Alexei went on a shopping trip and ran into some complications. Today, Alexei’s player fills in the gaps in that story.
Alexei pulled the bike over to the side of the road and checked the wound on his right bicep. Still burned like a bastard, but at least it was dressed and clean. Thank god that the fuel in the tank was both alcohol based and flammable as hell. Considering what had inflicted the wound, he was lucky he didn’t have gangrene already. Red would still need to give it a once over once he made it home. Alexei turned the bike into the wind, pulled his scarf over his face pressed on.
TWO DAYS PRIOR
“So, wait. You want to do what?” Alexei Brandt asked. Leks sat across from him in the cramped confines of the studio. The big man was very careful not to bump into the stacks of cassettes and LPs stacked haphazardly around the room.
“It’s a test of sorts. I need to prove myself, you could say.” Leks replied.
“Prove yourself how? You’re already kind of a badass. I mean, dude. You carry that machine gun like a toy. It looks like a toy compared to you.”
Leks chuckled. “Yes, but this is different. I would have to leave the MG behind.”
“So, what? Something smaller, like a nuke?” Alexei snorted.
Leks’ expression turned serious. “Nothing modern, Alexei. No guns, no plate vests, no explosives.”
“Holy fuck.”
Leks began laying out what he needed. The clothes were covered by Ponikla’s resident knitting brigade and Minka would be handling the weaponry. What he needed Alexei’s help with would be things like hand-tooled belts, pouches and the like.
“Please don’t go out of your way for this, Alexei. It’s not a pressing need.”
Alexei stared at him.
“Dude…are you kidding me?! This is ficken awesome! Anything you need, man.” He stood, and began pacing. “Now look, I don’t really have access to anything like that myself, but there might be a leatherworker in Opoczno. Let me see what I can do, okay?”
Alexei’s face broke out in a nervous grin. “Also, I wanna stay on Filip’s good side. That kerl scares the shit out of me.”
“Keeping Filip as a friend is good life choice.” Leks gave his usual toothy snarl-smile. “I just hope to learn to protect our people like he does his.”
“Huh. Our very own werewolf? Hell yes!” Alexei paused, thoughtful. “Shit, sorry. Can I say ‘werewolf?’ Is that right?”
Leks paused, the obvious shock of actually putting this to words striking him.
“I… I don’t know. If that is what they are…I do not think it is so cut and dry.” He set his jaw, obviously chewing on the concept mentally. After a few seconds he shrugged, then burst out with a guffaw. “If I catch you trying to make bullets of silver, I will hang your favorite pants and jacket from the town center pole… with you still in them.”
He grinned at Alexei, this time with more warmth and mirth than most ever saw out of the giant Estonian.
Alexei grinned. “I’m pretty sure Sergeant Pettimore already has the bullet thing under control, mein kumpel.”
Leks rolled his eyes.
LATER THAT MORNING
Alexei grunted as he lifted the jerrycan to top off Thing Two’s tank. It had begun to snow again, and he was already looking forward to being back in the relative warmth of his studio. He had just come from visiting Janek during one his lucid moments, and the flakes were picking up as he walked back across the town square to where the cycle was parked.
After checking on Janek, he had stopped in to pay his respects to Magda and the grannies (and snag a Pączki) as well as checking for any requests from the city. Thus fortified, he lashed his saddlebags to the cycle while growling under his breath at the weather (“Komm in das Land aus Eis und Schnee, am Arsch!“) and kicked the bike to life.
After what seemed like an eternity, Alexei arrived at the Opoczno guardpost. After checking his shotgun, he made his way to the town center and quickly haggled for the items on his list. The weather was getting worse, and if he wanted to make it home in one piece he would need to haul ass.
Speaking of hauls, it wasn’t too bad. He managed to snag a huge bag of handspun wool yarn for the knitting circle, a pair of Alice Cooper cassettes, and the biggest prize, a pair of scuffed, handstitched boots that he was certain would fit Leks. They were a bit beat up, but had fresh soles so he was fairly sure they would pass muster.
He even managed to sweet talk a local barkeep into a (nearly) full bottle of Hibiki 21 Year whiskey in exchange for promising to mention his establishment on the air.
His first commercial client.
Nice.
THAT EVENING
About halfway home, the weather began to worsen. Alexei slowed the bike to a crawl, barely making progress. He had begun to wonder if he needed to seek shelter of some kind when he thought he heard… a faint whinny.
A horse? In this weather!? Poor thing must be lost. Alexei cursed and cut the engine. Minka would have his hide if he left the animal to freeze, and to be honest he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
“Some hardass”, he chuckled.
He dug in his pack till he came out with an old apple he had snagged from the kitchen long ago. Raising his head, he whistled as loud as he could. He was rewarded with silence. “Damn it”, he growled. Noting the location of the bike, he slid Mr. Morgenstern into its sling and started slogging toward where he’d heard the noise.
About ten meters out, he began to lose sight of the bike. Just as he was about to turn back, he heard a snort maybe five meters ahead. Through the snow he could just make out the outline of a horse…and a rider.
“HELLO?” Alexei called. “Everything all right?”
The rider sat motionless. A shiver ran down Alexei’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
Then it hit him.
Cold.
He couldn’t see the fog of breath from either mount or rider.
He began to back up slowly and drew Mr. Morgenstern, just as the wind shifted and the smell of decaying flesh and disease washed over him.
With a snort the horse began to trot forward, and there was a scraping sound as the rider drew a saber and pointed it at Alexei.
“Oh, scheiße.”
Alexei turned to run… then stopped. He remembered the last time he had seen one of these things. He could still feel the horses jaws closing on his shoulder, could still smell the rot of the thing’s breath. Could still see what the things had done to Magda, to Weigel…
To Minka.
Fuck it.
He spun in his tracks, raised the bat and roared, “come and get it, you ugly fuck!!!”
The rider actually stopped, cocked his head, and seemed confused. Prey should run, not fight. The little rabbit in front of him should be terrified, not defiant.
No matter. Prey was prey.
The rider raised his sword, and with a guttural howl charged at the teenager.
Alexei crouched, ready to take a swing at the thing’s legs, and the gods of metal decided to smile upon him.
Even demonic horses can step in gopher holes.
With a scream and crash, the beast tumbled forward, sending its rider flying. Alexei, not wanting to question his good fortune, chose discretion over valor and beat feet back toward his bike. Ten meters never seemed so far. He hoped he was going in the right direction, but there was nothing but a wall of white in front of him.
Just as he thought he saw the shape of Thing Two in front of him, he heard a screech and saw the rider had somehow gotten in front of him.
Alexei froze in his tracks, and the rider took that moment to try and run him through. Again, dumb luck saved the Ossi as he slipped in the slush. The blade tore through the arm of his jacket, slashing his bicep and drawing a scream of pain from the teen. He barely dodged the next swipe of the blade and smashed the barrel of Mr. Morgenstern into the thing’s face. Bone shattered as the metal spikes of the bat sank into the creature’s skull, and it stumbled back, pulling the bat from Alexei’s grasp.
The horseman began to flail blindly, the saber in one hand slashing the empty air as it grasped the haft of the bat in a gauntleted fist and slowly tore it free with a sickening, rending crunch. Alexei seized this opportunity to run to the bike, clambering on and firing up the engine.
The thing turned toward the roar of the engine, and had just enough time to scream as Alexei rammed the rider at full speed, driving him to the ground and pinning him under the frame of the bike. The impact threw Alexei over the handlebars and the shock of his landing knocked the wind from his lungs. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, and saw that the rider was still trapped under the cycle, unable to free himself.
Staggering back to where the revenant had dropped Mr. Morgenstern, Alexei slowly picked up the bat. He could still hear the rider’s mount screaming, foam dripping from its fanged maw. It was still lying where it had tripped, its foreleg clearly shattered. He saw the bones shifting under the thing’s skin, healing at an unnatural rate, and the creature was actually trying to stand.
Alexei began swinging the bat at the horse’s skull over and over, faster and faster, feeling his hands go numb from the impact. It was only after the beast shuddered and went still that he realized the screams were now coming from him. He turned and saw the rider was still struggling to free himself from the bike, but the weight was too much in the cold and muck. Being trapped under a quarter ton of ferrous metal probably didn’t hurt, either.
Alexei slowly walked over to where the rider lay, and stomped on the wrist of the hand holding the sabre with all his strength. The bones snapped like twigs, and the hand spasmed, dropping the sword. Looking down upon the thing beneath the bike, Alexei grasped a handful of the huntman’s hair, yanked his head up, and brought the edge of the blade down on its neck, hacking, chopping, and finally decapitating the unholy thing.
Jesus, he needed a drink.
LATER
After catching his breath, Alexei began to loot the body. Most of the clothing on the corpse was rotting away, but he recovered a pair of dented vambraces and an armored gauntlet that looked handmade. Leks might be able to use these. The sword was bent and chipped, not worth saving.
A wave of dizziness hit him suddenly, and he fell to his knees. His arm had begun to throb, and his vision swam. He took a moment to steady himself, then dragged the rider over to the remains of his horse, throwing the head and sword onto the pile then opening the fuel cap on the bike.
Using a length of hose from the bike’s repair kit, he siphoned out a little over half the tank onto the mound then stepped back.
Taking his lighter from his pocket (after the farmhouse he never left the village without it), he held the flame to a scrap of cloth torn from the huntsman’s clothing and tossed it onto the improvised pyre. The bodies went up like a rocket at the flame’s touch, and Alexei not so much sat as collapsed. Ignoring the cold and pulling off his jacket, he gingerly checked the wound. It was already red, puffy and hot to the touch. No telling what had been on the revenant’s blade, but he was taking no chances. Gritting his teeth, he poured some of the remaining fuel on the wound, gasping as the alcohol washed over the infected gash. The pain made the world tilt, and when he awoke the fire had almost burned out. leaving nothing but ash and bone.
Good.
He was exhausted, and was fairly sure he had a fever. He had to find shelter soon, or he would freeze out here. Dragging himself upright, he checked the fuel gauge on the bike. About a quarter tank left.
Shit.
He painfully pulled on his jacket, gathered up Mr. Morgenstern and the rest of his things, then said a little prayer as he tried the kickstarter. His luck held, and the engine caught. Slowly making his way back to the road, he turned toward what he thought was home and hit the throttle.
Alexei rode for what seemed like days, his vision fading in and out. As he struggled to stay conscious, he heard what sounded like a bell off to his right.
“That’s it,” he thought, “I’m hallucinating. Not long now.” He stopped the bike to rest, just for a moment, then heard it again.
“Pretty sure those things don’t have bells on them”, he muttered. He turned his gaze toward the sounds, and through a momentary break in the storm he saw what might be the outline of a barn? A hut? Hell, he’d settle for a chicken coop at this point. Anything to get out of the wind.
He turned the bike toward the shadowed shape, and as he drew closer he saw what seemed to be an small, abandoned barn, with a set of harness bells nailed above the door jamb. Luckily, the door was still there, and partly open. He managed to clear the snow out of the way, and rolled the bike inside. After pulling the door to, he looked around. In the gloom, he could see that there still appeared to be hay bales, and a few half eaten sacks of grain. The rats were long gone. Alexei practically crawled over to the hay pile, burrowed his way in, and fell into a deep, fevered sleep.
MORNING
Alexei woke with a start, hearing a soft rustling nearby. He groped wildly for Mr. Morgenstern, only to be stopped by the sudden flare of pain in his wound. After calming down, he pulled off his jacket to check the gash only to notice that his wound appeared bandaged. He was fairly certain that he hadn’t been in any shape to do so himself in his delirium. It was definitely wrapped, though. The bandage was clean, and near where he slept there was a small, cloth wrapped bundle.
Carefully opening it, Alexei found a small loaf of bread, an old glass bottle full of what seemed to be water…and an old, half empty vial of Paracetamol . He stared at the objects in disbelief, then at his freshly tended wound, and began to chuckle, then to cackle with exhausted, delirious laughter. He devoured the loaf, drank the water and popped two of the pills. He collapsed back onto the hay and passed out once more.
Upon awakening, he saw sunlight through the cracks in the walls. The storm had broken, then. His fever also seemed to have abated, at least for now.
He pulled the whiskey bottle from his pack, poured a couple of fingers into the water bottle, and gently nestled it into the hay.
“Danke, my gracious hosts”, he whispered.
HOME
Alexei rolled back into Ponikla around sunset that day. The bike was running on fumes at this point, and he coasted the rest of the way into the town square. As he pulled the cycle to a stop, Arkadi stepped out of the garage, then stopped when he got a good look at the battered teen and the bike itself. There were fresh scratches on the forks, and what seemed to be blood on the spokes. He started to say something but then just nodded and took the handlebars of the bike as Alexei dismounted.
Alexei shouldered his saddlebags, made his way to the hall and shouldered open the doors. He made his way over to where the knitting circle was gathered (a few of whom wrinkling their noses at both his appearance and stench), and carefully pulled out the wool yarn he had bartered for in Opoczno.
He graciously bowed, and said “I hope this will suffice, Oma.”
One of the ladies stood, and almost ceremoniously accepted the yarn. “This will do nicely, young man. Now take a bath. A long bath. Eat something. And get the doktor to look at that arm, yes?”
Alexei nodded to the grannies, then walked over to where Leks was sitting. The large man stood, a slight frown on his face.
“Alexei? What -“
The German teen dropped his saddlebags on Leks’ table with a ringing thud. He hauled out the boots and presented them to the Estonian. “Hand-stitched, no machines.”
“I-“
Then the vambraces and gauntlet. In the light of the hall, Alexei was able to see bright scratches on the gauntlet where gold inlay used to be. “The former owner no longer has need of these. Don’t mind the blood.” He paused. “Think of them as a trophy. No firearms used.”
Finally, he pulled out the bottle of Hibiki, uncorked the bottle with his teeth and poured a healthy dram into the nearest glass, then one for Leks.
Slamming the shot, he pocketed the tapes, and staggered toward the door.
At the entrance he paused, leaning on the jamb. Turning his head toward Leks, he rasped, “Be fuckin’ metal.”