Warriors Of Snake Island (short story)

"Sir, the boat is coming back around. Over there, fifteen clicks northeast. See it?"

Anatoly lifted his binoculars and scanned the ocean. The weight of them equaled the heaviness inside his chest. His heart beat hard and his breathing airway constricted as he focused in on the Russian warship approaching. He lowered the binoculars and sighed.

"These pricks, I swear. We can do nothing. They come again and we talk again. End of story," Anatoly said.

It was Marynia's turn to sigh. "But, sir.. we don't even have anything here. Nothing of importance. We barely have any weapons! Surely we present no danger to them."

"It's not about what we have, Marynia, it's about where we are and where they are headed."

"But sir, you're not implying..." Marynia exclaimed. Anatoly raised his hand slightly.

"We musn't assume anything at this point, but we must also be prepared for the idea that they were not bluffing first pass. This could be an invasion."

Just then, several other Ukrainian outpost guards filtered into the tower deck, each of them carrying a worried expression on their face. One, much younger than the others, looked as though he were on the verge of crying. The group circled near Anatoly and listened as he told them the ship was making a second pass. A mixture of emotion swept over them as they began grumbling and cursing. Some grabbed binoculars and looked out at the Black Sea to confirm the bad news. One man, from Odessa, cried out angrily.

"Mother of damn, these Russian fools! I will not take this!" he yelled while sliding the receiver on his weapon and firing indiscriminately into the water. The others watched quietly. Anatoly walked over and placed his hand on the warm gun to slowly lower it. Pietro tssk'd.

"Sir, we cannot stay. We are sitting pelicans here! And we cannot fight a boat!" Pietro exclaimed. Anatoly looked at him, wishing he had a better answer or solution, but Pietro was correct and everyone knew it. If this was an invasion, there was nothing they could do to prevent what was coming next. The younger guard could be heard desperately trying to mute his whimpering. The entire crew was crying inside, thinking about their loved ones back home. The situation was grim.

"I know this is not ideal. And if we had more time, maybe we could receive assistance from the mainland, but for now we have only twenty minutes before the Russians are here. We must simply wait and see. This is their doing, not ours," Anatoly replied. "Now let's get back to our stations and prepare for contact."

Twenty minutes later, the ship was once again at their rocky shore line, this time bellowing out orders through a radio transmission. The outpost crew could do nothing but huddle in place and listen the demands:

WARSHIP: "This is Russian warship, I repeat. I suggest you surrender your weapons and capitulate, otherwise I will open fire! Do you copy?"

Anatoly looked over at Marynia who he had served with for the past thirteen years. Her forty year old face didn't look a day over twenty five and he could feel his own heart breaking as he thought about her two children that she loved more than life. He could see her thoughts were in the same place as he watched her lips quiver while she balled her hands together nervously. He reached over and placed his hand over hers and managed the smallest of smiles. 

"This is it," Anatoly said. His eyes never left hers as she slowly nodded. A tear rolled down her cheek. The rest of the crew were squatting at their stations having a similar experience, staring across the ocean at the menacing warship floating dangerously close to their rocky shore. Through binoculars, the faces of the Russian invaders could be clearly seen manning the deck at ready positions, looks of deadly intent plastered in place.

"Should I tell him to go fuck himself?" Anatoly asked Marynia as he looked out at the enemy ship.

"Just in case," she replied, as she snapped to attention and saluted him.

He nodded, saluted her back, and mouthed the words 'I love you' as he keyed up the mic and turned the volume up as loud as it would go:

"Russian warship, go fuck yourself," Anatoly commanded. He then dropped the mic and let it dangle from the cord as he outstretched his arm and gave the world's bravest middle finger to the devastation that was about to greet them. A smile as wide as the ocean appeared on Marynia's face as she dropped her salute and traded it for the second bravest middle finger the earth has ever seen. And together they stood, shoulder to shoulder, defiantly fucking the Russians as they unleashed hell on Snake Island of Ukraine.

THE END.