“What did you do to Vasili?” she asks.
“He’s dead.”
“They were going to kill us. He told me.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. There might be more of them.”
Her eyes widen. “You think there are more?”
“I can’t tell. This place is a mess, but I saw some NEO Nazi flags and badges out there. These guys usually run in gangs.”
“What will we do?”
“We’ll take the truck. We’ll drive out to the highway and head for that town we saw. We’ll hide the truck just outside the town and walk into it. If they have a train station, we’ll take the first train out, no matter where it goes.”
She looks at me and there is fire and hope in her eyes. “Why don’t we run away to Florida, Hunter? We can have a nice life there. There are alligators there. I’ve never seen alligators and I’ve always wanted to. I think we could have a nice life together. You like me, don’t you?”
The giant is bleeding out at my feet, my ankle is killing me, I’m shit-scared more men will come into the house, and she wants us to move to Florida so she can see an alligator? I stare at her. I didn’t expect this.
“You don’t have to marry me or anything like that,” she continues. “And if you get bored with me, I will go away. I won’t be any trouble. You don’t even have to support me financially. I can speak English. I’ll get a job. I’m not fussy. I can be a waitress or even a cleaner. I don’t mind.”
“I have to get you to Detroit,” I tell her. My voice is cold and robotic. It doesn’t even sound like me. Inside me is a terrible pain far worse than my throbbing, red hot ankle, but I cannot stop the words from coming out of my mouth, “That’s my job.”
Hunter
The light in her eyes dies out the same way the embers I poured cold water over this morning did. She nods slowly. There is sadness in her face. “All right. Let’s get going, then. This place will soon stink worse than it does now.”
I follow her out of the bedroom and at the door, I look back at the giant. He’s totally out of it now. His heart is belting out the line of its song. That’s how it goes. One moment, you’re running on all cylinders, the next you’re dead. And one day that will be me.
I wash my hands and face quickly. Luckily my coat is dark so the blood doesn’t show. Once we’re wrapped up in our coats again, we hustle out to the truck. It’s still a nice bright day, if there can be a nice day in the middle of a Russian winter.
“You know how to drive this?” she asks.
“I can drive anything.” And I can. The engine starts on the first try. I back out, turn around, and head for the road. “Do you have any blood on you?” I ask.
“I don’t think so,” she answers.
“Take a look. People notice things like that. They’re going to notice your face anyway. Throw in some blood, and we’ll be marked for questioning.”
She starts to shake, really shake, and I know it’s shock. She’s reliving the giant, the gag shoved into her innocent mouth, the blood, and the fact that we murdered a man together. She will never be the same person who went into that farmhouse. She wasn’t prepared for it. It’s like being in combat. We’re all like that the first time—unless you have no soul.
“If you’re going to throw up, let me know. I’ll stop, and you can do it outside.”
She shakes her head.
I’m thinking she doesn’t know how these things work. “I can feed you all sorts of sayings about what you experienced, but no matter what I say, it comes down to believing that you did the right thing, the only thing available to you. If he had killed me, he would have raped you so brutally you would have wished for death. It would have gone on for days, maybe weeks until one day, he goes so far, he accidentally kills you.
She is staring straight ahead, but a tear slips out of her eye and streaks down her white cheek.
The tears finish me. My hands jerk, a completely involuntary gesture, so I grip the steering wheel hard. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe what’s happening to me. All I want to do is pull her into my arms and console her, but I force myself to hold back. She already has way too much power over me. I stare straight ahead and keep my voice rational. “We were minding our own business. It’s not like we went looking for someone to kill. They were. But they ran into some people who weren’t going to be victims. Be happy that it isn’t your blood all over that house. Be happy that you’re alive. That’s what you have to tell yourself. It’s a good thing to be alive.”
“Why do you care what I feel anyway? You’re taking me to another monster who needs a virgin once a year. You say he raised you and you didn’t know this. Have you never wondered what he does with the girls? What he will do to me?”
“Put on your seat belt,” I say harshly.
“Fuck you,” she spits and hugs herself in an effort to stop the shivers.
I let her work through things. The road winds, rises and falls as we head back towards the town. I would like to drive faster; there might be others. Yet, I have to make sure we get to a station, a way out. If the two thugs didn’t have a lot of friends, it might be days or a week before their bodies are discovered. By that time, I want to be back in Detroit. I have now left three bodies behind me. If the local police find the bodies, Katya and I will be in deep trouble. There’s no way they’re going to believe some American thug, not even if the girl tells the truth.
I’m praying that when we reach the town, we not only find a train but get lucky; no one recognizes the truck and it doesn’t all kick off before we get on the train. Two strangers in town. We’ll be the first suspects. They’ll be waiting for us on the next stop. That will be hell. I must park the car someplace where it won’t be found immediately. I thank the powers that be for the cold. At least the sidewalks won’t be crowded. I turn to look at Katya. “We’re nearly there. You need to dry your eyes and try to look as normal as possible.”
“All right,” she rasps.
“I’m sorry he hit you.”
She reaches out and grabs my hand. “I want to thank you. You saved my life.”
“We’re even,” I reply. “If you hadn’t hammered that giant, he would have killed me. So, we’re even. You owe me nothing.”
“I suppose you’re right, but you could have left me and run after you…felled Vasili?”
“I couldn’t leave,” I force myself to say the words. “Without the package I was sent here to bring home.”
She doesn’t say any more, and I concentrate on negotiating the icy road. It was one thing handling the Sherpa. What I did to Vasili and Dimitri was quite something else. She’s probably scared of me now, and while she should be, I would rather she not be. That’s what happens when you show your true colors. Some people suddenly realize they don’t know you at all.
A part of me wants to explain more, make excuses for the blood. I would like her to think well of me, but anything I say will sound like an excuse. Excuses are stupid things. Own your life—good or bad.
The town comes up faster than I expected. I slow down. I need to hide the truck.
Katya
I cannot stop shaking. It’s true that we are both alive because I found the paddle and struck that man almost to death, but that’s not what scares me. What scares me is when I was hitting the giant, I was like a barbarian, wild, shameless, and full of bloodthirst. I wanted to hit him, to hurt him, to … kill him for what he did to me.
God, I hated him.
I hated him enough to beat him to death. No, that’s not right, I would have hit him until he was a bloody pulp if Hunter had not stopped me and killed the giant himself. I merely managed to split open his head like a melon, but I wanted him to die. I cannot get that out of my head. I wanted him to die so bad I could feel it rushing in my blood.
At least now I know that I have it in me to fight Anakin if I have to.
I push the thought away as I search for signs along the way. If the town has a train station, it will be marked. They’re always m
arked. The government is good about signs. They want people to ride the trains. And since half the people this far from Moscow can’t read, the signs are always pictures.
I spot the sign and point to it. “Over there.”
He nods and we follow the arrow, turning into another street. We’re not far. We’ll be there in a few minutes. I hope there is a train. I want to get away from this town as quickly as possible. Every second here reminds me of those two … animals. Every second reminds me of the way I wanted to kill the giant. Once we get away, I can try to forget.
A middle-aged woman walking from the opposite direction stares at us curiously.
I look her straight in the eye, but next to me I feel Hunter’s unease.
In a way, I’m in control. I know the dialect. I know the people and the customs. What looks normal and what doesn’t. He sticks out like a sore thumb. Without the Sherpa, he has to believe what I tell him. That may be the ticket for me to get away from him. I can lie or trick him. He won’t know. I’ll find a way to escape, but not here. It will have to wait till we get to Moscow. It will be crowded there, and I will have more opportunities.
Silently, I point to the sign indicating a train station and he makes the turn.
As we walk into the parking lot, I think we might be in luck. There’s a train waiting, and it looks like it is heading to Moscow. Well, that’s what the sign on the platform it is next to says. “The train looks like it is going to Moscow,” I say. “Perhaps they will have room for two more.”
Hunter looks relieved. He glances around him. “I hope so. It’s up to you to get us on that train.”
“Should be no problem.”
We walk quickly, but we don’t hurry. I lead the way through the station which isn’t crowded and that’s a good thing. No one stands at the ticket office, and that could be good or bad. Good if there are seats available. Bad, if the train is stuck for some reason. I possess the same anxiety as Hunter has. The longer we hang around this town, the more risk we take. The way those two men looked, I don’t know if I would be able to convince the police we acted in self-defense.
The woman in the ticket office tells me we’re in luck. There is a cabin we can have, and while the train doesn’t go all the way to Moscow, it will connect with another train in a few hours. That train will take us all the way. Hunter hands me his credit card, but I notice it is not in his name. The woman runs it through her machine, we get the tickets, she tells us to get on the train right away as it will leave in fifteen minutes.
I thank her, and we head for the platform. The station is easy to navigate. There are signs. The American spots an ATM, and we stop long enough to get some cash. That’s probably smart. We are the last to board. The official who greets us is old and reminds me of the Sherpa. He points out the way, and we move down the narrow aisle.
Our little room is in the middle of the train, and I am happy to plop down on the seat. This day has been horrific. I think that only a little while ago, I was home with my parents. I was as clean and bright as an angel. Now, after three deaths, I’m on my way to Moscow to be handed over to a monster. I feel as if my life with my parents happened many years ago. So much has happened to me that I’m not even the same person I was. I look into Hunter’s face and I know I will be even more different when I disappear in Moscow.
“Good work,” Hunter says. “I can hardly believe we made it.”
“We’re not in Moscow yet,” I remind him. “And we’re not out of Russia.”
“I know the answer is most probably no, but have you ever been arrested?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“Ever given anyone your fingerprints?”
“No.”
“Good. When they find those two goombas, they might or might not process the house. If they do, they’ll find our prints. Mine are on file in America, but I don’t think the Ruskis have access. If yours aren’t on file anywhere, their chances of finding us are pretty small, especially since there are no witnesses. I think we’ll make it. But we have to get out of this country as soon as we can.”
I frown. “Do you have a passport for me?”
“Yes, I do.” He yawns, as the train starts to move. He stretches out on the seats. “Wake me in an hour.”
I laugh. “I’m going to be asleep like you.”
“Then, I’ll wake you. And we’ll get something to eat.”
“Yes, I’m very hungry.”
Hunter closes his eyes. I watch a moment before I lie down and close my own. Fatigue washes over me. I realize I’m exhausted. The cold, the Sherpa, Dimitri and Vasili, they have all sapped my energy. I’m asleep before I can remember anything else.
When I wake, I’m alone.
For a moment, I don’t quite understand where I am or what the rocking sensation is. Then I realize I’m on a train, but I’m not supposed to be alone. I sit up. Where is the American? Why am I alone? I wonder if I should look for him.
Before I can decide, the door opens, and Hunter enters. He’s grinning and his arms are full. “I probably got taken to the cleaners,” he says, dumping his haul onto the small table. “But they have this car with lots of stuff. I grabbed some and paid cash. They seemed happy with what I gave them.”
On the table are bottles of water and soda, bags of chips and pretzels, several sandwiches, bars of chocolates, and packets of candy. My stomach rumbles at the sight of food and I am reminded that I haven’t eaten in a long while.
“Help yourself,” he says. “I don’t know how long we have till we have to change trains, but you must be hungry.”
“I am, what do you call it … er … starving,” I say as I grab a bottle of water and a sandwich.
“This train is OK. Not luxury but OK.” He grabs a sandwich and a soda. “I found the restrooms too. They’re not far.”
I will use the toilets after I eat. As I sip water, I notice that my jaw hurts from where the giant hit me. The shivering begins again, deep inside and I remind myself that the giant is dead. We have done what we have done, and now, we must flee. Hunter lied when he said he likes our chances of escape, but I truly believe I will escape Anakin. Hunter must do what he must and I must do what I must for my parents and my sister, and my own survival too.
“When we get to Moscow,” Hunter says. “We will take the first flight anywhere that gets us closer to the United States. If we have to wait in some airport, let’s wait in one outside Russia.”
I nod in agreement, ignoring the pain in my face as I chew. The brute of a giant hit me harder than I remember. We eat in silence because hungry people are like that. I am reminded of my home, my parents. They always ate in silence. They didn’t like to talk to each other, not when they were sober, anyway.
In the toilets, I look at my face in the mirror. Hunter was right; the bruise is already showing and will show for some time. But other than that my face appears unchanged. There’s nothing to tell that together with the American I have murdered someone. Maybe I’m becoming more Russian in my bones. Russians are uniformly melancholy and morose. They always expect fate to deal them a poor hand and are unsurprised when it does. When I return, I find Hunter studying his phone.
“It still doesn’t work,” he says. “The power is down, and my power cord is gone. We’ll have to look for a new one at the next stop.”
I nod. Talking makes my jaw hurt too.
He looks at me, and seems to immediately understand. He jumps up. “I’ll go get some painkillers. Your jaw must be killing you.”
I stand and hold out my hand. “I want to walk.”
He stares at me for a moment, then silently pulls out some cash, and hands it to me.
I head into the aisle to look for what I need. For this pain alone, the giant deserved to die. I find the car with the shop. It’s small and doesn’t have a lot of variety, but painkillers and digestion pills are prominently displayed. I get my pills and ask about power cords, but the shop doesn’t stock them. The woman there assures me I will find them at t
he next station where there is a bigger shop. In her eyes, I see concern for my face, and she asks if I need help. I do need help, but she can’t provide it.
Only I can help myself.
I come back to find Hunter sitting with his leg resting on the little table and his ankle exposed. I can’t help gasping. He must have been in agony. It looks really bad, must be swollen to at least twice its size.
He grins at me. “Not a pretty sight, huh?”
I share the pain medication with him. I feel a tinge of sympathy for him. He has his own aches. Not only his ankle, but I can also see the bruises on his neck from the giant’s grip. In fact, we are both lucky to be alive.
“We need to do a little prep,” Hunter says. “In case we’re stopped by the police. First, neither of us ever met or talked to those two dead guys. Second, while we knew the Sherpa, we don’t know what happened to him. We fell asleep, and when we woke up, he was gone. He might have gone out for a smoke and lost his way in the snow. We don’t know. We walked to that town and got on the train. Enough said. The less you say, the fewer details you provide the better it will be. Play dumb. In my case, that’s not so hard.”
I giggle, and that makes him smile.
“I know I’m keeping this light, but this is important. I’ve seen this many times. Two guys do a job, and the police haul them in for questioning. They put them in separate rooms and grill them. The police don’t have enough evidence to arrest either guy, but they act like they do, and they play this little game. They tell one guy that the other guy is getting ready to confess. If the other guy confesses first, then he’ll get a deal from the prosecutor. So, if you don’t trust the other guy, you confess first because that gets you a better deal. You rat each other out. But the kicker is that if the guys don’t confess, they’ll both walk away free because there isn’t any evidence. So, here’s where we make a pact. If we’re taken and put in separate rooms, we don’t confess to anything. You have to trust me on this. If you hang tough, we’ll both walk away. No one will go to prison. Got that?”
Can’t Let Her Go Page 12
