The continuation of Drew's story in the middle of strife and confusion. The following Chapter 4 is set years after Drew's deployment to Ukraine. The rockets, drones and missiles have stopped flying. It is time to rebuild...with the worlds help. This story is not intended to be in a hurry. There is no political swing in the story. If you are looking for quick sex, please look elsewhere. All the following, people, places, and things are a figment of my twisted mind.
My apologies for my tardiness in this final chapter. My muse has been very absent, and I got myself in a motorcycle accident (self-caused, old age should have taught me I am NOT Steve McQeen, oh go look him up) therefore I had to buck up and pull my head out of my ass. Again, my apologies.
Being a non-writer and now blind in my right eye (see above) has made some interesting challenges with the stories. I DO NOT plan the story, it is like one of my sculptures, it tells me where it wants to go. I spend my life building big buildings and everything is planned. Here in my little world, I let life flow.
I use my head and MS Word editor. I am grateful for the technology and that is as far as I am going to go. My muse used to be my editor, but...
*
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Drew stated aloud as he stomped in the front door and tried to clear the muck from his boots. It is not like he had not tried as he entered the building nor as he stomped up the stairs. The crap just seemed to sit, in, and around, the soles of his winter boots.
He reached the mid landing on the stairs and had to take a second to breathe. He had to admit to himself that he was feeling more of his age.
'Too damn old' he said to himself as the sound reverberated in the brick lined stairwell.
He took one more deep breath and while doing a bit of old man groaning, made it to the second floor and out into the vestibule he had built. With the growth of the Crew and the expansion across the hallway, he had incorporated part of the hallways as part of the expanded mega suite.
With the original 'hallway' being three meters wide in its original factory configuration, this became more an entry meeting room for guests. But the room could double as a formal dining room, reception room and party room with shifting of furniture.
He had constructed a vestibule at the rear stairs for security purposes with American made coded door locks and security cameras. Tatyana had turned out to be an innovator of security systems and seemed to have an innate sense of camera placement and concealment.
He tried not to groan as he entered the door, hearing babies fussing in the 'South' wing. He had made up a designation just so he could reference where the ladies of his house were. The 'North wing' was his original enormous apartment, now the entry hall and the 'south wing' held the living quarters of the expanding Crew.
He had been in the Polish office of his international corporation for three days and had just made it back 'home.'
"Home," he said aloud, more of a whisper.
Said just to himself.
He smiled inside and out and shook his head. His 2-year deployment was now 4 years running.
He had come from the US for one last adventure, to leave a mark on his career that would leave his mark on history. Not that anyone would know it or remember his name, but something he could be very proud of.
But life had its own quirks. Drew knew his life had been a series of quantum shifts. Some had followed him through life, the loss of his first true love. Some had shifted his focus on life, the loss of his father. Some had, in retrospect, been better for him, divorcing his wife. He had always ridden them out, good or bad, and dealt with the aftermath.
And here he was, across the globe from where he used to call home. Was here, in this far distant land, with these beautiful creatures, where he was supposed to be?
Was he now home?
***
Yulia and Drew had spent three days discussing Mariupol and arguing again for a dual solution to the flattened city. Many that sat on seats upon high, wanted manufacturing brought back as the highest importance.
It had to be pointed out time and time again that without the people, there was no manufacturing. He had banged heads many, many, times with some stuffed shirts that wanted to play games and stick people in tents as they tried to brave the winter.
'Fuck that!' thought Drew.
*
Yulia stood in the open plaza in front of the administration building. Her pink knit cap tight over her head and ears. Her hardhat was fastened down over the cap, twisted tight to help with the wind uplift. She stood outside looking at the plastic barrier being sealed around the scaffolding that encompassed her project.
She was dressed in American construction wear, and she really could not complain. Her safety vest, more symbolic than practical, draped over her warm long winter coat. The name Carhartt at first seemed strange. And the cut of the jacket seemed too long and off for her slight frame. But with Drew's help and the help of the other women, they found all the ways it could be adjusted. The jacket was of canvas material and downright almost indestructible.
Her only negative comment was having to wash and commercially dry the jacket thirty-five times to get outer shell fabric to release and be comfortable.
A lot had changed in the past 4 years, she murmured to herself. While Drew was the figurehead of their merry band of construction professionals, she had taken over many of his duties. She quietly wondered if he would ever leave or if he was in their lives forever.
She smiled thinking of his first meeting with her and his handling of the street thugs. Or his friendship with all the woman in his life. He had become the sage older uncle for her.
"Or" she thought to herself with a pensive quirk to her mouth, "A father figure worth listening too."
She took a second to scold a worker installing the first level of barricades. Once straightened out, she went back into her office and started the layer removal process. It seemed funny to her that she now kept her project site office slightly colder than she would have, another Drew-ism. That way she only removed her jacket, gloves, hard hat, and scarf. She stayed in her outer sweater that overlayed her turtleneck.
Drew had been teaching them subtle 'tricks' that made for quick and easy trips to the field. She was grateful. It was several subtle tricks that brought a certain acceptance of her authority. His deferment to her in meetings was magical for being able to close open issues.
She and he had long discussions regarding the problems females would have in the construction industry as Ukraine. Those same discussions continued to come back to life after so much destruction and death. He gave her examples of his own country and the problems women had there in the same position.
"Life has never been, and is not now...easy," he would quote from a long past 'old-timer'.