Alf seemed to muse.
“What a mess! We`ll never find her!”, muttered Kohlhaas and looked at his friend.
Suddenly Bäumer stopped, took a deep breath and hastily scrabbled in the pocket of his coat.
”What are you doing?”, growled Frank.
“Hold up!”
Alf finally pulled out the crumpled-up piece of paper and stared at it. He breathed heavily.
“Today is the 10th of January, right?”
“Yes! Why?”, returned Frank. “What`s up?”
”This is a receipt of a gas station. It is dated on 06.01.2036 - three days ago. I have found it between the cushions of Viktor`s sofa...”
“So fucking what? Don`t waste my time with this crap?”
”Somebody has tanked up his car at the gas station in Prienai. This is the first gas station you reach, if you come from Ivas and drive further towards the highway!”
“Yes, I know that gas station, but...?”, replied Kohlhaas casually.
”But why was this receipt between the cushions of Viktor`s sofa?”
Frank winced and stumbled against the banister. He looked at Alf with mouth agape and was dumbfounded.
March on Minsk