We're thrilled to be hosting Robert J. Dornan during his
23 Minutes Past 1 A.M.
virtual book tour!
Please leave a question or comment below to let him know you stopped by!
23 Minutes Past 1 A.M.
virtual book tour!
Please leave a question or comment below to let him know you stopped by!
23 Minutes Past 1 A.M.
Author: Robert J. Dornan
Publisher: Independent
Pages: 550
Genre: Historical Fiction
In the early morning of her sister's wedding day, Mila Kharmalov stared in stunned silence at the coloured sparks streaming from Reactor Four of the Chernobyl Nuclear Plant. At that very moment, her life and the lives of everyone she knew changed forever.
Years later and on another continent, Adam Byrd was writing
biographies for everyday people looking to leave their legacy in book form.
When the woman he loved phoned from Kiev
offering him the chance to write the story of a lifetime, he jumped at the
opportunity not realizing that his voyage would be a bumpy ride through a
nations dark underbelly. With the help of his friend's quirky cousin, Adam is
nudged into a fascinating adventure of love, greed, power and psychotic
revenge, culminating with a shocking finale.
23 Minutes Past 1
A.M. is a work of fiction based on factual events from Chernobyl
and villages throughout Ukraine.
For More Information:
- 23 Minutes Past 1 A.M. is available at Amazon..
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
The nurses
at the reception desk were told not to stare at the late night visitor. He was
a Ukrainian hero and deserved the highest level of respect. He arrived at midnight wearing sunglasses and a hoodie that covered most of his
face. He said his name and the three nurses stood to welcome him as if honored
by his presence. He was then led to Tania’s room. A wall light was lit above
the bed. He didn’t recognize her.
Twenty-seven
years had passed since the last time they spoke. Tania was worried that
Yuri would miss their wedding. He told her not to worry. She could
have had a huge ceremony if he had not been so naïve with Asimov. If he had
said no to the Colonels request, Yuri would still be alive.
Tania didn’t know this part of the story. She didn’t know the love of her life
agreed to dive into the radiated water to protect his best friend.
It was
his fault.
Samizdat
adored the sisters but the government-owned newspapers wrote horrible
articles about them. He plowed their path and never admitted so.
Tania disappeared into obscurity, visited only by curious weekend thrill
seekers. She has no hair and her skin is yellow.
It was
his fault.
Alex pulled
a chair next to the bed and touched her hand. She groaned but her eyes remained
closed.
“I don’t
know where to begin. I’m hoping you don’t open your eyes to see me speak. To
watch the hurt in your eyes would be more painful than the burns on
my face. I abandoned you Tania. I abandoned you to hide from life…and to
hide from you. My memories of the days before the explosion are what allow me
to wake each morning. They are my life force and I owe this to you and Yuri.
Without the two of you, I would have been a lonely man with few true
friends.
And I still
abandoned you. “
“I thought
you were dead,” Tania whispered.
A startled
Alex let go of her hand and almost tumbled off his chair. “I’ve
awoken you,” he said between excited breaths.
“If I
remember correctly, it’s not the first time. Am I dreaming Alex?”
“No my
friend,” he replied. “It’s me next to you.”
Tania
rubbed her eyes attempting to see her friend better. “Why are you covering your
face?”
Alex tugged
on the top of his hoodie and lowered his head. He dared not remove his
sunglasses fearing he would startle Tania. A patient on the
other side of the room exhaled a long painful groan. This was followed by a
seemingly chorused shuffling by the other patients. He closed his eyes.
Everywhere he visited, there was suffering. It followed him like a
shadow. Tania repeated her question.
“The left
side of my face including my eye is scarred from radiation.
In situations such as this, I am more comfortable not revealing my
deformity. Please don’t ask me to do so.”
“And I look
better?” Tania replied with a short snort. “I won’t ask you to do what you
don’t want Alex. You were always a stubborn man anyway.” She paused. “I
wish you had come see me many years ago but I’m thrilled to have you here.”
“I’ve
wanted to sit with you for a long time,” Alex responded.
“Then why
didn’t you?” Tania asked between short breaths. “Why do you choose now when my
last breath is so near? Alex, we mourned your death. Your mother was
heartbroken. I visited her little hut in the Exclusion Zone and it was a
memoriam. Photos of you adorned every inch on every wall. Asimov gave her a
medal from the Kremlin in your memory that was front and centre above the main
room couch. She picked flowers and left them on your gravesite every day.
She cried for years and died alone.” Tania inhaled a long breath. “I always
wondered why your body was not entombed at Mitino.”
A full cup
of water lay on the bed table and Alex handed it to his friend. She raised
herself and sat upright. The sole light in the room warmed her bumpy,
hairless scalp.
“They told
me I saved the Soviet Union,” Alex whispered. “They told me I saved Europe. I was
a hero in so many eyes…” His voice trailed for a few seconds and he
continued. “I didn’t feel like a hero. The guilt was too
heavy to endure. I ruined your life.”
“My life
was not yours to ruin. You’re obviously here to say your peace so take a deep
breath and tell me what has encumbered you all these years.” Tania
stroked his hand with her fingertips. “Don’t fear judgment my old
friend, it is not mine to deliver.”
Alex
contemplated removing his sunglasses but did not. He had thought of this moment
for more than two decades. The conversation took place hundreds of times while
he lay in bed struggling to find sleep. He must stay strong.
“Asimov
summoned us when someone from Pripyat mentioned Yuri and I were champion
swimmers. I didn’t fully understand what the Commander was asking us to do but
Yuri did. He didn’t chastise me when I eagerly volunteered. He was more
concerned about you.
The suits
they gave us were flimsy at best. After opening the sluice gates we tried to
swim back as fast as we could but our legs were numb. My face
stung like I had fallen on a bee hive. Smiles greeted us at the pond
edge and pulled us out of the water. Within seconds I vomited, as did Yuri and
Breshevski. I lay on my side and Breshevski was staring wide-eyed at me. I
smiled, but he did not acknowledge me. His eyes were shining. I couldn’t
understand how he could stare at me and not blink. Two men lifted him and as he
was transported outside he yelled that Yuri and I were still in the water and
someone had to save us. He was looking right at us. I learned later that
his goggles were defective. By the time he reached the hospital his corneas had
melted.
Yuri
vomited for a second time in less than three minutes. His arms could not hold
him and he slumped into his own regurgitation. I was about to stand
when two comrades wrapped my arms around their shoulders and dragged
me outside. Yuri was not far behind and was eased onto a stretcher
while we waited for another ambulance. I wasn’t suffering like Yuri
and was strong enough to kneel next to him. I was overcome with emotion
when I looked at his bright red face. The skin on his forehead was
cracked like a car window. I cried openly, and a photographer snapped
a picture. Yuri mumbled that if I continued to cry he would start
calling me Alexandra. These were the last words he would ever say to
me. I couldn’t stop bawling. Asimov was nearby and put his hand on my shoulder.
Paramedics lifted Yuri and placed him in the ambulance that had mercifully
arrived. I yelled out his name. I told him I was sorry. I was trembling and
frozen in place. I didn’t hear the cheers from the workers in
the background. I didn’t hear Asimov whispering in my ear. I could barely
move so I sat with my head on bent knees. My best friend may die and it was my
fault. Flashing lights blurred my vision. More photographers had gathered to
take more photos.
Asimov,
with the help of a few men, got me into a jeep and we drove back to the same
hotel that Kremlin dignitaries were staying. They gave me a room with a shower
that I used until no hot water remained. Aside from the tingling in my face, I
was fine. They brought me new clothes. I had dinner with the Colonel
and some other man I have long forgotten. They praised my efforts. I
asked for updates on Yuri but none were available except that he was being
flown to Moscow. I told Asimov that Yuri’s fiancée had to be called. The
other man made a note and mentioned that Yuri’s condition and
whereabouts would be posted in every newspaper across the Soviet Union.
Asimov found his assistant’s comment inappropriate and said
he would fly to Moscow himself and I was not to worry.
I did
worry. It was all I did for years to come.
I had the
strangest dream. It was an evening of sleep I never forgot. I excused myself
from dinner early and returned to my room. Within minutes I was sleeping. I
remember four white walls, a white floor and a white door. I was yelling for
someone to save me but no one came. Every time I reached to open the door
it would disappear and reappear on a different wall. A bright light blinded me temporarily, and I
realized the door had opened. The same light shone whenever the door opened
except once. Yuri walked in through the lights and stood in front of me.
He said nothing and shook his head with disapproval before leaving through the
wall behind me. You were next Tania, and you did the same as Yuri. Mila
followed, as did my mother, Yulia, David and many others. Each paraded by me
with contempt in their eyes. The last person to visit was Valeri Markov, a man
I knew from the academy. When he entered the room there was no bright light.
The door opened and shut. He smiled, tapped me on the shoulder and sat in the
far corner. I asked what he was doing and where he thought he was. He said he
was sharing a room with me… in hell. I woke up. Firecrackers from May Day
celebrations burst in succession. Drunken soldiers and liquidators were
singing. My face hurt.
The next morning I told Asimov
I would return to my duties. He replied that I was to rest and not to
worry about work for the next few days. He handed me two bottles of
vodka and a radio. I wanted a newspaper and one was delivered to me along with
breakfast and a prostitute. She drank my vodka and ate my breakfast. I read a
small blurb about Reactor Four and that all was safe. There
was no mention of Yuri or Breshevski. Maybe tomorrow, I thought. The prostitute
danced around the room with a bottle of vodka in her hand. She had
undressed and wore only her panties. She spent most of the previous evening
celebrating May Day with married politburo officials and smelled
like liquor and old men. She passed out but not before puking on the
curtains.
***************
About the Author:
Robert J Dornan is someone who wishes to leave a better
world to his children. He realizes that the odds are slim but he will do
whatever he can to increase the probability of success. He is always open to discuss new and
innovative ideas and hopes someday to see the building of a functional solar
city as well as a fair and community-driven compensation system.
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