Читать книгу Swimming Electric Blue Water - Samantha Holmes - Страница 5

White flakes floated down from the homogenous grey sky to join the white blanket covering Velsk, a town north of Moscow. Yuri Konikov liked the snow. It reminded him of when he was a child on his grandparents’ farm. He would sit next to the window, a fresh cup of hot cider warming his hands, watching the snow fall. There he felt wanted, loved. It was a great feeling.

Today, Yuri did not have time to linger on the memory. He was late for practice. He rushed for the bus, his outstretched hand grabbing the rail as he pushed his way inside. The bus was crowded — always crowded. He couldn’t remember a time when he could sit down.

The bus’s last stop was by the pool, far from the city’s center. Yuri had made this trip every day for years. He had memorized the buildings and people on the street; they were always the same people. Most of them had family only a few blocks away or rarely, if a relative was estranged, on the other side of town.

Velsk had everything a town should have: shopping mall, supermarket, movie theaters, and parks, but all were old and decayed. The movie theater was full of stained seats and matted carpeting; the shopping mall housed only a few stores, all struggling to survive in a time when shopping by computer let you avoid the bitter cold. No one had much money in Velsk. If they did, they wouldn’t be there.

The bus passed billboards flaunting a lifestyle of decadence. Pictures of hovercars and new improved techno-gadgets. A 3-D blond woman, who looked perpetually horny, leaned forward and blew kisses at the dingy town and its gray residences. Her already large chest grew while her expression exaggerated with excitement. Bright neon orange letters read, “Bigger Breasts without Surgery! Financing Available with 0% Interest for a Year. Have a Chest the Universe Wants to Squeeze!” Another billboard showed a handsome man shielding his eyes as he looked at his brilliant shiny red Luxor HoverCraft, bold reflective letters beneath saying, “Want a new home car wash? Deluxe Platinum Polisher washes, waxes, and buffs your vehicle to a blinding shine!”

Yuri remembered a family that had saved to get its own car wash station with the optional wax and shine cycle. Their neighbors were enthralled by the strange portal, with its robotic arms and moving cloth wheels, that the vehicle would drive through. The envy was short-lived when the electric grid was blown out, and the entire neighborhood went dark for a week. Now, the owner had to go from house to house and ask them to turn off their lights and appliances when he wanted to use his car wash. For the inconvenience, the neighbors expected full use of it, of course.

The last stop was approaching. Yuri maneuvered himself through the wall of people who had boarded the bus after him. No one said anything as Yuri passed, a shared understanding of mutual disinterest. The door opened, and the line to board waited patiently as the passengers exited the bus. An old woman, bundled in numerous layers of clothes, stared at Yuri as he got off. He caught her gaze and nodded politely. Quick as a cat’s pounce, she grabbed his hand. Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but her grip was stronger than expected, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Do you need some help?”

For a moment, everything around Yuri faded away except for her intense stare. Her eyes were a pale blue, strong and clear, surrounded by skin that looked like wrinkled crepe paper. As she gazed at him, tears formed and spilled down her cheeks, and her lips drew back as if in pain.

“I’m sorry for you,” she said in Russian. Her voice had so much grief in it that Yuri was taken aback. She turned away to board the bus and struggled up the steps, pulling heavily on the rail, as if trying to escape him. The door shut behind her with a hiss, and the bus pulled away with a thick choke of smoke.

She must have mistaken him for someone else. He walked toward the gate of the Russian Alliance Fitness Center. The wet snow fell heavily on him, soaking his old coat. The sky had darkened into a charcoal grey; there was going to be no break today. He looked at his watch, clucked with disappointment at the time, then jogged the rest of the way.

The pool was outdoors, barely heated in the winter and rarely cleaned in the summer. About twenty men were already swimming laps as three heavily clothed men watched from folding chairs on the far side of the pool. The tallest man saw Yuri running to them and stood up. Yuri smiled with recognition. Grigori always made Yuri smile. He was an odd looking man, with a style meant to attract attention, even if it was bemusement. His long, thin hair merged with an inexact, and rarely flattering, configuration of mutton chop sideburns. A visitor of dumpsters and swap meets, his clothes ranged over forty years of fashion trends. These clashing layers were never meant to occupy the same decade, and the number of layers added even more girth to his already large body.

“Yuri, this is a bad habit,” he said, tapping his watch.

“I know, Grigori. My sister needed help getting ready for school.”

“Lost her socks again?”

“No, this time her shoes.”

Grigori matched Yuri’s grin, then gestured to the pool. Yuri shed his clothes down to a tight, bikini-style swimsuit. He was a tall man, over six feet, with a narrow waist that made his shoulders look even broader. Stretching was quick. When he raised his arms straight over his head, he looked like an aerodynamic craft. His skin was smooth, unblemished, and pale, except for his tan back. Yuri still conformed to the tradition of removing most of his own body hair; he would stop if he could ever afford the water cutting body suit that the wealthier swimmers used. After his stretches — in this temperature it was counter-productive — he dove gracefully into a lane. The water cleanly enveloped his body with only a little splash. Here is where Yuri got his energy. The moment he touched the water he felt stronger, faster, at home. His life was always equally split between land and water. He was flying, a feeling that never lost its magic.

• • •

Grigori watched with a Cheshire cat smile as he started his stopwatch to time Yuri’s laps. It was just last week that Yuri won first place in the freestyle, butterfly, and breaststroke of the Slavic National Swimming Challenge, an event that usually indicated who would be chosen to represent the Eastern Bloc in the Olympics. It was very unusual for two swimmers to be chosen from the same region. Yuri was now the obvious choice from Velsk. Once you swam in the Olympics, doors opened to all other competitions, including the World Swimming Competition, which put you up against all swimmers, professional as well as amateur. If you won that, you were considered the greatest swimmer in the world.

Swimming might not be as honored as other sports, team sports always had a better following, but everyone appreciated the strongest and fastest, and in that, there was an opportunity to get some of the reward. Corporate sponsorship, maybe a position in politics. Sponsors hand-picked several Olympians for office. Mayor Konikov… that sounded about right. With his constant companion and right hand man, Grigori Dubrovina.

The two other seated men glanced in Yuri’s direction. Grigori tried not to gloat, but they had particularly sour faces. Grigori waved at them and caught one of the men’s eye. He laughed and blew him a kiss.

“Don’t worry, Micki. There is always the next Olympics.”

“Swimming well in national meets does not mean he will win the race to the Olympics,” Micki snarled.

“Even if he doesn’t swim as well, he will be fast enough to beat your little fish!” Grigori chastised himself. His wife had warned him of the trouble he could get into by being so loud. Of course, Yuri would be chosen to represent, but he should not act so confident. Micki was dangerous, a man with the morals of a hyena.

• • •

Micki growled and got up from his chair. He walked over to the edge of the pool where Saviar, a resting swimmer, watched Yuri slice through the water in perfect form.

Saviar often bragged that he was related to Genghis Khan, a fact he attempted to prove with an uneven tan from his cheap home tanning machine. He had said it so many times that he half believed it, although he forgot where he had heard it first. Most of his early teen years had been a blur of drugs, sniffing anything that got him high, and binge drinking. He might have heard it from his indulgent mother, who used to call him “my King Sav,” or the father he “accidentally” killed when he was twelve. Luckily, the authorities didn’t care about the accident, his father wasn’t anyone important and his mother, believing him, convinced them as much. She later sold everything so he could be a swimmer. Last he knew, she was homeless somewhere, not that he cared. Her attention grew boring, and without money to give him or even a house to do his laundry or cook his meals, he saw no use in keeping in touch.

Saviar saw Micki coming towards him, so he pushed himself out of the water and headed to his towel. He made an “ick” noise as he caught a whiff of the dingy rag. Its appearance, once white, was now a mildew brown and as tattered as his coat laying in a crumpled pile by his feet. He quickly moved the smelly thing over his wet body, glancing angrily at Yuri swimming laps, as if somehow he were to blame for the towel’s sorry condition.

Saviar was always broke. He mooched off patrons in bars and wasn’t past helping himself to any cash someone left on a table or in an open purse. But mostly, he liked to complain about how broke he was and the various people who were to blame for it. The bartender once told him that he’d have money for clothes and shit if he stayed home sometime instead of drinking and whoring every night. That was the last thing the man said through his perfect teeth, pieces of which were still working their way out of Saviar’s knuckle. Fuck anyone who dared to tell him what he should do. Except Micki, his trainer and manager. They both wanted the same things, and Micki was devious and ruthless, the perfect combination to get ahead.

“Just look at him,” Saviar said as he stared at Yuri. “How can he possibly pass the drug tests? He must be bribing someone or maybe, sleeping with some whore at the swimming league.”

He snickered at his own comment, threw the towel down, and picked up his jacket, which didn’t smell much better than his towel.

Micki moved closer to Saviar so there were only a few inches between them.

“Well then, we should do something about the situation, comrade,” Micki said, his voice a raspy whisper.

“What do you have in mind?”

“It’s something that will be very… decisive.”

“Death is decisive.”

“You understand me so well, Saviar,” Micki said, nodding.

Micki hated Grigori as much as Saviar hated Yuri, and both were going to suffer in any of Micki’s plans.

• • •

After three hours, Yuri climbed out of the pool. Grigori grabbed Yuri’s towel and vigorously rubbed him dry.

“It was a good practice today,” Grigori grinned.

“Only fair. I was distracted.”

“Being distracted is not the thing to do a week before an important race. You are so close, you can’t let yourself slip.” Grigori smiled. “Listen to me, lecturing like a wind-up toy, not like a friend. What’s on your mind, Yuri?”

“It’s Anna. She is old enough to start primary school, but I don’t have the money to send her,” Yuri said, pulling on his gray sweat pants. He tugged firmly on the drawstring as the steam leaving his body warmed the cool cotton.

“What school do you have in mind? I could help… a little bit.”

“Uptown Moscow.”

“CPAT! That is only for Corporate children, not for us peasants.”

“I know. But her not having two parents, I want to make up for that. Where she goes to school will decide her entire future.”

“You’re too young, Yuri. Eighteen and already the parent of a five-year-old. But your father would be so proud. He was a great man, and a great, great… friend.”

Yuri smiled and clasped Grigori by the shoulders.

“You have helped so much. I can’t tell you enough how much it means to me to have you in our life. You are our family.”

Yuri replied with all the intensity of an oaf, “We are going to go to the Olympics this year; I know it. Maybe then the World Swimming Competition. If that happens, my sister will have a great future!”

“And you can marry Ingra,” Grigori added, eyes twinkling.

“She’ll marry me even if I don’t win.”

“That’s what you think. Women that pretty need security.”

A smile spread over Yuri’s face, “Actually, we are to be married on the Friday before the race.”

Grigori grabbed Yuri exuberantly, lifting him off the ground in a solid bear hug. It felt like Yuri’s father was in Grigori’s embrace. The best friends had shared so much during their lifetime that maybe a bit had crossed over. The two laughed and headed to the main building for Yuri’s weight training.

“You are sly as well as fast, Yuri.”

“I know. Things are going to work out. I can feel it.”

Yuri kept the smile on his face, but he actually didn’t feel as confident as he had sounded. The image of the bus stop woman’s sorrowful gaze nagged at him like a song stuck in his head, replaying over and over. The thought of it filled him with dread of what it could possibly mean. It is wise to never be optimistic in Russia.

It was late when Yuri finally returned home. Hot, humid air greeted him as he opened the small apartment door. Beads of water condensed on the glass windows. It was always like this when anyone used the shower or tub. A stream of light came from the open door of the bathroom; it was still occupied. He could hear water shifting in the confines of the tub. Wrapped in a pale pink blanket with cartoon elephants, his little sister sucked on her thumb as she slept soundly in a small cot by the heater vent. Entering the room softly, he went to the sleeping child, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. She had the faint pleasant aroma of baby lotion and bubblegum shampoo. Ingra must have given her a bath, Yuri thought, as he stroked her soft cheek.

Once past the sleeping child, he followed the light into the bathroom. Smiling coyly from the tub, Ingra motioned him to her. Yuri knelt and lowered his head to gently kiss her lips. The hot water had made the lower half of her body pink. Dark curls clung to her shoulder except for one errant strand that ran across her neck and down her breast. She was pretty, with soft curves, and small hands and feet.

She wrinkled her nose and whispered, “Yuri, you smell of chlorine. Come into the tub with me.”

Yuri found a towel and dropped it in the corner of the room. He started taking off his clothes and his urgency showed. Watching him, she moved in the tub to give him room behind her. Yuri entered the water, splashing some over the sides of the tub. It took a moment to get into a comfortable position. Yuri’s legs were on both sides of her, and his hips and crotch pushed against her butt and lower back; they were like an affectionate bobsled team. He picked up the bar of rose fragrance soap and worked it into a lather between his two hands. Putting the soap down, he rubbed the lather on Ingra’s back. His thumbs pushed slightly along the sides of her spine, tracing down to her tailbone. She softly moaned when he moved his hands back up to her throat and shoulders. He concentrated his caress on the place where her jaw met her neck. His fingers were slick, moving easily on her lathered skin.

He got more soap and let his hands slip around her body to her soft breasts. Her nipples were already hard as he gently squeezed them between two fingers of each hand. He heard her breathe deeply, almost like a purr. Left hand on her breast, his right hand slid down her belly and between her legs. He searched momentarily for the right spot. She arched her back in pleasure once he found it. Her hands covered both of his. She pressed harder against him.

The orgasm left her whole body in tingles, followed by a satisfied peace. Yuri held her with both arms around her ribcage.

“I love you, Ingra,” he said with soft conviction.

She leaned back in his arms with her eyes closed, feeling warm and safe.

“Let’s get married tomorrow,” he said as the thought struck him.

“I have to work tomorrow.” Her eyes didn’t open as she spoke.

“So call in sick,” he pushed.

“They will know I wasn’t sick when they see my wedding band.”

Yuri grew silent for a moment. The ring — he had forgotten about the ring. Trying to find extra money to buy a ring had turned out to be a Herculean task. Yuri had never been well off, a fact that never bothered him before. He always managed to pay the bills, but a gold ring was hard to squeeze out of his meager salary.

Ingra looked at Yuri, seeming to sense his thoughts. “If I wanted a ring, I would marry a jeweler. I don’t need a ring.” She turned her neck and shoulders so she could kiss him.

“You are too good for me.”

“I know.”

He hugged her tight, nuzzling his face in the moist nape of her neck. He held her close until their skin wrinkled and the water cooled.

• • •

The Svarog Bar was situated on the outskirts of Velsk, near a long abandoned lumberyard. It was the only indication that Velsk once had trees around it. To the people of Velsk, it was like a leper colony, a place where people went when no one else would take them. The average Velsk resident took long detours around the bar in case its unsavory contents spilled out to the surrounding streets. A safe distance was measured by how far a bullet could travel.

Saviar arrived first, getting only a passing glance from the enormous figure behind the bar. The man recognized him as a regular, knew what happened to the last bartender, and didn’t want any trouble. If Saviar wasn’t a regular, the barkeep would have sized him up to either slip something into his drink and roll him in the parking lot or to have one of the prostitutes take him into the back room and work the money off him. But Saviar was as common on the premises as the cockroaches. All the money he had would voluntarily be spent on either the cheap liquor or a quick hand job in the back without any added effort.

Motioning to a back table, Saviar called out his order of two five-liter bottles of vodka and ten beers. When it arrived, he went right to drinking the cheap vodka while he waited for the rest of his party to arrive.

The group trickled in, loudly greeting each other with exaggerated camaraderie. An hour later, they had smoked a cloud over their heads and killed most of the beer and vodka. The bottles, now empty corpses, lay on the dirty linoleum floor. Biskovich, a fellow swimmer, was the last to arrive. He slid in next to Saviar and grabbed one of the already open bottles. Besides Micki and the two swimmers, the rest of the members of the unsightly group were from Downtown Moscow.

“Sorry I’m late, fucking icy roads. I wish they would salt them. I was almost killed,” Biskovich grumbled, taking some quick gulps of vodka.

“Wouldn’t that have been a fucking loss?” Saviar blurted out loudly. The group laughed on cue. It was an easy crowd to entertain.

Everything about Saviar’s group was ugly and unfriendly. They were loud and unkempt with faces like old asphalt covered in scars or pockmarks. They glared at any man who made eye contact and leered at the waitress who, on a rare occasion, would come by to deposit more booze on the table. Tonight, no drunken patron felt ballsy enough to pick a fight. All eyes were turned away to give Saviar’s group a wide berth.

Saviar had met the three Downtowners in a Moscow bar years ago. They instantly had become comrades; drank, visited strip joints, and did a little smash ’n’ grab robbery together. There was nothing like a little booze, sex, and crime to cement a friendship.

“Saviar has already told you what we want to do,” Micki said to the group. “Biskovich, you still want a part of this?”

Although smaller than the others, Biskovich had a sinewy strength, with arms like anchor rope. He wasn’t listening as he tried to get the attention of the woman a few tables over. After a moment, he noticed they were all looking at him.

“What?”

“Take the shit out of your ears! I said, do you still want in?” Micki growled.

“I want a part of Konikov, if that’s what you mean. I wouldn’t back out now,” Biskovich quickly answered.

He understood that to disagree now could make him trash in the bar’s alley.

“I’m glad we are in agreement.”

Micki rooted around in his pocket, pulled out some grimy currency, and handed out portions to the Downtowners. They counted the bills carefully and placed them into their pockets, satisfied.

“Do we kill the child?” The man who spoke had stringy, dark hair falling halfway down his back. He leaned back in his chair with his pointed, steel-toed boots propped up on the table. Tattooed on his wrist was a childish scribbling of the word Dog, which was not just his name but also his fashion statement. He had unfortunately stocky legs and arms with a thick trunk that offered no narrowing at the waist. Tightly fastened around his neck, he wore a spiked dog collar. But his nose was the crowning achievement of his dog motif. It had been flattened either by fighting or intent then tattooed black to make him look like an extra from a cheap werewolf movie.

“No, that would draw too much attention.” Micki said. “Yuri’s death will be a tragic loss to the sport and then quickly forgotten.”

“Besides, when she’s thirteen, I think I’ll fuck her,” Saviar said with a smirk. “In memory of her dead brother.”

The group laughed as if it was the funniest thing ever said. The excitement of the plan and the buzz from cheap alcohol made Saviar want to top it off with something else. He looked over at the woman Biskovich was making eyes at all night. She was dressed provocatively in a small skirt and tight t-shirt. Her blond hair was teased and wild, and it bounced back when touched. Thick eye makeup accentuated her watery, blue eyes that weren’t focused on anything in particular. With a wink at Biskovich, Saviar rose with a flourish and half staggered to the woman. Biskovich let out a string of profanities as Saviar grabbed the woman’s wrist and dragged her to the restroom.

• • •

Holding hands, Ingra and Yuri stood in the line at the Happily Ever After Chapel. They had already gotten the required tests, including genetics and physical. For the last ten years, every person who wanted to get married had to be healthy enough in order to do so, something Yuri and most everyone he knew thought was ridiculous. You could still have children out of wedlock; so adding this hurdle seemed unnecessary to ensure healthy children. Grigori, who married before the requirement, cursed loudly that it was only necessary because the Russian Alliance made the medical tests. Greed, that is what happens when corporations rule the world!

Knowing a little history, Yuri doubted “country rule” was any better. Yes, it was an extra cost, but he never doubted they would be approved. Besides, it was his wedding day, and who cared about the past obstacles? They had made it here today.

Anna and Grigori stood beside them. Anna pulled at the fancy lacing on her dress that scratched her neck. Grigori was in his only dark suit, the same one he wore for weddings, funerals, and other special occasions, with a huge grin plastered on his face that he couldn’t seem to let down, even when he spoke.

“I’m so proud, so proud,” Grigori said earnestly to Yuri.

Yuri smiled back. This was the fourth time Grigori had said those words. He alternated between saying that and how beautiful Ingra was.

“I am glad you are here.” Yuri smiled back at him.

“Beautiful, amazing! You look like an angel in white, Ingra!”

“Thank you, Grigori, but don’t forget Anna. Isn’t she the perfect flower girl?”

Anna was distracted and didn’t acknowledge Grigori’s gushing agreement. She was fidgeting in earnest now.

“What is the matter?” Yuri asked, leaning down to talk with his little sister.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she whined desperately.

Yuri looked at the line ahead, consisting of only one other couple.

“Okay Anna, I’ll take you,” Ingra said, taking Anna by the hand and leading her away.

“Hurry back!” Yuri called after them.

The two men exchanged glances. Grigori’s smile broadened even more.

“I’m so happy for you two, and proud. I feel like an expectant father, all the joy and none of the pain. Sorry my wife couldn’t make it. She was not feeling well. You know how she catches every little cold.”

“I understand. I hope she feels better soon. Will she be well enough to meet us at church on Sunday?”

“Yes, I think so,” Grigori said.

The couple ahead of them was kissing as the music started up, the cue to march out and begin the rest of their lives.

“Do you have the ring?” Yuri asked nervously.

“Of course I have it.” He patted down all his pockets. “Somewhere, I’m sure.”

“Don’t joke with me.” Yuri words came out sterner than he meant. He shook his head and clapped Grigori on the shoulder. “Sorry.”

“You’re nervous, I understand. The day I married Helena, your father had to hit me to say I do.”

“He told me. Said you had almost passed out afterwards!”

“Take deep breaths. That was my problem. I stopped breathing. But here, see, nothing to worry about.” Grigori brought the ring out of his pocket to reassure Yuri.

“Thank you for your help. Ingra will be so happy to see the ring.”

He looked around for Ingra and Anna. “Where did they go? They are going to call us next.”

“Are you going to practice tonight?”

“Yes, I plan to.”

“Why? You are already faster than any unaltered man has ever been. It’s your wedding night.”

“I have to win. I’m going to have a family after today. I have to win for them. That is, if they ever return.”

“Shh, here they come.”

Grigori resumed his position. Ingra looked at the two of them.

“Maybe we should adopt you, Grigori, to keep you out of trouble,” she teased.

“Konikov, are you ready?” a squat woman asked.

Ingra and Yuri grabbed hands and followed the woman to the small podium where the minister waited. The chapel was like a film set, with plastic stained-glass windows and a podium made of thin white plywood painted with gold trim.

The wedding took ten minutes from “Dearly beloved” to “Husband and wife.” Yuri picked up Ingra and carried her out of the chapel. Her fingers toyed with the thin band of gold around her finger. Grigori carried Anna out, mimicking Yuri and Ingra.

“I love you, Anna,” he said.

“Will you marry me when I grow up, Unca Grigori?” Her pudgy hands entwined around his neck.

“Of course, poochkins. I’m sure Helena won’t mind. But first, let’s get some cookies. I think I smelled a bakery just down the road.”

“Where are you going with my sister?” Yuri yelled after them.

“To the cookie shop. You and Ingra can be alone for a while, and I’ll take care of Anna. Okay?”

Yuri mouthed “thank you” and carefully placed Ingra in a waiting taxi.

• • •

“A woompa, woompa, awhoosh!” Grigori swung the giggling child around in circles.

“Again, again, again!” she squealed.

“You’re making Unca very tired.”

“Again!” she cried, ignoring his protest.

“Why aren’t you sick? You ate five cookies and a soda. I’m sick just thinking about it.”

“Again!” she demanded.

“Okay, a whoompa, a whoompa, a whoo—”

The noise died in his throat as a bat swung down and shattered his skull. He fell like a dropped marionette, arms still holding Anna, who was too terrified to scream.

Micki pried the girl from Grigori’s dead hands. Saviar wiped the blood and bone chips from the bat with his towel.

“Did you see how his head exploded? I should have gone into baseball,” Saviar laughed. “It’s going… going… gone!”

“Be quiet! Let’s go before someone notices,” Micki replied, walking away briskly as he wrapped the shocked child tightly in his coat.

Saviar looked over his handiwork then followed behind, leaving Grigori’s dead body to cool in the icy evening air.

• • •

“I can’t wait any longer, Ingra,” Yuri said, kissing Ingra who was still lying between the sheets. “If he calls, tell Grigori that I left for the pool.”

“You know, sex is the best exercise,” Ingra purred to him as he put on his last shoe.

“I know. That’s why I’m taking a break with a few laps. You tire me out so.” Yuri ducked the pillow thrown at him, picked it up, and placed it on the bed next to her. After giving her another kiss on the forehead, he walked to the door.

“Things are going to be wonderful now that you’re mine forever. I love you, my wife. ’Wife,’ I like the sound of that!” He blew a kiss before he shut the door behind him.

Once alone, Ingra got up to get something to eat and to call Grigori so he could bring Anna home. It was so nice of him to take Anna for a few hours. Ingra wished she and Yuri could go on a real honeymoon, but she would have to wait. There would be plenty of time after the race, and being with Yuri now mattered far more than any trip.

The phone at Grigori’s rang twice before his wife answered.

“Hello, Helena. It’s Ingra. I just wanted you to know that Yuri has already left for the pool and that Grigori can bring the baby home.”

“He isn’t home yet, love. He probably went to a movie. Congratulations on the wedding! I’m so sorry I missed it!”

“It was very nice, but short. We will all be able to celebrate after the race.”

“Yes, Grigori is so excited. He is sure Yuri is going to win.”

“Well, let him know where Yuri is when he gets home. Feel better soon. Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Bye, bye, Mrs. Konikov.”

Ingra hung up the phone. It was very quiet in the apartment. She almost wished her neighbors were talking or had their music up loud. She walked over to the television then sat down on the couch. She still couldn’t believe that she was married today.

• • •

Yuri was alone in the pool. A dull light shone down from the main building where a night watchman made his rounds. An icy fog haloed the few outdoor lights that weren’t even strong enough to illuminate the pool, making the water look like black tar. Yuri felt better and better with each stroke, going faster with each successive lap until he was only aware of pushing off after each turn. He swam seventy laps before leaving the pool. He was not tired, but he was anxious to go home. Odd that Grigori had not come. Maybe, he thought Yuri was not dedicated enough to leave his new bride’s side. Yuri planned to tease him about that tomorrow.

The night air was bitingly cold. Body heat steamed as he walked over to his towel and clothes. He dried and dressed quickly, and then headed to the gate. The noise from the watchman’s television filtered out of his small booth.

“Comrade Konikov! Comrade Konikov!” the watchman yelled at him from the building entrance. Yuri waited for him to walk over.

“There is a message for you.”

“From Grigori?”

“It doesn’t say on the envelope. I found it by your towel and took it in so it wouldn’t get wet. The news said it might snow again.” He handed the envelope to Yuri.

“Thank you.”

Yuri opened the envelope and a clump of blond hair fell out. He reached down and picked it up off the slushy snow. It was soft and smelled of bubblegum shampoo. He quickly pulled the note out. It read:

Be at 6600 B Markovo at 12:30 A.M. Come alone or the child dies.

Yuri’s hand went to his chest as it seized with fear. He looked at his watch. It read 12:05 A.M. He didn’t have time to think of what to do, only to run as fast as he could. He sprinted through the gate and down the ice-coated roads.

• • •

Ingra had been waiting for Yuri to come home. She had made the bed, eaten some fruit, taken a shower, and watched some forgettable programs on the Corporate television station full of so many advertisements that it was almost unwatchable. She could not afford the independent stations. Ironically, only Corporate employees had the money to avoid their own commercials. It was 12:15 A.M. when the phone rang. She answered it, thinking it was Grigori finally calling to say Anna had fallen asleep on their couch. The voice on the line was hardly recognizable — it was Helena. Her sobs and groans made it almost impossible to understand. Panicking herself, Ingra tried to calm Helena, shushing her as if she were a child stung by a bee. Ingra heard the words “police,” “hospital,” and “Grigori” and tried to make sense of it.

“Is Grigori sick? Hurt?”

“He’s … dead. Oh, my husband! Grigori, Grigori. Oh God, no!”

“Where’s Anna?!” The terror grabbed Ingra by the throat and didn’t let go. “Where’s Anna!?” Ingra was screaming now.

“I don’t know,” Helena sobbed, gasping for breath.

Ingra hung up the phone, grabbed her boots and coat, and ran out of the apartment. She was crying and sobbing “No!” over and over again. Yuri, she had to get to Yuri. He would bring Anna home and make everything all right.

• • •

Markovo was in the warehouse district. No one lived there except for a few homeless people who would occasionally break into abandoned buildings to avoid the cold. Yuri ran 8 kilometers, arriving at 12:28 A.M., exhausted. His head pounded and his knees were weak as he pulled open the large door to 6600 B. Rats scurried away as the door screeched open. There were fresh scrape marks on the concrete. Yuri made his way out into the center of the warehouse. His breath was returning, although the cold, dry air burned in his chest, and his mind raced like his heart.

They want to scare me. They probably want me to leave the running for the Olympics. That’s okay; there are other races. Just let Anna be all right. They wouldn’t hurt a baby. God, if she’s hurt, oh Lord….

The door slammed shut behind him. A low, evil laughter came from different locations all around him.

“Where is my sister?” he yelled.

It was very dark with the door shut. Only a single streak of light from a street lamp came in through a high window, illuminating a small patch of ground. Yuri moved toward it, trying to gain some comfort from it.

He heard footsteps and some mumbles. Were there two people… more?

“Yuri… Yuri… over here…” said a voice, taunting.

Was that Saviar? Even in a whisper, the voice registered.

“Do you want me out of the race? Is that it?” Yuri shouted, bolder than he felt. “I can do that, but you must promise to let my sister go.”

More laughter and footsteps and bangs seemed to come from everywhere. There were more than two of them.

“I can see you, can you see me?” Biskovich’s voice again, Yuri was certain.

“Come out, you cowards! I told you what you want to hear.”

A figure stepped toward him, but it was hard to make out who it was. He was wearing something on his face, like goggles that glowed green.

“You wanted to see me, you piece of shit,” Saviar’s voice was like a growl. “Go ahead, Dog, let’s get it started.”

Yuri thought the comment was directed at him, but immediately, a man behind him responded with a vicious strike to Yuri’s back near his kidneys, throwing him forward. Yuri yelled in pain, staggering to stay on his feet. There were more men surrounding him, emerging from the shadows like nightmares. Some brought clubs made of found pipes or wood. A glint of a knife flashed.

Blows rained down from every direction. Yuri’s chance of defending himself decreased with each strike. When there was a pause in the beatings, Yuri fell forward and curled into a fetal position to guard his head. More blows landed, smashing his ribs, breaking his arms, and bursting his spleen and kidneys. He felt the knife cut him, slashing at his arms to get to his chest.

“That’s it! Hit him harder!”

Yuri heard Saviar chanting at them. Soon, he felt very little. He could still hear the ringing in his ears, mixed with their muddled voices.

“Is he dead? He sure looks it. God, I’m going to be sick,” said a familiar voice.

Yuri held his breath, but that hurt. He was wet. For a moment, he thought he was in the pool, and they were finally heating the water.

“Biskovich, you wimp,” Micki said.

“Fuck you, Micki!” Biskovich snapped back.

“If he’s not, he will be soon,” Dog commented.

“What should we do with the little brat?” Saviar asked.

“We can drop her off outside of town,” Micki ordered. “The plan stays the same.”

Saviar viciously kicked Yuri’s head two more times. The ringing finally faded as Yuri slipped into unconsciousness.

“So, who is going to win this weekend, Biskovich?”

“I don’t know, Saviar. I got a good workout today, and my time is improving.”

“Have you been drinking? You swim slower than my mother…”

It went silent. There wasn’t even the sound of Yuri’s own heart beating, just a dreamless void. That wasn’t so bad; it was far worse when the dreams came.

• • •

Ingra stood outside the gate screaming at the building. Snow was falling. Her ungloved hands were numb, and her face burned in the cold air.

“Yuri! Yuri!! YURI!!!” Her voice broke more with each scream.

“Who’s yelling out here?”

The guard had been watching the television and was annoyed by the interruption until he saw Ingra shivering at the gate.

“You’re Ingra, Yuri’s girl?”

“Please help me!” she sobbed, collapsing to her knees in the snow.

The guard opened the gate as quickly as possible. He helped Ingra into the building. She tried to protest, but was too weak to fight.

“What is it, Ingra? Shush, shush, try to take some breaths.” He rubbed her cold hands with his warm ones.

“Where is Yuri? I’ve got to find Yuri.”

“He left about an hour ago.”

“No, he has to be here. Grigori is … gone.”

“Yuri left after he received a note. I’ll go check to see if I can find it.”

The guard left while Ingra sobbed. After a few minutes, the guard returned with the hair in his hand.

“I could not find the note, he must have taken it with him. But I did find this.”

Ingra stared at the blond curl. She did not have to be told whose hair it was. She had been concerned for Anna before she couldn’t find Yuri, and now she might have lost both of them. She tried to push all those thoughts away. She didn’t know what was going on. Please God, let Anna be with Yuri so everything would be all right. Her whole family could not be created and destroyed in just a few hours.