The Fear Between Us

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Sergeant Aleekseeva

Present day, 18 February 1921. End of WW1.

Life wasn't always this easy, or at least that's what I think. Despite the circumstances and the rumours, I keep having these recurring dreams, almost as though they are trying to tell me that I'm not supposed to be here. That I don't belong here. But this is all I know; this life is what I grew up with. Even though in my memories I see snow, forests, thicker clothing, hear laughter, gunshots, and a different language. This is my life. I am an American US Army sergeant. Life can't get any better than this.

In my memories, I only hear and see a few things such as Josephine, predatel, and a plane. I don't understand the significance of such things, and they don't phase me either. Or at least that's what I'd like to say... I can't help but be curious and wonder who I'm supposed to be.

"Sergeant Tara?" A voice speaks from the background as I do up my hair and get ready for the day, "What is it, Colonel?" I ask still staring at the mirror on the small desk in my room, "The Captain wants to see you." He says abruptly gaining my attention, "The Captain? Why does the captain want to see me?"

"She didn't say." He responds quickly before walking away. That's another thing that I should mention, if I belong here then why does nobody say my name? If I belong here, then why can't I remember this place? Nothing here makes any sense. But nothing else can explain this void I feel whenever I look at the map in my room. Whenever I stare at the photo, I keep it in the corner of the mirror's frame. Josephine. She must be the woman in the photo.

I leave the photo in the room with a weight on my chest as I look at it for the last time before walking out. I make my way down the corridor as I cross over the building towards the captain's tent. I skip breakfast in the mornings, and although it is promoted to eat, I hate eating in the mornings. I lift the cloth covering the opening with one hand as I step in, "Captain?" I say as I enter making her look up from the paperwork, "Sergeant! Please take a seat." She responds with optimism as she continues with what she's doing. I take the seat while looking around the room, there wasn't much to it, to be honest. It was simple, easy, almost comforting. The silence is filled with the scratching of her pen against the paper as she completes the last reports, she eventually stops as she opens her drawer and pulls out a file, "Sorry, about that." She says with a small smile, "No, it's okay Captain." I respond which makes her give off a funny quick laugh, "May I ask, am I in trouble?" I ask eventually which makes her laugh, "Heavens no, I just have a few simple questions I need you to answer." She assures making me sink in my seat more comfortably. She opens the file revealing a newspaper snipping, "Okay, the first question I have for you is, were you born here in America?" She asks with confidence as she stares at me waiting for an answer, the question takes me aback, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Were you born here in America?" She repeats the question as I interrupt her at the end, "No, I heard what you said. I'm confused. What type of question is that?"

"Don't think too much of it, just answer the question." Suddenly her tone changes to a more serious approach but as I'm about to answer her another person enters, "Captain. I need to speak with you."

"Come back later, I'm busy." She says still staring at me, "It's urgent." He insists as she waves her hand making him approach, he leans forward saying something in her ear finally making her break eye contact, "Excuse me for a moment." She says as she stands up and leaves the room with the man. I watch them leave still sitting in the chair. My eyes glance over to the file, something tells me not to do it, but I can't resist the temptation, I lean over the desk and reach over for the file. I sit back down once it's in my hands and let a sigh while opening it revealing a snipping of... me. The photo in the newspaper is the same as the one in my room. The language is Russian as it reads on top, "Russian family flees Moscow and found died 16 October 1917. The daughter of Alexei Aleekseeva is the only member of the family who hasn't been found."

That name repeats in my head again, Josephine. Is Josephine me? But that doesn't make any sense and it feels wrong, I stare at the photo in the clipping, why does she have this? And how do I know Russian? I was raised here in America; I'm not supposed to know this language. Alexei, why does that name seem so familiar to me? I close the file slowly and chuck it back on the desk as I cross my arms huffing in the chair allowing the questions to fill my mind, I look up at the desk again noticing her name plaque, Cap., J. Rosewood what are the chances? Standing up, I pick up the plaque searching the room for something more than just a single letter. On the wall opposite the desk, there were several frames all with just the initials but one. It was old and I couldn't tell what it was for but there it was, with the full name faded in black ink fighting to stay on the surface to spell out the name Josephine Rosewood.