Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The bathroom Svetlana stepped into wrinkled her nose in disgust. It needed major renovation.
Cracked and dirty grout between the tiles.
A tub stained orange with rust, and the porcelain chipped in spots.
The sink didn’t fare any better. However, she’d honestly seen and been in worse since they started living in the truck, which, for obvious reasons, lacked a lavatory.
She stared at herself in the mirror and couldn’t help making a face. The bruises from the beating had blossomed. What a sight. And to think she’d entertained seducing Idris. It was a wonder he didn’t cringe at the sight of her.
A sigh escaped as she eyed her dark hair.
Her one pride and joy. Long, thick, lustrous.
Before she could change her mind, she ripped open the box with the bleach and began soaking the strands.
The stink of it overpowered and made her eyes water.
The flimsy gloves protected her hands but only barely as she massaged her scalp, ensuring she coated her entire head.
Then she had to wait. With the smell making her nauseous, she debated exiting the bathroom but then Idris would see her looking even more hideous.
Instead, she chose to crack open the window to let in some air.
She closed the toilet lid and sat on it to wait while the bleach did its job.
Boredom set in immediately, meaning she had only her thoughts to entertain.
So much had happened in the last day. Traumatic events that would forever change her life, and she didn’t mean the necessary deaths.
She’d long come to terms with the necessity when it came to survival.
What plagued her more was wondering if she and Yuri would ever find a measure of peace again.
Would they have to leave Russia? Was anywhere safe?
Not according to Idris’ grim prediction.
If this doctor he feared truly had his sights set on capturing Yuri, where could they go and not be found?
It might be possible if Yuri kept his bear under wraps.
However, without their act, how would they fund their survival?
Neither had skills or an education beyond the basics.
The best they could hope for would be minimum wage jobs.
But where? They spoke excellent English and Russian, but no other language, meaning most European countries would be hard for them to fit in.
What did that leave? The United Kingdom?
They might be able to blend in there, but was that far enough?
She briefly thought of the USA, only to veto it. Everyone knew how much they hated all things Russian. It went two ways. For as much as Americans denigrated their way of life, Russians scoffed just as much at the debauchery they saw on social media.
What about Canada? Idris’ home country. She’d always heard they were accepting of everyone, but it also happened to be where this doctor originated from.
There was another option, one that didn’t involve fleeing.
Staying to fight. Idris seemed determined to put an end to the doctor who’d transformed him.
Was that even possible? This doctor had the KGB and government working with him, which obviously meant he had money to bribe.
Getting to him meant running a gauntlet of security that would likely be more than one man alone, or even two bears and a woman, could hope to prevail against. Idris seemed to think his friends would come to his aid.
She had her doubts. It took a certain kind of bravery, and level of crazy, to choose to fight terrible odds.
But desperate people sometimes didn’t have a choice.
The question was, what should Svetlana do? Flee and hide, or fight?
She remained undecided as the time came to rinse the bleach from her hair.
The water in the shower emerged tepid but did the job, along with the cheap shampoo Yuri bought.
No conditioner, though, meaning a towel dry of her hair left it frizzy.
She eyed the brush and vetoed it. She’d wait until her hair dried before tackling the inevitable knots.
A glance at her reflection showed her dark locks replaced with straw.
She looked even more hideous than before, the mottling on her flesh even more pronounced with her lightened hair.
Luckily, her brother thought to buy some makeup—foundation, mascara, eyeliner. Slathering it on hid some of the damage.
The shirt she’d taken from Boris’ closet remained draped over the towel bar and the thought of wearing it repugned. However, she’d been so quick to attack her dreaded bleaching task, she’d forgotten to bring in the clothes on the bed. Should she call out for someone to bring them?
She tucked the towel tight around her body and emerged from the bathroom to find Idris sitting on a bed watching television. He glanced at her and surprisingly didn’t recoil at her hideousness. On the contrary, she detected a hint of hunger.
“Where’s my brother?” she asked, stalking to the pile of clothes.
“Hitting an internet café to see if he can find out more about the reward Levy is offering.”
“By himself?”
“He didn’t want you left alone.”
“Then he should have waited for me,” she huffed.
“Which would have been an even worse idea, given your face is all over the news.” He waved to the television. “If you ask me, he left on purpose while you were busy. He’s just as protective of you as you are of him.”
“That idiot,” she grumbled. “When will he be back?”
“An hour or two.”
Since she’d been in the bathroom for at least one, that meant he’d return soon. She dug through the clothing for the items Yuri selected for her and entered the bathroom only long enough to change. Upon exiting again, she waved at Idris.
“Move over.” She made him share the bed rather than clear their purchases from the other. They watched the news, most of it recapping what they’d already seen. She grimaced as her face flashed on the screen. Idris grunted at the sight of his military portrait.
A short clip of a fire played next, Boris’ house completely aflame, with firefighters struggling to put it out. No surprise, they suspected her of that, too.
Other new footage showed the outside of the hotel with the reporter interviewing people who claimed they had tips. When she told Idris, he murmured, “Lots of folks looking to collect.”
“I’m surprised none of them trapped a bear in the woods.”
He glanced at her. “That would be insane.”
“People in need will do anything for money.” Just look at her and Yuri, exploiting his God-given gift.
Time passed, and Yuri’s one hour turned into two. Then stretched into three. As the dinner hour approached, a pacing Idris finally admitted, “Something’s wrong.”
“Yuri’s face and name didn’t make the news, meaning he’s likely still safe.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Surely the news would mention if he was captured,” she murmured, not wanting to believe the worst.
“Not if the KGB snagged him and took him somewhere for questioning.”
Hearing her greatest fear spoken aloud had Svetlana ready to head out looking for her brother when someone knocked.
Both she and Idris stared at the door. This place didn’t offer room service.
“Hide in the bathroom while I see who’s at the door,” Idris ordered.
Before she could tell him what he could do with that order, they heard Yuri.
“It’s me. I forgot to bring the key.”
Her brother had returned, but given her annoyance with him, might not live for long.