Watching The Barrier

Posted on Sun Jul 6th, 2025 @ 8:25pm by Bartholomew Addington & Dmitri Volodin
Edited on on Fri Sep 12th, 2025 @ 9:33am

1,504 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Safe Harbour
Location: Thistledrift
Timeline: 02 December 2013

Sun rising was always something that Bart enjoyed the sun rising in the distance as he blinked taking in the road that led towards them. The scent of decay and old smoke still clung to the air near the barricade, where hastily abandoned buildings stood in various states of disrepair—some scorched from cleansing fires, others left to crumble under the weight of the last 3 years in the defence of the town. He blinked as he leaned against the barrier and just looked to his side as someone approached. "Good morning." He greeted politely.

“Dobroho ranku” Dmitri said reflexively. He looked out on the countryside but then scoffed and corrected himself.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile, still looking out. He took a deep breath of the morning air, ignoring the smells for a moment.

He looked to the horizon and muttered a quiet prayer for another day. These days he truly felt that each new day was something to be thankful. His thoughts drifted momentarily to his family back in Ukraine. He had gotten no word from that part of the world. He wondered if they were even still alive. Then, Yelena's face filled his mind's eye. He blinked and muttered a quiet curse in Ukrainian. He couldn't afford to let his mind wander when up here. Back in his bunk or while having a meal was one thing but up here - he needed to be about his business.

“Any groups going out today,” Dmitri asked Bartholomew.

"2 - one foraging the fields." He said darkly knowing that was always a task that was not enjoyed but needed. Bart had not realised until he had stumbled upon Thistledrift that hardy crops like kale, Brussels sprouts, beetroot and turnips thrive in cold conditions on a large scale. A farmer had secured his fields before escaping to the town which allowed the community to grow crops there and inside the walls as well.

Dmitri crossed himself again. He shivered slightly, but the action had nothing to do with the weather.

“And what about the other one?” Dmitiri prompted, trying his best not to sound interested. He preferred going outside the walls and being of use to the community there. He appreciated the strength and protection that the walls offered, but he could only last so many days behind them before he felt stifled and restricted.

"Cass is taking a team on a supply run." He said just as darkly. He glanced back at the man and raised an eyebrow. "Which one do you want to go on?" Bart wondered quietly before he smiled a little. He knew the look of someone who was itching to get out and do something more.

"I will be honest, my friend... I would like to go with Cass. I need to take Dobrya for a walk anyway," Dmitri lightly joked. Dobrya roamed where he wanted, but Dmitri often used the dog as an excuse to go outside the walls.

"I would also like to look for some more tea... Ukrainian tea that is," he chided gently. Though Dmitri was content with English tea, which wasn't scarce, he preferred Russian blends or, when he could find it, Ukrainian blends. But, as his grandmother often told him: "Dima, Krashe synytsia v rukakh, nizh zhuravel u nebi!" The phrase didn't translate precisely to English, but it meant "A sparrow in hand is better than a crane in the sky." Dmitri turned to Bartholomew and nodded, thumping his chest with his fist. "I am ready to do whatever is needed, wherever needed," he said solemnly.

"Going to need a world shop or something for that type of thing. Certainly won't get that in the fields. And we have a similar saying. Do not look a gift horse in the mouth as my grandmother would say." Bart joked trying to make things lighter than they were. There was something to be said about the British men when the skies darkened and times changed the humour stayed the same and they carried on regardless.

Dmitri nodded at the wisdom of Bart’s saying…even if some of it was lost in the translation. “I have found such a place before. I am hoping that it has not been…how you say, uhm….picked over,” Dmitiri explained. He was finding it more and more comfortable to use English idioms the longer he was in the country. However, some were more difficult that others. He still hadn’t figured out ‘to push a cart full of coal to Newcastle’ but he could navigate the rest just fine. “I will gather my things and Dobrya,” Dmitiri announced, pushing off of the wall. He began a mental checklist of the gear he wanted. He would carry his bow, a quiver of arrows and his usual satchel for stowing treasures. He might even have time to stop by the workshop and see if his machete was ready.

"Cass had some ideas on the villages north about a day away as they are small and were not highly populated but several of them had pharmacies and other things that could help as winter is fully here." They might support what remained of the government but it was hard not to resent that they were on there own other than when the Europa came into port.

Dmitri nodded at this information. It made sense - medicine was always in short supply. The ship did what it could and the people used what home remedies they could, but there was no substitute for antibiotics or pain killers. Medical supplies such as bandages and antiseptics were also hard to come by. Again, Thistledrift did what it could to get by without the actual items, relying on substitutions as much as possible.

“I will look for what I can,” he offered, adding medicine and supplies to his mental list.

“She has arranged for a meeting with us both and others when we get off watch.” Bartholomew commented with a sigh. He had been looking forward to going to bed but who was he to say no to the leader who had turned this community into something.

“Is ok for me to be at meeting?” Dmitri asked, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. The people here were generous, and he was grateful they’d allowed him in, but he was also aware of not taking too much stew from the pot, as his father would have said. The memory of his father brought a sudden pang of loss, and he offered a silent prayer. The thought of his family also stirred up another feeling. Dmitri recognized that he would be loyal to these people in exchange for the community they’d offered him.

Bartholomew looked at the man and slapped him on the back. “Of course you are invited. Cass wants you there as someone who supports and protects this community.” The former police officer reminded him. Dmitri one day would get that he was just as important as anyone else. “Why would you not be invited?”

Dmitri grinned to hide the pain from the large man’s enthusiastic slap on the back. The blow had been so powerful that it had almost knocked the wind out of Dmitri’s lungs. After a moment of grinning that Dmitri also used to get his breath back, he trusted his voice enough and spoke.

“I am glad to be here, miy druh, but I am remembering my place. Is much like army…is not for me to make decisions,” Dmitri explained. He recalled his sergeant and the lesson he’d taught another recruit who’d spoken out of turn. Three missing teeth and a broken rib were a steep price, but Dmitri and the other recruits had learned the lesson fast. Keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told quickly…or face the consequences.

Dmitri shook off the memory and turned back to the fields before them. He spotted several shambling shapes close to the horizon, but didn’t worry. They were too far out to be of any threat, but he would pass it on to his relief when they came on duty. Never hurts to be prepared, Dmitri thought to himself.

"Your place is in this community," he said quietly, his tone steady but gentle. His eyes met the other man’s, and for a long moment, he held the gaze. He knew that look—the flicker of uncertainty behind the mask of pride, the weariness of someone who didn’t quite believe they belonged. He had seen it in war zones and shelters, in quiet corners of burned-out towns, and now, here. He stepped a little closer, his voice low but firm, carrying the weight of sincerity. "Sure, you don’t make decisions alone. None of us does. Cassandra listens to everyone. That’s not how this works. We all help make them. That’s what makes this different. That’s what makes it home."

TRUNCATED

 

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