Chapter Three
We drove along the winding road, the trees had turned various shades of red, gold, and coppery-brown. A reminder that even as humans pushed further into the heart of mother nature she would still be here fighting against us. “How long will it take to get there?” I asked Ilsa through Tommy.
“A few hours, want to listen to some music?”
I thought about it but figured the jeep was unlikely to have any Tim McGraw available. “No, thank you, but maybe you could point out some of the sights along the way?”
“I would if there were any.” She laughed. “We can take a trip later this week to show you some sights, I think you will find many of them interesting for your work. Are you still planning on going over the border to Bulgaria next week?” Tommy eyed the road ahead as he translated.
“We are, there is an exciting excavation I want to look at, it ties in nicely with this subject matter. And Tommy could use the additional hands-on experience for his work.”
Ilsa nodded. We drove the rest of the way relative silence, Tommy and Catina spoke in hushed tones in the back seat, while Ilsa drove only stopping for people to use the restroom at a small nearly unnoticeable little roadside store. Two hours later we reached our destination.
As we pulled up the one-lane road. What hit me was the fact that it looked like something from an apocalypse movie set. Weeds had long ago taken over, wooden fences had begun to rot and fall. Wood rafters exposed to the weather had turned black with moisture, they say perched atop crumbling brick walls that screamed of a lack of human activity in a very long time. It hit me that I’d not seen anything like this since leaving Asia. War did this to towns there too. I closed my eyes trying to push the images of starving children huddled together on grass mats under the patches of roofing that remained after the shelling had stopped.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“This was once my home, my father’s home,” Catina whispered as we pulled to a stop in front of a structure that still stood, but has seen better days. The rafters were still intact but the roofing materials had long since fallen in most places, the remainder held by what seemed to be spiderwebs. “It’s not safe to go inside, but this was my room.” She pointed to the window on the right. “And this one was my parent's room.” She pointed to the one of the left. In the back was a small kitchen area where we ate, and here is where we would sit and talk. She pointed to what was left of the porch. Animal skulls were nailed to the posts still. She picked up something off the rotting floorboards and hugged it to her. “This was my dad’s knife!” she held it up looking at it for long moments before placing it in her pocket.
I smiled despite myself. The whole area gave me the creeps, but when she smiled at finding some small reminder of her past, it seemed less creepy somehow. “Do you mind if I go inside? Maybe there are other things you might want?”
“It’s not safe. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“I’m willing to risk it. With your permission.”
“Be careful. But yes, if you find anything I missed all those years ago, please…” She stopped speaking “Tommy, hand me the GoPro will you?”
Tommy dug around in his bag and pulled out the small camera and the headband it attached to. “Flashlight?” Tommy flipped a switch and a light on the headband came on. As I geared up I took a deep breath. Why do I do these things? I asked myself. I should tell my publisher I resign. I’m getting too old for this.
I carefully stepped into the remains of the house I started talking quietly, denoting all the items I came across. Taking as much footage as I could, even looking under the beds. Trying to get a feel for the people who lived here. There was a picture hanging on the wall weather had stained it, but you could still make out the face of a woman, It had to be Catina’s mother, the resemblance was striking as they appeared to be about the same age. I gently lifted it off its nail, the plaster crashing to the floor with the slight motion.
On the rotted bed in Petu’s room, there was a stuffed bunny. I collected that as well. “By all appearances, Petu was a man who loved his family very much, it’s hard to imagine he would end up the center of such a sensational news story.
I walked around what was left of the charred living room, a small vase had fallen over, I put it in my pocket, thinking maybe Catina would want it. On the table beside the fireplace was an assortment of small oval picture frames, evidence of fire clear, but the pictures were largely intact. I collected them one by one, wiping the dust off them and making sure to get good film footage of the images. I went to enter the kitchen area, but the floor gave way under my weight. My leg sank into the hole. “That’s enough. Time to go.” I headed for the front door. Picking my way carefully over years of fallen debris.
As I emerged once again into the bright sunlight, I shook the dust from my hair.
“Catina” I called across the yard, her back was to me, the group had wandered off a fair distance to what looked to be the remains of a garden area. They walked back towards where I stood in front of the jeep as I unloaded the items I had recovered onto the hood. “I don’t know if you want any of this stuff,” I said waiting for Tommy to translate, “But I figured it might be your last chance to get anything out of there safely.”
Catina looked at the larger picture, “I forgot this was in there. Everything was such a mess after the fire, I didn’t look too hard. I got what big things that I could and left.” She sniffled slightly, picking up the items one at a time.
“What started the fire?”
“I don’t know, I suspect it was the nearby villagers, the ones who did what they did. But I can’t prove it. I’m just lucky it rained very hard that night so the damage was minimized. I managed to get most of the things, some of them were ruined, the blanket my mother had made me when I was born, the doll my dad carved for me when I was just a child.” She put the last item down and embraced me. “Thank you.”
I patted her shoulder lightly. “Your welcome.” I stuttered.
