BOMBS AWAY ➤ kaz brekker

PROLOGUE

Kaz remembered the day he met her as clear as crystal.

It had been a sweltering hot day, like the sun had decided it had a personal grievance with humanity and wanted to punish them. His father finally relinquished all attempts to get any work done out in the fields, and decided to head on over to the Janssen farm. He had recently become acquainted with Mr. Janssen, who was a friendly Kerch man with a Fjerdan wife and two little girls. Mr. Rietveld and Mr. Janssen had recently discussed venturing into bigger business together, and over the past few weeks they had often gone to play cards or have a drink. Kaz had never met Mr. Janssen, but he was excited to see his property. He rarely left his father's farm - it was so big, and had everything he ever needed - so he always looked forward to visiting a new place. Jordie didn't mind staying at the farm - Jordie could be happy wherever. He was content to run through the fields all day, racing Kaz for hours, always winning. 

When Kaz heard that his father was going to Mr. Janssen's farm, he begged and pleaded to come along. It didn't take much doing, for all he had to do was widen his eyes and pout a little, and his father caved. He called for Jordie, who ran eagerly back inside, his little boots scuffed with dirt, and told him to go change into something cleaner.

"I look fine like I do now, Pa!" Jordie protested.

"We're going to the Janssens', and I won't have you looking like you rolled around on the ground back and forth. Go on!"

When Jordie was ready, they loaded themselves into the wagon and began bumping down the road, dusty and dry from the lack of moisture in the air. Unprotected and jostled frequently in the wooden back of the wagon, the two boys distracted themselves by having a poking competition, sending peals of laughter along with the hot wind, carried away to far off lands.

When they arrived at the Janssen farm, Kaz looked out in wonder over the rolling green fields, the trees topped with emerald leaves at the edge of the property, and the little white farmhouse just behind the hill, the roof peeking out over the summit. It was incredibly picturesque, and reminded him of a painting you might find in a picture book. 

Jordie leapt out of the wagon first, sending dust flying up upon impact. "I'll race you there!" He yelled, already running. Kaz scrambled over the rim of the wagon, landing on his bottom, dirtying his pants. He sprinted after his brother, but his short little five-year-old legs couldn't catch up. They ran all the way down the path, bordered by a small wooden fence, until they skidded to a stop at the front door of the ivory house. Their father jogged up behind them and rapped on the door.

A few moments later, a silvery-blonde woman appeared at the door, wearing a pale pink dress embroidered with little green vines covered by a dirty apron, which she hastily removed. "Come in! Come in!" Her voice sounded strange to Kaz. The way she talked was different from the way they talked. Kaz remembered one of his father's lessons on the different countries of the world. He remembered how his father talked about Fjerda, a country far to the north, covered in ice. His father had said that many Fjerdans were born with blonde hair, so he assumed Mrs. Janssen was Fjerdan.

Mrs. Janssen ushered them inside, revealing the comfortable insides of the house. There was no entry parlor, only a hook on a wall where four coats were hung - a big burly coat, a tweed jacket, and two matching brown coats with little ruffles at the hems of the sleeves and around the collar. One was slightly larger than the other. Also laden on the hooks were hats, scarves, a loop of rope, and a burnt pair of mittens. Underneath the hook was a small bench, the seat made out of a dark, glossy wood, and almost completely drowned in big shoes, small shoes, clean slippers, dirty boots, and everything in between.

Kaz swept his eyes over the rest of the house. The door opened right into the kitchen, filled with a rickety wooden table, a stove in the corner, and cabinets hung up on the walls, probably filled to the brim with all sorts of delicious foods. Connected to the kitchen was a small sitting area with a worn couch, a large green armchair, a fraying rug, and a merrily crackling fire in the fireplace. Between the two rooms on the back wall, old stairs that probably screamed when stepped on led upwards.