He did it.
Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 158
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“But the murderer must be punished for his crimes,” Helen said.
“Yes, exactly, the people who were killed in Russia were paying for their crimes.”
“Were they murderers?”
“In one sense, yes, but they used poverty, sickness, starvation as their weapons. Their crimes were greater than an ordinary killer, their crimes were committed against a whole class of people.”
“What about the wealthy in the United States? Should they be executed?”
“Let us hope it does not come to that.”
She looked down at the chessboard, unsure what to say. She felt sick to her stomach; she wasn’t sure what to make of Fedoseyev’s statement. She could not reconcile the man who sat before her, whom she regarded warmly, with a person who could so easily discuss murder. They continued to play chess, Helen working to keep her hands from shaking with anger.
“Why did you end up leaving Russia?” she asked.
“It turned out that our new masters were no better than our old,” he replied. “The nobility of the revolution was soon replaced by the corruption of the Soviet Union. Not all at first, but once Lenin died, Russia descended into full-scale corruption. I opposed the changes and found myself, along with my former students, on the wrong end of the sword. Because of my words, we all were forced into exile soon after and have been vagabonds since.”
“Never to go home?”
“No, a return to Russia for us would be a death sentence.”
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Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 157
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
Fedoseyev found himself alone in the world, except for his brother’s teachings. He went to University, where he studied education and followed in his brother’s footsteps in Marxism as well. Upon graduation, he had moved to St. Petersburg and become a schoolteacher. It was in this capacity that he had met Bogostlovski, Karakov, and Kuznetsov; each of them had been students of his before becoming disciples. Fedoseyev created a following for himself amongst former students.
During the first revolution, in 1905, Fedoseyev and his disciples joined a peaceful protest at the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. The protest had started out without trouble, but soon there were clashes between the army and the protestors. There was no telling how the violence escalated, but by the end of the day over one thousand protestors lay dead, their blood staining the fresh January snow. Among the dead were several of Fedoseyev’s students. When the true revolution came in 1917, however, the men were hardened from their previous experiences and were more willing to use brutality as a tool.
“At times of war, a man is not himself. To do what must be done, you must step outside of yourself; distance yourself from your actions. You would be surprised by what you are capable of doing.”
“No,” she said, “I could never kill another human being.”
“What then will you do if you find Aranofsky’s killer?”
“I will turn him in to the police.”
“What do you think happens to murderers? The police will hang the man, he will be just as dead as if you pulled the trigger yourself.”
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Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 156
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“As I said, all of our hands are bloody,” he said, “You must judge Bogostlovski by his behavior the other night, every person reacts differently to such times. Bogostlovski trusts nobody now, especially not strangers. I almost think the more cold hearted the person, the easier it is for them to put on a happy face afterward.”
“Did you?”
“I did what was asked of me,” he said curtly, his blue eyes hard, “I have killed people who some would regard as innocent, but none of us are really innocent.”
“But how could you?” she asked, stunned by how nonchalantly he talked about killing. “How could you take a life?”
He looked unhappily up at her, but she could not tell if he was mournful of his memories, or at her naiveté. Either way, he began his tale; Fedoseyev and his older brother Vladamir grew up in the town of Kazan at the crossroads of the Volga and Kazanka Rivers. A major city, it was one of the centers of industrialization in the 1880’s. Fedoseyev’s father died when they were children and so much of the burden to support their family fell on Fedoseyev and his brother. When Vladamir started at the University in Kazan, the pressure moved squarely on Fedoseyev. On top of his schoolwork, he labored at two jobs to make enough money for the food and coal they needed to survive. Even then, Vladamir was passionate about chess and the two brothers found time to play.
In Fedoseyev’s teens, a new repressive czar, Alexander III, came to power. The government forces cracked down on the rights of the people, leading many of them to Marxism. Their numbers included Vladamir, who was at the University at the time and became the head of the Marxist movement in the city. In his role, he organized protest rallies and oppostion to the government. Because of his role in the group, he was arrested and sent to Siberia for thirty years. The conditions in Siberia were brutal, with little rest, and even less to eat, Vladamir’s body soon gave way. His thirty-year sentence became a life sentence. Unfortunately, Fedoseyev’s mother followed a year later, never recovering from her son’s death.
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Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 156
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“As I said, all of our hands are bloody,” he said, “You must judge Bogostlovski by his behavior the other night, every person reacts differently to such times. Bogostlovski trusts nobody now, especially not strangers. I almost think the more cold hearted the person, the easier it is for them to put on a happy face afterward.”
“Did you?”
“I did what was asked of me,” he said curtly, his blue eyes hard, “I have killed people who some would regard as innocent, but none of us are really innocent.”
“But how could you?” she asked, stunned by how nonchalantly he talked about killing. “How could you take a life?”
He looked unhappily up at her, but she could not tell if he was mournful of his memories, or at her naiveté. Either way, he began his tale; Fedoseyev and his older brother Vladamir grew up in the town of Kazan at the crossroads of the Volga and Kazanka Rivers. A major city, it was one of the centers of industrialization in the 1880’s. Fedoseyev’s father died when they were children and so much of the burden to support their family fell on Fedoseyev and his brother. When Vladamir started at the University in Kazan, the pressure moved squarely on Fedoseyev. On top of his schoolwork, he labored at two jobs to make enough money for the food and coal they needed to survive. Even then, Vladamir was passionate about chess and the two brothers found time to play.
In Fedoseyev’s teens, a new repressive czar, Alexander III, came to power. The government forces cracked down on the rights of the people, leading many of them to Marxism. Their numbers included Vladamir, who was at the University at the time and became the head of the Marxist movement in the city. In his role, he organized protest rallies and oppostion to the government. Because of his role in the group, he was arrested and sent to Siberia for thirty years. The conditions in Siberia were brutal, with little rest, and even less to eat, Vladamir’s body soon gave way. His thirty-year sentence became a life sentence. Unfortunately, Fedoseyev’s mother followed a year later, never recovering from her son’s death.
If you liked this, please check out the entire novel, Avenue of the Dead, on Kindle Or, subscribe to my blog on your Kindle here.
Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 155
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“Good, I am glad,” he said, smiling broadly, “Well, I should not keep you from your lessons, now that I have completed my errand, I must be on my way.” Karakov departed as quickly as he arrived, so much so that Helen almost felt he had been a mirage.
“He’s such a nice man, much better without that Bogostlovski around,” she said, studying her pieces. Fedoseyev looked at her, seeming to debate with himself. “Do not be fooled by appearances,” he said finally, looking back down at his pieces.
“What does that mean?” she asked, surprised by his harsh tone.
“The revolution and the times after it were bloody,” Fedoseyev said, a touch of sadness in his voice, “to progress our cause we had to…take extreme measures.”
“Extreme measures?”
“Yes, there were many enemies of the revolution and the strength of our convictions were tested. Each of us has blood on his hands,” he said, looking down at his hands as if expecting them to be red still, “I did not care for it, but some of us, like Karakov, enjoyed their duties too much, I think.”
“Karakov? Really?” she asked, she found it hard to believe that such an amiable man could enjoy killing.
“Yes, he has killed more than any other man I know, and has enjoyed it more, as well,” he said quietly.
“What about Bogostlovski? Did he kill people as well?” Helen asked, horrified that a murderer had been sitting two feet away from her.
“As I said, all of our hands are bloody,” he said, “You must judge Bogostlovski by his behavior the other night, every person reacts differently to such times.
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Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 154
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“Thank you, Comrade,” Karakov said, “Although nothing in comparison to Mother Russia. On a beautiful summer’s day, the air is crisp there, not like the oppressive moisture here.”
“Hmmm, I think you remember Russia through rose colored glasses my friend,” Fedoseyev replied, “I seem to recall you complaining about the heat there as well.”
“Perhaps you are thinking of Bogostlovski,” Karakov replied, “I do not think I complained about Russia a day in my life.”
“Perhaps…” Fedoseyev said.
“The food as well,” Karakov said, turning to her, “What I would not give for a plate of Pelmeni, Russian dumplings. The dough is massaged until it is soft and crumbly,” with grand gestures, Karakov mimicked the motion of kneading dough, almost hitting Fedoseyev in the face with a red sapphire ring. Helen flinched, but Fedoseyev did not; apparently he was accustomed to the dangers Karakov’s hand gestures presented. “They fill these savory pockets with all manner of meat. Good, juicy meat, not the stringy mess they call meat in this country.”
“It sounds delicious,” she agreed.
“You should go to Russia sometime,” Karakov said, “and have some Pelmeni for me.”
“I will keep it in mind,” she said noncommittally.
“Not to interrupt,” Fedoseyev said, “but you have something for me Konstantin?”
“Oh, of course,” he said, nonchalantly handing him a piece of paper, “Tell me, Mrs. Young, what do you think of Mexico City?”
“I like it very much,” she replied, “and I am glad for my chess lessons.”
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Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 153
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
In the center of the courtyard a couple dozen children played a pick up game of soccer with a ragged, brown ball while scattered groups of adults watched on from the periphery. Occasionally, a parent cheered the play of one of the children, but mostly the adults chatted amongst themselves with only a causal interest in the rhythms of the game. She watched the children play with yearning; mourning the loss of her own future children with Harold.
On the other side of the courtyard, they passed by a fountain and into more forest. She slowed to smell a dazzling purple flower, but found the scent less enticing than its beauty suggested. A little green insect with translucent wings flickered by her head as she stepped away from the blossom. Continuing on, they found a pond surrounded by stone tables and chairs.
Fedoseyev set his box down and gingerly sat down. Helen followed suit and laid down her burdens. After setting the board up, they resumed their battle for supremacy. She felt the sun on her back and it felt glorious. After several moves, she found her more aggressive strategy paying off and had put Fedoseyev on the defensive. Just when she thought she had him, their game was interrupted when a man with slicked back hair, who she recognized as Konstantin Karakov, ambled up to their table.
“Hello, Fedoseyev, Mrs. Young,” he said, nodding and smiling, “Ivan told me I would find you two here.”
“It was such a nice day out, Fedoseyev suggested playing outside,” she said.
“And right he was,” Karakov agreed, “this is the nicest day we have seen in some time. May I sit?”
“Of course,” Fedoseyev said, gesturing to a wooden stool next to him.
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Knobby thing
Avenue of the Dead, A Serialized Novel, Page 152
1934. Competing factions wage a cold war in the streets and marketplaces, vying for dominance of Mexico City. When a series of murders threatens to turn the cold war hot, only Helen Young, drawn to Mexico to complete her late husband’s archaeological work, can put the pieces together and avert disaster…
“Come then, if you’ll help me with the chess set, we will be on our way.”
She picked up the board and one of the wooden boxes. Fedoseyev carried the other box, his cane in his other hand. He nodded at Ivan, who nodded in reply, as they walked to the door. She smiled at Ivan and, she thought, might have seen the corners of his mouth turn upwards. Out of the bar, she noticed for the first time that Fedoseyev was correct; the weather was gorgeous. The last two weeks the heat and humidity had pressed down upon her, she had come to barely notice it anymore, but today a cool breeze cut through the city, making the conditions more pleasant. For a few minutes they walked in silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of Fedoseyev’s cane.
None of the times she had been to El Rojo before had Helen stopped and look around at the surrounding community. Now, for the first time, she noticed several small open-air markets, each with its own specialty, lined the corner and people casually strolled from stall to stall.
In a professor-like tone, Fedoseyev explained that the area was known a Hipodromo, Spanish for racetrack. Originally, a racetrack stood there, but ten years prior the ever-expanding city had forced its removal. One of the streets, the Avenue Mexico, was oval shaped to pay tribute to the history of the neighborhood. Saint Martin Park, their destination, sprung up inside the oval, an oasis of nature in the desert of the city.
When the traffic stopped, they crossed over into the wooded area, the outer edges of which had the feel of a lush forest. Walking along a paved pathway they were surrounded by low, well-maintained hedges separating them from the dense forest beyond. Pressing farther along, the pathway opened up into a courtyard encircled by freestanding columns.
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Straight from my Brain to Your Screen
