“Minreski, get your head out of the damned clouds, you got work to do.” One of the officials ordered. I grumbled in Russian, hissing as I got back to work. Dictator Stalin would have never allowed this to happen, but he was assassinated, murdered at the hands of the damned Capitalists. I started to glare down at my work, endlessly scribbling numbers for a rocket, unmanned of course. It had been years since the invasion, and the face of the world was changed. Moscow, Kaliningrad, and Stalingrad were renamed as; New D.C, Denver, and Ameringrad. My heart burned with rage and sadness, the names our fore-fathers called our cities, gone in a swift swipe. I wasn’t this angry since the war, but the rage ran through my veins. A sickening feeling arose, and I blacked out, in so much pain. It was nighttime when I woke up, in a hospital bed. I was being underfed like a thousand of us were.
“Minreski, you blacked out.” A nurse said, and I looked up, it was a German, and I could tell from her broken pronunciation of my name. She approached the bed and she rested her hand on my arm. I went weak against her, but I could not focus on her. “Minreski? Mireski?!” She yelled my name as I blacked out again. I awoke and was shivering, the same nurse by my bed. I held her hand, and she smiled at me. “Minreski, are you feeling better?” She asked, and I nodded, and her hard stare softened, making me feel a lot better.
“You know my name, what is yours?” I asked.
“M-my name?” She asked, and she looked off.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Sarven...Sarven Muller..”
“It’s beautiful.” I said and I grinned like a child. Sarven only rolled her bright blue eyes, sighing at my childish manner. I tried to hug her, my heart longing to actually be by Sarven’s. Sarven refused, and she patted my hair. A knock was at the door and to my all knowing, it was an American soldier, and he made his way to me.
“Minreski! Get back to work!” He barked at me, and Sarven got in between me and the soldier.
“Sir please! Have mercy on Minreski!” Sarven pleaded, looking at the soldier and was about to cry.
“Why should I?! He is a filthy communist!”
“So are you! You are standing on Russian soil.”
I grumbled and swung my legs over the bed, getting up and almost crying as my stomach howled with hunger. I stood up, and I held my head as I trudged back to my post. I thought of Sarven...my heart racing and head spinning even more. I was in love.
