The boy projected a stylized picture of Yukiko, katana held aloft, sunlight in her hair, thousands of samurai kneeling at her feet. The picture was tinged with uncertainty.
His eyebrows raised in question.
She smiled and shook her head. Showed the Kagé village in the mountains; a peaceful place, herself and Buruu laying in dappled sunlight. A quiet life.
He frowned at her then, as if he didn’t quite understand.
Yukiko projected an image of Buruu, bleeding and twisted on the rocks. A compass needle pointing north, and the pylon she’d seen near Buruu in her dream.
Ilyitch shook his head, pushed her a childish version of the map she’d seen on the wall downstairs. Dozens of pylons, studded all over the islands around the lightning farm. Not all of them were connected directly; most of the cables threaded amongst multiple towers back to the central hub, like strands of a crooked spider’s web. If the picture she’d shown him was correct, Buruu was trapped at the very end of the lines.
Miles away.
Yukiko used one of his own images; the hourglass running out of sand. A picture of food. An arashitora skeleton on black rocks.
She reached out, leather thong tight around her wrist, fingers stretching toward his own in vain. He frowned, put his hand in hers. She squeezed tight.
“Please,” she said, tears welling. “Please.”
Ilyitch sighed, glanced at the doorway behind him. Avoiding her eyes, the boy stood, pointed at Red and spoke a stern command. Red lay flat and wagged his tail.
“W-wait.” Yukiko sat up straighter, frowning. “Where are you going?”
The gaijin spoke a handful of words, held up both hands as if urging her to be still. Then he turned and clomped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Where is he going, Red?
don’t know i stay here am gooddog
Yukiko listened to Ilyitch’s footprints receding down the hall. She had no idea if she’d convinced him, no clue as to whether he was headed to get supplies to help her, or to turn her in to Danyk. But for the first time since she’d arrived here, she found herself alone with Red.
So either way, she wasn’t going to wait to find out.
The dog had gnawed through one of the tethers binding her wrists and was halfway through the second when she heard stealthy footfalls in the corridor. She looked at Red, paused with his teeth upon the leather, one ear pointing to the sky as his tail started wagging.
Is that Ilyitch?
The dog blinked.
Your Boy? Is that your Boy coming?
… no
Yukiko strained against the weakened strap, finally tearing it loose, tugging at the bindings on her ankles as the footsteps arrived in the hallway outside. She was up and coiled in the shadows as the handle turned and the door opened wide.
A figure limped into the gloom, and she struck, wrapping the bedsheet over its head and kicking the back of its knee. The figure dropped to the ground with the whine of pistons and a muffled cry of pain. She grabbed the contraption on his belt and tore it from its holster. The figure pulled the tangled sheet away from his face and turned to face her, and she recognized Piotr, pale as the sheet she’d wrapped him in, hands reaching for the ceiling.
“Stop!” His one good eye locked upon the device in her hand. “Don’t!”
Yukiko realized the man was drunk; the reek of liquor on his breath and skin so strong he might have bathed in it. She pointed the contraption at his head, finger poised over what she hoped was the trigger.
“What are you doing here?” she growled.
“Please.” He motioned to the hallway. “Please. I am wanting for you.”
“Why? What do you want with me?”
“Using you.” He licked his lips, gaze roaming from head to toe. “The body. Using for the body.”
“My body?”
He reached up, put his hands on her shoulders, ran them down over her breasts. Yukiko took a step back, lip curling in disgust.
“Please.” Piotr looked her up and down, put his finger to his lips. “Wanting you. Come for me. We must come.”
“You sick bastard,” she growled.
“Sick?” The man frowned. “No get sick, is—”
Her knee collided with his crotch midsentence, her elbow with his jaw. His head twisted across his shoulders, spittle and blood spraying between split lips, eyes rolling up in their sockets as he hit the concrete with a wet thud. Red hopped off the bed and snuffled at the man’s face, licking his nose with a hopeful wag of his tail.
killed!?
No, I didn’t.
She massaged the pain in her knuckles, stared at the gaijin with utter contempt.
Although I should. Godsdamned pervert. He’s old enough to be my father.
A quick search of the man’s clothing revealed his carved fish pipe, a satchel of the strange leaf that gaijin all seemed to smoke, and a ring of iron keys. She was eyeing off the strange weapon in her hand when Red heard Ilyitch’s footprints in the corridor. She stood and pointed the device at the doorway, not knowing how her benefactor might react upon seeing his unconscious comrade.
Ilyitch stopped at the threshold, frowning. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw Yukiko and the contraption coiled in her hands. He raised one eyebrow, letting the three satchels he was carrying fall to the ground. Catching sight of Piotr collapsed beside her, he shuffled forward with hands raised, crouching and searching for the man’s pulse. A stream of nonsensical words followed, hissed through clenched teeth, accompanied by furious hand gestures.
Yukiko pushed the picture of Piotr’s attempted assault into his mind, the image of his hands pawing her chest. The boy fell silent, looked at his fallen comrade with an uneasy expression. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder but she shied away, and Ilyitch let his arm drop. Turning to the satchels he’d brought with him, he knelt and rummaged inside the largest. He tossed Yukiko a dirty red coverall, heavy boots, and a yellow rubber rainskin. Not needing to be told, Yukiko slipped into the coverall and rainskin (too big), sat on the bed and buckled up the boots (also too big). She pulled the hood over her head, tugged the hem-ties as tight as she could.
Ilyitch had two coils of thick rope looped over his shoulders. He peeled one off and hung it around her neck, hefted one of the satchels, handed her another. The bag was heavy, stinking of raw fish. She guessed it was Buruu’s dinner, and she was momentarily overcome with gratitude for this strange boy with tarnished silver eyes.
She stepped up and kissed his cheek, careful of the swollen, purple bruise. His skin was salty smooth against her lips.
“Thank you, Ilyitch,” she said.
The gaijin shot her a pretty smile, scratching at the base of his skull and blushing. She stooped to pat Red, let him lick her nose.
You stay here, all right?
can’t come with you?
Not unless you can fly.
flew here
You did?
from houses on the water
Houses?
so many so loud!
“Yukiko.”
Hearing Ilyitch say her name pulled her from the dog’s mind. The boy nodded toward the door, motioned for her to follow.
Good-bye, Red. I’m sorry about before. For making you be bad.
She gave him an affectionate scratch behind his ears.
You’re a gooddog. Always.
you goodgirl too
A faint, grim smile.