Epilogue 1 - One Year Later

The Armistice Day ball was in full swing when Angelica stepped through the doors. A footman took her coat and bag. Before she was halfway across the crowded foyer, a waiter materialized and put a glass of champagne in her hand. After that, she set to mingling. She saw a number of old Hussar comrades visibly showing through their ball gowns and sporting radiant smiles but she couldn't bring herself to approach them. Everyone was so happy, joyful about the end of hostilities, about what they considered a victory, and about their lives since the war. They were all talking about new marriages, babies, business opportunities. Everyone had moved on. Everyone but her.

She didn't really expect to see anyone here that she wanted to see. Her team, the people she had spent most of the war with, was broken up and scattered to the winds. The enlisted men had their own ball, and while she would have been happy to talk with Wysocki or Sienkiewicz, they wouldn't be here.

Angelica recognized companions from training, and from the first squadron she had been a part of patrolling along the northern frontier long before Rezcow. She exchanged a few pleasantries when she had to before politely disentangling herself from the conversation.

Half an hour into her listless wandering, the crowd parted, and she saw Mazur across the room. He made eye contact with her and gave her a respectful nod, but to her relief, he did not start moving in her direction.

She had said everything there was to say in private on the gunship after Mazur announced Sergeant Golem was on a detached assignment and that they wouldn't be going to help him. She had said her piece and had been surprised when he hadn't brought her up on charges of insubordination, to be cashiered out of the force when they got back to Poland. Instead, he had taken it all with dignity, made a few vague reassuring statements, and let her go. The whole thing still left a terrible taste in her mouth.

Every loss from the 32nd Hussars still tore at her. Every man fallen and every wounded they’d had to leave behind was a mark on her soul. But of them all, Sergeant Golem’s loss hurt the worst, because she still didn’t have the answers she craved. He had vanished as thoroughly as summer snow.

After the armistice, she had finally worked up the nerve to go to the records department. They had had nothing on him. No indication that he had returned from the war, no address, only a thin file with a long list of medals and an honorable discharge. She had thumbed through the stack of commendations. Two of them matched hurried journal entries she had made during the war and then submitted afterward. But there were another five that she didn't recognize. She read through the citations and only dimly remembered the incidents described, and that had left her feeling hollow, wondering what else her people had accomplished while she was paying attention elsewhere. The paperwork indicated they had all been submitted by Colonel Mazur.

"Angelica!" A voice she hadn’t expected to hear recalled her to herself. She spun around. Weaving through the crowd with a beaming smile was Hannah. She looked healthy, almost glowing, and Angelica briefly wondered if she was yet another newly-pregnant Hussar, but somehow that didn’t seem like the cause of Hannah’s shining hair and white-toothed smile. Angelica hurried over and clasped her hand.

"It’s so good to see you again, Hannah. I'd heard you hadn't been feeling well and might not make it. How are you here? When did you make it back to Poland?"

The last Angelica had heard, Hannah was being treated in a specialty health spa in Romania. Which was very strange, since relations between Poland and Romania were still strained. She had made inquiries but had not been able to find out what the Institute of St. Christopher actually did. That had been nearly a year ago.

A tall man emerged from the crowd at Hannah's elbow. He had a long face with a strong stoic expression and thick mutton chops. His hair was rather untidy for such a party. His tuxedo, while neat and clean, was of a very old style and cut.

"Who's your friend?" she asked.

Hannah blushed and ducked her head. "This is Mr. Farkas."

"How do you do?" the man said. His voice was deep and his eyes were an odd shade of hazel. Angelica held out her hand and leaned over it. She looked from Hannah to her date.

"How did you meet?"

Hannah, who had been bubbly moments before, seemed unaccountably embarrassed. "We met during my time at Saint Christopher’s."

"Oh?" She cocked an eyebrow at the tall gentleman.

"Yes," he rumbled. "I am on staff there."

"Oh, are you a monk?"

He gave a faint smile and a small head shake. "No, ma'am."

Angelica looked back at Hannah and gave her a searching stare. "So, are you feeling... well?" she asked.

Hannah nodded. "Wonderful."

The beaming look on her friend's face did much to buoy Angelica's spirits. As did her enigmatic companion. Angelica had so many regrets about the war, and Hannah was one of them. She had never been a combative soul, and the way the fighting had changed her had always haunted Angelica and filled her with regret. It wasn't she herself who had damaged her friend's soul with conflict and death, but it felt that way.

Hannah looked around. "Have you seen any of the others?"

Angelica shook her head. "I don't know that any of them will..."

Hannah suddenly brightened and waved her hand in the air. "Oh! There she is!" Angelica followed her gaze, and to her shock saw Veronica weaving her way through the crowd. Hannah was chattering away. "She told me in her letter she might make it."

"Oh, Angelica, it's so good to see you." Veronica’s manners were warm but slightly aloof. "Of course you remember my husband." She turned as the man emerged from the crowd behind her in resplendent dress uniform.

"Major Lewis." Angelica smiling, as Veronica reclaimed his arm.

"So good to see you again, ma'am," Major Lewis murmured as he nodded his head to Angelica.

"I didn't know you were going to make it," Angelica said, more a comment than a question.

"Oh, yes, we weren't sure we would come. We've been touring the capitals of Europe securing funding for Frank’s around-the-world flight."

Angelica's eyebrows flew up. "Oh? And how's that going?"

Lewis ducked his head with a slightly embarrassed air. "There's still a long way to go."

"But we'll get there," Veronica said. "We're building a special flying boat, you see, and with it we plan on making the full circumnavigation." She beamed up at her husband. "There are world records at stake. And Major Lewis has the best chance of anyone to set them."

"Well, I wish you both the best,” Angelica said.

“Yes, our time trials at Anjou broke all expectations,” Veronica said, “and the Count of Lieges himself offered to stand sponsor at…” Veronica went on for some time, gushing over her husband's exploits. Angelica couldn't tell whether she was genuinely proud or had a chip on her shoulder to prove her common-born American husband was worthy of the highest regard of European society. He had nothing to prove to Angelica; without Frank’s skills the squadron would never have made it out of Frankenstein’s valley let alone Russia.

When Angelica finally had an opening, she drew Hannah slightly to one side. The gentlemen, Major Lewis and Mr. Farkas, were discussing conditions for flying through high mountains. Apparently, Farkas had been to Nepal.

“Hannah,” Angelica said, “have you heard from any of the others? It’s been so hard to keep in touch with them. I’ve tried, but…”

“I got a letter once from Tamara."

"Really?" Angelica asked, surprised. She had seen no sign of the Cossack girl since they had gone their separate ways on returning to Poland.

"It was a long time ago," Hannah explained. "It was just a sympathy card with a few lines that I got while I was at St. Christopher. She said she was traveling and hoped I was doing well.”

Angelica frowned. It was not like Tamara had ever actually been Polish. Her commission time in His Majesty's Hussars had been brief, and in many eyes, questionable. During Angelica's many debriefings towards the end of the war, explaining her long, detached journey into Hungary, Romania, and Russia, the brass doing the debriefing had made various comments casting suspicion on the motives and loyalty of Tamara. Had she tried to remain in the Polish army, her future career would have been doubtful at best. She’d vanished just after they returned from St. Petersburg but, her separation paperwork had been properly filed. That was as much as Angelica knew.

“And Eva? Did you ever hear from her?”

Hannah looked embarrassed. "Yes, she came to visit me at St. Christopher’s. She stayed with me a month. This was, oh, maybe six months after the armistice? When I was..." she coughed and looked even more embarrassed. "When I was feeling much better."

“Did she say where she had been?”

"No. And she wouldn't tell me where she was going when she left, either. I got the impression she was looking for someone, but she was very evasive about it."

Angelica frowned. The idea of that young girl traipsing the world alone and meeting unknown men made her stomach twist. She couldn't know the dangers, could she? She'd grown up in such a sheltered life with Baba Yaga.

“Is there anyone else you’ve kept contact with? Or saw since the war?” She couldn't bring herself to say the sergeant's name.

"Oh, yes." Hannah grinned suddenly. “At least – sort of.”

Angelica leaned forward. “Really?”

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"Yes. Natasha Popov stopped by! This was much earlier. Maybe two months after the armistice? She showed up at the monastery and we spoke for a while. I don't really remember what about. That time was rather hazy for me.”

"Oh, I see. Was she doing well?” Angelica asked politely.

"She had aged quite a bit, but she was in great spirits. I think… yes, I think she told me about Sergeant Sam."

Angelica's interest stirred. ”Really? What did she say?”

"I don't remember clearly. There was a wild tale. it seemed so strange, like a made up story. Zombies and Moscow and something about a train. I'm sorry, I really don't remember. That time was bad for me. I think she was only saying it to be polite and keep me company during my, eh, trial." She looked embarrassed. “Later when, I was better, I assumed she had just made up the stories just to have something to talk about.”

Angelica had deflated a little as her hopes faded. Had Natasha even actually seen the sergeant? Or, like Hannah, thought, had the stories just been made up tales? She shook her head and told herself she was being silly. Sam was fine, had gotten his discharge and wandered off into the world to be left alone. Perhaps he'd gone back to America. It really wasn't her business. Of everyone in her squadron, he was the least she should be concerned over.

But she’d been his captain, and it was her business to know what happened to her people. Sam’s fate hung over her like an unanswered question.

"Oh, speaking of our sergeant," Hannah looked at Angelica quizzically. "You haven't heard from him either?"

Angelica shook her head. "No. Although... I did hear about him in a letter from Anastasia." Hannah gasped, "You got a letter from Anastasia?"

Angelica nodded, slightly embarrassed, "Yes. About six months ago. Just after they announced her engagement.”

“What did she say?"

"Oh, nothing much. How she missed us all and that sort of thing.” It had been a long, rambling letter. Angelica didn't feel like repeating it all here. "Perhaps I'll show you later."

Hannah nodded eagerly. "But what did she say about the sergeant?" She seemed as curious as Angelica about his fate, and no wondered; she’d known him as long as Angelica had, from his first day in this world, after all.

"Oh," Angelica shrugged. “The Communist Party in Russia has become a lot more moderate since its leadership died, but they're still around."

Hannah nodded absently. "I’ve never been much for politics."

"Well, the thing is, they've been spreading around a story about our sergeant and putting pressure on the Council of Ministers.”

Hannah gave her a quizzical look, but waited patiently for Angelica to tell her more.

"Well, the short version is that Russia named Sam Golem to the Order of Alexander Nevsky."

Hannah's eyes widened in surprise, "No!"

"Oh yes. Apparently, he was in Moscow and did some heroic act to stop the zombie infestation there. Russian rebels witnessed it, and they started passing around the story. Eventually, there was a clamor from their ranks and from other people who had heard the story to honor the sergeant. Wild, huh?"

Hannah nodded wide-eyed. "Yeah, bizarre.”

“I don't think the citation mentioned that he was with the Polish army."

Hannah laughed, "Oh, that makes sense.”

"And now he's turning into some sort of folk hero among the communists in Russia."

"Really?" Hannah let out a laugh that was almost a giggle. "I wonder what he would think of that. He really did seem to have a thing against those communists."

“I don't know what it is about their ideology that got him so fired up." Angelica shrugged and left it at that.

"Hmm," Hannah mused. "I wonder where he's gone. Natasha seemed to think he’d made it out of the mess he was in. If she was telling the truth, he could be anywhere."

Angelica didn’t want to speculate and eventually Hannah changed the subject. "What do you think about England?"

Angelica sipped her champagne before responding. "Do you mean the rumor that Queen Victoria will abdicate? I doubt it."

"But she's over a hundred years old," Hannah said. "Surely she can't be all there."

Angelica shook her head. "After what we saw in Frankenstein's Fortress, I'll believe anything. Especially when it comes to royalty."

"Oh, I suppose that's true," Hannah said. "And it's not like she has much of a country, anyway. What with the zombies and all. There's barely more than a handful of cities left."

Angelica made some noise of agreement. But it wasn't really a topic that interested her. They made chit-chat for a while, and then drifted apart as the night wore on.

Angelica found herself drifting aimlessly from conversation to conversation and exchanging banal pleasantries, while her mind retraced the conversation she’d had with Hannah. She regretted losing track of her people and was genuinely concerned for them to be doing well. She spotted Mazur across the room again, and this time she made her way over and waited until he broke away from his conversation. "Colonel, might I ask you something?"

"Certainly, Major. It's good to see you."

"I was just wondering if you had heard from anything with regard to Sergeant Sam Golem?" He gave her an inquisitive look and she flushed. "I'm just trying to keep tabs on my team. We've gotten kind of scattered to the wind, and I was curious, that's all."

“I, too, like to keep tabs on my assets. Sergeant Golem is a remarkably hard man to track; you’d think he’d stand out more. But I have heard rumors of him. He’s been traveling. With a friend. A lady friend.”

Angelica's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I had no idea he had it in him."

Colonel Mazur gave a wry smile. "Well, most men do."

Angelica flushed furiously. "That's not what I... Oh, never mind."

“I sent a messenger once and he made it quite clear he’d like to be left alone.” Mazur cocked an eyebrow. “But if he ever does decide to make contact, I’ll let him know his old commander’s thinking of him.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

He raised a hand to his brow, almost a salute. “Now, Major, I think it’s time you started worrying about the future, and not the past.” He smiled. “Go on out there. Find someone to dance with. That’s what we were fighting for, you know. The chance at – a peaceful life. Whatever shape that might take.”

Epilogue 2, One Year Before, Five Minutes After the Train Exploded.

After Natasha left, I stood up and dusted myself off. She had said my ride was coming, but there was no sign of anything in the dark. The track to the east of me was utterly destroyed, and I saw no indication of a road anywhere nearby.

I heard a faint noise, like the humming of a wire. It grew louder, then faded. It had come from somewhere above me. I realized what it was a moment before the lights snapped on overhead.

The headlights of an air mech stabbed down from above, with the barest hum of an idling engine and a whisper of air over cloth-covered wings. The air mech drifted down from above and settled, its feet crunching into the gravel along the railroad.

"What, no surprise?" a familiar voice called down from above. Tamara climbed down from her mech, before she stepped into the light. Her feet crunched on the gravel, and she stepped into the light in front of her machine. She grinned at me.

“Natasha told me you were coming.” I hadn’t expected it to be Tamara, and I was glad to see her, but I’d been through so much today I didn’t have any room left for shock.

"Aww," she gave a mock pout. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It's just you?" I asked.

Her playful demeanor evaporated in an instant. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, just me," she said with forced cheerfulness. "Is that okay?"

She was trying to make it sound casual, but her whole demeanor screamed nervousness and fear. I didn't immediately understand why, but something told me to tread with caution.

I made my tone as casual as I could. "Yeah, that's fine. I'm really glad to see you."

She relaxed several degrees. I followed up with, "The others got away okay then?"

She smiled. "They did. They’re clear. They got the ceasefire, not that I think it’ll last."

She still gave the impression of a rabbit ready to bolt at any moment. It was so unlike her, it had me puzzled.

"Mazur said you were fine without us, but," she shrugged, "I figured I'd come along and make sure you were alright."

She still seemed ready to bolt, so I decided to try to calm her down. “Well, I’m really glad you came.” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone.

She fidgeted like there was more she needed to say. "Mazur said, well, he made it sound like you weren't coming back. I wasn't sure if that meant your mission was really dangerous or if," she hesitated and licked her lips, "if you were just done with us."

Something was starting to click in place in my mind. "Honestly, Tamara, it was a bit of both." I waved down the tracks towards the scattered fires that burned where the locomotive had evaporated. "It was pretty dangerous and, I had been thinking about not going back to Poland.

"I get that.” She trailed off. She clearly had something she wanted to ask. After a long pause she asked, "Where were you thinking of going? Because… if it's not too much to ask, I thought maybe… maybe you'd want company."

The awkwardness in her smile twisted my stomach, but what she was trying to say warmed my heart. It all clicked into place now.

I chose my words carefully. "Well, I don't really know where I'm going. There's a whole world out there, and I’ve only seen the battlegrounds. I’d like to look around, see where a man like me might fit in. But I certainly wouldn't mind some company."

Her whole body sagged with relief, but I wasn’t done.

"Look,” I said. “I just want to be honest, Tamara. I'm not really human anymore. I'm not sure what I am or how good a companion I'll be. I don't know what I can promise for the future." As I talked she had stiffed and looked pale. I plunged on. "I do like you. You're smart and funny and fun to be around, but I just don't know what I can promise for the future."

"I get it." She breathed out a little sigh before going on. "I really do. I can't say I am much of a catch either, and we really don't know each other that well. But, um,” she hesitated. She had clasped her hands in front of her and was twisting her fingers together nervously.

I took a step toward her, and she took the tiniest step back. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me. She spoke just a little too fast. “I like you, and you make me feel safe. And, well, you’re like me. You can’t go back home. I thought maybe we could –"

I rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her.

"It's all right, Tamara. We're in no hurry. Why don't we just take one day at a time and see where it goes, okay?"

She nodded, and her smile looked genuine this time. "That sounds fine, Sam."

It took us a few minutes to adjust the mech for a passenger to ride along for more than a short hop. After that, we lifted off into the dark, destination unknown. We started off heading south and west, out of Russia. Beyond that, who knew? This future didn't seem any more certain now than it had at any time since I came to this world.

But somehow, just then, that didn't matter.

Epilogue 3 – Some Time Later

I trudged up the hill outside the small Bavarian town, taking care to watch my six. I didn’t think I’d been followed but I certainly stuck out in a crowd. Wearing civilian crowds, with a hat pulled down low over my head, I could pass for a big farmer. My flawless German let me blend in as much as I could.

We’d been on the road for months, just drifting where the winds took up, but for a long time now an idle thought I couldn’t shake had become an obsession. My knowledge of history, other than some specialized military and technology matters, was both weak and from the wrong world. No particular event or person was guaranteed to be repeated.

But there were some chances we just couldn’t take.

Tamara was situated well, at the top of the hill, just inside a copse of trees. I didn’t approach. Instead I circled around the hill about halfway up before making my way back to our car and ensuring it was ready for our getaway. My earlier scouting missions had located our target; I’d even brought Tamara a picture. Today’s venture had merely been to confirm the plan was good.

Now, as part of a pre-arranged signal, I fired the engine and moved our car a little way further along the road before shutting it off. Then I waited. I could picture it now. The shot was nearly impossible, but Tamara assured me she could do it. Almost two kilometers; but she was firing from an elevated position, with the sun at her back as she faced east. The small flags I had secretly hung on the bell tower yesterday would tell her all she needed to know about the slight wind.

A church bell rang off to my south. Down in the Landsberg am Lech prison, they’d be letting the prisoners out for some sun. My informants – guards plied into talking a little too much over a beer or four in the tavern – had assured me he would be there.

I strained my ears, listening, and then the shot came, one faint crack hiding in the tolling church bells. Seconds later Tamara scrambled down the hill, clutching her rifle. I fired the engine again as she hopped in, hiding the rifle under a tarp in the back. We shot west and south along the road.

“I got him,” she told me. “There was no mistaking that mustache.”

I relaxed. A weight lifted from my shoulders. “Thank you.”

“I don’t understand why this man was so important?”

I shook my head. “Believe me. He was. You have done your people a great service today, along with millions of others.” But my fear was returning. He wasn’t the only one preaching hatred and fear. I’d heard enough in the beer halls and market stalls of Germany to be worried. There were others. Himmler, and Goering, and names I strained to remember. Could I judge them for things they hadn’t yet done, might never do? How far should I take this?

Him, yes. He had clearly already been going down the same dark path. I felt no guilt for what we’d just done. But as I looked over into Tamara’s worried face, I forced myself to take a deep breath.

“We’re done,” I told her, and she noticeably relaxed. “I – think when we’ve crossed the border into Switzerland, that I’ll take some time and send a letter to Mazur. There are some names he ought to know.”

Tamara nodded cheerfully. “And then, we go skiing, yes? Skiing is nearly as good as flying, I hear.”

“Sure. Why not.”

I wondered if I could find a Frankenstein machine with a skiing module.