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   Chapter 36 No.36

Prey World - Counterrevolution By Alexander Merow Characters: 5560

Updated: 2018-07-06 12:01


"What?", he heard from behind. Frank came.

"I`m on the website of the collectivist district chapter of Kursk. Here is something about the killing of Sven!"

Kohlhaas browsed his digital dictionary on the DC-Stick and stared at the screen. His eyes became two narrow slits.

"Ubogij? It means "crippled"! They write: "Ugly, crippled Rus mutant shot in Kromy!". Those damn rats!", he hissed.

Shortly thereafter, Frank translated also the rest of the text and read it out to his friend: "Some of Tschistokjow`s reactionary agitators had obviously had the illusion, that they could spread their deceitful propaganda in our city, and came to Kromy.

After the Rus had distributed their stupid leaflets for several hours, they finally got what they deserved. We made them pay for their insolence!

A group of collectivist activists wanted to talk to the Rus, but Tschistokjow`s fascist thugs immediately became aggressive and attacked us. So we had no other chance, than defending ourselves.

Two members of the freedom movement, including a particularly more than ugly guy, that Artur Tschistokjow had apparently sent to Kromy to scare us, were fatally injured. This incident is hopefully a lesson for the reactionary Rus scum. Stay away from our city! We do not tolerate any Rus in Kromy! Down with Artur Tschistokjow and his lies!"

"They deride Sven's death!", growled B?umer and closed the website.

"They`ll soon be laughing on the other side of their faces! We should visit Kromy with some of our Varagians to cut some throats", said Frank angrily.

"Forget it! Artur would never allow this. The Varangians are no tool of our personal revenge..."

"Yeah, I know that!", grumbled Frank back and left the room.

The body of Sven Weber was brought to Ivas. Frank and Alfred returned to their home village to pay him the last respect. It was an overcast morning. The two rebels had borrowed suits and ties from some acquaintances, because today Sven's funeral was expecting them.

A restless night had tormented Frank and he had once again plunged into terrible dreams and visions. He had hardly slept a wink, and it was the same with Alf.

They were still too sad and confused to be able to feel hatred and vindictiveness. Again and again, Sven's face appeared in their minds and mostly it was his youthful and beautiful face, before the mission of war in Japan.

Wilden was already waiting at the door and picked them up. Julia and Agatha stood behind him, welcoming them reservedly. Then they went to the small cemetery outside of Ivas.

Almost every villager and hundreds of comrades from Belarus, Russia and the Baltic countries, who had learned to know Sven Weber during his tireless activities, had gathered there. Artur Tschistokjow had come

too. He just shook hands without saying a word.

Somewhere among the mourners in their black suits, Frank could hear Sven`s mother and his father, sobbing quietly. There he lay, in a flower adorned coffin, the beloved son, cold and dead, with three bullet holes in his head. Frank and Alfred had seen him last night, laid out in the old church of Ivas.

Gray and bloodless, the friend had rested in his coffin, while his one eye had glassy stared into nothingness. The frozen hands had lain on Sven`s breast and the dried blood on his temple had still been in his blonde hair.

The two tough guys had wept like children, when they had seen him like this. Ultimately, they had stroked him one last time over his head, thankful for all the happy hours he had given to them. Then they had wished him a good journey to the other side, where the ancestors were waiting for him.

Thorsten Wilden delivered the eulogy in front of the villagers and the other funeral guests, strangely hesitant and often interrupted by tears. This time he was not the sovereign village boss and foreign minister, because all his proverbial dispassion had vanished.

In silence, the endless funeral procession was walking through the streets of Ivas and repeatedly a faint crying ended the cruel silence. Frank and Alfred threw a shovel of earth on the coffin of their good friend, then they went back home. With bowed heads and deeply grieved.

"Without Sven, we both had died in "Big Eye", muttered Frank and turned around to Alf.

The giant just nodded and tried to hide his tears in front of his friend. Silently, he was walking ahead, while Kohlhaas was slowly tagging behind him.

Julia did her best to reassure Frank and Alfred. Since days, the two men talked about nothing else than bloody retribution.

"This won`t bring Sven back!", she said again and again, but the minds of the rebels were meanwhile obsessed by the lust for revenge.

However, they would get enough opportunities to spill blood in the future and their constant outbursts of sadness and anger were not very wise. But nevertheless, it was their way to deal with the death of their best friend.

"His sacrifice must not be in vain!", preached Kohlhaas, but this phrase could hardly alleviate his grief.

In November, the rebels finally returned to Belarus. Julia Wilden came with them and spent a few days in Minsk. Frank asked her several times if she would move one day to the capital of Belarus and the young woman promised him to think about it.

Frank wanted her on his side, but Julia's concerns about him were right as Kohlhaas knew deep inside. Meanwhile, the political struggle was waiting and Frank was pushed forward once again. He put on his uniform, gritted his teeth and kept on going.

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