“Stay low,” Masha warned.
Both men hid behind the trunk of the car as she looked out over the loading docks of the North Star castle.
The loading docks had been built into, what had been, the rear drawbridge to the fortress, and it was retrofit with concrete platforms similar to those found in hotel structures or large office buildings. Masha watched as three cargo trucks, backed up against the docks, were being unloaded under the watchful eye of two armed guards. She gathered her courage and made a decision.
“Stay here,” she whispered to the crouching Chris and Yaw.
“Wait, we can help—”
“They will shoot you. They will not shoot me. I will find out about your friend. If I am not back in fifteen minutes, I am not coming back. You will have to get out of here on your own.”
“His name is Alex. And if you don’t come back in fifteen minutes, we’re coming in looking for you,” Chris said.
Masha gave Chris a surprised look before she turned toward the loading docks. She adjusted her breasts, straightened out her shirt, painted on her brightest smile, and marched with authority toward the back entrance to the castle.
“Privet,” Masha said, “hello” in Russian to the first guard as she approached the loading dock entrance to the castle.
The guards looked at one another. The farthest guard from her shrugged, and the closest guard nodded to her, and then waved her in with the barrel of his rifle.
That’s twice, Masha thought as she stepped through the loading dock area and into the castle. She needed to slip past the guards without suspicion at least one more time.
She kept the big smile going as she walked down the narrow hallways, passing workman, and they never failed to smile back. She occasionally said hello but made sure she kept moving. It had been nearly a month since she had been to the castle, and she hoped that she could remember her way through the confusing array of hallways that lead to the prison cells below. In truth, she had no idea where Alex was in the castle. She felt that if one were looking for a prisoner, however, the prison cells were the best place to start.
As she had, time and again in her life, Masha briefly wondered how in the hell she got into her current predicament. She liked her new American friends, Chris in particular, and she had caught a glimpse of what they were capable of. Her instincts had told her that there was much more going on here than met the eye, much more to this bizarre little band than what appeared on the surface, and she was intrigued to see where it all led. And for Masha, wherever instinct and intrigue went, impulse and chaos soon followed. But she was quick on her feet when trouble arose, and she had survived the varied destinations her impulsive choices had led her to in the past. This impulsive behavior and survival cycle only served to feed her confidence. It made her feel inexplicably protected by some outside force. That was the sum of her life until this point, and now she was betting everything on that history of impulse, intrigue, instinct, risky choice, and luck to change her future. Her on again, off again relationship with Semyon was well known within these castle walls, and it had gotten her inside. But she was smart enough to know that it wouldn’t be enough to get her out. She also knew that it wasn’t the first time she went into a situation with no clear path out. She trusted she would find a way. She always had. The inexplicable protection or “luck” would carry her through. She hoped. And therefore, true to her nature, she decided to trust the universe and simply stopped thinking about it.
“You’re here with my friends.”
The voice was so abrupt and unexpected that Masha jumped against the wall and let out a yelp. She whipped around to see the source and saw a figure standing in the shadows behind her. The source of the male voice stepped into view and she took note that he was thin, with dark hair, and barely taller than her. The first thing that struck her was that he looked tired. No, not tired, she thought. World-weary. He couldn’t be much more than twenty-five years old.
“I can see why he likes you.”
“Wait- what?” Masha stuttered in response.
His eyes moved with bizarre ravenous intent, and Masha took a step back.
“You’re impulsive and chaotic but with a good heart. You survive your careless nature by being much smarter than your self-esteem allows you to think you are. Chris would respond to that.”
“What the fuck?”
“And you like him too.”
“I’m sorry.” Alex stuck out his hand. “My name is Alex. Thank you for finding me.”
Masha kept her hand at her side and swore under her breath in Russian. “Each one of you I meet is more scary than the one before.”
“We have to hurry. I need to get to Nikki.”
“Did you know that there are fifty-three buildings on warehouse row?” Reza said to Leonid, as he brushed dust off the barrel of his AK-47. “They could be anywhere.”
“We have guns. They do not,” Leonid replied.
“They beat us with sticks in an alley.”
“This time we are prepared.”
“It will take luck. And when night falls, they will be gone.”
“Why are you like this? Negative?”
“Because this search is stupid, I’ve been awake for twenty-four hours, and I want to go home.”
Reza turned to Leonid. “This is Semyon’s fault. He still loves Masha, and that makes him a fool. He was careless, and because of that the woman escaped.”
The two men walked carefully through the overgrown patches of grass toward an abandoned textile plant.
“I dare you to say that to his face. I dare you to complain to him like you’ve done to me,” Leonid said.
The two men entered the crumbling brick structure through a large hole in the wall. They stopped as they looked over a vast manufacturing floor, littered with over-sized industrial machinery, along with chairs, desks, tools, and garbage.
“What do you think Masha wants out of this?” Reza asked.
“Money, if you ask Semyon.”
“Semyon is cheap.”
“Again, to his face. I dare you.”
The strikes hit like rapid-fire bee stings from one man to the next, the attacker a whirling-dervish of near-lethal activity. In less than three seconds, Winn had struck each man three times with his Kali sticks, and both men lay on the oil-covered concrete unconscious.
Winn picked up Reza’s rifle and handed it to Nikki as she hobbled over from the shadows.
“I’ve never fired a gun like this before,” she said as she took the rifle.
“I swore that I never would again,” Winn said as he picked up Leonid’s AK-47 and slung it over his shoulder. “But we may have to. Let’s go. We have to keep moving.”
“You Americans and your sticks,” Masha said, as she looked at the crumpled guards laid out on the loading dock. Alex set aside one of his Kali sticks and picked up a rifle. He caught the eyes of three loading dock workers, who were frozen in confusion and fear, boxes still in their hands. He pointed the rifle at one of them, and then put a finger to his lips, signaling them to be quiet. Alex then turned to Masha.
“How do you say give me your keys in Russian?”
Chris and Yaw watched from behind the WRX sedan as the six-wheeled panel truck lumbered toward them. The truck began to slow as it got closer.
“Shit, they see us,” Yaw said as he held his Kali sticks ready.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Chris said when he saw the driver and passenger.
Both he and Yaw stood up as the vehicle rolled to a stop next to the WRX.
“My man,” Yaw said when he saw Alex behind the wheel. “You never cease to amaze. You sure you can drive that thing?”
“Nice to see you, too. Get in the back. And hang on.”
Chris and Yaw climbed into the back of the panel truck and rolled the door closed behind them.
“The guards will not let you pass,” said Masha, who sat next to Alex in the cab of the truck.
“I know. And they’re going to shoot, so get down.”
Alex watched as Masha crossed herself and whispered a prayer in her native Russian, before sliding below the passenger side dash of the truck.
“Not a bad idea, saying a prayer,” Alex said as he fumbled to put the truck in gear.
“You should let me drive,” Masha said, from her hiding place below the dash.
“Your luck would run out.”
“What?”
“Just stay low.”
Alex revved the engine and let the clutch release. The truck rolled into motion, and Alex moved through the gears, increasing speed. By the time the truck approached the exit gate, it was going fifty miles an hour.
As the supply truck roared toward the gate with no indication of slowing down, the two guards looked confused for several seconds, but once they caught on, they quickly leveled their rifles and opened fire. They had less than three seconds before the truck would reach them, and their instincts had them aiming for the driver and passenger, and not the vehicle itself.
Inside the cab of the truck, bullets shattered the windshield and rattled about the cabin, sending glass and seat stuffing into the air. Masha covered her head and let out a scream. Alex stayed as low as he could, flooring the accelerator; by the time the truck hit the gates, it was going nearly 80mph.
In the back of the truck, Chris and Yaw hung onto packing straps that were bolted to the wall to keep from bouncing around the cabin. It was near total darkness in the back of the truck, with only small vents along the panel walls providing light. When the truck hit the gates at 80mph, the loud crack of metal on metal on wood echoed off the walls of the cargo bed like an explosion, the impact sending both men careening into the cab and clattering to the floor of the truck bed.
Yaw got to his feet first. He steadied himself against the wall before he grabbed Chris’ arm, and yanked him up. Both men took several seconds to get oriented. They heard the engine roaring and felt the truck swaying back and forth.
“We’re still moving,” Yaw said.
“A good thing,” Chris replied.
“You should let me drive,” Masha said as she slowly got up from the cab floor and sat down in the passenger seat, brushing bits of glass and stuffing from her clothes. “I know the way,” she continued.
“So do I,” Alex replied. “You’ve already shown me.”
Winn took careful aim with the AK-47 and drew a bead on the tallest of the four men still left who pursued them. Semyon and his remaining soldiers had originally broken off their search groups into twos, and Winn had managed to take out four of the Russian soldiers with his Kali sticks, disabling them and making them unable to continue their pursuit. But he left them alive. The four soldiers left had grown wiser and convened next to their pair of Humvee military vehicles, trying to decide on how to proceed.
Winn knew he could take out at least two of the four with the AK-47 before any of them had time to seek cover. Winn’s marksmanship skills sourced back to the darker days of his youth, a violent past when he was one of the most feared gangsters in the streets of Los Angeles. This was all before he saw the futility of the violence and needless deaths, before the enlightenment of Buddhism, before he chose to create value and purpose with Safe Block, before he decided that the safe zone for refugees would be his legacy. He had also sworn that he would never draw a rifle or handgun against an enemy again. Instead, he had chosen to apply Buddhist principles to conflict, and study the cause and effect of the events that led to the choice to shoot before it happened, and intercede into those events without a shot ever being fired, unless there truly was no other choice. He would not go against that oath now. He lowered the rifle from his shoulder and moved away from the window. There had to be another way.
“What is it?” Nikki asked as she watched Winn lower the rifle.
They had moved to an abandoned mattress factory, using several old mattresses to create cover. They would use this place, if forced, to make a final stand.
“Take this,” Winn said to Nikki as he handed her the rifle. “It’s locked and loaded. Stay here. Use it only if you have to.”
“Where are you going?”
Winn didn’t answer. He picked up his Kali sticks and got to his feet. He ran his fingers over the wood, the unique carvings that told the story of both his Filipino and Chinese heritage. He thought of his ancestors and all their struggles and how every moment of challenge, pain, joy of their existence in their line had collectively led to him, to his existence, and how his choices had led to this moment right now.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Nikki asked, the fear of the potential answer escalating in her voice.
“I can eliminate their threat from up close.”
“You can do it quicker from far away with the rifle.”
“No. There is another way.”
“This one’s easier,” Nikki said as she held up the rifle.
“I would hope,” Winn said as he spun the sticks with the fury and speed of anticipation, “that I have taught you better than that.”
He quickly holstered the sticks on his back. “If I fail, then, yes, you shoot.”
“Winn—”
“Remember—you have to get everyone home.”
Winn was gone before she could answer.
“Mr. Parks is dead,” Semyon said as he pulled the cell phone from his ear. “His body was discovered in his room.”
There was stunned silence between he and his men.
“What do we do now?” Abram asked.
“Call the Barbarian.”
Semyon put the ear back to his phone.
“Look—”
Abram pointed to the road. A cargo truck approached. “Who could that be?”
Semyon put his phone in his pocket and pulled his rifle from his shoulder. He locked and loaded the weapon. He then held up his hand to block the sun, looking to the cloud of dust that surrounded the approaching vehicle. He squinted to get a better look. The truck was a panel truck, no different than the many that transported supplies to the castle. It was nearly a quarter mile down the road and appeared to be moving very slowly.
“Do you think he’s lost?”
Semyon waved for his men to be quiet.
“No. I do not. Take cover,” He said.
The three men moved behind the two Humvees, placing their rifle barrels across the hoods of the vehicles to steady them. All eyes, all rifle barrels, were trained on the slowly approaching panel truck. Five hundred feet away, the truck stopped moving.
“He’s stopped.”
“Fire a warning shot,” Semyon commanded.
Abram pointed his rifle toward the sky and clicked off two rounds, the unmistakable bark of the AK-47 echoing through the air.
The truck didn’t move.
“What should we do?”
As if to answer the question, the cargo truck started rolling toward them once again. It picked up speed as it veered directly at them.
“Shoot it,” Semyon said, before he lowered his rifle and took aim.
The crack of wood on skull bone and the brief cries of pain startled Semyon and caused him to glance behind him. He briefly saw a wild-eyed Asian man flying through the air and swinging a stick directly toward his forehead before everything went black.
Alex Luthecker pulled the cargo truck to a stop next to the Humvees. He had seen Master Winn move unnoticed between buildings in the direction of the gunman, and that’s when he chose to stop, to give his martial arts instructor time to set up his attack. Only when he was confident Winn was in place behind the attackers and all eyes were on him, did he put the truck into gear and keep the gunmen’s attention.
Alex climbed out of the vehicle and approached his mentor and friend. He gave the old Asian man a hug.“It is good to see you, sir.”
“The others?” Winn asked.
Alex rolled the door of the panel truck open, and Chris and Yaw stepped out. Masha exited the truck cab.
“Where’s Nikki?”
“I’m right he
re.”
Alex whipped around at the sound of her voice. He let out a big smile, and tears of joy streamed down her face. Alex raced over to Nikki and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground, putting his lips on hers. They held the moment for several seconds before she broke from the kiss and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Can we go home now?” she whispered.
Alex held Nikki in front of him. “I love you. More than anything.”
Nikki heard trouble in Alex’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
Alex approached the unconscious Semyon and picked up the Russian soldier’s AK-47.
“Alex, what are you doing?”
“You all need to go.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Masha, take my friends to Moldova. They will get you to America.”
Alex locked and loaded the AK-47.
“Alex…” Nikki pleaded.
“There isn’t time. Go.”
Winn put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Give me the rifle.”
“You don’t understand. They’ll be here soon.”
“I understand. More than you know.”
“If you don’t leave now, no one survives.”
“Alex.”
“There isn’t time.”
“There is for you,” Winn said.
Alex looked at Winn.
“You need to leave with them,” Winn explained.
“Not a chance.” Alex gripped the rifle, steadfast.
“Alex…“
“I created this. And it’s up to me to set it right. Now go. Leave with the others. Now.”
“Give me the rifle.”
Nikki watched the interaction between the two men and saw anger in Alex’s movements. She heard it in his voice. She knew she had to do something.
“Alex…” she called out, before she stepped forward.
An arm stopped her progress. “This is between the two of them,” Chris said.
“But—”
“No. You have to let them settle it.”
Nikki thought to move past, but the look in Chris’ eyes kept her still.
Rise: Luthecker, #2 Page 32