Forced Journey

“Fantasy?” Came the uncertain inquiry through the bullhorn that sounded out loudly amongst the hustle and bustle of the crowded pier.

Raising my hand I picked up my duffel bag and began making my way forward. As I walked the men about me stared.

They always stared. It was kind of nice and yet annoying at the same time.

It didn’t help that my Russian born mother so enamored with her relocation to a new and in her eyes, ‘fantasy land’ of America had named me as such.

Reaching the gangway of the rusty looking trawler I presented my credentials and muttered out, “Please call me Tasy.”

The bespectacled government office looking type of a man holding a clipboard in front of me nodded slowly even as his eyes fought to focus just on the ID card that I was showing him.

I waited patiently and then as if coming unglued, he said, “Welcome on board Fanta…. I mean Tasy.”

“Thank you.” I said earnestly and turning I made my way up the gangway very conscious of the fact that every man’s eye in the immediate vicinity was rooted on my ass. What was a girl supposed to do?

I had a great ass and men everywhere agreed, that with my long blonde hair and full figured chest, they simply couldn’t wait to be one of my friends. When I spoke and a bit of a Russian accent that I had picked up from my immigrant parents came through it only seemed to seal the deal for them.

While that was all well and good and something a confident woman would’ve taken full advantage of I in turn was neither confident or loose with my affections. More awkward stares occurred once I was on board and silently I made my way through what was largely a world of men.

The truth of the matter is that I did not want to be here. That said I had literally no choice but to be here.

I’d been working for the State Department for three years and my most recent assignment had been at the US Embassy in Germany. I hadn’t liked the assignment, but I had been assured that if I put in my time there that I would be able to choose my next location with impunity.

With three years in at the embassy I had applied for a position back in the states only to be pulled aside into a small dark room a few days later.

I remembered the moment as if it had been yesterday,

“Fantasy Oliovenko, I believe it is, right?” Asked a man in a dark suit who was one of three in the room with me.

“Yes.” I had answered warily, while the three men continued to stare at me in a coldly dispassionate way that made me feel like I wasn’t entirely human to them. There staring gazes had not been at all what I was accustomed to.

It was as if they had been visually dissecting me in order to find a weakness, a problem, anything at all that could be wrong with me. The men seemed godless in some way, even as they were emotionless and by the moment as I sat there under their silent perusal I became more and more concerned.

“Have I done something wrong?” I queried at last after the silence had drawn on for a long time.

“I don’t know, have you?” The main speaker intoned sibilantly back at me.

Appalled, I said, “No!”

It was the truth, I never did anything wrong, at least according to world standards. Sometimes I binged on French onion chips and chocolate to the tune of all-night movie marathons, but no one needed to know that.

The man picked up a folder on the table and opened it, “You’ve been approved for alpha level security in just three years of being with the State Department. Someone must like you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I said nothing. I’d done nothing wrong and I didn’t like what he was inferring at all.

Gathering myself, I meekly asked, “Is this happening to me because I applied for a job back in the states? I was told that if I put in a three-year assignment here that room would be made for me back in the states in a posting of my own choosing.”

“Why do you want to go home, as it were?”

Dry mouthed I’d said, “I do not like the social climate here. I…. being of Russian descent it can…. it can make me unpopular at times amongst the German populace.”

The man nodded, even as his two compatriots remained as motionless as the moment they had been when I had come into the room. The man closed the folder he had before him on the table and said, “The answer is no. No you may not come home Fantasy Oliovenko.”

“What?” I whispered out hoarsely before more strongly stating, “I’m a US citizen! Why can’t I go home? I was born in the states!”

“Not if we say you weren’t.” Spoke up one of the other men at the table in a curt fashion that said he didn’t care about anything, especially all that much, least of all what I thought.

My mouth moved wordlessly for a moment and then gathering my shaking demeanor, together I asked, “What is it that you want from me, because I’ve done nothing wrong and I have every right to return home.”

“No, Fantasy I don’t think you understand the matter at all.” Said the first speaker.

“You see, you don’t have any rights at all if we say that you don’t. In fact, you don’t even exist and for that matter, your parents, as well, if we decide to say so.”

Shaking as my whole being was taken over by a great fear for my elderly parents I sat very still as a tear silently rolled down my cheek even as I waited for these truly godless meant to speak and tell me what my fate was to be.

“You are naturally fluent in Russian, and you know German as well. It’s kind of a rare combination, when put into consideration that you also possess an alpha level security status. Very rare indeed. We have a job for you. A job that you will accept if you ever want to see America again and most especially if you’d like to keep your parents visas from being revoked, which would see them being thrown out of the country.”

My hand rose up to my mouth to hold back a sob that I did my best to bite back from happening even as I did not wish to display any more emotion than I was already before these men. The action of my hand was useless though in the light of the tears that were spilling down my cheeks in abandon.

Making full eye contact with the demon across the table from me, I formed the words, “What do I have to do?”

“Get onto a boat and go somewhere no one has successfully gone in at least 80 years. You will act as an interpreter for the expedition. Upon the completion of the expedition and your arrival home it will be something that you will never be allowed to speak of to anyone. If you do a bullet to the back of your head is the best of circumstances that you could ask for in consideration of all the other things that might be done to you instead. In short, if you do your part thorough and stay quiet, we will see to it that your parents get to stay on in their new fantasyland and that you get a promotion of sorts in getting leeway to come back to the states and work from the DC Department. Now how does that sound Fantasy?”

“I…. I accept.”

“Good girl. Now you’ll find everything you need to know in this folder. The ship leaves in two weeks. Be on it or else.”

I nodded woodenly and the three men had risen up and left the room without another word said. And now here I was in the present a full two weeks later on board the ship that had been demanded of me to be on.

I entered into a mess bay as I followed behind the orderly taking me to my cabin and immediately had to swallow down outright apprehension at what I saw about me. The mess hall was filled with musclebound warrior class men that to a one were grinding halt in conversation to stare at me as I passed through.

Special Forces of some sort, whether military or mercenary was written all over them. This ship had officially become a new hell for me to endure, even as the last two weeks of having to face the unknown had been a hell of its own.

I did not feel safe at all, especially as men stood up and began to move in closer to me. These were not good men. They were hired guns or simply put the bad apples in the military all lumped together at once.

A hand reached out to grope at my bottom as I walked by and then another man tested the firmness of my one breast out from the other side. Still another leaned forward in front of me intent, it seemed to stop my progress altogether.

He started to reach for me and not being able to help myself any further I slapped him. I slapped him really hard to.

He sharply exclaimed a curse and immediately reared back a fist to punch me.

“All right, that’s enough savages, hands off boys! We need her to get there all in one piece.”

“Oh Sarge, don’t be such a killjoy! We’ll put her back together we swear.” Spoke up of one of society’s undesirables located right beside of me.

“Like nothing! You keep your hands off her!”

“Hey, you know we ain’t in the Army no more. We ain’t got to take orders from you.”

“That may be Sunny, but you are going to have to walk over me to do it!”

The man called Sarge yanked me forcibly through the rest of the mess hall by a firm grip about my wrist. My bottom was smacked twice, once quite painfully and pinched at least ten times.

Reaching a secure looking door, I quickly made my way into the room beyond. Turning within the cabin I faced the gruff, but decent looking man referred to as Sarge. The man looked like he was in a battle for words, but losing. Finally, he managed to get out, “You best stay in here. I’ll bring you some food later.”

Nodding, I then impulsively moved forward and gave the older man a hug. If he hadn’t intervened I knew exactly what would be happening right now.

Awkwardly then I stepped back and whispered, “Thank you.”

The man looked angry, but not at me it seemed. Shaking his head, he made for the door, muttering, “Just ain’t right a girl like you being here. Ain’t right at all!”

The door closed and moving forward quickly I locked it behind him. Closing my eyes, I rested against the secure bulkhead door as tears flowed down my face.

My eyes jolted open then as the ship itself began to move. The voyage from hell had begun.

I knew nothing about the journey other than for the fact that I was an interpreter and if I wasn’t careful I would end up like a piece of jerky to be chewed on by 50 of the worst looking felons the world was cursed to possess. Going to the solitary cot in the room, I kneeled down before it and folded my hands and prayed.

I’d been doing a lot of praying the last two weeks. It was the only time that I had felt any margin of peace.

Now though as the ship moved out of port all of my peace had disappeared from me and crying, I lay my head forward onto the bed as I emotionally jerked out, “Oh God, please help me!”

Why was this happening to me? I always did things by the rules.

I was a good person. I didn’t deserve this!

Why was God letting this happen? Immediately Bible stories came into my mind.

One in particular of three young boys cast into a fiery furnace. They’d been good boys.

Boys who had refused to worship and bow down before a false God and for that they’d been thrown into the fire. In the end, though things had worked out for them.

Wiping at my tears I refolded my hands together and taking inspiration from a story long before my time I spoke, “God, I know You can save me from this place as You can do anything, but…. but if You don’t…. I just want You to know that I’ll serve You to my dying day anyway. May all glory, praise, and honor be to Your name forever Father.”

Fumbling, I pulled my Bible out of my pack and crawling up onto the bed as the ship swayed back and forth I clutched the book to me and within moments I fell asleep in a state of peace that seemed to suddenly overwhelm me without explanation.

*********

A loud banging noise made me jump up off the bed like a startled rabbit. Sudden memory came back to me of just where I was.

I was quite literally a rabbit in the midst of a pack of hungry wolves. Going to the door, I looked through the glass and saw that it was the Sarge.

I unlocked the door and gruffly he said, “It’s dinner time and the Captain would like to have you at his table.”

Immediately trepidation seized a hold of me, but Sarge shook his head and said, “He ain’t like them out there. They’re just the hired bullet peddlers. You’ll be fine.”

With that said, I followed behind him as he led the way forward. There weren’t as many of the wolves about as before, but their actions toward me this time were reserved to just resentful looks of sheer lust.

They behaved like an unruly group of schoolboys that had been tattled on. Someone had said something to them about what had happened earlier and they didn’t like it one bit.

*********

Silently, I sat at full attention in my seat at the long conference table in the Captain’s quarters. The people that I was surrounded by amounted to little more than bleating sheep in comparison to the wolves in the hold.

Whatever the expedition was about I didn’t give it much of a chance of being successful as I saw nothing to keep the men in the lower portions of the ship in line, other than for the allure of money that no doubt had been promised to them. Listening to the idle chit chat about me of scientists, technicians, and incognito diplomats I couldn’t help but think what a complete foul up of a mess this was.

In fact, in many ways it seemed as if I was the only one seeing what was patently obvious. This mission, whatever it may be focused on, was doomed.

Why not the military? Why not an official warship instead of this beat up old trawler?

Why did they need an interpreter that could speak both Russian and German and keep her mouth shut? The possibilities were endless and yet none of them made sense, because we were on a ship that was headed south and away from both Germany and Russia.

There was one individual at the table who did seem to be apart from the clamoring throng and it was the Captain. By accent I took him to be British, but he had the look of an American expatriate.

He sat back in his chair and looked on at the proceedings going around the table with a level of disdain that in some ways I felt myself, but hopefully was doing a better job at hiding. The captain wasn’t in charge, though.

The man in charge was someone that had CIA spook written all over him, and from intense observation I had determined him not to be in possession of a soul. My opinion was of course subjective, but that was my opinion, just the same and I would stand by it.

I ate sparingly and then while no one was watching I made my way out of the room. I was soon joined on the outer deck, balcony by none other than the Captain.

I eyed him warily, but he kept his distance from me. He spoke, “A madhouse, I do say so, if I ever saw one.”

A smile came to my lips and I nodded as the clamoring murmur from within continued on unabated by our absence. Looking reflective the Captain said, “I’m not going to ask why you are here dear one, but I will say that I am sorry for it. You don’t belong here and I want you to know that I will do my best to keep you safe for as long as I can.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and said, “Shall I escort you to your chambers now Madame?”

I nodded and together we headed off towards the lower portions of the ship. It was a silent journey and as we walked I reflected on the course of the ship.

In the two weeks prior I had flown as instructed to Brazil waited to board the ship docked at the harbor there. As we reached the door of my cabin I took a chance and asked, “Could you at least tell me where we are going?”

He paused for a long moment before saying, “I suppose at this point it won’t matter. We are heading for Eden.”

“Eden?” I exclaimed softly in complete lack of understanding as to where that was.

“Yes, at least that’s what the Nazis called it. Never been there myself, but I’m sure that it’s a regular goose marching paradise.”

My mind searched for clues as to what made sense of what I was hearing. Pulling on memory I said, “Do you mean Antarctica, the part of it called New Swabia by the Germans in World War II?”

“Well, now, you do know a thing or two, don’t you my dear. No bad American blonde jokes for you, although I do detect a little something else other than American.”

“My parents were Russian.”

“Ahh, and I suppose you speak Russian right along with German.”

“I do.” I said before in a small voice I asked, “Why do I need to know Russian if we’re headed south?”

The Captain looked away and said, “Oh, I suppose it’s just a precaution should we….”

“Should we what?” I pressed leadingly when he paused overly long.

“Should we happen to bump into some Russian speaking chaps.”

“Why would we do that going to the South Pole?”

“Oh, you never know about missions such as these exactly who you might bump into. It pays to come prepared for all eventualities and even then it’s kind of like pot shooting for lightning bugs in a room with the lights turned on. Sometimes it’s hard to see the forest because of all the trees, you know.”

Blinking repeatedly I stared at the man in complete consternation as to what exactly was going on. He opened my door and I stepped inside.

Before he could close it, I asked, “You think that there are Nazis still alive down there?”

“That’s what we’re about to find out.”

“Why has no one ever checked on this before?”

The Captain gave a shaky chortle of a laugh and said, “No one ever try before? Goodness that’s a rich one. By my count, there have been at least 22 expeditions so far as we know and that’s just between our two countries. Who knows how many the Russians have had.”

My eyes huge I whispered, “What happened to them all?”

“Don’t know exactly. They either never came back or got done away with upon making landfall somehow or before that for that matter.”

The Captain seeing the look that was upon my face, then said, “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much, dear. We’ve all got to go sometime. Good night. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

The door closed and feeling very numb, I locked it reflexively. We were headed to a very cold place, but in actuality, I don’t think I’d ever been closer to hell.

What on earth was God doing by allowing me to get mixed up in this insanity? Time would truly tell the tale. Unfortunately from the sound of it the time that I had left of life was almost all used up.