Head Trip

by D. L. Line

  After getting dressed, Shelby pulled the door open. “Tasha, what about breakfast? I’m starving and—” She stopped, seeing that Tasha wasn’t the only person waiting for her. “Oh, shit, um, sorry.” She pointed toward the stranger. “Who’s the big guy?”

  The guy was huge and more than a little menacing. Six foot five, maybe six foot six, dark brown eyes, dark brown hair, and another black leather jacket. Shelby couldn’t help but wonder if everyone had a leather jacket now.

  “Shelby Hutchinson, this is Comrade Boris.”

  Shelby stopped staring as she remembered her manners and extended her right hand in greeting. “Hi, um, nice to meet you, Boris.” He didn’t return the attempted handshake, but he did look her up and down before he turned toward Tasha and said something in Russian Shelby didn’t understand. Apparently, Tasha didn’t like what he had to say, so she fired something angry-sounding back, again in Russian, leaving Shelby in the dark. She felt like a dork standing there with one hand extended, so she made a show of nonchalance, wiping the palm of her hand on her jeans before she remembered her pants were still undone. Make that total dork. She wanted to ask Tasha what the hell was up with him being here, especially the way Tasha had practically thrown her out the window only yesterday, but somehow Shelby knew she would probably get a cryptic answer, so she opted to ignore it for the moment. At least until she had Tasha alone again.

  Another quick flurry of Russian from Tasha, and then Boris left. Cryptic answer or no, Shelby wanted to know what was going on.

  “Tasha, why was Boris here?”

  “Comrade Boris brought information for travel. I told you last night we have to go into Poland with the prototype grenade launcher. It’s time to leave.”

  “Uh, okay. Can’t we just drive or get on a train?”

  “Ah, Shelby Hutchinson, you still don’t understand. We have to get supplies and then we have to sneak you across the border. Poland is a Soviet Bloc state and you are an American with a grenade launcher and a U.S. passport. It’s not easy, but we can get on the train in Poland.”

  Shelby nodded her understanding. Of course she couldn’t just walk into Poland, declare the grenade launcher at customs, and be welcomed with open arms. Shelby sighed. “Yeah, okay, I get it.” She shrugged into her holster and put her leather jacket on. “All right, I’m ready.”

  “That is good.” Tasha pulled Shelby toward the door and got her moving down the steps. Shelby heard the door close behind her as she trudged down three flights of stairs, more than a little nervous about what was coming next. It didn’t help that Tasha was being so silent about their destination. She already knew the trip to Poland would be short, less than fifty kilometers, so Shelby satisfied herself with that knowledge and climbed on the back of Tasha’s motorcycle.

  The one thing Shelby hadn’t remembered was they were still in West Berlin and getting out of town and into the East German countryside wasn’t a simple matter. It helped that it was still dark outside. The first glow of a bright red sunrise appeared over her shoulder to the east. Shelby held on as Tasha guided the motorcycle through a series of side streets and alleys and finally stopped in front of an old building Shelby immediately recognized as a bakery. That was good, since Shelby was famished, and the smell of baked goods only made it worse.

  She made a beeline toward the door of the bakery, but was stopped when Tasha placed a hand on her chest. “You must keep silent. Say nothing. Do you understand?”

  Shelby thought about asking why, but changed her mind. Tasha pushed the door open and went straight to the rather large woman standing behind the counter. It seemed odd here in Germany, but Tasha was speaking Russian to the woman, again leaving Shelby in the dark. After a short conversation, Tasha handed the woman a small black bag, which was quickly hidden under the counter. The woman then pulled a larger backpack out and handed it across the counter to Tasha, who shrugged into the shoulder straps and pulled them tight. She then pulled Shelby behind the counter toward an open door.

  Shelby was led down a dimly lit set of rickety wooden steps into the basement of the building. She couldn’t help but think she was being led into the bowels of hell as the steps continued down much lower than what Shelby considered normal for your average basement. She felt a knot begin to form in her belly, and it only got worse when she saw where they were headed. A small space with a dirt floor, dimly lit from above by a single bare light bulb and what looked to be a pile of flour sacks stacked against the wall on the far side of the dingy little room. Tasha moved the bags, revealing a small door. Not a normal door, but a simple wooden cover that, once removed, proved to be the entrance to a tunnel.

  “What’s that?” Shelby asked.

  “Shh, Shelby Hutchinson. That is a tunnel to East Berlin.”

  Shelby’s eyes widened. Tunnel? Her anxiety quickly progressed into claustrophobia-induced panic when Tasha pulled out a flashlight and showed Shelby exactly where they were going. She could easily see that this was not a tunnel meant to be walked through. The beam of the flashlight caught and held drips of water in the narrow space, making them sparkle like tiny stars, but it still wasn’t enough to keep Shelby from feeling as if she was going to hyperventilate and die. Tunnel. Crawling-through type of extremely small tunnel. Not good.

  Shelby was still staring at the small hole in the wall, struggling to breathe, when Tasha handed her the flashlight and pointed toward the space Shelby now knew to be the entrance to hell. Her own personal hell anyway. Despite Tasha’s warnings to remain silent, Shelby whispered, “What…me?”

  “Da, Shelby Hutchinson, you are going first. I must close the door behind us. Is something wrong?”

  “No, no.” Shelby tried to hide her anxiety from Tasha, but the enormity of it all made the task impossible. “It’s just…” She gestured with her hands, indicating she was having trouble with the cramped dimensions of the tunnel.

  “Are you afraid of the dark?” Tasha asked quietly, just a hint of a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth.

  “No. I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m claustrophobic.”

  Despite the dim lighting in the small room, Shelby could plainly see Tasha roll her eyes in frustration. She could also see the resolve play across Tasha’s face right before she took Shelby by the shoulders and spun her back around toward that tiny little space. With a small shove, Tasha propelled Shelby toward the tunnel. “Now is the time for facing your fear, Shelby Hutchinson. The tunnel is only a short distance. Go.”

  Shelby swallowed hard. She wasn’t getting out of this one. She pulled her duffel over her head, tossed it into the entrance to the tunnel, took a deep breath, and ducked, getting on her hands and knees to begin the crawl into Communist East Berlin. She began moving slowly as she struggled to control her breathing. A mantra began rolling in her head, one she found gave her a modicum of strength.

  “I’m facing my fear…facing my fear…oh, shit…I’m facing my fear…”

  She was aware of little else besides the duffel in front of her, the damp walls surrounding her, and the occasional hand on her butt from behind that served to keep her moving forward. The one time she tried to look ahead toward the end of the tunnel, it stretched and twisted away from her in an acid-trippy, nauseating kind of way, so she kept her head down and allowed her eyes to travel only as far as the limits of the shaking beam of the flashlight clutched tightly in her right fist. Dampness soaked through the knees of her jeans, and the cold moisture on the uneven rock surface beneath her hands made her shiver. The only sounds she was aware of were the thundering of her racing heart and the occasional hitch in her breathing. After crawling for what felt like an eternity, the duffel fell away in front of her and she tumbled head-first out of the tunnel, only to land roughly in a heap on the dirt floor of a small space similar to the one at the opposite end.

  Shelby rolled onto her back and took a long gulp of air. No more tunnel. Woo-hoo. The solitude of her relief was short lived as Tasha climbed out of the tunnel behind her pla
ced a comforting hand on Shelby’s shoulder. “Are you okay now?”

  Shelby took another long gulp of stale basement air. “Yeah, I’m fine now.”

  “That is good, Shelby Hutchinson. Welcome to East Berlin. Come quickly. We must keep moving. There is a car outside for us.”

  They climbed a rickety flight of steps that led to the back of another store. Judging from the assortment of tools and other items on the walls, it was a hardware store, but Shelby didn’t have long to think about it as Tasha headed straight for the door and out into the muted light of a gray, depressing morning in Communist East Berlin. The color of the sky seemed appropriate because all Shelby could see as she looked around were gray, depressing concrete buildings, a stark contrast from the bright, urban hustle and bustle of West Berlin.

  Tasha dragged Shelby into the alleyway between the hardware store and the building next door. “Come, Shelby Hutchinson. The car is in the alley and we must hurry to cross the border.”

  Shelby stumbled over her own feet, sloshing through a puddle toward a tiny vehicle shaped like a Kleenex box crafted from fiberglass and rust that she supposed was a car. She reached the passenger side door and pulled on the sticky handle. The door creaked open an inch but slammed out of Shelby’s hand, closed by Tasha.

  “What are you doing? You cannot ride in the front of the car.” She led Shelby to the back of the car where she popped the lid on the trunk and gestured toward the tiny open space in the back. “Since you have only a U.S. passport, you must ride in the trunk until we cross the border.”

  “In the trunk?” Shelby was incredulous. “You’re kidding, right?” She gave Tasha a pleading glance. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Nyet, Shelby Hutchinson. I am not being a funny guy.” She gave Shelby another small push toward the trunk. “Get in, please. We must leave now to catch the train in Poland.”

  “Well, shit.” She folded herself into the tight space. Tasha tossed the duffel bag on top of her, and Shelby took a long breath to try to calm down when Tasha slammed the lid of the trunk. The lock didn’t catch the first time so Tasha slammed it again, harder. “This should be fun.” As the engine of the small car sputtered to life, Shelby couldn’t help but think it sounded more like a big lawnmower than an actual car. She also had to wonder if Tasha was hitting every pothole in the street on purpose, but since there was nothing she could do about it, she just closed her eyes to try to keep from freaking out in the small, closed space. The road finally leveled out, leading her to believe they were clear of the city and into the countryside. She knew, because Tasha had told her, the trip to the border would take less than an hour. And as long as the guard at the border didn’t decide to be an asshole, Shelby would be out of the trunk and onto a train not long after that.

  It turned out that the guard was cool, so twenty minutes later, Shelby was squinting against the light and attempting to wiggle her way out of the trunk. As soon as she was out, Tasha tossed her the duffel bag and headed for the rail platform. Shelby followed Tasha, happy to be free of that deathtrap of a car and headed for a nice, safe train.

  Once aboard, Tasha quickly located two seats together. When the train started to move, Shelby gave in to the rhythm of the train and fell asleep.

  She was jostled awake sometime later when Tasha got up from her seat and headed toward the ladies’ room. Shelby followed Tasha with her eyes until the door to the restroom clicked shut. Two rows forward, a guy who had apparently been waiting for this moment sprang from his seat and came back to sit in Tasha’s vacated spot.

  “Um, excuse me.” Shelby looked over at the stranger. “That seat is taken.”

  Shelby gasped when she saw a quick flash of the butt end of a semiautomatic handgun as the man reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a wallet. “You’re Shelby Hutchinson, right?” He opened the wallet to identify himself as a CIA agent.

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “My name is Riley.” He slipped his wallet back into his jacket. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  Shelby was shocked. “Looking for me? Why? What did I do?”

  “We waited at the hostel on Meininger Strasse. Thought maybe you missed the train from Frankfurt, but it got later and later and we had no idea where you were. You haven’t been easy to track down.”

  Shelby stared with her mouth hanging open. She had forgotten all about the itinerary that said she was supposed to go somewhere else when Tasha first showed up. “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah, oh shit is right. We had no idea what was going on. Thought maybe you were defecting.”

  “Defecting? No, I’m not defecting, and I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Hey, I still don’t know who you are.”

  “Riley is a bad guy who wants to take things that do not belong to him,” Tasha said. Shelby had failed to notice her return. Riley’s eyes widened with surprise but he said nothing. Shelby saw that Tasha was holding her Makarov to the back of his neck. Tasha leaned in and whispered, “Let’s all take a walk, yes?”

  Shelby nodded and she and Riley scooted out of their seats and into the aisle of the train. She could see Tasha was keeping her Makarov close to her body. Tasha motioned with the weapon for Riley to go first, ushering him toward the door at the back of the car. With her free hand, Tasha waved, urging Shelby to stay behind her. Shelby was all kinds of okay with that. She liked having a Russian bodyguard between her and the big guy who seemed to know who she was.

  Once they got to the door leading to the space between cars, Tasha said, “Open it,” which Riley did, encouraged to do so by the gun held close to his ribs. Shelby stayed back, a little lost in her own confusion. That confusion changed to shock when Tasha raised her Makarov and brought the butt end down hard, impacting Riley’s skull with a sickening crunch. He collapsed in a heap as Tasha slid the gun under her leather jacket and back into its holster. She pulled Riley’s jacket from his unconscious form and began searching through the pockets. Apparently, she found what she had been looking for, then she tossed the jacket off the side of the moving train. After looking through Riley’s identification, she pulled out a handful of cash, stuffed it into her pants pocket, and threw the wallet aside also.

  Shelby’s shock turned into outright disbelief when Riley started to wake up. Tasha used his own partial consciousness to help him to his feet. His eyes widened in shock and he seemed to know what was coming, but it was too late as Tasha shoved, sending the self-proclaimed CIA agent flailing through the air and off the side of the moving train. Shelby cringed when he hit the ground hard and rolled. “Wow, that’s gonna leave a mark,” she said as Tasha dusted off her hands, straightened out her jacket, and turned to Shelby.

  “Are you okay, Shelby Hutchinson?”

  Shelby nodded, still a little surprised by what had just happened. “Yeah, I’m fine. Who was that guy?”

  Tasha looked around nervously as she pulled Shelby closer by the open sides of her leather jacket. “Remember when I was telling you there were many people who would try to keep you from your task?” Shelby nodded briskly. “Riley is one of those people.”

  “But he’s an American. He had a CIA wallet-thingy and everything.”

  “Ah, Shelby Hutchinson, I also have, as you say, a CIA wallet-thingy. It means nothing.”

  “Well, okay.” Shelby wasn’t sure it was okay, but she had little choice but to trust what Tasha was telling her. “What happens now?”

  “Riley is a double agent, and he never works alone. If he knew about you, then his people also know about you. We must get off the train.”

  “Off the train?”

  “Da, off the train. You must head for the front of train. Take the luggage, go to the first car, hide in the bathroom. Wait for me.”

  Shelby started to protest, but never got the words out as Tasha gave her a shove in the other direction. Shelby made her way toward the front of the train, wrestling with her duffel to keep from inadvertently hitting any other passengers with it
on the way. She passed through two cars and into a third, then found the bathroom, slipped in, and locked the door. Soon she heard three small raps on the door and allowed Tasha to squeeze into the small bathroom with her.

  “Is everything okay?” Shelby asked.

  “Da, everything is okay, but Riley’s comrade is here. We don’t have long until he starts missing Riley.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Do we still need to get off the train?” Shelby still wasn’t greatly enamored of the idea, but she trusted Tasha’s judgment. She supposed they could just hide in the station and wait for a later train, so maybe it wasn’t so bad.

  Tasha nodded. “Da, we must get off the train, and we must do it soon.” She reached to open the bathroom door. Shelby moved to follow but jumped back when Tasha did the same, closing the door again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He is coming up the aisle in the next car.” Tasha added a rather terse-sounding Russian word to the end of the statement. Shelby recognized the word from yesterday and immediately decided it meant something close to “oh shit.” Tasha looked around the room quickly and seemed to come to a decision. She squeezed past Shelby to open the window, leaned out, and ducked back in quickly. “There is a ladder right outside the window. We must leave that way.”

  “What?” Shelby couldn’t believe her ears. “Climb out the window of a moving train? Are you nuts?”

  “Nyet, Shelby Hutchinson, I am not nuts. It’s better than being shot, yes?”

  “Well, yes…”

  “So then, you must go.”

  “Me first? Can’t you go first?”

  She could see Tasha was getting frustrated again. “Nyet, you must go first so I can hand you the luggage and also watch your back. There are no tunnels or big trees. It’s mostly farms. You are fine. Now, please go.”