Short fiction: Velká Řeka

It is early afternoon on a hot midsummer day, and I’m standing on the shore of River of Tears Lake, soaking up the sun under a cloudless sky. At this time of day, the lake appears like any other, as it takes the darkness of night to make the light of the fireflies under the water to be visible.

There is a distant muffled sound somewhere at the perimeter of earshot — an indistinct repetitive series of thuds, rapid and unrelenting. At first it seems like the closer I try to listen, the more distant and indistinct it becomes. But soon enough, I can tell that the sound is approaching fast. The dull thuds become gradually sharper and hoof-like, a gallop of sorts, but not as graceful as a horse.

Finally, I see a white bull stampeding directly towards me. I freeze in terror even though I know I should run and seek cover. As the bull approaches, I can make out a pair of white-knuckled hands gripping the bull’s horns. I then make out the form of a woman riding atop the bull, her brown hair frantically fluttering in the wind behind her. She is wearing a red leather body suit — it’s the same woman I saw being tortured for the sake of art at the Prussian Occupation Tavern. She looks terrified, and is hanging on for dear life.

The bull charges past me and plunges into the depths of River of Tears Lake, taking her with him. I make my way back to the surface with the intention of swimming towards her only to see that it is suddenly evening, and the lake is now bursting with firefly light. Just as I see the bull start to emerge from this tear-filled lake, I am unable to move, as if the liquid enveloping me has turned solid. As the bull climbs out of the water on the opposite shore, I see that his rider looks as if she has been burned beyond recognition, blackened and near-skeletal — I have no idea how she is managing to hang on in this state. I also see that instead of horns, she is clutching the pointed spire of the Prussian army helmet the bull is now wearing. The bull pivots around to look at me for a moment, revealing a face that is now that of the commanding officer from the tavern, rather than that of any non-human animal. It snorts, then turns and stampedes away through the trees and bushes.

As the bull puts more distance between us, the lake loosens its grip and I can move my limbs again. I tread water (tears?), and in looking I see that I, too, appear charred and near-skeletal.

I bolted awake as the blinding glow of fireflies was instantly supplanted by mid-morning sunlight flooding the hotel room, and it took a moment to reconcile the two.

After another breakfast of fried venison, chili, bread, coffee, and goat’s milk — a combination to which I was becoming quite partial — I resolved to find out one way or another who the woman in the red leather body suit was, and where I could find her. Once I finished eating, I looked up the phone number of the one person from the old days with whom I was still acquainted, and who could help me find her.

WHAP!

The ball came sailing over the net, and neither my borrowed racquet, nor the person holding it, could do anything to change its course.

“You obviously don’t play much tennis,” said the mayor of Prussian Occupation with a smirk. He was a longtime member (and current Past President) of the River of Tears Tennis Club, and thus was able to swing free access to the court when it wasn’t in use.

“Our deal was that I play, but not necessarily that I play well.” I retrieved the ball and, after a few attempts, was able to serve it. Sort of. Before long, he took pity on me and gave me a quick primer on stance and footwork, and expounded on the finer points of the game.” (“Make no mistake. Tennis is just as much of a strategy game as chess.”)

Afterwards, he made a phone call and arranged for his driver to pick us up and take us for a ride so we could be assured total privacy. Sure enough, an SUV with tinted windows showed up, and the driver, clad in a Prussian army uniform, got out and opened the rear door for us.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said as we settled into our seats. “I’m not a stooge for the Prussians. As mayor, I’m the only non-military inhabitant permitted to travel freely in and out of our town, otherwise, the Ontario Ministry of Municipal Affairs might have something to say about it. On the other hand, I’m required to have a military escort whenever I leave town limits, so they can keep tabs on me. Or so they think.”

“What about the persecution of your citizens? Doesn’t the Ministry have something to say about that?”

“Well, it’s great for tourism, so let’s not get too carried away.”

At that point, I saw the driver look at me in the rearview mirror and give me a knowing wink, and then realized he looked familiar — it was the young hitchhiker who rode with me when I was just coming into Prussian Occupation only a few days before. He’d told me he was going to help liberate the land of his people. And yet, it appeared he had already given up the fight and joined the other side.

“I’m aware you two have already met,” said the mayor. “Don’t jump to conclusions, but don’t ask too many questions either. Let’s just say some plans are afoot to upset the apple cart, as it were.”

“A mutiny of some kind?”, I asked.

The mayor simply smiled. “We already have a few moles and turncoats in the Prussian ranks, so you can expect some fireworks soon.”

Eventually the conversation turned to the woman at the tavern. The SUV was now some distance south of Hermitage Hill.

“The person you’re looking for is one Velká Řeka. She lives by herself in Among the Birches.”

“In among the birches? Which birches? Can you be a little more specific?”

He laughed.

“No, she lives in a little house named ‘Among the Birches’, because it was built within a cluster of birch trees. It’s just across Abbotborn Road from Green Horse Farm.”

“So she’s not being held in a cell somewhere?”

“No,” he replied. “They just scoop her up on horseback when it’s time for another experiment.”

He must have detected my growing elation, as he lifted a hand as if to stanch my racing thoughts. “Now just take it easy. I saw the way you were looking at her last night, and I can see you bursting at the seams right now. I know a lovestruck fella when I see one.”

I blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t realize my inner universe was that obvious to the outside world.”

“Your ‘inner universe’ has permanently altered an entire river and lake, as well as the surrounding ecology, and has also upended the natural order of things as far as the people around here are concerned, so let’s not be too precious.”

He took a deep breath, as if collecting his thoughts so he could get back to wherever he was taking this.

“In any case, I’d say you’re smitten with Ms. Reka. Just don’t get to close. I’m sure it’s no problem for you to go see her, but she’s as much under permanent house arrest as anyone else in Prussian Occupation, so your chance of her ever leaving there as your bride is nil.”

The mayor and his driver dropped me back off at the tennis court, where the Mitsubishi was still parked. As they drove away, I rolled her name around in my mind. Now that I could put a name to her, she now also had an identity signifying her as real person outside of my head, and was no longer just an entrancing but troubling memory from the night before, a memory that had been seeming more and more like a frightening hallucination every time I thought about it. But now she had a name. Now she was real.

Velká Řeka.

Two words as beautiful and mysterious as the memory of the woman they represent. I kept saying her name over and over, as if to keep it from slipping away.