Trudging Towards a Red Sky

“Why are we doing this, Pavlov?” Mikhail exhaled sharply out of his nose and twitched his nostrils. He wanted to scratch but touching the face while wearing the thick rubber gloves was a mistake every recruit made only once.

“You know why,” Pavlov said lifting the buckets with a grunt. It was less than a hundred metres to the pit but with every step having to be carefully placed it may as well have been a thousand, two thousand with the deep snow and ice. “Dimitri doesn’t like you.”

“That isn’t true. He had a drink with me last night and told me about his daughter’s wedding.” Mikhail countered a swing developing in his left arm, slowly bringing the bucket back into line so as not to slop any of its contents on the ground. He kept his eyes low, searching for the path they had made during the repeated trips, but the red tint of the goggles obscured the shadows and made it hard to find.

“Were you buying the drinks?” Pavlov made sure to stay three metres behind Mikhail. If either of them went over the other would be out of the splash radius.

“I was as it happens. That man drinks like a fish that has never tasted water.”

“You can’t bribe supervisor Dimitri. He takes his position very seriously.”

“Oh shit,” Mikhail muttered under his breathe.

Pavlov caught the curse and lifted his red-tinted gaze from the path to focus on the broad back of his oldest friend. Mikhail was like an ox stuffed into the body of a man and sometimes Pavlov thought he had the brain of one too. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Mikhail reached the turning at the corner of the barracks building and paused. It was five steps down and then a right. He gave Pavlov a sheepish grin before starting the descent one step at a time, both feet placed firmly, before attempting the next one.

“Mikhail, if I’m on this duty because of something you did then just tell me.” Pavlov’s shoulders burned. He couldn’t remember if this was the tenth trip or the fifth. Was that a side effect of the vapours? Pavlov pushed the question aside. This was neither the time nor the place to think about such things.

“I asked him for a favour.” Mikhail forged on before his friend could curse him. “It was for you, Pavlov. I asked Dimitri if he would let you take the morning shift so that you could get home and see your daughter.”

Some of the liquid sloshed from Pavlov’s bucket onto the step and he froze with his eyes locked on the patch of snow as it melted. It looked green to him, but it wasn’t, it was a trick of the red goggles. Black smoke curled upwards as it ate into the concrete. It had missed his rubber boots and he let out a long breath before starting off again.

“Are you mad?” Mikhail asked. He had gotten a metre further ahead and Pavlov did his best to catch up.

“No, brother, but I wish you had asked me first.”

“It wouldn’t have been a very good birthday present if you had known about it. But it doesn’t matter, the miserable bastard waited until I’d emptied my wallet and then said no.”

“I asked him yesterday.”

“What?” Mikhail twisted around spilling the green liquid from the buckets and showing the snow in an arc.

“Be careful, Mikhail.” Pavlov’s eyes widened and he moved his head from side to side, judging how close it had got to Mikhail. A few droplets hissed near the heel of his boot, but his rubber trousers seemed untouched.

“Did it get me?” Mikhail bent his legs trying to see the back of them but as he did so he shook the buckets dropping more of the liquid.

“Stop you fool!”

“I’ve got it,” Mikhail said and stood still. He wanted to toss the buckets away but that would be a terrible thing to do, not just for the camp when the snow thawed but also for his own future. There were worse jobs than cleaning out the drain. “I have it under control.”

“Focus,” Pavlov said and gave Mikhail a head start before following. They were both making mistakes and in need of a break.

“You didn’t tell me you asked Dimitri to change your shift.” Mikhail tightened his grip as the sludge pit came into sight. It was tucked away behind the barracks and surrounded by a chainlink fence with an open gate. A small gantry led out into the middle of the pond where they could empty the buckets without risk of falling in. Only a little further and Mikhail could throw his glove to the ground and scratch his nose as much as he wanted.

“He said he was tired of doing me favours and that if I wanted a better shift then I should work harder.”

“You just had a baby.” Mikhail shook his head angrily and wished he’d got Dimitri drunker, then he could have knocked him out and left him in the snow. “He sat there telling me about his daughter and how much he enjoyed watching her grow up and all the while he had told you that. The pig. We should bring him here and push him in the pit.”

“Mikhail,” Pavlov hissed his friend’s name and then shot a glance at the barracks windows. They were closed and should have been empty, but it wouldn’t do for someone to report Mikhail’s words.

“I don’t care. I’m sick of this place.” Mikhail stepped onto the gantry and clanged his way out until he was over the green pond. Bubbles broke the surface, freezing before sinking back down and melting once again. There was a lake a few kilometres away, where they went fishing on their day off. Last they had checked the ice had been seventeen centimetres thick, but this small pond never had any ice on it at all, it just bubbled all year round until the scientists decided it was safe to drain away.

Pavlov stepped up onto the grating, and his right-hand bucket down. He watched as Mikhail did the same.

“Be careful, Mikhail. Mistakes are easier when you are tired.”

“Stop mothering me, Pavlov. It’s a bucket, how — ” Mikhail slipped on the grating and stumbled. It would only have been a minor accident if not for the bucket swinging around and banging into the railing. The contents spilt over the bridge and instantly got to work eroding the metal. Mikhail kept going snapping the flimsy safety chain and teetering out over the pond.

Pavlov tossed his second bucket into the snowdrift and ran. The walkway shaking as he raced to catch his friend. Mikhail’s big round face and his eyes bulging as he windmilled his bucketless hands and fell backwards.

Pavlov caught hold of Mikhail’s rubber apron and pulled him back onto the walkway where he landed with a bang.

“Get up, Mikhail.” Pavlov grabbed him under the shoulders and hauled him away from where the grating was still smouldering. He walked backwards taking his weight until they were at the end and then he pushed him into a snowdrift.

“Get it off me,” Mikhail rolled in the snow and Pavlov grabbed handfuls to rub over his trousers searching all the while for any signs of melting. “Get it off me.”

“It’s off, it’s off. I think it missed you.”

Breathing hard, Pavlov sank back into the snow and stared up at the pink sky.

“Are you okay?” Pavlov asked standing over him. “You almost went in.”

Mikhail tore his right glove off and scratched his nose.

“Why are we doing this, Pavlov?” Mikhail asked staring up at his oldest friend. He had on the same red goggles and head-to-toe rubber clothing. He looked like an alien, a big one with a beard. Mikhail laughed and sat up. “We should go back.”

“We’re done for the day.” Pavlov helped Mikhail up, careful not to touch his gloveless hand. “I’ll tell Dimitri that the ground was too treacherous. We both dropped our buckets.”

“No, Pavlov, that’s not what I meant.” Mikhail stood face to face and looked him in the eye. Even through the red lenses, he could make out the brightness surrounding his iris. He wondered how much longer before the light dimmed. “We shouldn’t have come here. Our families deserve better than this place. We should leave.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?” Pavlov tried to imagine the journey they would have to undertake. “Where would we go?”

“Where the water doesn’t burn and the sky isn’t red. Anywhere.”

“Okay then,” Pavlov said giving voice to something that he had only dared dream. It had been his idea to come out here, lured by the promise of a new life, and he had lacked the strength to admit it was a mistake.

“Okay?” Mikhail tried to search what he could of Pavlov’s face, but the man was a stone.

“I have family in the mountains, they’ll give us a home.” Pavlov shrugged as if it was simply a case of getting there and knocking on a cousin’s front door. “They're generous people.”

“I could live in the mountains.”

“Not a word to anyone until we’re ready.” Pavlov pointed a thick finger at Mikhail. “No getting drunk and telling everyone. If Dimitri finds out he’ll do everything he can to stop us.”

“My lips are sealed, Brother.”

“Come on then,” Pavlov said and went back out onto the bridge to tip the contents of Mikhail’s remaining bucket into the pond. The water bubbled and hissed as the green liquid slid into it.

Mikhail had his glove on and the other bucket ready to hand to Pavlov when he was done.

“Happy birthday by the way,” Mikhail said as he swapped the full bucket with the empty one.

“Some birthday,” Pavlov said but Mikhail caught the grin. “Stuck out here saving your life.”

“Since Dimitri ruined my other present, I’m going to make you a promise.” Mikhail stepped back while Pavlov emptied the second bucket, waiting for him to finish before talking.

“You don’t have to,” Pavlov said standing up straight. Through the red glass of Mikhail’s goggles, his friend was framed by a cloudless pink sky and for a moment he looked like one of those men in the posters, industrious and determined.

“Pavlov,” Mikhail placed a hand on his chest and stood facing his friend. “I swear I will do everything I can to get you and your family to the mountains and that your next birthday will be one of wine and laughter.”

Pavlov wanted to hug his friend but satisfied himself by handing the idiot a bucket. “Come on, you oaf. We have planning to do.”

“To the bar?” Mikhail asked but Pavlov didn’t answer. He just walked back towards the steps but to Mikhail, his friend seemed taller than before.

He trusted Pavlov and when he had shared his vision of a new life in the north he had asked no questions, just asked when they were leaving. Now he had done the same and Pavlov had agreed. As long as they were brothers they could do anything.

Mikhail retrieved the bucket and followed Pavlov through the red snow.