Blastwave Eden
An All-Russian Black League Short Story
Part Two of the Omsk Trilogy
"Father, what's that pin mean?" Gleb Larionovich Kurpatov looked down at his five year old son. They wore tunics and trousers in the pristine wilderness village that he knew was once beside a city called Minsk. He smiled at his boy, Vasily. "This pin? The one with the eagle and the pentagon?"
"What's a pentagon, father?"
"It's a shape with five sides."
"Oh, then that pin. Is that a fascist pin?"
Gleb flinched at that. "No, of course not. This pin signifies that I was a member of the All-Russian Black League, a group of brave defenders of our people who destroyed the Hitlerites forever. The world before the Black League was dark and painful, ruled by monsters. This village here would have been a graveyard."
A scared expression crossed Vasily's face and his lip began to quiver.
"Vasya, Vasya, do not be worried. The Hitlerites are gone now. The world is free. Now all we need to fear are animals." Gleb smiled.
"Were you scared when you were fighting the fascists?" Vasily asked.
"A little bit. We were all scared. The Black League was a scary place to be. We were all afraid of our bosses almost as much as we were afraid of the Hitlerites, but we knew we had a duty. Do you want to hear what we used to say?"
"Sure, Papa."
"I believe, before all else, in Russia, one, united, and invincible. I believe in my own strength and the strength of my comrades. I reject the lies of the First Trial, and embrace the Black League as Russia's one and only salvation in the coming Trial. When the day of the Great Trial comes, I will stand shoulder to shoulder with my comrades. I will face the enemy without fear, and I will put my nation before my own life. I will be the sword and shield of Russia, by which justice will be done for the fallen. I swear this oath by my sacred Motherland."
Gleb finished reciting it, and Vasya spoke. "That's a weird oath. Why would you put your nation before your life? Isn't that just where you live?"
"No, a nation is...I don't know how to explain this. Before the Great Trial, it was...It was important. Very important. More than you know."
At that, a young woman, a girl, really, in a cotton dress knocked at the door of the thatched-roof house, and Gleb opened the door.
"Hello? Are you the head of the village? I was told to see Captain Kurpatov," she asked, clad in what appeared to be a pre-Great Trial white sundress. She was tainted with blonde hair and blue eyes. She spoke in an accent, foreign. Gleb recognized it immediately. "...How do you speak Russian?" he asked. Teutonic bitch was probably a spy.
"The Aryans from the East taught us Russian years ago."
"What Aryans from the East?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Russian Aryans. They're gone now. Starved. Near Konigsberg."
"...Are you a Hitlerite?"
"A what?" she asked.
"Are you a Hitlerite or not?"
"I don't know what you mean by a Hitlerite," she said.
"A follower of Adolf Hitler. A German," he said, in an exasperated tone. "A dog deserving of death."
"I'm a German, and Hitler was the great German warrior who summoned thunder and saved all the peoples of the world, if I remember correctly from the rumors in the bunkers. Our parents didn't like talking about the outside world."
No spy would be this stupid, he thought to himself. "Hitler was a killer and a monster who tried to destroy the Russian people entirely after enslaving them."
"...Oh," she said, suddenly surprised. "Well, I suspected that the other girls were embellishing things, but still. That's...that's horrible. How could they do that to Aryans?"
"Well, he didn't think we were Aryans," Vasily said.
"Listen, Teuton, this village isn't for your kind. Go before I have to show you what happens to Teutons in Black League territory," Gleb said.
"Papa, please. She's just a girl."
"She's a Teuton," he muttered.
"She doesn't sound like a Teuton. Teutons kill people, right?" Vasya turned to the girl. "Have you killed anyone?"
Her eyes widened. "Of course not! Why would I kill someone? That's horrible!"
"...How old are you, Miss..." he asked, starting to wonder exactly how mature this girl was.
"Fourteen, sir. My name is Samantha. Samantha Herzsprung. From Burgundy."
From Burgundy. The words were a strike to his soul. Gleb walked up to her and embraced her. "You don't know what Burgundy was, do you?" Some anger crept into his voice. This stupid girl, this wasteful product of a hellish society, too sheltered to even realize the sins in her blood. If she was a spy, she certainly wouldn't admit to being from Burgundy.
"My parents never wanted to talk about Burgundy. They just told me that it was over. Psychologically, it was like they were physically stopped whenever they'd be about to say something about it. Did something happen there?"
"Burgundy was Hell, a Hell that your people created. A Hell that you won't ever be able to get out of your blood and your culture," Gleb said. "I told you to leave, now leave."
"Please, she seems nice. I want her to stay!" Vasya stomped a foot.
"Vasya, she's lucky she isn't dead. I don't want to kill anymore, but she just isn't acceptable here. She still believes in Nazi fairy tales and she thinks like a fascist."
"My parents passed away, sir. Bandits. I went out East looking for civilization. I went to a large settlement, but there was a famine. I'm looking for more survivors, you know, more Aryans."
"We are not Aryans, and neither are you!"
"We are all Aryans," she said, starting to stand tall against him. "We are all Aryans and we all deserve to be happy. Everyone who was destroying the world is dead and gone, so why won't you just have an ounce of compassion?"
Vasily tugged on Gleb's tunic. "Maybe she can help with spinning cotton? That kinda stuff. I bet she'd be helpful to have."
"Yes, please, I'd be happy to help. I'm...sorry if I said something wrong. I...You Russian Aryans seem to believe strange things, but you seem...okay. Not evil, just angry. Please, give me a chance. I'll help if you want, I can put my work in. I just don't want to be alone, anymore. You've won, okay? Your Black League has won. Isn't that enough?" Samantha said.
"It will only be enough when your kind is—"
Vasily yelled. "Stop! Stop it! Stop fighting! I don't even get what you two are fighting over!"
Samantha spoke, more softly this time. "Why do you hate Germans so much?"
"For what you did, for what you were planning to do, for the threat you represent to our people," he said.
"We don't represent a threat anymore, and I wasn't born when the Germans hurt you. We're all just Ar—just people. Please, I'll help, I'll do what you say, I won't even talk if that's so important to you."
Vasily looked up at Gleb, and Gleb gave it some thought. "Fine. The Great Trial's over. You can stay here for the moment. If I see an speck of what I know your people for, you will be out or dead. You will be the only German in this settlement.
"You will be loathed by anyone who fought against your kind, and for good reason. So if you can prove to us that you aren't a fascist underneath, and only then, you can stay. Is that clear?"
"Absolutely," she said. She said it sincerely, earnestly, and for a moment Gleb thought that maybe this might work.
