"I knew there was something wrong with this guy a long time ago, just didn't have the evidence..."
"How could he not have something wrong..."
"Why do those guys roaming in the jungle never get completely wiped out? Isn't it because he provides them shelter..."
In a dimly lit room, witnesses are brought in to accuse Viktor, who is bound to a chair. Viktor has been stripped of his uniform and is dressed only in a white undershirt and gray trousers, soaked through and bruised, looking utterly miserable.
The only light in the room emanates from a desk directly in front of Viktor, where a desk lamp casts a weak yellow glow that barely fills the room. Three middle-aged men, slightly overweight and dressed casually, sit behind the desk. The lamp's light reflects off their oily faces.
These three are the entire "three-person trial panel" who are conducting Viktor's trial. Of course, in such trials, Viktor has no opportunity to speak or defend himself, nor is there any lawyer to advocate for him. The trial panel doesn't even grant him the chance to speak. The entire trial process consists of witnesses coming forward to testify, followed by the panel making a judgment. Whether he is truly guilty or what his crime is, who cares? His case is merely a backdrop in the trial panel's proceedings, serving only to add to their case load.
"In light of the detailed and reliable testimony provided by fifteen witnesses," after the last supposed witness is taken away, one of the middle-aged men clears his throat and holds up a piece of paper, announcing, "The trial panel unanimously finds Viktor Viktorovich... T... Tarashev guilty of treason and sentences him to death..."
Pausing here, the middle-aged man sits up straight and quietly exchanges a few words with the other two before continuing, "Execution to be carried out tomorrow."
With that statement concluded, the middle-aged man waves his hand, and the two soldiers standing behind Viktor step forward, lifting him forcefully from the chair and dragging him out of the room.
Although Shepchinkovo is technically a fortress city, it still has prisons because it is specifically designed to punish criminals. The prison consists of twelve cells, all without exception being water cells.
A water cell is exactly what it sounds like: a cell filled with water, waist-deep. Prisoners left in such cells for extended periods not only suffer from skin ulcers but also from infections due to the stagnant and filthy water that is never changed. Furthermore, standing waist-deep in water, prisoners have no opportunity to sit down and rest, let alone sleep. Imagine what it feels like to stand for hours, even tens of hours, in such conditions.
Since being reborn into this world, Viktor had once sent others to the water cell. Who could have imagined that now it was his turn to be housed there—this was nothing short of ironic. Fortunately, his execution was scheduled for tomorrow, meaning if he could endure through today, it would suffice. However, trapped in this cursed water cell for even a short period of time seemed an unrealistic hope for death.
Ironically, fate seemed to be playing a cruel joke on Viktor. Despite the three-person trial panel sentencing him to death and scheduled for execution the next day, since being placed in the water cell, aside from the twice-daily food deliveries, no one else came to attend to him.
As the light in the water cell shifted from light to dark and back again for the third time, Viktor began to feel his senses dull. The pungent stench that originally filled the water cell gradually dissipated, and even the leftovers that sustained him no longer emitted their sour and putrid odor. His back began to ache from prolonged standing, eventually numbing entirely.
To avoid the torment of exhaustion, Viktor removed the lining of his clothing to fashion into a makeshift rope, tying himself to a round wooden post in the water cell. Using this crude support, he managed to contort his body into an awkward position to catch some brief moments of sleep.
By the time the light in the water cell shifted from light to dark and back again for the third time, Viktor had lost consciousness completely. His exposed skin on the water's surface began to turn pale and swell, resembling a freshly steamed bun that would burst upon touch.
Uncertain of how long he had been unconscious, Viktor gradually woke up amidst a murmur of faint voices. Groggily opening his eyes, the light was somewhat glaring, causing a sharp ache in his eyes. He attempted to lift his arm to rub his eyes, only to realize he seemed to have lost both arms, devoid of any sensation.
"Don't move," a voice beside him said. "You have multiple infected sores on your body. We've just treated them. Right now, you need to rest and recover."
Following the direction from where the voice came, Viktor saw a woman in a white coat before him, writing something on a clipboard, her thin face devoid of any expression.
Meeting Viktor's gaze, the woman closed the clipboard, then used a small flashlight to examine his eyes, asking, "Can you hear me speaking?"
Viktor moved his lips, speaking in a hoarse voice, "Yes... where am I?"
"It seems your consciousness is intact," the woman didn't answer his question but turned away, addressing someone else, "If there are any questions, you can ask them, but don't take too long. He still needs more rest."
With that said, the woman stepped aside, and soon, a stern-looking man in his thirties appeared in Viktor's view. He wore a uniform with a wide-brimmed hat, blue with a reddish-brown hatband.
"Comrade Viktor Viktorovich Tarashev," the man stood by the bed, holding a hard leather notebook. He opened it, glanced at Viktor, then continued, "Born on September 24, 1913, in the village of Kuleika in the Krasnoyarsk Krai, father Viktor was a hired peasant. Hmm, at the age of 14, attended the Autumn Bright Agricultural School, enlisted at 18, joined the Party at 21, and was transferred to the Autumn Bright Workers' and Peasants' Militia Directorate of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs the same year..."
The man was reciting Viktor's resume, continuing until his transfer to Shepchinkovo two years ago.
"Are there any issues with these details?" Once finished, the man closed the notebook, staring expressionlessly at Viktor, awaiting a response.
"No," Viktor said with difficulty. He really wanted a drink of water because his throat felt like it was on fire.
"In that case, allow me to introduce myself," the man's face showed a hint of a smile as he said, "I am Fyodor, Fyodor Mikhaylovich Parokov, the head of the Political Intelligence Division of the Provincial People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs. Oh, I just took office the day before yesterday, so you probably haven't heard of my name."
As he spoke, the man pulled out an identification card from his pocket and held it out for Viktor to see.
"Oh, hello, Comrade Captain Fyodor Mikhaylovich," Viktor croaked.
"Hello," Captain Fyodor smiled, then reopened the notebook in his hand and quickly glanced at it, saying, "So, Comrade Viktor Viktorovich, I'm here today because there are several cases that need your verification. Over the past two years, you've been serving as the Senior Militia Officer at the Shepchenkov District People's Commissariat, so you should be familiar with some of the cases overseen by Lieutenant Bogdan Ivanovich, right?"
"Yes, Comrade Captain Fyodor Mikhaylovich," Viktor understood that Lieutenant Bogdan, who had sentenced him to death just a few days ago, was probably in trouble now.
However, what Viktor didn't know was that this time, it wasn't just Lieutenant Bogdan who was in trouble. Across the entire Soviet Union, from top to bottom of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs, all those who had wielded real power and acted with impunity over the past two years were about to face consequences. Oh, to be precise, a large part of them had already fallen into disgrace, but Shepchenkovo had been lucky to delay until today because of its remote location.
In present-day Moscow, "Bloody Dwarf" Yezhov had been stripped of all party and government positions and thrown into prison. Taking his place as the People's Commissar for Internal Affairs was Lavrentiy Pavlovich Beria. In Beria's eyes, the entire People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs was a cesspool, rotten from top to bottom, so his first order of business was to cleanse it thoroughly.
In less than a month, across the entire Soviet territory, all officials who had served during Yezhov's administration in the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs were undergoing various investigations, and all cases that had been pending were being retried. To prevent the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs from becoming an empty shell after the purge, Beria even convinced Comrade Stalin to transfer clean-background junior and mid-level military officers directly from the army and military academies to fill the vacancies in the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs.
In the Tarnopol Province, just a few days ago, there had been a massive purge within the Provincial People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs. This included the removal of a large number of officials, including the director of the District People's Commissariat. On the second day of Viktor's trial, this cleansing storm had also reached Shepchenkovo, with the entire "Three-Person Trial Panel" being ousted, including Lieutenant Bogdan.
In this context, Viktor's execution had been postponed, and the cases he was involved in would be retried. However, his case was now just a minor matter, sidelined as the priority for the higher-ups was to deal with Lieutenant Bogdan.