Curling my boot up into his belly, I kicked up. The beast flew up and away. It landed ten feet from me, winded, then it was up and charging me again. I pulled my buck knife from my boot, snapping it open as the creature leapt. His eyes went wide as I drove the blade up into his throat. He kept snapping at me, even in the throes of death. Twisting the knife, I rolled over so that I was on top of him. Warm blood soaked my arm and chest. When I thought it was over, he reared up, a twist of my head kept him from ending my life, instead of my throat he sank his canines deep into my shoulder.
Dropping my blade. I grabbed his jaw, as I fought to free myself from his grasp, he let out a long exhale and went limp. His last act had been to try and kill me, I had to respect his devotion to the task.
Looking down at his corpse, I heard something whistling through the air. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a shovel as it flew toward my head. The world shattered into a spark filled pain. Then nothing. Black empty nothing.
CHAPTER 14
Pain flared in my shoulder and spread like wildfire across my body until it completely engulfed me. My muscles clenched in a powerful spasm. My back arched and my limbs shot out. My eyelids snapped open. I was unable to focus on or comprehend the room around me. A blurry form reached out and pressed a short stick into the dog bite on my shoulder. Volts of electricity blasted through me, blowing out my circuitry as it roared across every nerve ending. The wave passed, leaving me limp. I could taste the salty iron of blood in my mouth where I had bitten a small chunk out of my tongue.
Somewhere in the blurred fog around me, I heard a man speaking Russian. An ugly pockmarked face leaned in close to my face. “You are who?”
I opened my mouth, to plead, to beg, to cajole, whatever it would take to make the pain stop. But I was betrayed by my gut, instead of words — a nicely chunky spray of vomit spewed.
“Vali otsyuda!” He jammed the cattle prod into my shoulder, but before he could trigger the jolt, he was pulled away by a second form. In the shadows, a guttural Slavic argument bounced off the walls. Focus was returning. Out of the mess, a barn or garage formed around me. I was strapped down on a work bench. On a peg board, power drills, saws and hammers rested, waiting to be put to bad use.
“It’s for you.” A furry man in a blue satin jogging suit pressed a cell phone to my face.
“Mr. McGuire, you have outlived my expectations.” The voice was dry, Russian and void of any human emotion. The old man in the white room. I should have killed him when I had the chance. “However, you have now outrun your expiration date. I now have one last offer to make you, the man whose home you have defiled has asked permission to exact retribution, slow, painful retribution. Apparently, you brought on the early demise of his beloved pet. And here is where the offer comes in, pay close attention. Tell me where I can find Anya and I will command Kolya to execute a swift end to your life.” I could hear his breath as he waited for me to reply.
“Suck… my… dick,” I mumbled as clearly as I could muster. The fur-ball in satin slapped me across the face. He spoke quickly into the phone, then snapped it closed and sent his pockmarked lackey out of the room.
“If your Armenian is out there, Zhenya will find him.” Picking up a rusted hacksaw, Kolya toyed with it. Running his thumb lightly down the blade, he looked me over like a butcher appraising a side of beef. “The boss doesn’t think pain will loosen your tongue. Is he correct?”
I had learned in prison to relax my face muscles, regardless of the storm in my head. A neutral face showed no fear. He might kill me but I wasn’t about to show him I cared one way or the other.
“I think maybe I will kill two birds with one blunt object.” From his pocket he took a small pillbox. “Do you know what is the great motivator? Not fear, no. Guilt. Pain fades and must be re-administered. Guilt can break a person for life.” Grabbing my jaw he forced my mouth open. Like you would an animal, he tossed several pills into my mouth, he chased them with a bottle of vodka upended past my lips. Glass smacked against teeth. My throat shut down. Short stubby fingers clamped onto my nostrils, I had to drink or drown.
The quart was halfway down when he pulled it away. Sputtering, I struggled to fill my lungs. The neck of the bottle cut my lip against my teeth as he shoved the bottle back in my mouth. Drink or drown.
Dropping the empty bottle, he looked at me and let out a small laugh. “Think of this as your last meal. Vodka, what more could a man ask for?” I was brain fucked. Searching for some bullshit comeback line. But he was gone. I was alone, me, my fear and whatever pill he gave me. That and the vodka. I wished it didn’t feel so good. But it did. That familiar glow, that everything-will-be-fine sensation. I knew it was a whore’s promise, but one my body was fighting to accept. Warm cotton candy wrapped itself around my pain and told it to go home, come again some other day. Somewhere in another country, men shouted in Russian. The rusting blade of a jigsaw came in and out of focus.
I am quiet. I wait. I hunt. I watch as the large American drops out of sight. I move around the perimeter. I hear a dog attack. I hear men moving. His problem. Below us a body moves. Only a glimpse. We are being hunted from below. I drop, silent. Hide behind an outcropping. I watch. I wait. Nothing. Someone is coming up from the valley floor. I can feel them. But I am blind to their movements. They are good. I close my eyes and flare a match to life. I feel my way to light a cigarette. I blow the match out. My eyes need no adjustment. I drop the cigarette. A hundred yards below something shiny twinkles. A rifle sight. It will take him time to find me.
Fuck. I fought to free my arms. Fuck. My heart was starting to race unnaturally fast. I fought to slow my pulse but it was a runaway train. Loopy thoughts crowded for attention. What was her name? The Ukrainian assassin, I could see her cards, but the name?
Thump thump.
Fuck, I was going to die.
Thump thump thump.
Angel, I wanted my dog.
Thump thump thump thump. My fucking heart was pounding like a pile driver. The throbbing in my temples climbed on top of the vodka and reminded me I’d been hit in the head with a shovel.
Time went sideways. Where the fuck had all the sweat come from? Beads rolled off my face, stinging my eyes. The furry little fireplug swam out of the shadows. His pockmarked pal was grinning down at me. Mikayla. That was her name and she hadn’t slit his ugly throat. I was well and truly fucked. Someone started laughing, high pitched and sad. It was me.
Nika lay alone in the dark. They had moved her into a small bare room. On the cold tiles, she lay without the comfort of a pillow or blanket. Her self-imposed fast had driven her into a soft madness. She could no longer remember why she had refused to go with the other girls, only that she couldn’t give in. She had made her peace with the fact that she would die on this cold floor. Whatever she had hoped or dreamed for in her life was now never going to happen. Oddly, she had come to be ok with this fact. She could see how silly her dream of being a star in America was. She was sorry that she would never see Anya again, but it was how it worked out. Fate had given her thirteen years and that would have to be enough.
A dog choker pinched my throat. Pockmark pushed his pistol into the base of my skull, yanking the chain at the same time. The floor felt rubbery and the walls kept tilting on me. Keep moving. Stumble and this twat will kill you. And thump thump thump my rapid-fire heart. Was I dreaming or did I have a raging erection? No. Not dreaming. It was hurting as it tried to explode the seams of my jeans. What the fuck? Really. What the fuck was happening?