"It takes a village"~ for the PicFic photo prompt challenge 8/13 Part 1

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                       

They’d been walking for hours in the freezing temperatures and the first of the winter snow, putting miles between them and what was left of the small Romanian village that had given them sanctuary.

Trudging along in single file to hide their numbers, if they were indeed being tracked;  the dark-haired American and his Russian partner were at the rear of a column of nearly thirty people who’d abandoned the village of Sorinesti, in fear of retribution from the government forces for giving shelter to Solo and Kuryakin.  They were dressed in clothing similar to the villagers, with heavy winter coats and caps on their heads to ward off the cold.

Lookouts had warned troops were only miles away, and the villagers quickly gathered up what few belongings they could, headin out after Illya and Napoleon’s pleading. They’d convinced them it was best to escape, as they were convinced there would be retribution.  Though the UNCLE agents couldn’t sway everyone and some decided to remain behind. Illya he shook his head is disappointment, knowing the village would be laid waste for giving him and his partner shelter.

Those  who stayed were led to believe the plan was to escape to the Western border. It was hoped that would get the troops off their tails for a time, though it wouldn’t be a permanent solution.

The Secret police called the Securitate, were in proportion to Romania's population, one of the largest secret police forces in the Eastern bloc.

Under Communist rule they employed  innumerable agents and had close to a half-million informers. For a country with a population well under twenty million, the percentage was at a very high ratio, even surpassing that of the East German STASI.

The conflict with the Soviet Union became more acute in 1962, when the Romanian communist leader Gheorghiu-Dej again rejected the Soviet plan for his country and announced the signing of a contract with a British-French consortium for the construction of a large steel mill at Galati.

Romanian-Soviet relations began to deteriorate as Gheorghiu-Dej exploited the Sino-Soviet dispute and supported the Chinese position of the equality among the communist states and rejection of the Soviet party's leading role. In November Romania had declared its readiness to mediate the Sino-Soviet dispute, a suggestion that Moskva treated as a hostile one.

The UNCLE agents had been assigned to find out what exactly Gheorghiu-Dej’s plans were, but were caught in the act of photographing key documents, and barely escaped with their lives. They’d taken refuge in a small village, hoping from there to make it out of the country. Though they’d be coming home empty-handed, at least they'd be alive to tell the tale.

Illya, with his eidetic memory, could recount some of the information that he’d been able to read through, but not all.  So at least the mission wouldn’t be a total loss...unless they didn’t make it back.

At the moment, they were actually heading northward to another village fifteen miles away, and after seeing to the safety of the innocents Solo and Kuryakin would head east to the Black Sea. Once arriving there, they’d commandeer a fishing boat to take them to Turkey.

.

Napoleon was limping with a sprained ankle as he held onto his partner’s narrow waist, trying to keep Illya walking, as his gait was unsteady. The Russian was suffering from the effects of a fall into a ravine after having been shot in the shoulder and was lucky nothing had been broken, much less to be alive.

“Look at the sky,” Kuryakin muttered, “More snow is coming and we had best find shelter soon.”

“Are you sure?”

Illya cocked his head, looking at his partner with dismay.“Napoleon I grew up in a country that has more snow than you could ever possibly imagine in a lifetime and I know what snow-filled clouds look like.”

One of the village leaders walked to the back of the line, announcing  that same fact, confirming Illya’s prediction. He tried not to look back from where they’d come, but he couldn’t help it, seeing distant columns of dark smoke in the sky. That told him his village was gone...

“We make camp here among heavy pines,” Gavril spoke softly. ”Storm it comes soon and we make lean-tos. We are blessed the snow has been covering our tracks through forest.”

Though the villagers left their homes in haste, some remembered to bring hatchets and saws, those they immediately put to use to cut thick pine branches, and fashioning poles.  They shaved bark from smaller trees, making strips of thin wood that served as rope.

The snow began to fall steadily as the last of the shelters were finished; they were simple, just pine branches and narrow tree trunks that served as supports, built around the trunks of some of the larger trees. The silence of the forest echoed for a time with the crunch of feet on the snow-covered ground.  Everyone spoke in whispers, lest their voices carry to unwanted ears.

The cry of a red-footed falcon came from above as it hunted for it’s last prey before the snows fell too heavily.

Pine needles provided bedding for the floor and the branches ample protection against the wind and snow; that was as long as the snow continued to blow in its current direction. Still, a few strategically placed branches across the entrance to a lean-to would work well enough and keep them dry.

A single campfire was built within the circle of these shelters and with several pots, the women cooked what victuals were had metered out for the day, being careful to ration what they had.  Turnips, potatoes, and few rabbits the men had managed to catch in snares... that was it, but with herbs added, it actually made a decent tasting stew, though being rationed, there was still barely enough to go around.

The villagers gathered near the fire and one by one the cooking pots were passed among them along with crudely carved wooden spoons.  Everyone took a few mouthfuls and passed the food along. Some had thought to bring loaves of bread with them, and that too was handed out.

When one pot got to Illya and Napoleon, it had little to nothing left, and the two of them scraped the bottom with the spoon, desperately seeking some morsel to ease the hunger in their bellies as trekking through the snow, injured and tired, gave them a mighty appetite.

What food had been brought would be only be enough for two more days at most and would last  to get them to their destination.

Someone handed Napoleon a bit of bread and he broke it in two, giving the larger half to his partner.

“Nyet,” Illya refused, “equal shares.”

“Nyet, back at you chum. I know how you get when you don’t get to eat and there’s not an ounce of fat on your body to sustain you.  I need you to stay strong...with no headaches.”

“Napoleon, you too need to stay strong,” he tried handing back more of the bread. “And I already have a headache.”

Solo laughed,”I have a few pounds on you partner mine, and I can stand to lose a little weight; you on the other hand can’t... and you may recall, I wasn’t the one who got himself shot.”

The Russian knew his friend was right, and finally accepted the extra bit of bread, nodding his thanks.  Illya bit into it greedily, though it did little to ease his hunger.  He reasoned that he’d felt worse, having nearly been starved to death several times in his life.  It would be only a matter of a few days with little food, and if they kept moving, the promise of meals and better shelter in the next village would solve their dilemma.

Krasna, the place they were heading to in the north was their safest bet.  Napoleon figured those pursuing them would assume they would head to the western border as they'd let slip in front of the villagers remaining in Sorenesti and not farther in country.

Comments

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

Oooooh... another great story... Illya being... Illya, and Napoleon being... Napoleon (love the final bantering!)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Had to get some banter in there!

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

Hmm good start, I'll catch up with part 2 tomorrow. :)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks, hated having to divide it inot chapters, but LJ just wouldn't accept the file, saying it was too large, though I've posted pics with the same number of word if not a few hundred more...will never understand that. Sigh.