A Morning, a Day, and a Night

by Nikolai G. Borbe · 7 Apr 2022

A Morning

The darkness about the place, the creeping cold air, and the ever now and then grunts, could be smelt flowing through the air like the ocean on a quiet beach flowing to and fro with the moon-tide. A young boy laid on an almost empty air mattress. His family name, history, and legacy were unimportant; he simply went by Boh. His hair was blond but dark, and was filled with mud and dirt, he had bright sky-blue eyes, and was lean of figure; on his left forearm he carried an anchor tattoo. The mattress he had been using continuously for the last couple of weeks was holding up well through the long days. Next to him lay his companion, and only listener, Mykola. A bit shorter of stature, but still as handsome as himself.

Slowly rising, head bent down, he quietly made his way out of the tent. After he left the tent, he made his way over to the hillside where they had set up a fireplace and kept their ever-shrinking military ration next to a large boulder side; it was Polish dry powder stew, American dry powder stew, and British dry powder chili con carne; the bags only required a bit of water to be made into a decent meal. Next to the food was the coffee powder which he grabbed and stirred into two wooden cups, creating a morning.

Boh made his way over to the tent, entered, and carefully shook Mykola till he awaked. “Good morning” Mykola grunted, massaging his eyes. “I made you coffee” Boh whispered, reaching his hand out giving him the wooden cup. It had been days, maybe even weeks since it was last washed; it was made of oak but was dark after being seasoned. “Momma’s favorite” was engraved on the side, and the handle had broken off, leaving only one way of holding the cup. “Thanks, Boh!” He responded, lifting his head up taking a sip.

“I had the nightmare again Boh, can’t seem to shake it. Every day, I see his face, his young innocent face. I can’t bear it.”

It took some time for Boh to respond, picking the sentence carefully: “He would have killed you. If you didn’t, …, you wouldn’t be here enjoying this coffee with me now.”

“I’m growing less and less sure he would have Boh, and less and less sure in myself at the same time. He wasn’t a killer, he was just a scared little kid, younger than me, I’m sure. Maybe he not shooting first makes me… I should have given him the choice to be unsullied, to prove his innocence, but I took that choice from him.”

Realizing he could do no good Boh responded “Get up, it’s a great day, and we have new intel we need to look into”.

Both the lads got dressed and headed to the boulder where they had set up a living area. They had set up a laptop, a Starlink terminal and some electronics into the rock-wall to the left of their ration. With a little roof made out of a few planks and logs, a layer of tarp to keep the water guided elsewhere, and to cover it all up, branches from fir tree had been used, they had created a fine little workstation. Over on the other side of their ration, they kept a well-crafted, little, fireplace. Next to it was a few days work of firewood hid in a woodshed that also was covered in fir tree branches. Everything was made to look invisible to anyone that might’ve found their way into the endless depth of the far-reaching forest hugging Kiev.

“Any updates?” Mykola asked. He was the oldest and had taken on the responsibility of contacting all the other groups located around Kiev; twice a day, at 9 am and pm, he wrote, updating the Telegram group everything was fine. They were part of an established group of civilians tasked with covering the area around Kiev and updating the Ukrainian military of enemy position. He was also responsible for the rations. Boh on the other hand was the fixer in the duo, he was their engineer, their medic, and relevant for this situation, their IT person. Boh had settled down on a stump and was reading updates from their specialized energy-efficient computer. They had set up a couple hidden solar panels around the zone to charge the few batteries they needed, using the cover of all types of vegetation to their advantage.

“Kiev has fallen.” Boh looked up, with a concerned expression fixed on his face. “Go and activate the alarms. I will hide all of our stuff. Starting tonight, we will do night watches, 4-hour rotations. Remember, our job is to get intel when they pass. If we get caught, we are dead.”

Mykola cried. “I’m scared Mykola!” Boh answered.

After a good hour of work, they met back up. Mykola, after having dug down all their ration, packed the computer and all the electronics, and disassembled and hid the shelter, was excused. The same was Boh, after having hurried his way around a 3 kilometers radius, activating all their hidden alarms. Now they felt relatively safe at least.

“All done!” Boh cried out to Mykola in a distance. “Same!” he quickly responded, both meeting up at the camp.

“When do you think they’ll be here?” Boh asked. “Could be at any time, remember, the alarms don’t have to be activated for them to have passed through. They can malfunction, we can’t be sure they are not already here. We need to be on high alert. I’ll make us some lunch, head to the hill and bring the radio, I’ll bring the food. And for god’s sake. Stay quiet.” Mykola cried.

Boh did as commanded and quickly grabbed a radio, he chucked the other one to Mykola, and was already a good way up the hill before it got caught. Using the small trees, and stone cracks to drag himself up, Boh quickly found his way to the top. They had dug a little divot that gave them a good overlook of the forest surrounding them. The hideout was specifically made for this situation: see the enemy, report, and hide. In the divot they had water, food, and a couple of spare batteries, enough to let them stay there for 3 days straight. They had no guns other than a pistol each; the idea was that if they got caught, they would be dead either way, and not having a gun would incentivize hiding; Ukraine also had a shortage of guns, and the few they had were needed elsewhere.

Boh laid himself down onto his black and brown sheepskin that was gifted to him by another civilian. The man told him he had left his old job as a sheep farmer to help out the resistance. Giving all the sheepskins away to anyone that might need them, probably expecting not to return. Boh had only been up on the hill once before when he was helping Mykola dig. They hadn’t brought a lot of tools, so they both used a simple pocketknife and their hands for the job. Looking out over the quiet forest Boh felt his blood cool.

“Mykola, I’m all set up on Asgard, over.” Boh called over the radio. “I can hear you clearly, over and out.” Mykola responded after a while, “the food will be done shortly.”

15 minutes passed before Mykola could be heard making his way up the hill, taking the easier, but longer route. “Here’s your stew. It might be your last for a while, so enjoy it dearly.” “Thanks!” Boh responded, reaching out and grabbing the mix. “Now we’ll wait.”

Two hours passed with little to no talking. Just a simple comment every now and then. Both were daydreaming to themselves and had little interest in talking. Suddenly they heard a quiet beeping noise coming from the computer. Boh instinctively raised his head, looking straight into Mykola's eyes, then quickly at the computer. He quickly reached for the computer and opened it, vigorously scanning for information.

“The North-east alarm in sector four is triggered,” he said. “Fuck!” “I’m scared Mykola. I’m scared” “Stay calm. As long as we don’t get seen, we should be good.” The sun was rising more and more and the temperature with it. It was still late winter, so icy snow was covering the moss and humus hiding underneath.

A Day

Two long hours went by, and slowly they started feeling sick with apprehension. They could hear sounds of wind, and all the sounds the wind would create, even the imaginary ones. The only thing keeping them from growing insane was the time still ticking forward. In a normal situation they would both be on the brink of a deep and slumber sleep, but the tension rising made sure that would not happen. The sheepskin was slowly growing more and more uncomfortable as the lads continuously kept shifting around. A bird chirp could be heard every now and then, and the echo from a cat owl was constantly felt through the forest.

“Did you hear that,” Mykola whispered. “Hear what?” “The branch crying!” “No?” said Boh, as quietly as he could manage. “There it was again, did you...” “Yeah, shut up!” Boh quickly responded.

They were lying dead still for what felt like an eternity. Then it happened again, and again. Footsteps were quietly getting closer. Suddenly Boh saw the outline of a small figure ever getting closer. “Over there,” Boh nodded. Mykola had also heard it and was already staring straight at what looked like a man coming closer.

“It’s only one.” Boh whispered. “I can see it,” Mykola agreed “just be quiet and keep your head down.” The man was slowly getting closer and was slowly headed towards their camp.

“What the fuck do we do!” Boh panicked. “Just stay down, don’t make any fucking noise!” Mykola whispered angrily. “What if he finds our stuff?” “He won’t.” “But…” Boh started. “If he does, we will take him hostage. Simple as that, but he won’t.” Mykola interrupted.

The man, only a few meters away now suddenly stopped where they could see him clearly. The man wasn’t a man, he was a boy. Probably no more than 18 years, maybe even younger. He was wearing a Russian, over-sized, military uniform. His face, even though it was very dirty, was spotless, unscarred, unshaped. He was clearly alone because he was scared. Over his right shoulder he was carrying a military assault rifle AK-12. He had taken off his vest and was not carrying any visible ammunition or explosives. On his back he was carrying a black, and dark blue, backpack, not of the military kind, this one he had probably found on his adventure.

The boy was looking around, it seemed like he had spotted something, only standing a couple of meters away from their hidden rations. The snow looked different in this area, almost like it had been used. The boy suddenly and quickly turned his head around, then back, when he looked back, he had a realization, slowly looking to the snow then lifting his head slowly, searching the hillside, slowly rising, until he was staring them both in the eyes.

It took a couple of seconds before anyone reacted, but all at the same time panicked and reach for their guns. The kid was quickest and just after a second started firing; holding down his trigger bullets went flying all around them, many hitting the hill right under, many the trees behind them, but no bullet got close. No more than 15 bullets were fired before the gun stopped, it wasn’t responding to the trigger. He tried again and again but he knew he was out.

Mykola and Boh quickly realized and were down the hill and was holding him at gunpoint before he could realize what had happened. “Don’t Fucking Move a Finger!” Mykola yelled. Now standing only two arm distances away. “I will shoot if you test me,” Mykola cried, a lot quieter this time.

The kid was scared out of his mind, arms and legs shaking, a few tears rolling down his cheekbones. You could see a little wet spot on his crotch slowly moving down his left inner pant leg. “Please don’t kill. Please,” the kid begged slowly bending his knees and putting his head down, “please.”

“Are you Russian?” Mykola asked in an almost whispering voice, scared of being heard, but still wanting to make sure the kid heard him. “Yes, yes I am. My name is Nikolai, I ran away from my unit, I want no harm. Please don’t kill me.”

“What the fuck do we do now Mykola?” Boh whispered aggressively. It took some time before Mykola responded. “You remember when we saw Lone Survivors in the cinema, and what happened to the Matt Damon guy.” “Are you saying we should kill him?” “No, no, my point was only that we can’t trust he won’t run back, so we need to think of something else.”

“We can use the ropes from the tents to tie him up. Then we take the moss under the snow and a branch and stick it in his mouth to keep him quiet. You can take the spare fir branches and hide him next to the boulder side. We will give him some water and food once a day, and then take him with us when we leave for Kaniv.”

“You do know there can be more Russians, right? We should just strangle and hide him. It’s too risky not to.” “You don’t want to kill someone; he will haunt your memory till the day you die. You will not be able to live a happy man again Boh. Trust me.” “At least I will have a life.” Boh angerly responded. “The grief I have suffered makes me question the value of life, I see his innocent face every day when I go to bed, and he was holding me in a stalemate. This one can’t do us anything.” Mykola said frustrated. “Have it your way, but we should still question him.” “Yeah, yeah, of course.” The kid had calmed down after the reassurance he might not die.

"Are the Russians headed this way?" Said Mykola. "I, I don't know. As I said I, ran away from my unit right after they captured Kiev, about 24 hours ago." Nikolai responded calmly. "I found this backpack on my way here. Stuffed it with food I stole from an elderly woman in an old small red house about 5 kilometers that way," he said pointing in the direction he came from. "My plan was to try to get into Poland with the civilians and hide out the war," he continued. "If you let me go I'll be on my way and you will never see me again."

Boh looked to Mykola who had a concerned look fixed to his face. "He could be telling the truth," said Boh. "I know, but he could not be. Let's tie him up, and when we leave in three days we let him go. If he is telling the truth he should still be able to get to Poland safely." Mykola concluded.

Boh made his way towards their dug down tent. They had no use for it anymore seeing that comfort was far too risky. He brushed away the snow until he found the outer layer of their old green tent. He dragged it out, letting the snow fall from the side until he could see a thin yellow line appear. Following that, he grabbed his small pocket knife–he had kept it from his days as a sailor and liked to show it off. The knife was a flip knife, with a worn out shaft. On the shaft was engraved 63, his own number. He grabbed the line, putting his knife into a little loop he made with the rope and cut it off. He did this to all the lines creating seven or so small segments of the yellow line. Continuing, he grabbed the lines and tied them together using sheet bends––a knot his old captain taught him. Having now made a long line he took a good hold of the thin top layer of the tent and dragged it out. Using his knife, he cut up squares which he thought might be found useful as a makeshift gag. Once he was done he took the scrap material and hid it under a new layer of wet snow. It was a good thing they were leaving in three days since the snow was about to melt leaving all their stuff out in the open.

Boh made his way back to Mykola who was still holding Nikolai at gun point. "Here, I have made a line and some material I thought we could use as a gag," Boh called out.

The lads took a hold of Nikolai, first taking the rope around his hands, then tightening it by going around the rope. This created a really solid, and almost too tight hold around his hands. Once done they took the rest of the rope and continued the pattern around his leg before they finished by lashing his hands and feet close together forcing Nikolai into a strange, bent back, yoga position. After, they curled up the tent material Boh had made into a thick roll and forced it tight into his mouth and around his head creating a bit. Finishing up, Boh went around gathering fir branches which they used to hide Nikolai's body.

"We will come back checking on you every now and then. If you want to live, don't move and stay quiet," Mykola whispered aggressively in a threatening manner. Boh and Mykola made their way back up the hill. After reaching the summit Mykola turned to Boh. "We did the right thing."

The weather had turned dark, and rain clouds could be spotted through the cracks in the roof of the forest. Out of no where they hear Nikolai making his best effort to call out for help. He quickly found out it was difficult to make any audible words through the cloth in his mouth, but nevertheless Boh and Mykola had heard him.

Boh made his way down the hill using the stems of the small trees as support. "Shut it." Boh said aggressively. Nikolai in response continued to make the same inaudible noise as before. Boh saw no other solution and decided to gently remove the cloth from Nikolai's mouth.

"My hands," said Nikolai, who had lost all life from his voice. Boh rolled Nikolai's limp body over, letting it fall down on its side after reaching the tipping point. He saw right away that something was wrong. His bare hands were blue; his fingers were dark probably from a combination of the cold and the tight ropes. "Please loosen the ropes, just a bit. I can't feel my hands any longer."

Boh quickly realized that he couldn't let Nikolai stay like this and decided to loosen the ropes. "This won't work," Boh decided, loosening the ropes on his foot as well. "You won't run away will you?" "No, no, not at all."

Boh didn't really care about Nikolai's response, feeling bad for what they had done to him he was confident, or maybe regretfully hopeful, he wouldn't try anything. The only rope now tied to Nikolai's body was a symbolic loose rope around his arms. "Come with me," Boh decided leading the way up the hill.

After reaching the summit, and turning away Mykola's questioning face, Boh told Nikolai to lay down besides them. "He would have died if we let him stay down there. It's too hot for the snow, but too cold for the body. He would be laying dead in a frozen layer of ice by nightfall." Mykola seemed to agree, once scared for his life, now used to the feeling, it wasn't such a big deal any longer. Boh laid himself down onto the sheepskin, keeping an eye on Nikolai. He was only laying a meter to his right, and could easily be spotted from the ground.

The boys had gotten used to each other, and not after long they were talking in a lively, but still very quiet, manner. "Where are you from Nikolai?" Mykola asked gently. "Moscow, I'm from Moscow, in a small block in the Northern part of the city." Nikolai responded. "I grew up there, and was still living there with my mom and dad and two brothers before going into this meaningless war."

"How old are you kid?" Boh said. "Kid? It's not like you are much older," he marked, "I turned 18 this January." "How old are your brothers?" "One as old as you I would imagine, he's 20. One younger, he's 15. My older brother was recruited at the same time as me, I think he is stationed in Kharkiv. They didn't want us to be together," said Nikolai with a sad tone in his voice. "I haven't seen him or my family in 5 months."

"I am sorry to hear," said Boh, turning his head over and checking on Nikolai's hands. They were less blue, and had finally started to get some color back into them. It had been many hours since last time they ate, so Boh decided to go down the hill to boil some snow into water for a stew. He dug where he knew the ration was hidden, soon finding the plastic box they kept their food in. He opened it, digging through the bags until he found himself three packets off stew. He dug the box back down into the hole, and then went onto looking for dead fir-tree branches, the type that is excellent for starting a fire with.

He had to walk 500 meters away from the camp until he found something promising. The tree was tall, but manageable. Using his saw, he found a good spot and started pushing it to and fro. With every push digging deeper into the stem of the tree. After a good minute he started getting through and the tree was slowly leaning further and further, suffering more and more, wanting to lay down dead. Finally the tree had had enough, and decided to fall, making a large cracking noise while tipping and a vey loud bang that echoed through the forest when it landed.

Boh noticed the strangeness to the bang and quickly decided that something was off. He quickly started running for the camp, realizing what might have happened. With every step he was growing more and more worried. Running faster and faster he was feeling his stomach aching for food. He hadn't eaten for almost nine hours and was starting to feel his legs and body fatigue. Hoping for the best, he decided to take a quick brake to catch his breath.

All of a sudden he heard chattering off in a distance, but not from the camp, and not any voices he recognized. There were many voices, and all coming from slightly different directions. Fearing the worst, Boh went to grab his gun, but vigorously looking for it he didn't find it; he had left his pistol at the camp. How stupid of him he thought to himself, but decided to take a closer look.

Slowly moving towards the camp. He felt as if he was suddenly filled with a strong courage that he had never felt before. With every step he was slowly getting closer; his foot was making cracking noises in the snow, he moved from tree to tree, using them as cover.

"What should we do with this guy?" Boh could hear in a distance. Seeing the outline of many people, he counted 11. It looked like they had spotted their lookout point, and on it was laying a body. He could see it on the jacket, and it was like he had feared, Mykola's dead body.

The corpse was laying on its stomach with the face planted firmly in the ground. The back of his head was open, letting the wind hit directly into an open wound as large as a tennis ball. There was blood covering the snow all around him, and down, down, flowing down the hill like a river on a mountainside.

Next to his body stood a tall Russian soldier, he was holding his gun close to Mykola's face and was using it to push his body parts curiously around. Boh had started scanning for any sight of Nikolai, but couldn't see him anywhere. Filled with sadness, he felt alone. Boh knew there was no use in staying hidden behind the tree just waiting to be found. After a short moment of grief he took up the pace and headed for Kaniv, carrying his memory of Mykola deep within.

A Night

Nikolai let a few moments pass after Boh had left. He knew that this was his best opportunity to escape, especially now that the ropes were too loose for their intended purpose. Nikolai had grown a liking to the lads and didn't want to inflict them any pain; he simply planned to steal Mykola's gun, grab a bit of food, and escape.

He waited just a couple of seconds before he started twisting his wrists slowly, turning them from side to side, ever loosening the rope. After just a couple of minutes he knew they were loose enough to let his hands escape. He pulled gently, no good. He tried again, now with explosive force; the rope let his hands go from their tight grip.

Right away Nikolai launched for the pistol on Mykola's side. He managed to grab it quickly before Mykola realized. "Don't move!" Nikolai said with a scared tone in his voice. He hadn't planned this exact moment and understood that this next part was going to be tricky. "Just let me go and I won't hurt you." "Ok!" Mykola replied.

Nikolai had to act quickly since Boh could come back at any time. He used the hand he was holding the gun with–it was still numb after the tight ropes–and managed to pull off the remaining rope. "Just stay here and I'll be on my way," Nikolai said while he raised his head, having looked to his hands so he could more easily untie the rope. He now looked straight into the barrel of Mykola's gun, pointing straight towards his head. Nikolai realized he hadn't grabbed Mykola's gun, rather, Boh had forgot to bring his own and he was now holding his gun.

In a panic Nikolai pressed the trigger on his gun. Suddenly, a bullet jumped out of his gun, flying with incredible speed towards Mykola. Before he had realized what he had done Mykola's face was pushed back, and as his body followed, he landed face first on the snow right outside of the divot.

Filled with shock, Nikolai fell back. He didn't quite understand what he had just done; he had never killed anyone before. He felt a certain emptiness and loneliness, but his survival-instincts quickly kicked in and he was well on his way before the stream of blood from the cadaver had reached the bottom of the hillside. Never to be seen again.