UNKNOWN GUEST

#103 A Russian Traveler

After days of traveling by sea, the ferry finally began to edge closer to Vladivostok, the bustling port city in Russia's far east. The skyline of the city loomed on the horizon, its cold, industrial charm partially concealed by mist and the pale light of early dawn. 

The air was crisp, and the sound of the waves crashing against the hull of the ferry gradually faded as the boat slowed down, preparing to dock. I could feel the tension in my muscles ease slightly, though the awareness of being in foreign territory kept me alert.

The ferry had set out from the Japanese city of Sakaiminato, a place I had left behind with a sense of urgency. Taking on the alias of Benjamin Sokolov, a Russian traveler, had been my first step toward maintaining my anonymity. It wasn't too difficult to blend in, especially after slipping some extra money to the crew members. 

They understood what I needed and told me to dress in one of the crew's uniforms, allowing me to pass as one of their own. It was a clever strategy; the crew paid little attention to a fellow worker, and the passengers had no reason to suspect me.

The city's salty breeze hit my face as I walked onto Russian soil. Vladivostok, with its blend of European and Asian influences, felt distinctly foreign, yet there was a comfort in knowing I had left Japan behind. 

The sprawling port stretched before me, with large container ships and cranes towering overhead like metal giants, their silent labor constructing the heartbeat of the city. I walked past them, keeping my head low, still wearing the uniform to avoid suspicion.

Reaching Russia brought a slight sense of relief. The ferry had been a temporary haven, but being in Vladivostok meant I was one step closer to my objective. However, I couldn't let my guard down. Around metro stations and crowded cities, the risk of being recognized or caught was much higher.

 The authorities were always on the lookout for those who didn't belong, and the closer I got to Moscow, the more careful I would need to be. Every step in these places demanded a constant awareness of my surroundings—who was watching, who was near.

The train station was a hub of activity, with travelers coming and going, clutching their luggage as they rushed to catch trains. I scanned the area for any potential threats, but everything seemed calm. A train sat on the platform, ready to make the long, arduous journey across the entirety of Russia. 

The Trans-Siberian Railway. It would take me from Vladivostok all the way to Moscow, covering a distance of more than 9,000 kilometers and passing through endless forests, rivers, and mountains. The journey would last five days—five long days of keeping my head down, blending in with the other passengers, and avoiding any unnecessary attention.

I boarded the train, still wearing the crew uniform, which might allow me to pass as a laborer heading west for work. I found my seat in a third-class compartment, deliberately choosing a more crowded area to avoid sticking out. 

The wooden benches were rough, and the smell of engine oil and coal lingered in the air. People shuffled around me, packing their belongings into overhead storage, some chatting loudly, others settling in for the long journey.

As the train started its slow chug out of Vladivostok, I leaned back in my seat, feeling the vibrations of the engine beneath me. The rhythmic clattering of the wheels on the tracks was almost hypnotic, but I couldn't let my guard down.

 Five days stretched ahead of me like an endless expanse, and during that time, I would need to remain vigilant. There was no telling who might board the train at any point along the way—inspectors, soldiers, or even just the curious gaze of fellow travelers.

My ultimate destination was Moscow, but that wasn't the end. From Moscow, I'd have to find a way to get to St. Petersburg. That's where she would be. My mother.