War seeping into the borders of their country had seemed imminent to a young Luka Zalachenko who had joined the Red Army the moment he was able. It was a healthy outlet for whatever went on in the strange inner workings of his mind. If people didn’t fear him enough already as a boy, when he became a man and donned the uniform, he instilled terror. And maybe he liked it that way. He wasn’t quite certain what he did and didn’t like, anyway, he just did things – did as he was told or what felt right to him. He was a good soldier, never asking questions, always following commands. He’d do well in the war.
A lot of his fellow soldiers were frightened when the news hit. It would be terrifying to go up against Hitler, it would be horrible to have to risk one’s life. But Luka was not afraid. He would accept death for his country in battle like a proud man should. He had no misconceptions. You are born. You live. You die. There was no way around it.
He stood in the city center, leaning up against the brick of a wall as throngs of people in a state of panic picked all of the goods from the shelves of the stores. He cut an apple with the knife in his pocket and ate the pieces as mothers ushered their children with arms filled with canned food and whatever else they thought they might need. Luka was not panicked. He was an eerily calm figure, invisible among the masses. When he’d finished the apple, he tossed the core in a bin and let his eyes graze over anxious faces. Only one person stood out to him: a girl, close to a woman but maybe not quite there yet, seemingly unperturbed by the goings on around her as she licked at an ice cream cone and waited for the bus. His brows went up and he walked a little closer, but only when their eyes met. Luka wasn’t good with people but something about this one fascinated him. He edged closer, closer until he found the bench and sat beside her.
“You have no nerves?” He asked, eyeing her suspiciously. “Or are you lost, little girl?”
Ekaterina watched the soldier walk across the street, unsure if she should move away or stay seated. The cone was starting to drip and awkwardly she tried to wipe away the white spots as they fell on the blue fabric of her dress. Only smearing it. Embarrassed, she moved to throw the cone away even though it wasn’t finished. It was much better than dripping all over oneself in the presence of a soldier in the Red Army.
“Excuse me?” Little girl. He called her little girl. “I’m nearly nineteen, that’s hardly little.” She could feel the way her cheeks reddened, gaze fleeting if it caught him at all. Katya was always quick to blush, unlike her sister. She had no idea how to hide her true emotions. From down the street, her bus came, though as it stopped in front of them she made no move to get up from the bench. Legs feeling weak; she also didn’t want him to know where she was going.
“Am I supposed to have nerves, comrade? Do you?” War was upon them, he was a soldier, was he nervous? Or excited as she was. Many people milling about looked scared out of their minds, how could they be scared with the Soviet Union as strong as it was? Sitting on the bench, she’d even heard a few talk of evacuating Leningrad for the Urals, somewhere out of Hitler’s reach. If only she could evacuate, that seemed even more exciting.
“...Are you waiting for a bus too?”
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