dream together about what we expect in these last days of the summer, because August is the evening of the summer, and September is the morning of the fall, evening follows morning, and this is how it’s always going to be . . .”
Aspirin turned off the highway onto a dirt road. The evening grew darker and he turned on the brights. The rain made the road slippery; potholes were filled with standing water, and the drive was making him nervous and uncomfortable.
The gun holster also made him nervous and uncomfortable.
After all, he was a modern man, not a cowboy, and a thick wallet or a credit card gave him infinitely more confidence than a dubious weapon under his arm. Unfortunately, the issue that led Aspirin into the woods on a dark evening could not be helped by a wallet or a credit card.
“From here we’re on foot,” he said to Alyona. “You see the condition of this road, right? We can’t drive anymore, we’ll get stuck.”
“Are we going to just leave the car here?” Alyona asked incredulously. “And all our stuff?”
“Of course not,” Aspirin said, improvising. “We need to get to the lodge. My friend is a ranger. He can use his tractor to tow our car to the cabin. Meanwhile, we’re going to wait for him in the cabin, drinking tea and listening to music.”
He mentioned music to make sure Alyona complied. Any other kid would probably have to be promised television or video games or candy—or all three.
“It’s dark,” Alyona said. “And it’s about to rain.”
“It’s not far.”
“I need to get Mishutka. Pop the trunk.”
“Don’t,” Aspirin said, a tad too quickly. “If it rains, he’s going to get soaked.”
Strangely enough, the argument worked. Alyona never asked whether she and Aspirin would get wet, and what about raincoats or umbrellas—she simply followed him down the road, and the car with its lights turned off soon disappeared from view.
Aspirin used the flashlight to show the way. The road was terrible—they had to stick to the side and walk on the wet grass, pushing branches out of their way and making throngs of mosquitoes very happy.
“They can’t bite through jeans,” Aspirin murmured. “Do mosquitoes like you? What’s your blood type?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good, you should know that.”
“Is it far?”
Not far enough.
Ahead of them was darkness, and behind them was darkness, and nothing could be heard aside from rustling branches and creaking tree trunks.
“We are here,” Aspirin said and turned to look at her. Alyona was hunched over, hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of her jacket. Aspirin directed the flashlight at her and the reflective stripes on her sleeves lit up in white. Just like that night in the street archway . . .
“Listen, my friend,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “You are going to tell me the truth. Who you are, where you come from, and what you want from me. And if you don’t tell me, I am going to tie you to a tree and leave you here. This place is remote enough.”
Alyona was silent. Aspirin moved the flashlight directly into her eyes, and she shut them and covered her face with her hand. Those guys in the old building had scared her a lot more, Aspirin realized; the thought made him angry.
“I have a gun.” He reached for the holster. “The hunting season started already, so if anyone hears shots, they won’t think much of it. I am going to cover you up with leaves and walk away. And if anyone asks about you, I will tell them you went home to Pervomaysk. And they will believe me.”
Alyona was silent. Her scornful composure would drive a saint crazy.
“No one would look for you!” Aspirin shouted. “Or will they? If so, then who?”
The girl stared at him through her fingers. He couldn’t quite read the expression in her eyes, but knew one thing for sure: It was not fear. She wasn’t scared of him in the least. She held him in brazen disregard. She thought of him as a loudmouth, a coward . . . what did she say that day, “a coward and a traitor”?
He grabbed her collar and pulled her closer: “You are not from Pervomaysk. Tell me!”
“Let go of me.”
He shook her so violently that her jacket ripped. He forbade himself to think of the teenagers manhandling Alyona in the lobby of the old building, quite the opposite: he forced himself to remember all the terrible things she had