Chapter 54 Gennadiy
GENNADIY
I could see her weakening, see the waves mercilessly smacking her in the face, but I couldn’t do anything to help. If I swam out from under my catwalk, the men would see me and kill us both. I had to hang there, watching the strength fade from her, and it was agony.
It took me straight back to another time, two decades ago, when I’d had to stand and watch helplessly, and the guilt burned even through the anger, searing my soul from the inside out.
She sank, and my heart almost stopped. Then she recovered, and I breathed again. My eyes were darting non-stop between Alison and the men: they were packing up, getting ready to go…
She started to sink again.
The last of the men turned away, and before he’d even reached the stairs, I’d let go of the catwalk and pushed off hard, swimming as fast as I could for the other side of the warehouse.
With the submarine in the way, I couldn’t go straight across: I had to curve around it.
My legs were already aching from treading water, but I ignored the pain and kicked, wishing I didn’t have my suit flapping around me.
I reached the back of the submarine and turned, heading straight for Alison’s catwalk. Where is she? She must have slipped under the surface—
The lights went out.
I froze for a second. I hadn’t thought of that: of course, when the men left, they’d turn the lights off.
And with no moonlight, it wasn’t just dark, it was black.
Blyat’! I started swimming again. All I could do was keep going and hope I was still heading in the right direction. Where is it? I should be there by now…
My hand whacked into the metal catwalk, hard enough that any other time I’d have yelled. But I was too busy feeling along it, sweeping my arms underneath to find her, frantic. “Alison! Alison!”
My hands clawed at nothing. She wasn’t there.
I took a lungful of air and dived, going straight down from the catwalk, arms sweeping around me, praying for a touch of her hair, a brush of fabric, anything.
Nothing. I dived deeper, hysterical. I’ve lost her. Oh, Jesus, she’s gone.
And then my fingers dug into muddy grit. I’d reached the bottom. No, no, no, please—
Something bumped my leg, I twisted around, and grabbed at it. Fingers. A hand. I squeezed.
It didn’t squeeze back.
I pulled the body to me, and it was her; I could feel the bun at the back of her head. I kicked for the surface with her hanging limp in my arms.
I surfaced next to the submarine, nowhere near where I needed to be, and had to grope my way back to the catwalk in the darkness, then claw my way up onto it one-handed while hanging onto Alison, then finally haul her out of the water.
She still wasn’t moving. I tilted her head back, pinched her nose and put my lips on hers, then blew into her mouth.
It was so dark that I couldn’t even see if her chest was rising. I had to feel for it. Yes, it’s moving.
Five breaths and she still wasn’t responding. I felt for her breastbone and started chest compressions, like Mikhail taught us when we were kids. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Still nothing. I could feel tears wetting my cheeks. Come back to me. Please.
I straddled her and went back to chest compressions. One. Two. Three. Four. She lay there, silent and still and terrifyingly cold under my hands.
It started to creep in, then: the reality that I’d lost her. And it wasn’t like the loss of my parents, or even the loss of Yakov. It was like someone was tearing out a part of my soul. She’d become a part of me, and me a part of her. We needed to be together.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. She didn’t move.
I felt her slip away from me, and as the pain hit, I suddenly knew how wrong I’d been.
I’d had her, I’d had a shot at a future with her, and I’d been ready to let her go, just so I could hang onto my anger, just so I didn’t have to face the guilt and pain.
You stupid fucking bastard, Gennadiy. No pain could be worse than this.
Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five. Give me another chance, please!
Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.
I put my lips on hers and breathed—
Her body spasmed, and she choked. I rolled her onto her side and heard her coughing up lake water.
“Are you okay?!” I blurted into the blackness.
She coughed and rasped, unable to speak. But she found my arm in the dark and patted it. She’s okay!
The lights flickered on. I looked up, blinking in the sudden light, and pointed my dripping-wet gun at the loading dock—
Valentin’s head appeared over the edge. His eyes widened when he saw the two of us, and he scrambled down the stairs to help.
I looked down, and now I could see Alison, soaking wet and bedraggled but alive and as the relief swept through me, I grabbed her and crushed her to my chest.
Valentin drove us to the ER, where the doctors checked Alison over and monitored her for four hours. They finally decided she was okay to go home, as long as she was watched closely.
That wasn’t a problem because I was never taking my eyes off her again. I hadn’t let go of her hand since we left the warehouse. And as soon as we got somewhere private, I was going to finally tell her the truth about the anger...and what lay beneath it.