C.: Well, d.c. is at work today, so he asked me to bring you this edition of our blog solo. Honestly, I’ve been hitting the catnip so hard since Saturday night. I started celebrating the Astros' victory in the World Series right after the game, so I don’t have much prepared for today's blog. However, I was reading one of d.c.’s manuscripts after I sobered up a little. I think that this portion of the book “The Magruder Mysteries A Full Pardon; A Graying of the Law” may be some of d.c.’s best work yet. I would like to share a sampling of it with you now.
Nikolai rose and stretched. It was time to go to work. The sun was sinking into the western sky, and the unrelenting heat eased somewhat after sunset. If Nikolai had a watch or cared to tell time by the sun, he would have surmised that it was around eight-thirty at night. Nikolai had no reason to keep track of time, though. He was stuck on an uncharted island by himself, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Nothing to do but try to survive. That was his all-consuming thought.
Nikolai had tried to end his life five years before when he attempted to swim beyond a safe distance from shore at high tide, but his survival instincts had kicked in. Muscle memory made the former Olympic-caliber swimmer’s form ideal, and his body was trained to swim a long distance without rest. When he saw a raft floating unencumbered and unoccupied, his survival instincts led him to mount it. The current carried him to an uncharted island, where he found supplies and a large, hollowed-out rock that had obviously been used by the previous inhabitant to cook fish and other meat and purify seawater for drinking. Nikolai found another use for the stone pot when he stumbled upon a poppy field in the interior of the island. Poppy seeds make a potent tea that relieves pain and helps pass time.
Nikola’s skin had first and second-degree burns from being exposed to the sun for many hours while drifting on the makeshift raft. He stayed on the first island until boredom overtook him and his sunburn had somewhat healed. He decided then that he would seek a way back to his former life. So, Nikolai boarded the raft and paddled with the long paddle that had been left on the raft. However, the current was too strong. It carried him eastward, away from his target destination.
Nikolai knew Asia lay west of his island. Getting to a country in the southern part of the continent was his goal. He knew he wouldn’t be able to paddle there, though. He hoped he would come across a ship that was docked. If he swam quietly enough, the crew would be unaware of his existence. That would make it easier for him to climb into the hold of the ship unnoticed.
After three hours, Nikolai was exhausted. He lay on the raft and let the current carry him wherever it chose. When he awakened, he was on the beach of an island with a curious word etched into the sand with a sharp stick. Nikolai had renewed hope. Perhaps the island wasn’t devoid of human life, he surmised.
Nikolai had no idea that he was correct in his thinking. He had competition for food, and a way back to his former life. He didn't know that competition existed. If he did, it would have worried him greatly.
Nikolai journeyed fifty meters inland, seeing no other signs of human existence on his new island. He did, however, find something useful on the “Island of Pishon.” (That’s the name that Nikolai saw on the beach where he drifted to land.) Someone had been here before and had gotten off the island. That gave Nikolai hope, but he was still in pain. Nikolai found his relief in a field fifty meters from the shore: Papaver somniferum,.
The plant that heroin and all narcotics are derived from was readily available, so Nikolai ingested enough of the tea he made out of the plants on this island to keep a six-foot, two-inch, two-hundred-twenty-pound man unconscious for twelve hours. It was enough to kill a smaller person, but Nikolai was a large, muscular man. It would take more of the plant to kill him than the average person.
At first, Nikolai tried to figure out how much of the plant it would take to end his life. However, one week after he landed on the island, he thought he saw a ship. It was a brief glimpse, but it gave him even more hope of returning to his former life. It may have been a mirage, he reasoned, but he still gave him hope. Even though the ship disappeared within an hour after Nikolai thought he saw it, his survival instincts were still intact. He planned to get back to civilization by boarding the ship when it returned.
Nikolai reasoned that someone with his skin coloring, that of a light-complected Caucasian, would be most comfortable when the sun wasn’t in full force. He used one of the seven lean-to’s he found close to the beach and slept during the day. When the sun went down, he would gather fruits and berries, ones he knew weren’t poisonous, and consumed enough to sustain him for the next day.
Even though he was an expert marksman with a rifle, Nikolai found fishing with the sharpened stick he found on the beach to be problematic. The water distorted the position of the fish. Even someone with 20/15 vision in both eyes couldn’t judge how the water distorted his view of the fish. Nikolai wasn’t a good angler. This kept him from consuming protein, something he needed to sustain his weight and muscle mass.
A fruit-only diet has a tendency to cause one's gastrointestinal tract distress if not combined with some sort of solid protein. Nikolai could feel his ribs when he put his hands around his upper body. When he tried to fish, he could see his emaciated reflection in the water. He tried to throw rocks and hit birds to consume, but his right shoulder had been wrecked in a motorcycle accident in his youth. That’s why he shot from his left shoulder. He couldn’t, however, throw accurately with his left hand. This left him at a disadvantage when he tried to throw rocks at birds to supply him with protein. Nikolai needed solid protein, but wasn’t able to acquire it with his hunting or fishing skills.
Nikolai decided he would limit his consumption of the poppy tea he made in the stone rock cooking pot he found by the beach. Maybe that would keep him from losing much more weight, he reasoned. He didn’t enjoy living the life he was living, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up and over consume the poppy tea. Not yet. Not while there was hope of turning to his former way of life.
Being alone didn’t bother Nikolai. Since he needed to live his life “off of the grid” because of his job description, he had little contact with other people. He didn’t miss human contact, but he did miss the nice things that being paid for his exploits as one of the two best snipers the world had to offer afforded him: Cognac before retiring, the finest Colombian beef money could buy, and an occasional Cuban cigar. It was a good life for the mercenary.
Swimming to the boat wouldn’t be a problem, Nikolai reasoned. He won an Olympic gold medal in his youth as a long-distance swimmer. Despite this, he practiced swimming daily to keep his muscles limber and his respiratory system in shape. He would swim to the boat when it returned, he thought, and return to his former life.
Nikolai had only one problem with his plan. He was one of the two best snipers in the world. There was competition. He must, he decided, return to civilization, and acquire a weapon. A .270 rifle was his preference. It was powerful, but the bullet was light. He wouldn’t need to adjust his aim much for the distance the bullet needed to travel. Because he was experienced with this weapon, he knew just how much to adjust per yard for a shot of up to 800 meters. It was important to remember this, because he wanted to eliminate his competition. Then he would be the number-one-ranked sniper in the world.
He would return to civilization, eliminate his competition, and enjoy the lifestyle to which he was accustomed. The only thing he needed to accomplish his mission was transportation. For this reason, Nikolai Bolshov studied the western horizon day after day, night after night, waiting for his opportunity to return to his former life.
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