Burya 4: Chapter 5

Read Burya 4: Prologue (The Night Before) here.

Read Burya 4: Chapter 1 (Into the Belly of the Beast) here.

Read Burya 4: Chapter 2 (The Fridge) here.

Read Burya 4: Chapter 3 (Matryoshka of the Sea) here.

Read Burya 4: Chapter 4 (Mad Men at the Sea) here.

Katyusha

Kolya dropped the matryoshka doll. With a clatter, it fell to the floor and rolled into the far corner of the room. His heart was hammering against his rib cage so hard that he feared it might crack his bones. Kolya forced himself to breathe slowly and with a growl, he swallowed his fear. He was tired and the light on the submarine wasn’t great. Nothing compared to daylight. It was cold and lifeless and prone to play tricks on the mind. And so, he crossed the room and crouched down next to the matryoshka. 

Her eyes stared at him, expressionless and round—as were the pupils. Her mouth formed a faint smile, her full lips painted flat and red onto the wood. No sharp teeth. No all-devouring jaws. Kolya reached out with his hand. He hesitated when his fingertip brushed against the wood. But then, his fist closed around the doll and she disappeared in his pocket.

That night, Kolya slept. The moment he closed his eyes, the world faded around him and dreams flooded his mind. He stood on a beach and looked out at the sea that stretched out as calm and gray as the sky before the horizon. Water ebbed and flowed through the gaps between the rocks at his feet, swaying the algae that clung to their rough surface. Kolya stood there for a long time. He knew he could not leave; he had to wait even though he did not know what he was waiting for.

Eventually, his gaze was drawn to a rippling of the water’s surface far in the distance. He squinted his eyes and watched as the sea spat out waves and a figure emerged. It was just a head at first, then the shoulders. But as the figure came closer with a movement that was more akin to floating than to wading, the entire body gradually rose from the water until Kolya was able to make out the figure’s face.

“Katyusha.”

The name hung in the air for only a moment, the sound carrying as far as the sky and yet as light as sea foam, and Kolya was not sure if it had been him or the soft breeze that had uttered the name. 

Katyusha, who had come to a halt waist-deep in the sea, looked exactly like the last time he had seen her, the morning he had left to join the training program that had ultimately led him on board the Burya 4. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air, precisely as on that morning, her dark hair tied back and miraculously dry as were her plain and practical clothes. She tilted her head and smiled. It was a smile that Kolya was all too familiar with; half-mocking, half-carefree joy. 

“Katyusha.”

This time, Kolya was certain that it was him who had spoken. The syllables dropped from his lips like pebbles and fell to his feet, unheard. Katyusha, too, opened her mouth and spoke. He saw her lips move but no sound reached the shore. Kolya squinted his eyes, trying to read the words from her face but to no avail. And then, Katyusha raised her hand. With a laugh, she waved him closer…she dared him to join her. 

Kolya stepped forward. He saw the water wash over his boots but did not feel the cold. For a moment no longer than the blink of an eye he hesitated. But then he tore his gaze away from the ground and fixed his eyes on Katyusha’s face. Step after step he took and the deeper he waded into the sea, the more difficult it was to move. He could feel the current pull on his legs, slowing him down—and Katyusha remained as remote as ever. 

While the water still barely touched her waist, it was grabbing for his shoulders. The sea pulled him up and forward, then pushed him back again, and it was only with difficulty that his feet found some grip on the sea floor time and time again. He reached with his hands to push against the water and opened his mouth to call for Katyusha, but a surge of seawater flooded his mouth. He coughed and spat. His foot slipped as the sand beneath him shifted, and his body keeled over like a capsizing boat. The world vanished into a dark blur as his head broke the sea’s surface, and Kolya lost all sense of up and down as he struggled against the undertow.

And then, Katyusha was there. Her face—still smiling—swam into his vision and he could feel her hands on his shoulders. Her arms wound around his back, around his chest, around his arms, her embrace tightening. Kolya gasped, and water flooded his lungs. He tried in vain to pull free from Katyusha, her smile now sharp-toothed and red. The seems of her blouse, he saw, had torn on the shoulder revealing soft and slimy skin, much darker and redder than her pale face. Kolya kicked with his legs and writhed until Katyusha’s tentacles wound around his legs and he was no longer able to move. As Katyusha dragged him further out into the darkness of the sea, their eyes met: his, blue and human; hers, yellow, specked with brown and red but for the vertical slit-like pupils. 

Kolya gasped and air not water filled his lungs. It took him a minute to become aware of the hard mattress underneath him and to realize that the low noise around him was the hum of the submarine and not the rushing of the sea. He lay still, eyes wide open, chest heaving until, finally, he willed his body to move. 

He did not pay heed to where his feet took him. It did not matter. He just had to move. He had to know that he could move, that neither arms nor tentacles held him. He stumbled past the control room—the soldiers there did not notice him—one hand on the metal walls to guide him. He ducked through a door and collided with a solid mass.

Searching his balance, Kolya stumbled back. His hand found a pipe running along the wall, and he steadied himself. So, did the man he had run into. The stench of alcohol emanated from the captain. All color had drained from his face, a feverish haze glimmered in his eyes and a mad laugh distorted his mouth. 

Involuntarily, Kolya took a step back.

Written by Merle Emrich.

Cover illustration by Amr Abbas.