This mission
that had been assigned to me brought me to a village called Septerinsk in the
eastern part of the country. This was supposed to be the village that had
housed the base camp as well as headquarters of the Tronix. Here the lay of the
land was entirely different from that in both my part of the country as well as
that of my parents. The intrinsic nature of the people of the area and their
surroundings intrigued me. In spite of this being a rural area where thoughts
and ideas seldom ventured further than that required to satisfy the absolutely
essential requirements, the inhabitants of the village seemed perfectly content
with their way of life. As a matter of fact, as I later discovered, the people
made a concerted effort to prevent the tentacles of progress from engulfing
them and their village. It was as if a resolution had been taken by them to
remain the way they were, following the same lifestyle and customs their
ancestors did. Suddenly it struck me that this ignorance of progress in this
village could turn out to be to my advantage. The facts of that fateful march
twenty years ago might still be clear in the minds of some of the elders.
As I walked
through the deserted main street that bisected the town, I was rather surprised
and a little apprehensive of the complete absence of people. The only signs of
life were a couple of stray dogs in an alleyway, a cow grazing on the far side
of the hill and a few crows picking at some food dumped in a corner. More than anything
else, this disquietening silence intrigued me. Some of the houses had lights in
them, but not a soul was outside. As I approached the last cluster of
buildings, I thought I detected some activity in the one in the middle, which
seemed to resemble a pub of some sort. An unconscious sigh of relief escaped my
lips. I made my way to the entrance, which was barricaded by a strong wooden
door. With a shiver of anticipation, I knocked twice. A menacing growl answered
from within, “ Who’s there? ” “ I am a
visitor from the south”, I replied. Suddenly the door flew open and a huge man,
seven feet tall at the least, stood there towering over me, and in his hands he
held a sawed off shotgun pointing directly between my eyes.
I must have fainted, for when I awoke, I was lying down on a makeshift table, made by joining three small rosewood side tables, which I suspected had been used earlier in the evening for a different purpose as it reeked of brandy. Suddenly I realized that not only was the brandy on the table but it was also in my mouth. Over me hovered the same giant who had welcomed me at the door, holding a nearly empty bottle over me. I immediately jerked upright and for the first time tried to take in my surroundings. Around me sat a most ill assorted group of individuals.
In front of me, in a white robe down to his ankles, stood a wizened old man. Clearly, from his stance and demeanour, he seemed to be the head. To my right stood a very broad shouldered man, with a thick moustache and a graying beard that extended down to his navel. Next to him was a young girl, about sixteen, her long hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and with freckles on her cheeks. On my other side was a tall, friendly looking guy, clean shaven and dressed smartly in a cowboy outfit. On his head he wore a large hat that concealed his finer features. Finally there was the giant. My mind still couldn’t come to terms with his enormous frame. Though he had a gigantic body, his face seemed surprisingly feminine. Long hair and the absence of even a stubble did nothing to improve this image. For a moment I was even inclined to consider this person to be a woman. However I quickly dismissed the idea as I remembered the harsh voice with which he had questioned me at the entrance. Well I had absolutely no intention of clarifying that supposition now and here, no, not with that enormous sledgehammer of a right fist hanging within two feet of my nose. I decided to keep that bit of clarification for another time and place.
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