Read The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark Online
Authors: Orest Stelmach
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Espionage, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths
The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark (37 page)
And then, in a flash, he skated away into the darkness and he was gone.
“We have to do something,” Nadia said.
Simmy put his arm around her. “What would you have us do? I’m sure there are some skates around here. Which one of us is going to find him, let alone catch up to him?”
A premonition gripped Nadia. She would not see Bobby again. Ever. She tried to banish the thought, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d probably heard Milanovich’s promise to conduct biological experiments. Bobby was no fool. He would assume he’d be hunted for the rest of his life, regardless of whether Eva was dead or alive. Bobby would rather disappear from civilization or die. Toss in his anguish from Eva’s death, and he was probably ambivalent between the two alternatives at this point.
“He has the other man’s mobile phone, does he not?” Simmy said.
“I think so,” Nadia said.
“Then he will call.”
“Yes. He will call.”
She could hear the lie in her own voice. He wouldn’t call. Not for a long time, if ever. Not until the Milanoviches of the world had forgotten about him. Not until the world had given up on a formula that mesmerized even the richest of men and left bodies in its wake. A formula that seemed so real and valuable to Nadia up until five minutes ago. Now, faced with the reality that she might never see Bobby again, she couldn’t have cared less about it. For in the end life was about people, and the vanishing of a loved one rendered all material pursuits immediately irrelevant, faster than they’d become a compulsion in the first place.
Where would he go? What would he eat? Who would give him shelter? Nadia knew these questions would consume her, but for now she took comfort in what she knew with certainty. That Bobby was no ordinary boy. He was Adam Tesla, a boy from Ukraine, a country of survivors used to fighting adversity on a daily basis. He was smart, clever, and resilient.
No, he was not ordinary. He was extraordinary.
“Of course he will call,” Simmy said, “That which does not grow dies. A man can only grow if he is part of a community. Part of civilization. Bobby does not want to die. Therefore, by definition, he will return to you. He will probably find cell phone service on the other side of the lake across from Listvyanka. I predict he will call you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Nadia said. “Tomorrow. Of course. He will call me tomorrow.”
And as she heard the deceit in her own voice again, Nadia was reminded of the most accomplished liar she had ever known. Victor Bodnar had let them go for some reason. She hadn’t thought about the potential reasons until this very moment. None came to mind except the obvious one.
He believed Simmy and she were worth more alive than dead. Whether he considered them as individuals or as a couple was an entirely different question, and one Nadia still hadn’t resolved in her own mind, though she was leaning toward the latter now.
More important to her was that Victor had let Adam go, too. He was out there on the ice, skating at warp speed toward a destination unknown. And as despair set in once again, it was her thought of Victor and Adam in the same breath that gave Nadia comfort. For Victor brought to mind another old thief, one she’d met in Chornobyl, and reminded her that wherever Bobby went, whatever his path in life, he would always be his father’s son.
He would always be the fox.
EPILOGUE
One month later
T
HE PLANE CRASHED
in the Republic of Buryatia in Eastern Siberia. It was an AN-2 plane, built for light transport and agricultural use. According to media reports, Evenki reindeer herders came to the rescue of the pilot and seven passengers on board. They pulled the passengers from the wreckage before the fire in the cabin spread to the fuel tank and the plane exploded. They provided water, food, and warm clothing until authorities were notified of the accident by satellite phone and airlifted the passengers to safety by helicopter.
In fact, the plane exploded before the Evenki men ever got close to it. They’d spotted the crash from the ridge of a mountain five hundred meters away. The descent by horseback required a circuitous route—the path straight down was too steep. While the horses galloped around the trail, a young man accompanying the herdsmen slid off his mare and ran straight down the mountain. The herdsmen circled to level ground just in time to see the young man race the final hundred meters to the plane. They would later argue among themselves about the young man’s speed. All agreed he was the fastest human they had ever seen. Some said he was faster than any horse they’d ever ridden, while others insisted that was exaggeration.
The young man pulled eight people from the wreckage. Some of the Evenki swore he carried them two at a time, one under each arm, though that too sounded like an overstatement to others. The plane exploded thirty seconds later.
Afterwards, the young man insisted on going back to the village before the authorities arrived. He said he didn’t want any credit for his actions. He said he would not be alive if it were not for the Evenki who’d given him food and shelter when he wandered into the village a week ago. The Evenki were most grateful for his humility, especially when the passengers insisted on expressing their thanks with a monetary reward.
When the herdsmen returned to their village, they tried to learn more about this young man. His dark complexion suggested he was from Siberia, but he spoke elegant Russian as though he were from St. Petersburg. He had half-ears, the likes of which no one in the village had ever seen. It was as though he came from a cruel culture where fathers punished their male children by the saw, not the hide.
To add to their confusion, the young man had arrived without any belongings. The woman who cared for him upon his arrival said she searched through his pockets while he was sleeping. She found what looked like a foreign passport with his picture inside. She didn’t recognize the language because the letters were in Roman. The herdsmen feared he might be a foreign spy, but his bravery during the plane crash won their admiration. And his athletic skills would make him a superior herdsman or hunter who could contribute mightily to the village’s economy.
The young man called himself Luo. He asked if he could stay awhile. The village leaders said yes. The young man who called himself Luo expressed an interest in learning how to throw a boomerang. The latter was a Chukchi device, but one of the older Evenki herdsmen had some experience with the weapon. Young Luo became his constant companion. He practiced with the boomerang daily.
The village elders gradually made inquiries in surrounding villages about their strange visitor. Their investigation led them to three and only three conclusions.
He came from nowhere.
No one had ever heard of him or seen him before.
No one knew who he was.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to the countless journalists and writers who published works about the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster and Lake Baikal. Among them was William Sargent’s “Fukushima: Nuclear Disaster on the Ring of Fire.” The credit for the historical content of this novel goes to these writers, however, all mistakes are entirely my own.
Thanks also to the many people who continue to support my work, including Lou Paglia, Jon Brolin, Irka Kachorowsky, John Walton, Sumire Hasimoto, Roman Voronka, George Saj, Annie Buhay and the ladies of UWLA Branch 115, Bob Simeone, Kim and Jeff Palmer, and Mary Jane and James Cronin. Charlotte Herscher’s editorial insight is exceeded only by her thoughtfulness. I’m indebted to the entire Thomas & Mercer team, especially Alison Dasho, for their enthusiastic, congenial, and inclusive publication process. My literary agent, Erica Silverman, remains fierce and fabulous. And my wife, Robin, was a source of light during the entire excruciating enterprise.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PHOTO © 2011 ROBIN STELMACH
O
REST
S
TELMACH WAS
born in Connecticut to Ukrainian immigrants and didn’t speak English when he was a child. He’s earned a living washing dishes, stocking department store shelves, teaching English in Japan, and managing international investments. In addition to English, he speaks Japanese, Spanish, and Ukrainian.
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