by Sara Clancy
It was half the width of the ones above, the walls close enough that Evelyn could shove out her elbows and touch both sides at once. If two regular-sized people were to pass, they’d have to twist and shuffle awkwardly. It made her grateful to be short. Otherwise, the walls would have been stifling. She didn't even have to duck under the globes attached rather low on the walls. Everything was a perfect white. Walls, floor, carpets, and doors. There were no twist and turns in the hallway. Just one long, thin corridor that stretched out to the horizons, each coming to an abrupt stop with a bright crimson door.
In a sudden burst of excitement, the twins sprinted forward, Russian words spilling from their mouths as they shoved at each other, trying to get ahead. The fight only increased as they reached their room, both battling to use their key cards to open the door while simultaneously pushing the other one away. Evelyn laughed at the sight, a warm flush filling her chest. After all they’ve seen, they’re still just kids. Her smile faded when she realized that Aleksandr might need to intervene soon. He had been the last to exit the elevator, leaving him trapped behind Evelyn. She cast a glance over her shoulder, catching a flicker of a smile before Aleksandr was able to hide it.
“Should they be speaking Russian?” she asked. “What if someone overhears them?”
“Plenty of people are bilingual,” he mumbled.
During the trip down, he had finished with his thumbnail and was now chewing on his middle finger. Evelyn missed which one of the twins won the battle, but the door snapped open, clashing against something with a loud crack. They rushed in, Aleksandr and Evelyn only a step behind. He had to scoot in around her when she suddenly stopped at the threshold. She had never had a problem with tight spaces before, but she was starting to now.
The room itself was as thick as the hallway and looked oddly like a train carriage. With the door pushed all the way back, she could only see the foot of the bunk beds the kids were now crawling all over. A high set, built-in wardrobe was on her left, the sliding doors taking up the majority of the limited wall space. There was just enough space left over at the end of the room for a single, tiny sink and a small bar fridge. Drawn curtains hung on the wall directly opposite from the door, the same vibrant blue as the blankets tucked neatly around the single beds.
“Why are there curtains?” She didn’t know why it was the first question that entered her mind, but she didn’t regret it. “Aren’t we underground?”
She jumped slightly when one of the twins blurred past her face. Having hooked their legs over the safety rail of the top bunk, they swung upside down and smiled up at her.
“Ivan,” they clarified before continuing, “they’re fake. They didn’t even put anything interesting on the other side. How lazy is that? I want to put up a poster, but we can’t damage the walls.”
“It’s to stop us from getting cabin fever,” Nadya added.
Still standing in the doorway, Evelyn couldn’t see what the girl was doing, but judging by the sound, she was rummaging through something. Possibly a cubby set into the wall by the bottom bunk.
“Isn’t that when people stuck together for a while end up killing each other?” Ivan asked. He didn’t attempt to sit up right even as blood began to pool in his head.
“Yeah,” Nadya said distractedly.
Ivan turned his head to his sister as he let his arms drop. “How would a window stop that? Cabins have windows.”
Nadya’s response came in Russian, and they started to bicker again. Still uneasy about anyone overhearing them, Evelyn finally stepped into the room. She was standing halfway along the bed before she was able to close the door.
“Are all the staff rooms this small?” she asked.
“They don’t normally let families stay on site.” Aleksandr was more focused on hanging up the kids’ backpacks than the conversation itself. “This is the only room with two beds. And I like having them close.”
As Evelyn began to contemplate where Aleksandr had been sleeping for the last two years, he slid back one of the wardrobe doors to retrieve his uniform. Since the bottom of the cupboard was set a few feet off the ground, Evelyn easily noticed the blankets and pillows gathered into a makeshift nest.
Trauma or convenience? The question rolled around her head as she glanced around, trying to imagine what it would be like to live in such limited space with two other people. Awkward. It wasn't an imaginative answer but it was all she had. As an only child, she didn't know if sibling dynamics would make it any easier.
Aleksandr is more than their brother, though. She had only seen them interacting with Olga and Petya for a few moments. That was enough. Aleksandr was the only real parent the twins had ever known. Whether or not that helped in this situation, she had no idea. Either way, it worked. All of them appeared completely content with their living situation. Moving around each other as if they had all the space they could ever need. Each instinctively aware of the others. Completing little tasks without ever bumping into each other. Evelyn flinched as Nadya tossed something to Ivan, without a word of warning or a shared look. Ivan caught it while he was climbing back up onto the top bunk.
How much time would you have to spend with someone to get in sync like that? The question had barely passed her mind before it was chased out by another. Looking at all three of them in turn, she wondered. What did they survive together to build this close of a bond? Standing in the far corner, Aleksandr pulled his long-sleeved shirt off, revealing a sleeveless undershirt, the snug material pulling tight across the scarred flesh it concealed. He didn’t bother to take the undershirt off as he wiped his exposed skin down with wet wipes.
“Okay,” Nadya declared, a giddy little edge to her voice. “Slides are ready. Take your seats.”
Aleksandr looked over to them with an arched eyebrow. When it was Evelyn’s turn to cast a similar look to the kids, they both lunged forward. Clutching her duffle bag kept her from hitting either of them on reflex. The urge didn't leave her entirely as the twins dangled from the safety rail, giggling at her expense.
“She’s going to stab you if you keep that up.”
Aleksandr gave the warning in a bored, disinterested tone. It was enough to make them stifle their laughter, even though they didn’t look at all sorry.
“What slides?” Evelyn asked.
“We knew that this was coming sooner or later,” Ivan said, letting Nadya finish off the rest of the thought.
“So, we organized a crash course in Sokolovsky sibling history.”
“Convenient,” Evelyn said.
“So, sit down already,” they declared as one, their excitement making her smile.
Placing her duffle bag down on the floor, she glanced around. There weren’t any seats. Not even extra space for one. Settling down onto the carpet, she rested her back against the door. It had felt like the best place to sit until the paranoid part of her mind worked up. Her head filled with images of knives slipping under the gap of the door, slicing into her flesh before she even knew that she was under attack. She shuffled forward a few feet and leaned a shoulder against the wooden base of Aleksandr’s wardrobe. Aleksandr loomed above her, reaching into the cupboard and grasping the hanging rail. In one smooth leap, he swung himself inside, peeking his head out a second later. He looked like a perching bird.
The lights flicked off, plunging the room into darkness, with only the smallest slip of light creeping in from under the door. Evelyn’s chest tightened, and her muscles clenched. With a slight click, a bright light projected onto the curtains, displaying the main screen of a smartphone.
“Lady and my other brother,” Nadya declared as if she were a circus ringleader. “We welcome you to Serial Killer 101.”
Chapter 6
Evelyn squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the thin carpet. Each time she shuffled, she could pick up the scent of the rug shampoo. A clean, soapy smell that mixed with the lingering traces of the wooden furniture and fabric softener. She took a curious, discreet sniff. No rot, blood
, or sweat. It was a level of cleanliness that she hadn’t expected Aleksandr capable of when they had first met. He had reeked, then. The whole house had. Evelyn had seen the corpses that had been set up around the kitchen table and had always believed there were more. Perhaps put on display. Maybe hidden under the floorboards or piled in a forgotten room.
Nadya started to speak, her small but firm voice snapping Evelyn out of her thoughts.
“As you know, our little family started off with Petya and Olga.”
She clicked a button, and a photograph filled the projection, the image warped by the folds of the curtains. Seeing the couple made Evelyn's stomach cramp, the edge of her panic dulled only by repetition. She knew those pictures. Every tabloid magazine and news outlet had been plastered with them for months after the news had broken. As if it were impossible for them to find another shot of the couple. Or perhaps they just liked the contrast. Beautiful, beaming newlyweds above descriptions of brutality and madness. The photograph had been taken a few years before Evelyn had encountered them. Not much had changed.
“I never get over how pretty they are,” Evelyn muttered, the words mindlessly slipping past her lips. “It doesn’t seem right. I know, I know, that’s not how it works. You can’t always see someone in a crowd and go, ‘them, they’re psychos, but ... they’re both just really pretty.”
“Her hair always smelled like coconuts,” Ivan said in a soft voice. A single second was all it took for whatever nostalgia the small boy felt to wither in disgust. His nose scrunched up. “I hate coconuts.”
“You’re allergic to them,” Aleksandr noted.
“That’s why I hate them. They’re trying to kill me.”
“Anyway,” Nadya said loudly, regaining everyone’s attention. “What Evelyn might not know is that not only were they both serial killers long before they met, but they really liked to reproduce. In total, they had eleven kids. Seven of us are still alive.”
“Wait. What happened to the others?” Evelyn asked.
The Sokolovsky siblings had never seemed more alike than when they fixed Evelyn with the same baffled expression. They each stared at her for a long moment before looking at each other. Apparently, Ivan was the one nominated to speak.
“Have you repressed everything you’ve ever learned about our parents?”
“They killed their own children?” An icy pit opened up inside of Evelyn’s skin as she said the words.
“Duh,” Ivan said. “Didn’t you know that?”
Four. They killed four of their children. She didn’t know why it surprised her, rattled her, but it did. Olga and Petya had been both narcissistic and obsessed with each other. Shouldn’t that have given some protection to their kids? At the very least, shouldn’t they have taken some pride in what they created together?
“I can’t wrap my head around it,” she admitted.
“Alek,” Nadya whined. “We didn’t plan on her being this behind. She’s ruining our lecture.”
Aleksandr grunted but didn’t say anything, leaving Evelyn to assure the kids that it was fine. She’ll keep up.
“Now, there’s obviously us three,” Nadya said. “So, we’re down to four.”
“Three if you’re counting Dima,” Evelyn said.
They all turned to her again.
“Olga and Petya had two documented children,” Evelyn began, deciding that it would be easier to lay out what she knew and let the twins fill in the blanks. “Zoya; who died at three months due to SIDS. Though, I guess that was a misdiagnosis. And Dima, a black widow. Basically, the vast majority of people she dated went missing. They suspect her of dozens of murders in numerous countries but only had enough evidence to convict her of three. She was arrested in Mexico five years ago. She’s still down there. I hear she's married a guard. They fired him, of course, but they still got married.”
“And we weren’t invited,” Nadya mumbled.
“How do you know all that?” Aleksandr asked.
Shrugging one shoulder, Evelyn smiled. “A friend in the FBI told me.”
“What?” all three of them asked at once.
“What?” she parroted back, her words coming faster as she continued. “Our story was that I single-handedly escaped the most prolific serial killers since Elizabeth Bathory. You didn’t think that anyone in law enforcement might have a few questions? That some criminal profilers might see this as a learning opportunity? Yeah, I made a friend in the FBI, and to put me at ease, they answered some of my questions.”
“And you asked about Olga and Petya?” one of the twins asked. She didn't catch which one.
“Wouldn’t you?” she asked.
“And we're not going to this friend because ...” Aleksandr prompted.
“They’re not crooked. Look, I’m new to all of this, so stop me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it harder to get away with killing people when cops are around? Unless you were angling to get into witness protection.”
In the dim light, Evelyn couldn't see Aleksandr’s eyes. She felt them narrow on her, though. Sharp and angry.
“Is witness protection an option? That doesn’t sound too bad,” Nadya noted.
“They’d never let me keep custody of you,” Aleksandr said.
“Can’t we explain that you’re not like them?”
“I killed people, Nadya. As a legal adult, I beat men to death with my bare fists and helped get rid of bodies.”
“Olga and Petya made you,” Ivan protested and comforted at once.
“For some people, that won’t matter. I was an adult. In their heads, it’s a simple matter. I could have gone to the police and I didn’t. Best case scenario; you two will be kept together and I'll be put in a cell somewhere. Worst; they'll separate all of us, most likely somewhere the others will find you, and I’ll be tried in a state that still has the death penalty.”
“We’re not going to the cops,” Nadya said with conviction.
“Appreciate it.” A small smile played in Aleksandr’s words.
An uneasy silence followed, broken by Nadya clearing her throat.
“So, like I was saying. We don’t have to worry about Dima right now.” She clicked past the next photograph too quickly to get a decent look at the picture. “That leaves three.”
Another soft click and two faces splashed across the curtains. A male and a female, both looking around twenty-four years old. Evelyn cringed, at first not knowing why. Then it clicked. Their coal black eyes. Thin, straight noses. Full lips that carried a natural pout. They looked like their mother. Evelyn clenched her teeth as the memories she had been struggling to fight off seeped into her mind. Olga. A cage in a heated, dirty basement. The crackle of a cattle prod. Searing pain and unbridled fear and the screams she could still hear every time she tried to sleep.
“These are Vera and Vlas,” Ivan’s voice invaded Evelyn’s thoughts and dragged her back to the present.
She felt like she had been pulled out of the ocean depths and gulped down a lungful of air. It was a relief to hear Aleksandr cut in with a question of his own, allowing her a few extra moments to pull herself together.
“Where did you get this picture?” Aleksandr asked.
“Their Facebook page,” one of the twins chirped.
Evelyn blinked in confusion, needed to say the words aloud to believe them. “Serial killers have Facebook pages.”
“Well, yeah, but they don’t advertise the murder stuff on them,” Ivan said.
“It’s for their business,” Nadya added. “They’re wildness tour guides. And hunters.”
“I will give you candy if you promise me right now that you mean scavenger hunters,” Evelyn said.
“They hunt people,” Ivan said.
“You just missed out on Twizzlers,” Evelyn said.
The light giggle she provoked from the children helped to ease the tension in her chest. And she was almost certain that she heard Aleksandr give a short, breathy chuckle. It was a strange sort of achievement to make Aleksandr show any si
gn of amusement.
Nadya cleared her throat again, her scowl visible by the reflected light.
“If everyone could agree to hold their questions to the end.” She didn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “These are Vera and Vlas. If it’s not obvious, they’re twins.”
“Only there isn’t a good one,” Ivan cut in, wiggling his fingers and wavering his voice as if he were telling a ghost story. “They’re both the evil twin. Mwahaha!”
While Evelyn didn’t see Nadya thump her brother, she heard it.
“Anyway,” Nadya stressed the word. “Like Petya and Olga, they worked as a team to capture their prey and take them somewhere isolated. The difference is, they’ll give their prey a head start and then hunt them down.”
Evelyn stared at the faces, trying to memorize each detail. It unsettled her how approachable they looked. Like the people you see in brochures for international tour companies. Idealistic, relaxed, adventure seekers. Fear gathered within her like a brewing storm as she stared at the picture. Her skin prickled, a slight sensation, barely there but enough to remind her that terror wasn’t an option. Not with the Furies lurking so close. Remembering them jolted everything back into perspective. Vera and Vlas threatened death. The Furies madness. Evelyn would take the grave over a padded cell every time.
“Trained hunters,” she said. “Great.”
“It works in our favor,” Aleksandr said around a nail.
She threw him a questioning look before remembering that they couldn’t see each other in the dark. “Please explain how.”
“They are territorial predators exclusive to rural environments,” he said, as if it were obvious.
