This is my entry into Finish the Story Contest held in the 
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When The Tundra Calls
by 
"СКБ Прогресс". Space Missile Center Progress.
The writing stood out on the roof of the latrine, indelible against the cobalt blue metal, sparkling under the dirty white sky of a first spring attempt.
Gennadiy waited impatiently, hopping from leg to leg in the mud and throwing stones at the door of the makeshift bathroom.
Not far away, Drogol pointed to a litter of kittens wagging his tail, the snorting nose pressed between the mesh of the net surrounding one of the last houses before the forest. From his sharp eyes and outstretched ears, a curiosity shone halfway between the festive and the ferocious.
"Stop it with these stones, Genna, or there's no deal."
The Siberian husky slipped off his nose from the net, the time to direct a dry bark in the direction of the voice filtered by the rotten wooden boards.
"Even Drogol is annoyed with your complaining, Anton. The sun sets quickly." Gennadiy said, throwing another stone with a theatrical gesture as if he were casting a dark curse. The dirty pebble ended up right in the crack above the door.
"You're a bastard, Genna. Forget me leaving this pisshole”.
Perhaps, it was better to leave him in peace, free to concentrate. It was not only the hours of daylight but also their fathers, who in a few hours would be home with the day's loot and would certainly have wanted to find them ready to help with the recovered material. The boy stared at the makeshift latrine with the mark of the nearby Pleseck's cosmodrome: a missile and a satellite with its orbit in evidence stood out against the blue background and the white silhouette of a planet.
That symbol often appeared in the most unthinkable places of Dolgoščelę, an insignificant village in the Russian region of Mezen, a stone throw away from the Arctic circle. It seemed as if over the years millions of spores from the nearby cosmodrome had taken root and proliferated among the simple urban elements of that group of houses between tundra and sea.
From the time of the cold war, when the launch program intensified, for the population of the region to recover the pieces of the rockets embedded in the snow became an essential second job. One that, eventually, could replace the traditional activities of hunting and fishing and grant those poor families better odds against the sublime yet sharp immensity of nature. Sifting through the snow of the tundra in winter was easier than in summer when even the streets flooded and boats built with rocket shells came back to use after the seasonal dormancy.
Recovered metals such as gold and titanium could be sold to Arcangelo's black market. The activity ended up involving all family members, each with a task in an efficient recycling chain.
The door of the latrine opened wide. Anton, the son of the country's pastor and Gennadiy's inseparable friend, now stood out against the shining metal like a war hero.
"Anton, if they discover us because of your endless shitting, I swear this time your bike is mine."
"Stop worrying and think, instead, of their faces in front of our loot," replied Anton with a seraphic expression.
"East, beyond the lake. Where the caribous' footprints stop," said Gennadiy absorbed, his mind already gliding on the untouched expanse of snow of that spot deep in the forest.
"Aha. Today we go hunting for the wrong pieces," Anton urged hinting a smile.
Both friends nodded solemnly before answering to the tundra's call.
They were deep into the forest. Aspen-leaf Miners used to be sparse in the area but, as the weather continued to warm around the globe, they could be seen in nearly every tree on nearly every leaf. The forest seemed to be crying out for relief that was still eons away. To them this was normal. They'd never seen the forest any other way.
It was warmer than usual for this time of year. That they did notice and had to pay attention too.
The last river to cross was before them with the hill just up the other side of the bank. Temperatures like this could produce patches of thin ice. They had to be careful.
Gennadiy stopped his metal machine to first observe namaz, a practice he'd taken up after reading comics and he was intent on keeping to his new religion. He checked his watch. It read 16:50. Six minutes until namaz he thought. He got off his ride, grabbed a blanket, and found a spot to do his practice.
"Genna, eating snow again?" Anton shook his head wishing he'd never let Gennadiy borrow the comic that got him started with this constant prayer stuff.
"Can it."
Drogol's bark backed up Genna's command.
"Find a way across the river." Gennadiy waved his hand dismissively.
Anton knew just how to annoy his friend. Peace and quite is what he needed and Anton was going to make sure he didn't get it.
Drogol, in charge of feeding himself since birth, takes off after a squirrel.
Anton hurried over to a tree and gave it a good push it the direction of other dried out trees. The shallow root system was not enough to keep it from falling over, making the other trees come crashing down with it like dominos.
Birds filled the sky.
"I'm going to kill you!" Gennadiy exclaimed through the noise of dry wood braking and snapping. Before he got up to make good on his words, he heard the sound of ice breaking and the yelp that followed.
Anton was closest so he rushed to his sled, grabbed a pole from the back, and dashed to the river where he saw Drogol clawing at the ice with his front paws while his hind legs were in the freezing water.
Anton was about to pull Drogol up by the collar when he looked up and saw lights coming up and over the hill. A saucer-shaped craft appeared.
Both Gennadiy and Anton were stuck in place. Only their eyes could move.
Drogol's yelps were muffled by the air going stagnate. Because he had also become paralyzed, the swift water took him under the ice.
Both friends watching had tears in their eyes as they could do nothing to save their friend.
The craft, however, moved swiftly, and when it was over the river, sent down a beam of light that lifted an area of ice which had Drogol under it and swallowed it and the dog with its underbelly and took off in the night sky where Ursula sat, her virgin eyes being chastised.
| Previous | Finish the Story Contest | Entries | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| The Town That Changed | Even the Clouds Smile | The Border | Horror Vacui | |
| Black Star | Quitting Life | LER | It Awakens | |
| Apocalypse and Pretzels | Metallic Kisses | Curie upvoted The Battle of Bloodneck Valley | Awakening | |
| Curie Upvoted Obstinancy | The Last Will and Testament of Geralda Connors | Curie Upvoted Pirate Hunters | Spoon-fed Memories | Lucid Dream |
| The Taste of Chicken | Curie upvoted Hunt More Precious Than a Green Stone | Kayla | Curie Upvoted The story of Mr. Renhe Ren | Second Prize Winner Blue Inferno for Tres Culos |
| Leitner | Collaboration A Game in the Hall | Curie upvoted The Extraodrdinary Café | The Package | Curie Upvoted The Abysmal Biscuit |
| The Devisal of Mr. Dankworth | Pointy Eyes Shine in the Dark | Foreigner | Curie Upvoted The Church |
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twenty-four-hour short story - You gotta be quick to get this one posted in time. He posts the contest on Sunday (usually) and ends it about 48 hours later. This contest has a 2000 word limit.
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