27. Katerina
CHAPTER 27
Katerina
“Wake up, you stupid girl.”
I’m poked and prodded until I jerk awake, startled and confused. I’m lying on the cold ground of a room that’s dank and dark. A shiver racks through me, paralyzing my spine and making it difficult to move.
I blink up at the shadowy figure standing over me and search my mind for what the hell’s going on.
Where could I be where I’d be passed out on the floor with someone kicking me in the ribs?
“I said get up!” the woman screeches, and then she thrusts her boot forward again. It collides with my side and forces a pained grunt out of me. She reaches a taloned hand for my curls, yanking hard to pull me up. “You think you’re at some beauty spa or something? It’s time to go!”
Go where?
What is she talking about?
Who is she?
All questions that flash through my head as I stumble to my feet and she drags me toward the door of the dark room. The light that spills in from the hall burns my retinas. I squint against it, trying to shield myself only for her to smack my hands away.
“Behave yourself or you will have a black eye you’ll have to explain to the Handler.”
…what the hell is a handler?
I’m even more confused as I’m shoved down the brightly lit hall lined with other doors. One of them opens and two stoic men step out looking nonplussed by the fact that I’m being harassed and roughed up by this woman. It’s as if it’s par for the course wherever I am.
They see this kind of thing all the time.
We’re at the end of the hall when I rediscover my voice and choke out, “Where’s Roman?”
The woman smacks me upside the head. “Don’t fucking speak. If I wanted you to fucking speak, I would tell you. Are we clear?”
I’m shocked by the abrupt slap, unsure how to even respond.
Something tells me if I defend myself, I’ll pay for it.
I’m dragged the rest of the way down the hallway ’til we’re turning down another hall with more doors.
“In here. Hurry up.”
The woman shoves me from behind. I stagger forward on unsteady feet, my mind still foggy.
The last thing I remember was going for a walk with Edik, Roman’s chef. We’d been near the loading dock of the old factory discussing what he was going to make for dinner.
“It will be a Russian lamb and rice pilaf soup. You will enjoy,” he said warmly, casting me a sidelong smile. “And dumplings. Dumplings will be…”
The memory cuts out at that point.
It flashes to black and nothing else, like a chunk of my memory bank has been removed.
“Strip. Now!” the woman barks.
I blink and realize we’ve stepped into some kind of huge washroom. But it’s no kind of regular bathroom you’d encounter in a home—it’s a room with walls and flooring made up of tile and several shower heads and hoses. Almost like a room where large groups of people or animals are pushed through to wash at once.
…or made to wash.
“I said strip!” the woman says when I don’t move.
It’s the first real time I get a good look at her. She’s only a few inches taller than me, face bullish and square, with ruddy skin and wispy sand-colored hair. She’s clutching what appears to be a cattle prod. A bolt of electricity flickers from the tip.
Her threat is clear. She’ll shock me if I don’t.
“Please,” I say, “I don’t know who you are… but if I could speak to Roman?—”
ZAP!
A whimper leaves me at the sharp jolt of electricity that shoots up my arm. I throw myself back, my heart beating fast.
“I said take your fucking clothes off.” She presses the button on the electric prod and another spark of blue-white electricity flashes ominously. “Take it all off or the guards will be called, and then you will be taking it off black and blue.”
My mouth dries at the threat while my hands obey before I can process what I’m doing. With quaking hands, I tug at the t-shirt I’m wearing and then the button on my jeans. Both drop to the cold ground as modesty hits and I hesitate to keep going.
“I said everything!”
ZAP!
“Ow!” I scream.
She’s jammed the cattle prod into my ribs and shocked me. The electricity sparks its way up my torso and leaves me stinging and shaken.
The last two pieces of clothing are done away with. My bra and my panties wind up in the same pile as my t-shirt and jeans. My hands do their best to cover parts of myself up, but that’s not allowed either.
The woman twists on one of the shower’s faucets and then sprays me with the hose. Icy cold water blasts over me, forcing me back several steps. My back touches the tile wall trying to escape the chilling blast of water.
There’s nowhere to run or hide. There’s nothing I can do but stand there and be hosed down.
My mind goes to Roman as I accidentally swallow some of the putrid water. The metallic taste lingers on my tongue as I wonder what he would think.
How would he feel if he could see me in this moment, naked and being sprayed down with a hose by some lunatic woman?
He would lose his mind.
Heads would roll.
I know that for sure, even if it feels like I know nothing else in this moment.
It seems to go on forever, the hose-down shower. I’m dripping wet like a frightened puppy once she’s through. My skin’s pruned and my curls are soaked and limp.
“Come,” she says. “This way.”
I’m expected to walk naked through the rest of the room. The electric cattle prod’s still a threat that hovers inches away from me. Should I disobey, I’ll be shocked again.
I could try to overtake her… but at what price?
How far would I make it before the guards she’s mentioned catch me and do worse?
The woman roughly towels me off and then snaps at me to put on one of the robes hanging on the wall. I shrug it on, grateful for some semblance of clothing.
“Next you have an appointment with Dr. Grossman.” She inclines her head toward the door for me to follow.
Dread pits in my stomach when we reach the next room and I see an exam table, stirrups, and devices like a speculum.
“Listen,” I say, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what this is… but I really need to speak to Roman. I don’t want to do any of?—”
ZAP-ZAP-ZAP!
The longest, most brutal current of electricity stings its way through my body. I convulse against the bolts setting fire to every part of me. It travels up and down my bones and leaves me gasping for air.
“No more talking,” she spits. “Last warning before I call the guards. Get on the table. Dr. Grossman will be here any minute.”
The man known as Dr. Grossman is small and diminutive and barely says a word. His voice is gentle and his eyes almost kind, though he makes no attempt to help me. It seems either he’s in no position to do so or he’s accepted this is part of his job.
I’m stiff and frigid during the entire examination.
Pap smears are unpleasant even when elective but having one under duress is five times worse. The speculum stings and I whimper in protest until the woman swats at me with the cattle prod and demands I shut up.
An IUD is implanted despite the fact that I blurt out I’m on the pill.
“Can’t take any chances,” Dr. Grossman mutters. “The Handler’s orders.”
The Handler.
Questions about who this is and why they would want me to have a medical checkup run rampant in my head.
So does my search for what happened to me.
I strain my memory to retrace the moment with Edik for the hundredth time since waking up. It serves as a distraction for the pinching discomfort happening between my legs.
“It will be a Russian lamb and rice pilaf soup. You will enjoy,” he said warmly, casting me a sidelong smile. “And dumplings. Dumplings will be…”
My eyes squeeze shut as I urge myself to remember.
Piece together what exactly happened next. Then it comes to me…
There was a subdued pop that I recognized instantly as the silencer of a gun.
Edik dropped at my side. Alive one second, dead the next.
I screamed as my pulse exploded and I looked up to find myself on the receiving end of a 9 millimeter Beretta.
“JC?” I croaked, stunned at the twist of events.
“See that break in the fence? Head toward it. You’re coming with me.”
He was cold, impersonal. No sign of life in his eyes.
It was like we had never been partners in crime. We had never even been friends.
When I tried to talk to him, he reacted as if I were his enemy.
“Keep going,” he snapped. “You think you were going to leave us hanging out to dry, Kat? You think we wouldn’t pay you back for what you’ve done?”
“I didn’t do anything. I swear I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“Fozzil’s dead because of you. Yeah, I know all about what you’ve been up to. You and that Russian boyfriend of yours.”
“Wait… JC… please… you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Don’t think so,” he said, giving a hollow laugh. “But you’ll get yours, Kat. Where you’re going, you’ll suffer every moment.”
It’s as the appointment with Grossman ends and I’m carted off to the next place that it truly dawns on me what’s going on.
That my disturbing new reality really sinks in.
I’m shoved into another room, this one with a panel of men seated behind a table. They’re each dressed well, in suits and ties, and wearing aloof expressions on their faces. It’s more like I’m a nuisance to them than a captive held against my will.
The woman pushes me so hard I pitch forward and fall to my knees. “The next product’s ready for sale. We need to determine for what price.”