The Black Devil's Cave, page 13
Jenny looked around the interior. The most impressive object was an enormous wood-burning stove. Despite the unseasonably hot weather, there was a fire slowly dying inside. Jenny guessed that the stove was used for cooking. The immense size of the thing indicated that it was heating the entire house during long, Siberian winters. It even had a large bed installed on top that could be accessed by a wooden ladder. Jenny earlier noticed a tall stack of firewood outside the house, although the stove looked like it also used coal, probably stored in one of the small structures attached to the main building.
To the left, Jenny saw a flat-screen TV and a microwave. Placed next to the stove, they created a shocking contrast between the old and the modern.
The inside walls were covered with intricate rugs and white linen and cotton sheets with lavish embroidery. Jenny suspected that they were made by hand, probably by aunt Natasha. So were the crochet doilies, carefully placed underneath the TV and the microwave and covering most other surfaces.
There was also a variety of pictures with religious scenes. They were a strange mix of cheap prints that could only be described as kitsch and authentic orthodox icons, old and probably of a significant value.
Several objects inside the rooms Jenny recognized only because she was a historian. There was a churn to make butter and a wooden barrel to… make sauerkraut? Jenny stepped closer to inspect the barrel, looked at Natascha, and pointed to the pot with shchi soup. Natasha nodded, and her smile grew even bigger. Yes, this is where her sauerkraut came from.
It was fascinating—Jenny didn’t expect to find a piece of history inside a Siberian house. Despite its German name, sauerkraut came to Europe from the East. It quickly became a staple of a Medieval peasant diet. Cabbage was easy to grow, and sauerkraut could be kept for months without refrigeration. However, the process of pickling or fermentation of cabbage was not fast or easy.
After several dry days, cabbage would be picked in September, shredded with a special tool, and put inside a carefully prepared barrel, like the one in aunt Natasha’s kitchen. The barrel would be washed multiple times with boiling water, sometimes with the addition of salt. It was carefully inspected for cracks. Some women would also rub the inside surface with an onion.
After the first portion of shredded cabbage was placed inside, people would mix it with other ingredients, depending on local tastes and availability. Usually, they would add shredded carrots, garlic, cumin, sometimes apples or peppers. A designated person with thoroughly washed feet would then get inside the barrel and stomp on the cabbage until it released some juice. When it happened, people would add another layer of cabbage, and the process would be repeated until the barrel was full. Cabbage would then be covered with a wooden top, usually secured with a boulder brought from the nearby river. Finally, the barrel was left in a warm place for about ten days before being moved to a cool location, preferably a cellar, where it could be stored for the entire winter.
Although a staple of a peasant diet, sauerkraut eventually found its way to the mansions and castles. Slowly cooked with wine and a variety of meats, including venison, it was used to make hunter’s stew. When nobles left on hunting expeditions, frequently lasting for days, the stew would be covered with nettle plants and carried along without the risk of getting spoiled.
Jenny lovingly caressed the top of an old barrel. You cannot be a true American without appreciating your sauerkraut. Is there anything better than grilled Bratwursts served with delicious sauerkraut during a baseball game? Only the American variety was processed in the plant, while here, aunt Natasha was probably still stomping on her cabbage.
“And the juice is the best thing to cure a hangover,” Sergei commented, noticing her fascination with the sauerkraut barrel. He finished the song, and his chair somehow got even closer to Sonia’s.
“Where’s the bathroom?” Jenny asked.
“It depends on why you need it,” Sergei said. “Follow me.”
They went to a small room adjacent to the kitchen and covered with wooden planks. It was equipped with what looked like an industrial sink, but instead of a faucet, it had a strange-looking object hanging from the pipe.
“If you need a bathroom just for washing, you push this button here,” Sergei explained. “More and more homes in these parts are getting connected to gas, sewer, and water lines, but uncle Igor can’t afford it. Maybe next year. For now, they still use this system—something better than carrying water from the well but not exactly as good as what we have in the city.”
They stepped outside through the small and short door.
“Small door prevents you from losing too much heat when you open it in winter,” Sergei said, seeing that Jenny almost hit her head.
He led her to the outhouse and waited for Jenny’s reaction, disappointed that she didn’t show one. Jenny worked on too many archeological digs in the world’s remote parts to be shocked by an outhouse. However, she was mesmerized that time seemed to stop in these parts and people lived almost precisely like their grandparents. Yes, they had electricity, and she saw several cheap cars in the village, but the streets still belonged mostly to cows and horses. If the rest of the world perishes in some man-made apocalypse, these people will know how to survive.
When Jenny returned to the main house, bottle number three was on the table.
“I once saw an entry in an early 20th-century encyclopedia about a lethal dose of alcohol for humans. In the parenthesis, it said, With the exception of Russians,” Sonia whispered.
“I hope you’re not drinking with them?” Jenny looked at her friend with dread.
“Nope, I’m cheating,” Sonia responded quietly, making sure that Sergei couldn’t hear. She discreetly opened her backpack and pointed to a hoodie, now soaked with moonshine. “Just don’t tell Sergei. He seems proud that I can drink like a Russian.”
“Hey, Sergei,” Jenny approached the man. “Why don’t you ask your uncle about the healers while you are still able to speak?”
“I’ll continue being able to speak. And sing. I’m a Russian man, not an American snowflake!” Sergei’s face had already changed its color from white to red, and his eyes lost focus, but, to Jenny’s surprise, he kept walking relatively straight. “All right, all right….” Sergei waved his hand dismissingly. “Uncle Igor says that they have a local shaman, but he’s just for show. To get money from tourists. But there is a real shaman near Lukashkin Yar, maybe a twelve-hour drive from here. Uncle says that he knows things that others don’t. If anyone can lead us to the kid’s people, he will. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow morning, there won’t be enough sauerkraut juice in the entire world to cure your hangover. Jenny was tempted to say it aloud but bit her tongue. Instead, she checked on Naneyu, who was sleeping peacefully on a large bed in the corner of the room, oblivious to the loud noise and singing.
Chapter 27
Jenny was awakened by a noise coming from the outside. She barely recognized the shapes inside the room—it was still dark, with a grey glow slowly creeping through the window and announcing the arrival of daybreak.
“Davai!” It was Sergei’s voice coming from the backyard.
Jenny raised her head. She shared the bed with Sonia, who was still asleep. Something moved around her feet, and Jenny jumped before realizing that it was Naneyu’s head emerging from the other side of the embroiled cover. The head was followed by a large cat, evidently also sharing the bed with them. What else slept here last night? Jenny cautiously checked underneath the cover but didn’t find more people or animals.
“Davai! Yeshche raz!” The voice coming from the outside was even louder.
What the hell? Jenny got out of the bed and stepped outside, followed by Naneyu.
Sergei, barefoot and naked from the waist up, leaned under what looked like an old-fashioned water pump. Uncle Igor was standing next to him, and with each davai pumped water over Sergei’s head.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Sergei smiled in her direction. “Are you ready to go? We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“Did you sleep at all?” Jenny raised her brow, not expecting the answer. “Russians…,” she mumbled to herself.
Aunt Natasha, also looking well-rested, wouldn’t let them go without a hearty breakfast. However, with the first light of the day, they were ready to leave. Once again, Naneyu climbed to the seat next to Jenny while Sonia followed Sergei to his GAZ.
“Do you think something is brewing between those two?” Jenny asked Naneyu, but the boy only gave her a questioning look. “That’s fine, kiddo. You may have extrasensory perception, but for some stuff, you’re probably just too young.”
“Can you hear me?” She heard Sergei’s voice on the two-way radio.
“Aye, aye, captain! Loud and clear.”
“Keep the radio handy,” Sergei said. “We’re going to the region where it’s easy to get lost, and the cell phone service can be sketchy. There’re no major highways, and we have to go around a… what do you call it in English? A natural reserve. Stay close behind me.”
The day was even warmer than the previous one, although a heavy overcast announced an upcoming storm. So far, Siberia felt more like Florida, and Jenny would give a kingdom for an AC. She had no choice but to keep the windows open, and the noise made it impossible to talk. They had to yell to each other over the wind. But she was able to admire the landscape, dominated by vast birch and conifers forests, with occasional lakes, streams, and meadows painted with tall grass in different shades of green and flowers. An impossibly red fox made an appearance not far from the road.
“Hey, aren’t you driving too fast?” Jenny asked Sergei by the radio.
“There’s a storm coming, and with heavy rain, some of these roads become unpassable,” he explained. “I want to cover as much distance as possible before it starts.”
They made one short stop for lunch, generously provided by aunt Natasha. Jenny and Sonia couldn’t get enough of her homemade bread with fresh vegetables and smoked fish. However, they refused what looked like buttermilk, instead opting for water from a nearby stream. Jenny was surprised to see Naneyu eating aunt Natasha’s food.
“How come you didn’t touch this stuff back in the United States, but you’re fine with eating it here?” she asked the boy.
“It’s not the same,” he explained. “This is real food, and yours was… not real.”
“Hmmm… I think I know what you mean. Next time you visit, I’ll take you to the Amish store.”
“What is Amish?” Naneyu asked.
“Not what, but who.” However, Jenny didn’t have a chance to explain because Sergei announced that the break was over. He pointed to the black clouds rising higher and higher above the horizon. He looked concerned.
They drove even faster than before. They were about two hundred kilometers—little over hundred-twenty miles—away from their destination when the first, heavy raindrops pounded on the roof of Jenny’s truck.
Within the next five minutes, visibility dropped to nothing. The rain turned into a deluge with hot and thirsty land greedily devouring the water. The sea of grass and the birch and conifer forest disappeared behind the wall of rain. The mist rising above ground obscured the edge of the road.
Jenny slowed down while still trying to follow the tail lights of Sergei’s truck. She moved her head closer to the windshield in a false assumption that she’d see better that way.
“Are you still all right?” She heard Sergei’s voice on the radio.
“Yea, just slow down, please.”
If only they could pull over and wait for the rain to pass, but evidently, Sergei wanted to reach their destination, and Jenny had no choice but to trust his judgment. A flash of enormous lightning ripped through the sky, followed almost instantly by the roaring thunder. Naneyu seemed increasingly nervous—in fact, Jenny had never seen him that tense before. Perched on the edge of his seat, the boy was fidgeting his hands and biting his lips.
“Hey, it’s only a little storm,” Jenny said, trying to sound reassuring.
“So much pain… Can you hear their cries? Turn right!” the boy screamed. “Here! Turn!”
He pointed toward what looked like an opening in the forest, briefly visible by the lightning. Naneyu’s left hand was already pulling the steering wheel to the right.
There was so much conviction in the boy’s voice that Jenny followed his command without giving it much thought. For a while, the truck moved slowly along what seemed like a path through the forest until it stopped, sinking into the muddy ground. The boy opened the door on his side and stormed outside, instantly disappearing into the cascading torrent.
“Naneyu, stop! What are you doing?” Jenny briefly hesitated and considered calling Sergei, but there wasn’t time. Instead, she grabbed the radio and jumped outside, calling the child’s name.
There was no response—Naneyu disappeared. Jenny kept calling while trying to follow the muddy path. Would he go into the woods? She couldn’t see through the rain.
“Naneyu!!!” she screamed as loud as she could. Nothing.
The path ended, or maybe disappeared in the rain, and now, the only option was stepping into the forest. No, this is pointless. Why is he doing this to me again? I need help. She reached for her radio.
“Sergei! Sergei, can you hear me?” There was nothing but static. She tried again and again, but with the same result. She kept calling the boy’s name, but all she could hear was another thunder.
Okay, I’m officially screwed. Jenny shivered, realizing that she was freezing. The temperature dropped drastically in the storm, and she wore only shorts and a t-shirt. I have to go back to the truck. What is it with me looking for the kid in the woods all the time?
Jenny walked back or rather waded in the mud for at least fifteen minutes, but the truck wasn’t where she thought it would be. The path seemed too narrow, definitely not wide enough for a vehicle. Oh, great! Now, I’m lost! And freezing.
At least the intensity of the rain seemed to decrease, and the next thunder sounded far away. There was still some daylight left, although it was getting darker. Jenny checked her back pocket—the cell phone was still there. There was no signal, but the compass worked. They drove north and northeast from Pokrovskoye, and Jenny decided to walk in the same direction. She tried the radio again, but she must have been out of range. The only option was to keep walking.
“Naneyu! Naneyu!!!” Silence.
The rain almost stopped, and the forest was perfectly calm and quiet, although Jenny could hear her teeth chattering from cold. The temperature must have dropped fifty degrees, and her clothes were soaking wet. Now, they felt like pieces of ice piercing into her body.
“Naneyu!” Still nothing.
I’ve lost the kid, and I’m lost as well, somewhere in the middle of freaking Siberia. What predators live in these parts? And Naneyu is all alone.
“NANEYU!!!”
It was almost entirely dark. Jenny was determined to keep looking for the boy, although she had no idea where she was. She moved some shrubs out of her way, took another step, and instantly lost her balance. Grabbing the branch prevented her from falling. What the… She could hear water. It was hard to see, but Jenny realized that she’d reached the shore. Was it a lake? No, based on what she could hear, she was by the river. She fell to her knees and carefully tested the ground ahead with her hands. Yes, one more step, and she would go for a swim. Fed by the new rainwater, the river was moving fast.
Jenny turned on the flashlight on her phone but still couldn’t see the other shore and had no idea if the river was deep or if it would be possible to cross it. God, I hope the kid hasn’t drowned. If he even came this way.
Walking around in total darkness was pointless, and Jenny needed to save her phone’s battery. She should spend the night where she was, keep calling to the boy, and wait for daylight. Hopefully, Sergei and Sonia would come back to look for them. Jenny was chilled to the bone. She had nothing to start a fire, and burying herself under tree branches wouldn’t help—everything was wet.
She was tired, but she wouldn’t dare to sleep, even if she could, which was doubtful. Facing a real threat of hypothermia, Jenny tried to move around, rub her hands, arms, and legs. She kept calling Naneyu, but the only response was silence. Jenny remembered the night she spent alone inside the cave in the Himalayas, but even back then, she didn’t feel that cold. Or maybe she did, but her mind erased the bad memory?
Finally, she half-buried herself inside a natural opening under a tree that was relatively dry. She curled into a fetal position and was slowly drifting out of consciousness when suddenly something jumped on her. Jenny screamed in fear, ready to fight for her life, but a moment later, she realized that it wasn’t a wild animal—it was Naneyu. Jenny felt an enormous, overwhelming relief.
“Naneyu, where did you….”
“They’re still here,” the boy didn’t let her finish the question. He was squeezing Jenny’s arm, his voice full of immeasurable anguish. “I can hear them calling for help… They are dying… So much pain… So much suffering….”
Jenny took the boy into her arms. “What are you talking about? Nobody’s here. It’s just us.”
“You can’t hear them? Listen! You must listen!!!” Naneyu was shaking uncontrollably, and Jenny hugged him even tighter.
“Nobody’s here. Hush, baby, calm down. You’re cold, you’ve been lost in the woods, and you imagine things.”
“So many of them… No one should die like that… There is no hope….”
Naneyu moved closer to the river and would have fallen into the water if Jenny didn’t grab him. The boy crouched and started digging franticly with his bare hands. But nothing was there, and even if there was, how could he possibly find anything in the dark? Yet, he kept digging with some demented frenzy.
