29. Katerina
Driving around constantly for days on end brings new meaning to the word tiring. It’s practically impossible to sleep in the car, especially with seven other people, one of whom is quite large and also entirely unconscious.
When we turn on the news, it announces that Leonid Ivanovich, Czar of Russia, has decided to take a tour of the United States farm country. He’s studying American agriculture to figure out how best to optimize Russia’s ability to provide for its citizens. Yeah, right.
It’s a clear lie.
He’s coming for us.
And around the sixth day of driving, I start to worry about Gustav. Like, really worry.
He’s barely breathing, for one.
He hasn’t eaten or drunk anything for almost a week now, and the rest of us have been run pretty ragged. When I fall asleep, I dream that our car has broken down. That we can’t find gas. Or that Leonid stops us in the middle of the road, torching all the fields and farmhouses on all sides.
“I think we need to find a hospital,” I finally say. “It’s been six days. He needs an IV or something.”
“It’s a magical coma.” Kristiana’s face is pale. “There’s nothing a hospital will be able to do to help him.” She purses her lips, and I can’t help wondering whether she really believes that, or whether she’s just worried that the hospital personnel will be even worse than the gas station attendants, who always eye us askance, peering through windows and around corners at the man who’s passed out in the back of the car.
One of them is going to report us—it’s only a matter of time.
If word of eight people traveling in the same high-end SUV, mostly Eastern European, makes it to the wrong people, we’ll be in big trouble.
Perhaps most concerning is Aleksandr’s declaration when we stop for gas at the beginning of day seven. “I’m running out of cash.”
I’m not sure why it angers me so much that Kristiana seems far more alarmed about this than she is about Gustav’s continued unconscious state.
But the real problems start on the morning of the eighth day. Grigory grunts as he’s watching his phone screen, which isn’t common. The man’s inhumanly quiet and calm all the time.
“What?” I lean forward to peer over his shoulder.
He yanks out his headphones and turns his volume up. “Listen to this.”
“Leonid Ivanovich, the current ruler of all of Russia and the country formerly known as Belarus, has taken a significant interest in a tiny town on the edge of the Utah-Wyoming border called Manila. He’s decided to spend some extra time here, learning more about cattle ranching and alfalfa farming from the locals. When asked, he told reporters. . .”
“What?” All the blood has drained from Kristiana’s face. “No.”
There’s a lot of murmuring in the car, but I can still hear his voice. His English tutor was British, and now that I’m learning to differentiate the various English accents, I understand a little more why he stands out here, in America.
“—the people of this area are so. . .” He pauses and looks right at the camera. “Well, they’re just delightful. I can’t get enough of their small-town mannerisms and the tight-knit friendships they’ve formed.” When he smiles, my blood runs cold.
“We have to go back,” I say.
“What good would come from it?” Adriana asks. “That’s exactly what he wants us to do.”
“Those people—what’s he doing to them?” I think about Mister Steve, his kind wife Abigail, and Kristiana and Gustav’s cousin, Amanda Saddler. She can’t ever seem to keep her mouth shut. I can only imagine how well that’s going over with Leonid. They’ll all be charcoal by sunset tonight.
“First off,” Aleks says, “We’re at least twenty hours away, so nothing we do will be immediate. But second, Adriana’s right. Going there is exactly what he wants, and while it pains me to see that he’s figured out where we were, it won’t help them for us to?—”
“You’re all cowards,” I say. “You?—”
My tirade’s cut short when Gustav shifts into a massive, dark bay horse, his front hooves shattering through the window of the left side of our overpriced SUV. Unfortunately, when it happens, we’re in the middle of a rather large city.
And people are videotaping us.
Hopefully no one believes it’s real, because right after he shifts, Gustav wakes up.