All Along the Watchtower

Posted on Thu Feb 13th, 2025 @ 12:47am by Dmitri Volodin

1,804 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Safe Harbour
Location: Thistledrift
Timeline: TBD

Dmitri shivered against the cold pre-dawn wind as it whipped across the parapet. He looked down the road out of Thistledrift. Dmitri could just make out the shape of several large rocks, which had been placed in the field to act as distance markers. Each of the rocks was a specified distance from the wall, giving the lookouts a quick visual reference point. He picked up a battered pair of binoculars and turned to scan the harbor. The Europa wasn’t due back for another week or so, leaving the harbor mostly empty, giving it a bleak and foreboding feel. Dmitri muttered a curse in his native Ukrainian about the sea and turned back to watching the road into Thistledrift.

Dmitri’s breath caught in his throat. In the purple light of the approaching dawn, he could make out the unmistakable outline of a human body walking up the road. He pulled the binos up to his eyes to try and pick out details but there wasn’t enough light. What he wouldn’t give for some night-vision goggles or a low-light scope like he’d used in his Reconnaissance Company days in the Ukrainian Ground Forces.

But luxuries like that weren’t available anymore…

Dmitri turned from the wall, put two fingers into his mouth, and let loose with a shrill, piercing whistle directed at a small building below. A figure, bundled up against the wind, stepped out of the doorway and looked Dmitri’s way.

Dmitri used a series of hand signals to explain what he’d spotted. The figure nodded and waved, telling Dmitri they understood the message and would relay it. Dmitri returned the wave and then turned back to the parapet. The unknown figure on the road had stopped, probably because of his whistle, and stood swaying in the breeze. Dmitri raised the binos to his eyes again, checking the distance to the target.

The sound of running feet and the vibration in the catwalk he was on told Dmitri that the Guard Supervisor had joined him at the wall.

“There. Single contact…unknown,” Dmitri reported, pointing at the unknown person. “300 meters,” he finished, lowering the binos from his eyes.

“Can you pick out anything yet,” the supervisor asked, taking the binos from Dmitri’s offering hands.

“Not enough light yet,” Dmitri reported. A grunt from the supervisor a second later confirmed this.

“Did we lose anyone from the scrounging party yesterday,” the supervisor asked aloud, giving back Dmitri the binoculars.

“Da. The mechanic and the…”Dmitri paused as he searched his mind for the proper word, “the zbyrach…” he finished shrugging at his inability to translate the word.

The supervisor looked at Dmitri for a moment, just as helpless, until Dmitri snapped his fingers.

“The picker,” he said, proud of his work.

“The…picker…” the supervisor parroted, unsure. “Oh, the gatherer, mate…” he finished.

“Da, da…*Tse tak, yak ty kazhesh*,” Dmitri agreed. The supervisor was about to ask what Dmitri had said when another person joined them on the wall. Dmitri noticed it was Gwen, one of Thistledrift’s teachers.

“Is that Reggie?” the female asked, her voice quivering. It was common knowledge that the two had been “together” for some time.

“Can’t see anything, love,” the supervisor placated. He didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up…

“I will go and look,” Dmitri volunteered. He took the binocular strap from around his neck and handed the set to the supervisor. Before the supervisor could protest, Dmitri was making his way down the far stairway and well on his way to the side entrance to Thistledrift. He paused long enough to pick up a recurve bow, string it and then sling a quiver of arrows over his back. As he moved to the hatch, he took a moment to mutter a Ukrainian prayer, cross himself and then nock an arrow. A sentry manning the hatch opened a small slit in the door to check the area and then turned to Dmitri, nodding that the area was clear.

Dmitri nodded back and the hatch was pulled open, just wide enough for him to squeeze through, and then shut immediately once he had cleared the frame.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the arse…” Dmitri muttered in Ukrainian. He shook the sarcasm from his mind and started creeping along the wall toward the road. Once he’d made it to the front of Thistledrift, Dmitri skirted along the road, keeping to the soft, unpaved shoulder. He paused every few meters, looking around and making sure he wasn’t being lured into a trap.

Dmitri’s senses were alive as his brain dumped adrenaline and cortisol into his body. He crouched for a moment, taking a steadying breath. He’d been here before…not this physical place. But he’d known this feeling during his paratrooper days. A sudden image of Yelena flashed across his mind and he forced himself to settle down and concentrate on the task at hand. He slowly and deliberately looked around at his surroundings. The *pohani vyrodky*, as Dmitri referred to what the Brits named “zombies,” had been known to demonstrate pack-like behaviors. Dmitri, satisfied he wasn’t being ambushed, continued until he was about 10 meters from the creature.

Dmitri saw that the unknown person on the road was no longer swaying in the light breeze but was shambling toward him, a slight snuffling sound coming to Dmitri’s ears.

The bastard is trying to smell me out, Dmitri thought to himself in surprise.

A quick glance at the grass at his feet told him the wind was blowing across his path, not into the face of the *pohani vyrodky*.

This is good…unless there are more over the hill to my right, Dmitri thought.

The light had increased since Dmitri left his position on the wall, allowing him to pick out more details. He could see the plaid pattern of the shirt the thing was wearing, that a knit wool cap was perched on its head, and the large, industrial work boots on its feet.

Dmitri paused again. Reggie had traded with one of the Europa’s sailors for that outfit not more than three months ago. He had made mead from the excess honey his bees produced; he’d also flavored several batches with some of the botanicals that Dmitri had grown.

Dmitri chuckled mirthlessly at the memory as he raised the bow and sighted the arrow at his friend’s face.

Dmitri pulled the string back to the anchor point on his cheek, the tension in the string straining against the risers of the bow. As he was about to release, he felt the wind shift again. It swirled behind him just as he loosed the arrow.

The Reggie thing raised its head as it caught Dmitri’s scent, the arrow flying straight and true. However, instead of hitting the thing’s left eye, it impacted the point where its jaw hinged. The creature staggered back several steps under the impact of the arrow. Dmitri swore in Ukrainian as he nocked another arrow. The creature’s head snapped back forward, focusing on Dmitri. It issued a low, guttural snarl, revealing a mouthful of blood-stained teeth.

Dmitri raised the bow and loosed another arrow. This one, however, found its intended mark. The broadhead, backed by a carbon fiber shaft, pierced underneath Reggie’s nose, continuing in through to the creature’s medulla oblongata. Instantly, the creature dropped to the gravel lane and ceased moving. Dmitri cautiously nocked another arrow and crept forward to the corpse.

Dmitri knelt next to his former friend and emotionlessly extracted the two arrows. Despite the horrific bite wound on its neck and the necrosis that had set in, Reggie’s face showed serenity. Dmitri placed a hand on the corpse’s chest, bowed his head, and muttered a sincere prayer for Reggie’s soul. A guttural growl and a sibilant hiss snapped Dmitri out of his prayer. He looked up and saw two more creatures shambling up the slight rise in the road. Dmitri quickly patted down Reggie’s corpse, removing a small pocket knife and a black, smooth stone from his pants pockets and a copper bracelet from his right wrist. He stashed the items in his jacket pocket and looked at the other two creatures approaching him. Neither were recognizable as Thistledrift members. With a quick cross of himself, Dmitri backed down the rise, keeping his weapon trained on the horizon. He proceeded like this for ten meters or so, sweeping left to right for targets before turning and running back to the wall.

Dmitri sagged against the interior wall of Thistledrift. The cold morning air burned his throat and made his nostrils sting. But, he reflected, those things meant he was still alive. He took another deep breath and then pushed off the wall. He had spotted the supervisor walking across the yard towards him… alone. Dmitri offered up a silent prayer of thanks for that. He didn’t know if he had it in him to turn over Reggie’s things to Gwen himself.

“Shitty task, mate…” the supervisor offered as he handed Dmitri a steaming mug of tea. Dmitri nodded as he sipped the strong, sweet brew. He was instantly thankful as the first sip spread warmth throughout his body.

“It was necessary,” Dmitri replied solemnly. He took another sip from the mug, hoping to hide the grim look on his face.

“Make sure someone checks you out…you know…since you got that close to one of them,” the supervisor said with an apologetic tone to his voice.

“*Da, da…ya zroblyu tse, zvychayno,*” Dmitri reassured the supervisor. The supervisor’s eyebrows went up at the Ukrainian statement.

“Oh…uh…yes, I will do this,” Dmitri translated with a sheepish grin. He set the mug of tea on top of a rack next to him and fished Reggie’s things out of his pocket. The supervisor accepted the items wordlessly. He nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice, at the gesture and turned towards the rest of the small community. People, alerted to the morning’s doings, were starting their day now. Dmitri retrieved the mug, took another sip, and turned to replace the bow and quiver back on the rack.

He then started making his way across the open area to the makeshift Medical tent so that somebody could look him over and verify he wouldn’t turn. A pitiful, plaintive wail came from further in the camp. Dmitri knew without doubt that Gwen had just been notified of Reggie’s demise. Without pausing, he said another prayer for Gwen’s comfort and crossed himself again. It was shaping up to be a long season in Thistledrift.

 

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