by Alex Archer
She yawned again.
Gregor chuckled. “I see we are boring our companion.” He fished around in one of his pockets and came out with a small flashlight. He scooted over to Annja and looked at her.
Annja frowned. “What?”
“I need to look into your eyes.”
“With that?” she asked.
Gregor held up the flashlight. “I’m afraid so. To check for concussion, which I know you have, but I wish to see if things are improving or not.”
“And the flashlight will help?”
He nodded. “Many times a concussion will result in your pupils not dilating properly. This was how you were earlier today when we find you. I am hoping to see this is better now that you have rested.”
“My head still hurts,” she said.
“And it probably will for some time. You took many nasty falls which may have left you with some bumps and bruises for a long time.”
“That flashlight’s not going to make my head feel any better,” she said.
Gregor sighed. “Please. It is just for a moment. I will not hold the light on you any longer than is absolutely necessary.”
“All right.” Annja brought her head forward. She felt Gregor’s left hand grasp her around the back of her head. She could feel the immense strength resonating from his hand. It almost pulsed as he touched her.
She heard the click and then her head exploded in pain as Gregor flashed the light into one eye and then the other. Tears ran down her cheeks.
The light vanished and Annja slumped forward, cradling her head. “Damn.”
“You are getting better,” Gregor said. “Sip some more of the tea.”
Annja wanted to throw up again, but fought back the rising bile in her throat. Instead, she took the tea and drank it slowly. The hot liquid flowed down her throat and seemed to settle her stomach.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“I am sorry I had to do that,” Gregor said.
“It’s okay.”
Gregor moved back to his seat and nodded to Bob.
“She will be okay tomorrow. But our pace must be less than it was today.”
“We should have no problem reaching Yakutsk by sometime tomorrow, anyway. We might have even done it today if that maniac with the truck hadn’t intervened.”
Gregor frowned. “Perhaps we will meet up with that person at some time in the future.”
Annja sipped some more tea. “And what will you do to him?”
Gregor’s smile was anything but friendly. “I will engage him in discussion about the error of his ways.”
The last vestiges of daylight had vanished as they talked. The deepening shadows of the forest seemed to reach toward the firelight like long, crooked fingers. Annja shivered as a breeze twisted around them, and the snowflakes stuck to her face before melting.
Far off in the distance, a howl punctured the serenity of the coming night. Gregor seemed unfazed by it. “Wolves,” he said simply.
“You have a lot of them around here?” Annja asked.
“Siberia is full of them,” Gregor said. “But they keep their distance. This time of year they are still not that hungry. If this was February, then we might have a problem. For now, no problem.”
“Small comfort,” Bob said. “That howl just brought back memories of those old horror movies I used to watch.”
Annja grinned. “Doesn’t help that it’s close to Halloween.”
Gregor let a genuine smile escape. “You think maybe these woods are haunted? That perhaps there are creatures living here who would do us harm?”
Annja looked at him. The firelight made shadows jump across his face, contorting his features and making him look almost comically terrifying. “I think I’ve seen a lot of things in my life that defy explanation.”
Bob said nothing, but seemed to be searching the darkness for something.
Gregor held up one hand. “I come from this area, Annja. I am no stranger to legends. Or to being scared in the woods like this.”
“I’m not scared,” she said.
He smiled. “Of course not. But here we are, in the snow and dark, with just the fire to keep the evil away. Many other people, they would find this intimidating.”
“Like me,” Bob said. “I think my mind is getting the better of me.”
Annja rubbed her hands together. “I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to tell ghost stories, then, huh?”
“Ghost stories are a way of life for those who live in Siberia,” Gregor said. “But perhaps Bob would prefer it if we did not talk about such things while his mind is busy replaying movies from his youth.”
“I can’t help it,” Bob said. “I’ve got visions of the werewolf running through my head.” He looked at Annja. “You have to admit, it fits the situation pretty well.”
“Just because we’re in the woods?” she asked.
“I was talking about that howl we heard.”
Another howl sounded in the night air. Bob jumped. Annja and Gregor both laughed.
Bob pointed a finger at Annja. “No one finds out about my fear when we get back to civilization. I just don’t think I ever outgrew those crazy flicks I used to watch as a kid.”
“I used to watch them, too,” Annja said. “I just think it’s great that a guy like you who is so accomplished and relatively fearless—I mean, you bike and camp everywhere—gets freaked out by the woods at night.”
“Yeah, well, my therapist suggested I confront my fears as much as possible. So I make a point of camping out whenever I can,” he grumbled.
“But you don’t like it,” Annja said, laughing.
“I hate it.”
Gregor laid a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “I tell you the truth—I don’t like it, either. I have to do it in the military and since then at a few times when I am on job. But I do not like being out in the dark, either. I always feel like someone else is out there watching me. No matter how much I am hidden or how concealed I make myself, it always seems like someone out there knows.”
“You feel vulnerable,” Annja said.
“Yes.”
“It’s probably a pretty common feeling. I know I’ve felt it during my life, as well,” she admitted.
Bob sighed. “Doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.”
“I’d say you’re dealing with it the best way you possibly can,” Annja said. “At least you’re not letting it paralyze you into inaction. I know of people so utterly paralyzed they let their fears dictate how they lead their lives. Most of them sit at home rocking back and forth afraid to do anything.”
“Well,” Bob said, “I couldn’t do that. After all, as much as I dislike camping at night, I love cruising everywhere on my bike.”
Annja smiled. “You see? You’re successful even in spite of your fear. I think that’s what makes us better human beings. Those of us who are able to take our fears and still generate a positive life despite the things that scare us. That’s the mark of success. At least in my book.”
Gregor nodded. “I agree with Annja. She is very wise, this woman. I appreciate her thoughtfulness in this matter.”
“Thanks, Gregor,” Annja said.
“Now we drink,” Gregor stated.
Annja sat back. “What?”
Gregor produced a small flask from his jacket. He took their cups and emptied the pine-needle tea out of them. Unscrewing the flask top, he poured equal amounts of clear liquid into them and then handed the cups to Annja and Bob.
“Now.” Gregor smiled at them both. He raised his glass then tilted his head back and threw the drink down his throat.
Annja glanced at Bob and then did the same. As the icy vodka hit her throat, it burned a path down her esophagus and then pooled in the pit of her stomach. Her head swam briefly but she managed to stifle the cough.
Bob, who had apparently been with Gregor enough times to have gone through this before, merely shot the drink down and then set his glass down. “Let everybody be healthy,” he said.
Gregor smiled. “Now we have a trip to embark upon.”
Annja was about to hand him her cup when another sound shattered the night.
But this time, it was no wolf howl.
It sounded like a human scream.
6
“What the hell was that?”
Annja peered out in the darkness. Gregor seemed poised to launch himself out into the woods.
Bob pulled them back to reality. “I don’t know, but it’s nothing nearby.”
Annja glanced at him. “You sure about that?”
He nodded. “We’re high up on a hill. Sound carries for quite a distance in these parts. That sound could have been twenty miles away from us. If we start thumping around in the pitch-black, we’ll get lost and we’ll all be injured before we find anything.”
“Was not a sound,” Gregor said. “Was a scream.”
“A human scream,” Annja said.
Gregor looked at her. She could see his eyes gleam in the dark as they caught the twinkling firelight.
“Yes,” he agreed.
Annja wanted to say something, but there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. What could they do? For his part, Gregor also looked concerned. The prospect of someone needing help seemed to stir something within him. Annja wondered if he might have an angel complex—a need to be a savior in order to feel good about himself.
But just as she thought she might have found something warm within his soul, Gregor cleared his throat and shook his head. “We can do nothing about it. We should get to sleep.”
“Good idea,” Bob said. He got up from his seat and helped Annja into the lean-to shelter.
As she lay down on the pine-needle bed, Annja felt the blanket of sleep come over her. Bob got two of the survival blankets from their gear and laid them on top of Annja and then himself.
Gregor poked his head into the shelter and dropped a pile of pine boughs on top of the blankets. “These will help preserve your warmth, as well.”
Annja looked up, her eyes now heavy. “Aren’t you sleeping?”
Gregor shook his head. “Not just yet. I will take first watch.”
“First watch?”
Gregor looked at her. “We are in the woods. They are an old woods, filled with many stories and the potential for many dangers. It would be foolish of me to simply lie down to sleep. I might not ever wake up again.”
Bob turned over. “Wake me when it’s my turn to take over.”
“I will.” Gregor’s head vanished.
Annja watched him resume his place on the log in front of the fire. Even from there, she could feel some of the residual heat make its way into the shelter. More snow started to fall, giving the night an eerily quiet feeling, despite the strange noises they’d heard only minutes before.
She watched Gregor toss some more wood on the fire. And then, rather than stare into the flames, he turned himself around so that his back was to the fire and to the shelter. He stared off into the night.
Annja watched him for another few moments before her eyes drooped one final time and sleep finally overpowered her. The thought of her concussion made her briefly wonder if she might never wake again.
But she was sure that Gregor would not have permitted her to sleep if he thought she might die. Strange as he was, she couldn’t quite shake the idea that he was deeply concerned about her well-being.
WHEN ANNJA’S EYES SLID OPEN, darkness still enveloped the entire campsite. Inside the shelter, Annja felt warm and snug. The pine boughs Gregor had placed over her earlier in the night had done their job. The scent of pine hung in the air.
Her head didn’t seem to hurt anymore, much to her relief. Annja shifted and heard the dull snore of Bob snoozing nearby.
She knew hours must have passed, but what time was it? Why hadn’t Gregor woken Bob to relieve him on guard duty?
Annja frowned and shifted again, working her way out from under the pile of boughs. The survival blanket made a noise like aluminum foil being crushed and Annja winced. The less noise she made, the better she felt. No sense waking Bob if she could get out of the shelter and give Gregor a break herself.
Annja poked her head out of the entrance of the lean-to and winced as the cold night air greeted her. There was a distinct bite to it and her skin, which had been warm inside, seemed to stretch taut against the cold.
Embers glowed a deep red in the campfire pit, but it appeared to have been some time since fresh wood had been added to it.
Gregor was nowhere to be seen.
Annja frowned. Had he abandoned them? She didn’t think that made any sense. Why would he have gone through all the trouble of helping Annja with her concussion if he’d intended to desert them all along?
She moved out of the lean-to, hugging herself as she did so. The howl of wind broke the night, rustling the tall trees above her, making them strain as they leaned one way, then another. The sky overhead showed no stars, only the dark clouds of an approaching storm.
Annja’s footsteps crunched into the fresh layer of snow that had covered the landscape while she slumbered. There was maybe an inch on the ground, but no more. Still, looking at the sky again, Annja sensed that there’d be more in the coming day.
That meant they needed to get to Yakutsk as soon as possible. Annja’s run-in with the giant truck had cost them plenty of time. It couldn’t have been helped, but Annja felt marginally responsible for slowing down the team.
She didn’t like feeling hopeless. Or like some wounded puppy that couldn’t hold its own. She knew Bob would never say anything, even if he could be incredibly focused on sticking to a schedule.
They’d need to get going as soon as daylight broke.
But judging from the sky, it seemed that dawn was still a good way off.
Another blast of wind rattled some of the snow from branches high above, sending clumps of it down into the fire. The embers hissed as the snow melted into water that instantly sizzled and turned to steam.
Where was Gregor?
Annja turned and walked the perimeter of the camp. She didn’t think he was the type of guy who would fall asleep while on guard duty. Not a man with all sorts of military and organized-crime experiences in his background.
So where had he gone?
She retraced her steps to the fire and knelt down by the log where she’d last seen him sitting. Annja felt the log and found it cold. He’d obviously been gone long enough for the log to lose the warmth his body would have left.
Her hands felt the muddy ground. She found the dull impressions left behind by his boots and followed them as they headed away from the fire in a straight line.
Ten feet from the fire, they vanished. Annja sighed. His footsteps were easy to find close to the fire because the ground was warmer there. Any snow that had fallen had melted into the ground, turning it muddy. As a result, Gregor had left tracks.
But farther away, the ground was cold and hard, and Gregor’s tracks didn’t show nearly as well as they had a few feet back.
Still, Annja felt the straight line leading away from the fire told her something important—whatever had attracted his attention, Gregor had headed straight for it.
There was little ambient light to work with. Seeing in the night was proving difficult for her, but what if Gregor was in trouble?
Annja stepped carefully through the snow, knowing that even a shallow layer could prove slippery. She didn’t want to add a broken leg to her list of injuries.
The ground sloped down away from the camp. Annja closed her eyes and visualized the sword. It hovered there in front of her, ready for use. But did she really want to bring it out right now?
She opened her eyes. Which way to go?
Her instincts told her to move to the left.
She smiled, ignoring the pain for a brief moment. The decision had certainly come to her without hesitation. Maybe she was getting the hang of listening to her instincts a bit better.
She seemed to be walking parallel to the side of the mou
ntain. To her left, the land sloped up, back the way she’d come. To her right, it leveled off for some distance and then seemed to disappear into the darkness.
The wind continued to howl all around her.
Annja crept forward, convinced that she was close to wherever Gregor had ended up.
A dull crack to her left made her pivot and squint into the darkness. She caught herself and then, instead of peering directly at the noise, she turned her head and tried to look out of the corner of her eyes, using the natural structure of her eyesight to enable her to see better.
Nothing.
She sighed. This was getting weird. She had the distinct impression that she was being watched and she didn’t like it one bit.
Annja closed her eyes and visualized the sword again.
Just as she was about to close her hands over it, a hand slid over her mouth and she felt herself being taken down from behind. Another hand kept her from hitting the ground hard. And then she felt brute force keeping her pinned, but without hurting her.
A voice hissed in her ear. “Quiet.”
Gregor.
Annja relaxed some, trying to twist to see him and ask what was going on. Instead of releasing the pressure, Gregor pointed off to the right.
Annja could see that the ground fell away, forming a steep cliff that dropped down into some sort of valley. At the bottom of it, perhaps a half a mile away, she could see a dim glow.
“Do not speak. It will hear us,” Gregor whispered.
From half a mile away? Annja frowned. She’d never heard of a person who could pick up a whisper from that distance.
Gregor’s breath felt hot against Annja’s neck.
She strained her eyes to see what he was so interested in. But any detail seemed to elude her. She could make out some kind of figure stooped over, huddling in front of something.
A campfire?
No. The light would have been yellow or orange. This light was a pale shade of blue-green.
Gregor pulled her back away from the edge of the cliff. He released Annja, who rolled to face him. He held a finger to his lips. “Whisper only.”
“Why did you sneak up on me?” she hissed.
Gregor pointed. “You would have fallen over the edge if you’d kept going.”