Bloodistan // Vampire Thriller

Interlude: The Leningrad Papers #1

Kruglov's Diary –

23/11/1951

I have no fucking clue what's happening anymore. All I do is write. I write reports and documents all day, standing out in the hot sun with nothing but parched grass and veldt around me. Ivan is most excited at every turn we make, poking around in the marshes and scrubs. This land is ripe for collective harvest, he says. I do not understand him sometimes.

Why they needed an archaeologist for this mission in particular, I do not really understand. Perhaps it has to do with verisimilitude. If it were America and they were sending out their pioneering survey mission into uncharted territory, I'm sure they would definitely send an archaeologist along with them. But they wouldn't force him to keep writing all day like they force me.

My writing bleeds from one place to the next. I write one report about stratigraphical data and the next one about artefacts and then I come back to the tent and write this out and everything just coagulates and mixes. I always liked writing. They're taking that away from me as well.

Tomorrow, we head further south and see if there's something there Tsentr can exploit. I'll bet there is.

25/11/1951

I don't know why I'm even doing this. If this was ever to be found, people would be suspicious. They wouldn't do anything to me, I'm sure of that. But they'd be suspicious. But I have to write this somewhere. I feel like I'm lying to myself if I don't commit this to writing as well.

The little shack came up almost out of nowhere. We were elated, obviously. The first sign of civilization here since we had embarked from Iskenderun, of course we'd be overjoyed. It is a wide, flat little building with three rooms inside it, all empty. And that's true, for the most part. That's what you'll find in the official reports.

Yes, things were left out. Polaroids of US Marines with their families. Memos in English scattered all along the floor in one room. Things like that. Palimpsests of something shady. We always suspected America was involved. We know something must've happened here.

I decided to get to know everyone a little better today. Ivan, while being a geologist par excellence, is also a terrific violin player. I could never learn to play anything myself but I think he likes that I understand and appreciate his cautious and almost contraband Bach. He plays Stravinsky like the best of them when everyone is around.

Joanna is a linguist, about my age and very pretty. Wild red hair and freckles and the lot. I have tried to be less stand-offish when I'm with her but I don't think it'll make any difference. She is quiet but not cold. Warm and receptive, yet reserved. I like her.

There is Anna and Igor as well, and then the security officers but I haven't really gotten to know any of them yet. We'll see what happens.

Further south tomorrow.

26/11/1951

There was civilization here once. I have been sure of that since I've landed but we have gotten some form of confirmation. But it comes laced with a tinge of something potentially very poisonous.

We have found Roman punch-marked coins, stone carvings of cities and mountains and manuscripts. But, they have all been laid out neatly on the floor in a shack similar to the last one we saw. Someone has definitely been here before.

We gather every night and sit in a circle around a campfire and we share childhood stories of the Kirwak. That is how Damya got its name. Blood-Land. The Land of the Bloodsucker. We haven't seen him yet but we would welcome the company. It is getting lonely. Ivan and Anna can't keep their eyes or hands or anything off each other. Her tent is next to mine and I sit up late, writing and listening to their muted passion. Sometimes, I open my window and look out at Joanna's tent.

I must stop writing these things.

Hey, thank you so much for reading this far into the story. I promise things'll pick up soon if you've been bored :p Please let me know what you thought of this chapter in the comments.