Міст закоханих

Artem had been pretending to sleep for almost two hours now. The small office rooms that the military had commandeered as bedrooms during their stay in this small town were barely big enough for the soldiers who squeezed together for sleep, like bullets in a magazine. Thankfully, today had been a brutal slog for Artem’s roommates and the other five soldiers slept so heavily it would take an earthquake to wake them. Or a siren.

Artem, still fully dressed in his freshest smelling uniform, slowly peeled the scratchy blanket off his body. He pushed his tired arms into the cold laminate floor until he was on his fingertips, before one final effort launched him up into a wobbly standing position that freed him to tiptoe out of the room.

This promised to be a special evening. Artem had been waiting for the right combination of a misty, cloud-covered night, an operation schedule that did not require him to work a late shift, and for his friend Maksym to be supervising the entrance post. Artem ghosted his way through the empty corridors of the building, passing by conference rooms and office kitchens all of which now contained bundles of sleeping soldiers squashed into any available space. Artem rounded the corner and shuffled over to Maksym’s position by the door.

‘Soldier, you should be in bed. What could possibly be more important than sleep after the day you’ve just had?’ Maksym whispered, raising his eyebrows like a not-so-subtle cartoon character mocking his love-struck friend.

Artem raised his middle finger to Makysm’s face; now wasn’t the time for stupid games. Artem needed to get out before anyone else spotted him. Maksym responded in kind, gave his friend a cheeky wink and clicked open the door, allowing Artem to explode hurriedly into the crisp evening air.

At this time of night, the area directly outside the repurposed office block was a ghost town, as the residents in the area were under a strict curfew. As for the soldiers, half of them were asleep upstairs and the others were out on the edge of the town monitoring any signs of trouble in the east. The invaders were situated only thirty kilometres east of the town but - for now at least - were seemingly content with holding their position.

Artem flew through the town with his pack full of the tools needed for tonight’s secret mission. Two minutes away from the office building, he arrived at the bridge. This crossing was a pivotal tactical position against any advance from the invaders and Artem’s men had worked tirelessly for months to ensure they maintained control of the bridge. This bridge was the single, convenient point of connection for 100 miles between the frontline in the east and easy passage to the rest of the country in the west. Artem’s unit typically positioned themselves at more advanced outposts to prevent any assault on the routes leading up to the bridge. On the night shift, the presence of soldiers around the bridge itself was barebones at best. All this made it easy enough for Artem to sneak across once or twice a week in the dead of night when the circumstances aligned as they had done tonight.

Despite the town sitting on the Eastern front of this deadly conflict, there were still hundreds of determined locals who called this area and the surrounding hills their home. Artem could not help but admire the bravery of his fellow countrymen and women as so many refused to be ousted by the threat of the invaders and went about their lives. It had motivated all the men in Artem’s unit to fight even harder for this territory when he saw Babus’, as old as ninety, wheeling their trollies through the town square to sell their fragrant, organic harvest to the locals. The invaders had expected to crush his people’s resolve within days if not weeks. The capital came close to total overwhelm in the earliest days of the invasion. However, the invaders had not accounted for the intangible resolve of Artem’s people and how this country, that had survived evil countless times in the past, would not simply lay down and be taken. 

Artem trod carefully as his heavy leather boots clacked against the coarse wood of the bridge. In the sparsity of the night, each step seemed to echo out into the surrounding hills. He was only a few minutes from reaching the foot of the hill that overlooked both the bridge and the towns either side of the crossing. The warm smell of fresh bread and beetroot spread that wafted through the canvas of his pack and up his nostrils was all the motivation he needed to march tirelessly up the grassy incline. 

With his heart racing from both the climb and excitement, Artem reached the summit and carefully placed his pack on the grass. He reached in and pulled out his scratchy blanket, placing it precisely on the ground so that all four corners were perfectly aligned in a neat square shape. Next came the jar of beetroot, the tantalising loaf, and a bottle of fizzing brown kvas that always reminded Artem of good times with friends. He ensured everything was arranged neatly with two plates, two cups and a small batch of flowers he picked earlier that day sat alongside the food in a neatly tied bunch.

All he could do now was wait.

Five minutes later, Artem heard a ‘Psstt’ sound coming from behind a tree. He turned and, with an embarrassed look on his stubbled face, did his best impression of a wood pigeon to signal that the coast was clear. Stepping out from behind the tree, bathed in the foggy moonlight, Mariya stood with a smile beaming across her face. She wore a hand-woven dress made of linen and cottons of royal blue and butter yellow. Her hair was tied up in an intricate plait with a few loose strands swaying either side of her deep hazel eyes. Somehow, every time Artem saw her she looked even more beautiful, and as he admired Mariya’s beauty she ran towards him and buried herself in his strong arms, with such force that Artem thought they might both go tumbling all the way back down to the bottom of the hill. 

‘Artem, it’s so good t-’

Before Mariya could even finish the sentence, Artem kissed her and the two of them collapsed to the ground beneath them enjoying the peace and joy before anyone or anything could come and steal away this precious moment from them.

Artem and Mariya had met during a military sweep of the towns that neighboured the base. Artem had been doing house calls, and after having several locals tell him that he would have to drag them out of the house if he wanted them to leave to a safer location, Artem knocked on one final door. Mariya’s Didus had answered, but before Artem could say a word, the man slammed the door in the soldier’s face. Mariya, appalled by Didus' behaviour, opened the door to apologise to the soldier. 

The rest, as they say, is history. 

Many more visits followed over the coming days and weeks as Artem ensured the family had everything they needed to be as safe as possible in their defiance to stay in their home. Artem would bring provisions and then accompany Mariya on her walks around the town when he had brief afternoon breaks from his military duties. The ease with which the young couple clicked, disappearing into their own world when they were together, was exactly what was needed during a time of such suffering and uncertainty. They were each other's shining light and the two of them became addicted to the relief from the darkness that this relationship provided.

Back on the hill, in the dead of night, Artem and Mariya spent the next hour eating and laughing and basking in the glow of their young love.

‘When this is all over, no matter where I end up with the army, I will come back here Mariya and I will marry you the next day, do you understand me?’

Mariya shook her head as if to dismiss Artem’s declaration as an act of immature excitement.

‘Let’s not think too far ahead my love’, Mariya pleaded. ‘We have right now, we have tonight. Anything else on top of that is a gift and I want to enjoy each moment without wishing away the present.’

‘You’re right, sweet girl. You mean more to me than anything else and I can’t wait to spend many more years sitting with you on this hill, in better circumstances once, we win this thing.’

Mariya nodded, holding back tears as she once again buried her head into Artem’s chest. The pair spent the remaining time they had sitting in silence, embracing one another, and savouring the moment until Artem had to return to his makeshift bed at the makeshift base.

Sure enough, as the clock hit two in the morning, Artem decided it was time for him to return. 

‘See you soon my love. On this very spot I will see you soon, my angel.’

Artem fought every instinct in his body that screamed at him to stay, run away with Mariya and never look back. He dragged himself down the hill, across the bridge between their worlds and back to the building he now called home. He tiptoed gracefully across the room, gently slotted his body into the only man-sized gap on the cold, hard flooring and - finally - drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

A noise pierced Artem’s ears as he somehow pulled himself out of a deep - but far too brief - sleep. A combination of electronic shrieks and pulses collided with the sound of human shouting. Artem rubbed his sunken eyes and blinked through the lights. In the hallways, the blurred figures of Aterm’s unit scurried frantically to dress themselves and round up equipment.

‘All units, proceed to your combat positions. Enemies spotted five kilometres away. Prepare to engage’

The jarringly calm voice over the tannoy made the situation all too clear. The invaders had stolen a march overnight and must have broken through the defensive lines on the approach to the bridge. At only five kilometres away, the invader vehicles would be crossing the bridge in the next fifteen minutes.

It was Artem’s responsibility to join his fellow drone pilots in the remote control centre; Artem was one of only twenty specialists trusted with the piloting of these expensive devices. As he shoved his right leg into the dangling trouser of his army slacks, Artem stumbled into the hallway and thundered towards the control centre.

As Artem approached the hastily gathered drone unit, he overheard a superior outlining the plan of action.

‘Already approaching… cannot be compromised… no other option… destroy the bridge.’

The adrenaline that coursed through Artem’s body spiked further still as he processed what the orders from above would mean.

Mariya.

‘But sir, we have the resources to fight back from here? Why don’t we use the drones to target the advance and-’

‘This is not a conversation young man. The decision is made, now focus up and listen to the plan!’

Artem was stunned into silence. He had a choice to make. Head or heart? Duty or love? Mariya or -

In Artem’s mind, there was no decision to be made. He did what every sinew of his body urged. He could do both, stop the advance and save Mariyah but he had to act now. 

Artem sprinted through the pack of pilots, crashed through the door of the control centre and began barricading the entrance with anything he could find. He stacked chairs, cabinets, desks, and in a matter of seconds Artem had constructed an obstacle wall that jammed and jarred at every attempt made by his unit to force their way in. 

Artem sat on the floor momentarily and regained control of his breathing. Contained within this former dining hall were separate piloting spaces where each soldier would sit and navigate the drones to whatever tactical objective had been identified.

Artem ignored the panicked pleas from the other side of the door. He felt betrayed the second the order came through to destroy the bridge rather than fight back, and his love for Mariya was the dominant force in the war for control of his mind.

‘I’m going to take them all out from here, then we won’t need to destroy the bridge! I’ll do it myself if you won’t listen.’

The cries from outside the door faded to white noise. Artem needed all of his focus to tackle the problem of the advancing invaders and the commotion outside was a distraction. He settled down in his usual position - three chairs from the end; Mariya’s favourite number - and set up his equipment. Within seconds, Artem was piloting one of the drones up above the edge of the town and crossing over the bridge. How many invaders could there be? Twenty? Maybe thirty at most? A surprise surge like this wouldn’t be possible with a large force as the base would have had more notice and someone would have sounded the alarm much sooner.

As Artem floated the drone up clear of the bridge and a few hundred metres over to the east, his worst nightmare swarmed towards him below. Somehow, the invaders were crashing towards the bridge with vehicles, some tanks and what appeared to be at least five hundred men. This was far worse than Artem had anticipated and he was now starting to doubt whether denying the rest of his unit entry to the room had in fact been a misstep.

‘Too late now, they’ll punish me either way. Might as well try’

Artem bobbed and weaved his drone towards the advancing enemy. As expected, gunfire exploded from the ground but Artem was an expert at maneuvering these devices in such a way that the invaders would have a hard time locking onto their target.

‘Time to take you out’

Waiting for the optimal moment to release the device, Artem counted to three in his head and then deployed. Five seconds of anxious waiting was shattered when the live video feed showed a direct hit and several cars going up in smoke, with several others veering wildly off of the road to avoid the explosion.

‘One down, a few more hits like that and we’ll be-’

Before Artem could finish the thought, his drone feed was cut out and the monitor in front of him flashed red with the words ‘no signal’. Undeterred, Artem moved desks to get another device set up and airborne as quickly as possible.

A chair came crashing down from the man-made mountain that Artem had constructed at the door but the rest of the barricade held firm for now, so Artem continued to lift the second drone up above the facility and towards the bridge. 

In the time it had taken to get reset, the remaining invaders were now only 100 metres from the bridge. His solitary drone would never take out the entire assault in one go. Could he let his unit into the room and enlist their help? They’d have him pinned to the ground before he could win their favour and carry out his last ditch attempt to preserve his lifeline to Mariya.

Mariya. 

She would be there all alone with the invaders in full control of the town. What would they do to all of the people Artem had grown to love over the last few months? What could he actually do to prevent that from here? If he left the bridge intact, the invaders would secure it, move hundreds if not thousands of troops through and finally have access to a region that meant so much to the protection of Artem’s homeland. 

He was out of time and out of options. The war for control of his body swung back in the favour of his training and Artem zipped the drone down towards the eastern end of the bridge. As gunfire rained down on the drone, Artem managed to find cover behind a rocky ledge. He positioned the drone and counted down from three.

Two. 

One.

The room rattled with the force of the explosion as Artem managed felt the force of his actions shudder through his body. Tonnes of rock and wood plummeted away from the advancing invader forces. Their trucks skidded to a stop to avoid plunging into the chasm that awaited them and, for now at least, their advance had been halted. 

Artem, still blinded by his determination to check that the job had been a success, powered up a third drone and piloted it over to confirm the destination. The bridge was gone, or at least eighty percent of it had been destroyed and it would take anyone months to repair the damage if they felt it was worth the resources. For now, no one was getting over that bridge. Not the invaders. Not Artem.

Artem’s eye was drawn to something in the corner of the screen, a flicker in the top right that appeared to call to something deep in his mind. He buzzed the drone higher and followed the flicker, climbing up and up until he was floating over the top of the same hill he had been lying on only hours before. 

Artem’s stomach dropped as he saw there was someone standing on the hill, or at least they had been before they had collapsed in a heap and appeared to be crying into a bouquet of freshly plucked flowers. Their blue and yellow dress flickered in the sunlight and as the figure brushed a plait of hair out from in front of their hazel eyes they looked up at the drone hovering now only a few feet above them.

Mariya looked up and, through a wall of devastated tears, simply mouthed a name.

‘Artem?’