Exactly an hour and a half after the train first lurched from its position in Kiev, Ukraine, it came to a grinding, screeching halt at the Gomel, Belarus train station. Sasha didn't nap the entire time but also had to show her passport at the border as well as her plane ticket saying that she was only staying 3 days and than heading back to New York. She also made it clear that she worked for National Geographic and was there on assignment as well as gave the border officers the number of whom they needed to contact to confirm her identity. She was used to this from her many travels abroad but it still felt strange saying it all in her native tongue. They didn't give her any trouble except asking if she was a native of Gomel:

"Miss Morozova, it says on your passport your birthplace is Belarus, were you born in Gomel?" The first one asked.
"Yes, I was."
"And this is your first time returning?" The second one followed up, eyeing her carefully.
"Yes, it is." She replied calmly, returning eye contact. She knew this was all part of them doing their jobs.
"In Ukraine, you were there on business too?"
"Correct."
"How long were you there?"
"Two weeks."
"That will be all. If we have any other questions, we will contact your employer." The first one said as he gave her, her passport back and she nodded once at them both as they moved onto the next passenger.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and she hesitated for a slight moment before getting her suitcase and travel bag and getting off the train with the help of a conductor whom she tipped. DC had given her the name of the hotel she would be staying in and all she had to do was find a taxi. It was late but trains pulled in and out so finding one wouldn't be too bad of a deal. Once she flagged one down and got in and they took off, did she really look around the city which had bore her. Nothing looked like she had remembered, though she was only 9 when they immigrated. The Paradise hotel looked more like an office building on the outside but she had specifically asked for nothing fancy when they were going to book for her. She checked in promptly and pulled out her notes and blue journal. The following day, she would take a taxi to her old neighborhood if it was still standing but for now before she fell asleep, she briefly read through her notes and after sending a goodnight text to her mom, hugging the blue journal to her chest, she fell into a deep sleep.

The following morning, she woke up around 10am as she hadn't set an alarm for herself. She had nowhere left to rush. This was her own personal project and was going to be done at her own speed and on her own time frame. Three days were more then enough for everything. She had the beginning of the story already from the journal itself, now she just needed to find the ending or some version of it. After showering and dressing comfortably, she grabbed the journal and her backpack with her usual tools and set off to find breakfast and another taxi. The first was easy to locate in a little cafe beside the hotel and the second was called for her by the hotel's front desk. Once the driver arrived, she gave him the address and asked if the neighborhood was still there:

"Of course it is. Many things have been rebuilt and others......well......that land is still untouchable." She immediately knew he meant the location where the hospital stood. By the look on her face, he knew that she knew, he couldn't help but ask:
"You lived there before?" Sasha just nodded looking out the window.
"When did you leave?"
"In 1989."
"So you're a Chernobylite?" When she looked at him sharply after his exclamation, he shut his mouth and kept driving.

She hated that phrase with a passion greater then death because of the treatment her brothers received because they were. Two boys born the year of the disaster both with health conditions because of it. She remembered how scared her parents were about the doctors and government officials trying to take George away to some asylum and how only by escaping to America saved him from certain death. As the taxi bore her closer to her old neighborhood, she asked the driver to stop at a flower shop. There she picked up a small bouquet of flowers and they continued to the destination. When he got there and she paid him:

"Do you want me to wait for you?" He asked rather awkwardly.
"No, thank you. I will be a long time. I have the number of your company for when I'm ready to go home. What's your name?"
"Misha, Mikhail rather." Sasha nodded curtly.
"Thank you, Mikhail. That will be all." She got out and walked away.

Though not the most educated man, he knew that his big mouth had landed him in her asking for someone else to pick her up. It was obvious though she didn't dress like she was rich, she was cultured and someone important. All things considered, she tipped pretty well too. He was right, that was exactly why Sasha had asked for his name. She didn't need to be interrogated by taxi drivers on personal or taboo matters such as this. Friendly drivers were always a plus but nosy ones she tried to avoid.

As she slowly made her way around her neighborhood and onto the street where her parent's house still stood though was completely repainted in some hideous yellow color, she took pictures with her camera.

She didn't want to disturb the people living there by entering onto their property and asking to see the inside of the house. The entire atmosphere felt different and not very inviting. It had been almost 30 years and she wasn't sure who had moved and who didn't. So she just kept walking; had her mother been with her, maybe they would have knocked on some neighbors doors. But she was alone and this wasn't her mission. She proceeded to walk around and towards her old elementary school, with camera in hand and the flowers she bought, sticking out of her backpack.

Elementary school was in session and she entered through the front door going straight to the administration office to ask permission to walk around. This place was one of the few that held fond memories for her and therefore she wanted capture it on film for her own personal album. The administrator was a young woman, about Sasha's own age and was surprised to see an old student and from America to boot. She granted her permission as long as she was accompanied and didn't take pictures of the students or teachers which Sasha understood. That walk through went without incident and Sasha waved to the woman as she left. She also left her business card just in case. Finally, only one task was left.

No matter how much they paved or built on the road leading up to the location, it all disappeared and was replaced by the past before Sasha's eyes. As she neared where the hospital once stood, the area surrounding it was empty. Just a field of flowers and growing weeds. It reminded her of Pripyat a bit and how nature was taking the land back. Just as she thought that, she stepped onto something hard and rigid. When she looked down, it took her a solid 30 seconds to understand what she was standing on. Lead. A giant lead plate that took up what used to be the perimeter of the hospital. They took all the proper provisions with keeping the radiation contained but when it was already too late for many, like Vasya.

She stood there for a long moment and then used the lead plate to be her guide to find approximately where Vasya's room used to be. It took some imagination and time but she finally figured it out. As she stood there listening to the birds in the far away trees, she got the flowers out, and before laying them down, snapped photos of the area without them and then with them. She also very slowly laid down the blue journal and took photos of it with the flowers on the lead plate. Then she knelt on it,

"Hi. It's me. I'm all grown up. And I still came to find you. I don't know where you're buried so this is the only location I know, so here I am. I have a feeling you have been leading me here for a long time. Not just to visit you, but to write your story. You were the most important person to me this month 29 years ago. Tomorrow is the anniversary of your death and I will return here. I promise, I won't let you down. This story will be known to the entire world. You deserve it, other liquidators that went there and died deserve it, all of your families do too. You weren't forgotten men, forced to serve your motherland when it had zero regard for your or anyone's life. I never forgot you, Vasya, nor will I ever."

She had tears running down her cheeks as she spoke the solemn words out loud but barely audible if someone was to pass by, they wouldn't hear. Though from the looks of it, the place seemed to not have any footprints and therefore generally avoided. There was a cemetery nearby so most likely people took shortcuts through it. Those dead were a lot safer to be around then these dead. As she stared off into the distance between that past and this present, the sound of footsteps coming towards her brought her back. She looked up and to her absolute shock and bewilderment, saw Ben and Rahel both holding bouquets of flowers, looking sympathetically and empathetically at her as they approached.