Progress Report

Part One.

Howard Flint climbed down from the musty train, into a typical Russian winter. He huddled his laptop close to his chest and tightened his jacket. In the distance, he saw one of Russia's walking tanks loading nondescript crates into the bed of a pickup truck. He almost didn't notice the slender child who had come to stand in front of him.

"Dobryj vecher! Dobro pozhalovat' v Rossiyu!" said the boy, sliding a crooked cigarette into his frost-caked lips. Howard simply stared at the boy - he did not speak Russian. The boy, confused, whistled sharply, bidding a larger man to come.

"Chto, v chem delo?" The man asked the boy. Howard's head was beginning to ache.

"On ne govorit russkogo."

"O, horosho. Ya imeyu eto." The man patted Howard on the shoulder. "Hello sir, and welcome to Russia." His mastery of the English language was amazing, but his accent made it near impossible to understand. "I'm your translator, Viktor. This," Viktor pointed at the child, "is my brother, Marc."

"Privet," replied Marc, lighting the cigarette.

"Uh, hi." Howard popped an aspirin into his mouth, which was strangely dry. "You let him smoke?"

"Oh, sure, sure." Viktor threw his arm around Howard, leading him to a small blue car parked on the curb. "It's good to relax a little, you know?" Marc lifted the cigarette up to Howard, who waved it away.

"No thank you, I prefer to keep my lungs."

"Suit yourself," replied Viktor, taking a drag from Marc's cigarette. "We will be heading to the hotel. Have you got your bags?"

"Uhhh, no," said Howard. He pulled his laptop from under his jacket. "This is all I brought." Marc began to laugh, which was silenced by a sharp punch from Viktor.

"Then we will need to get you some clothes! This," Viktor examined Howard's jacket, "This will not do. Come, let's go. Marc! Prodvin'tes', Pojdem!" They settled into the car, which was bigger than it looked from the outside. It smelled musty and warm, just like the train. Viktor switched on a radio, which had much less static than Howard thought it would.

“Pozhalujsta prednaznacheniye vhoda,” said the radio in a metallic voice. Howard tapped Viktor on the shoulder, and he hit a switch on the radio. “Please input destination,” the radio repeated.

“Provideniye Hotel,” said Howard.

“You can speak Russian,” Viktor said. He was excited.

“All I know how to say is the name of the hotel.” Howard looked at the cars on the cobblestone street. “Can you teach me?”

“Yeah, sure. Uhmm, here we go. Say “Gde - vannaya?” Marc giggled.

Howard had trouble with it, but finally got it out. “Gde - vannaya? What did I say?”

“’Where is the bathroom?’” laughed Viktor. Howard smiled. He was beginning to like Russia. He pulled out his laptop and began to type.

“Why did you only bring this?” asked Viktor.

“I didn’t expect to be here for long. I’m doing a report.”

“School?”

“No, news. I’m reporting on your war.”

Viktor’s smile quickly faded away. “It should be everyone’s.”

“What do you mean?” asked Howard.

“Well,” Viktor looked back at Marc, who had fallen asleep. “When the Germans won the war-“

“World War Two, right?”

“Yes, Vtoraya Mirovaya Vojna. When they won World War Two, they took control of the whole world – everything except Japan, Russia, and Britain. Do you even know how they won?”

“No, I don’t.” replied Howard.

“The cowardly svin''a, they sucked themselves back into Germany and covered America with nuclear missiles. That is why America is so barren. It’s not just bad land development, my friend. I hear tales of America that her mountains are still on fire. That her people are sick, diseases, from the missiles and the waste.” Viktor suddenly got very patriotic. “We must work together, Howard! All of us! We must free the world from their grasp, and kill every last Nazi pig!”

All this was going into Howard’s laptop.

At last, they reached the Hotel.