Dusk in Kalevia: Chapter 12

Toivo lined up against the wall with the others, stiff-shouldered, camouflage deployed in full. Mika and Kaija stood on either side of him, both of them preoccupied by moody, vague thoughts concerning the Chairman’s son.

Beneath the holiday pomp and circumstance, a tension hung thick in the air. Toivo could feel the oncoming squall like a low-pressure front in his bones.

When the Forest Clan had lost their war in the forest, Toivo had thought everything would change–since his entire persona had seemingly been crafted to avert the partisans’ defeat. But no, that storm had broken, and yet he and his opposite still lived.

Which meant that the conflict that had spawned Demyan and himself wasn’t over. The true climax of the fight was yet to come, and come soon.

They had spent the past week searching for answers–Demyan using the portal door from State Security to bring armloads of files for Toivo to sit on the couch and pore over, the two of them cohabiting Demyan’s apartment in a strange, stressful partnership. They found no clues as to why they continued to exist in Kalevia, the only release to be found in each other’s arms.

One clear night following the blizzard, Demyan had suggested they try the stars. Hours before dawn, he had driven them far enough away to escape the orange haze of Vainola’s lights, pulled off on an access road, and trudged halfway out into a field to stare upward until he shivered with cold. Toivo had stayed in the car, keeping the engine running so it didn’t freeze; the stargazing invitation had sounded more inviting when whispered in the snug comfort of a bed. When Demyan had finally returned to the car to push Toivo down in the chilly velvet of the passenger seat and warm his hands against the skin of Toivo’s sides, he hadn’t said much, but even without the empathetic link, Toivo could tell he wasn’t happy with what the sky had said.

Now, at least, the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place. Kaija had been found, Vesa was still here–Toivo saw him sitting forlornly in the front of the auditorium among middle-aged politicians–and their suspicions had been confirmed: Kuoppala had his hooks buried deep into a conspiracy. Whatever Kuoppala’s plot was, Toivo felt sure that it had been the initial impetus for his manifestation on earth…and in Kalevia.

“Seen the Hawk yet?” Demyan suddenly stood before him, his dress uniform blending in with all the others, preceded by the small creep of cold that traveled up Toivo’s spine in the moment before his appearance.

“No.” Toivo shook his head, dropping his voice to a whisper and using their pre-determined codenames. “Spruce is up front, though.”

Demyan peered briefly over his shoulder, and frowned. Vesa had turned around in his seat and was staring at them with evident disgust. “He doesn’t seem to like you very much,” remarked Toivo.

“You think?”

“Is it me?” Mika asked. “Tell me, what if…” He trailed off, the anxiety radiating off his sturdy frame.

“Quiet,” Kaija admonished. Mika shut his mouth.

Toivo could sense a degree of expected discomfort in her thoughts, but Kaija seemed calm. Although the sharp glimpses of memory she betrayed to Toivo were vivid enough to hurt, the stifling regret hanging over her at their last meeting had been swept away, replaced by a single-minded focus.

She’s been at the edge, Toivo thought, just as I have. She’s looked into the darkness and come back.

Kaija was looking past him, so Toivo followed her eyes. She stared at an unassuming man in a dark suit, his only remarkable feature a scar running across his upper face.

Toivo gave a start. He knew that man. Toivo had last seen him in the forest, surrounded by other members of the Forest Clan.

“Look.” Kaija jabbed her chin in the scarred man’s direction.

“I’ve seen him before, at State Security.” Demyan glared.

Toivo raised his eyebrows. “I think we’ve found our common factor.”

At that moment, Vesa sprang from his seat.

“Shit, there he goes.”

“Don’t lose him,” Demyan growled. “We’ll deal with Hawk and Scar after.”

It was too late, however. By the time they broke ranks and reached the echoing lobby, Vesa had already been absorbed by the black woolen mob still filtering through the auditorium doors.

**

Vesa finished throwing up in the lavatory. He stared into the mirror, contemplating how starkly his freckles stood out against the sallow skin, until he finally began to feel stable again.

I should…get back to my seat. He was in the front row, and they’d be missing him soon; the speech was about to start.

He washed his face in the marble sink, the cold shock of the water painfully bracing, and walked out into the carpeted hall, the plush eating his footfalls. He decided he could bear it. He’d probably stop seeing things eventually. Maybe. Or…

As Vesa passed the door to the stage, he heard the orchestra strike the first rousing chord of the national anthem. He froze as hundreds of voices rose up as one:

Long live Kalevia, our motherland
Our crimson flag flying/Together we stand
The land of the people/United through labor
Lenin to guide us/Our shield and our saber

Vesa had missed his window of opportunity–there was no way he could make it to his seat now. He pictured himself walking down the aisle toward the front row, heads surreptitiously turning toward him, the eyes of the multitudes burning the back of his neck. He would be forgiven, he reasoned as he opened the stage door, for electing to watch the proceedings from the wings. He picked his way through the half-lit backstage, slipping on pages of abandoned sheet music, until a nearby voice under the music suddenly startled him.

“It’s done?”

Vesa looked up to see Kuoppala, standing by an urn of fake flowers, glaring intensely at a man half-concealed by the fold of the curtain. Vesa immediately dropped to his knees behind a rack of folding chairs, hoping desperately that they hadn’t noticed him. Kuoppala ranked relatively low on the list of people he could deal with at the moment.

“I planted it.” The other man seemed to glance around nervously, his face hidden by a swath of shadow. “Surely…”

“Show me.”

“We don’t have much time, we gotta…”

“Listen. I said I want to see it.” Kuoppala reached out and grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt, hauling him into the rich blue-and-red cast of the stage lights, and Vesa had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out.

Perhaps his mind had decided to continue its wanton cruelty, but there was no mistaking that face. That scar had been burned into his memory as one of the first things he’d seen as the sack was pulled from his head in the underground bunker. Vesa shuddered.

The scarred double agent finally nodded and beckoned Kuoppala to follow. It only took a moment for Vesa’s curiosity to overwhelm his fear. Something was very wrong here.

He slunk out the door and followed the path of the two men, flattening himself against the wall and hiding around corners until they disappeared up a narrow flight of stairs. Vesa stood in the hall for a moment, feeling his heart pulsing through his skin, and walked over to the door marked Tower Access. He could hear the faint applause from the theater following his father’s opening remarks, and the commencement of what would surely be described in the papers as a rousing ode to the nation.

A voice called his name. Vesa turned with dismay to see his bodyguard sprinting down the hallway, followed by two other guards.

They’d noticed him abandon the speech. Vesa was through the door and halfway up the stairs to Kuoppala before he had time to second-guess his choice.

Proceed to Chapter 12, page 3–>