Chapter 24 Noemi
NOEMI
Iwake up with my cheek pressed against the cold window of the car and my neck bent at an angle. I'm going to have a pain in my neck for days. We've been parked in this lot for at least three hours with the sun slowly warming us up.
Sasha's curled up in the back seat with his head on a bunched-up sweater, sleeping like this is all some grand adventure instead of a nightmare we can't wake up from.
I envy him that ability, the way children can find excitement in chaos.
It's amazing how they can see a night spent sleeping in a car as something fun.
To him, being with his father out on the road is a distraction from the pain of losing his mother, which seems to help him power through.
I wish I had some sort of internal motivator like that.
Fyodor hasn't slept at all, and I don't think he's even tried.
He's in the driver's seat with his phone in his hand, thumbs moving across the screen as he sends message after message.
He's been at it for hours now, coordinating with Lazar and Vasili, telling them exactly where to find us so they can finally finish what we came here to do.
Every few minutes, he pauses to scan the parking lot, checking for threats, and then goes right back to typing.
I watch him for a moment without saying anything, taking in the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw keeps tightening every time a new message comes through.
He's supposed to be the one doing the hunting here, the predator tracking his prey across the city.
But somewhere along the way the roles got reversed, and now we're the ones running.
I feel vulnerable and exposed out here, especially with Sasha. That kid has suffered enough, and we're living in a situation that threatens to drop a nuke on everything he has left.
"You're awake," Fyodor says without looking up from his phone.
"Unfortunately."
"Are you hungry? There's a diner right there."
I look through the windshield at the building we're parked in front of, a run-down place with a flickering sign and a few trucks in the lot.
It probably hasn't been renovated since the Soviet era, but right now it looks like paradise because it means hot food and a chance to sit somewhere that isn't this car.
My stomach rumbles at the thought of fresh coffee and warm bread.
"I'm quite hungry, actually."
Sasha stirs in the back seat, rubbing his eyes and looking around.
"Where are we?" He yawns and stretches, and I hear his belly rumbling too. When I walked out of that motel yesterday, I never stopped to think whether Fyodor would feed him. I don’t know if he had dinner before Fyodor dragged him out to find me, and then one thing led to another and here we are.
"We're at a diner," I tell him, turning around to smile at him even though smiling is the last thing I feel like doing.
"We're going to have breakfast. Doesn't that sound nice?
" Shielding a child from emotional damage is one of the hardest things an adult can do, to carry that burden.
But when he smiles and nods, his whole face lights up and it energizes me.
This is why I got into teaching, to help children. It makes every bit of my hard work and sacrifice worth it.
We pile out of the car and into the warmer air following that front that moved through.
My clothes are a bit musty from the rain last night and they're still damp where the material is thicker.
I walk a bit stiffly as I herd Sasha toward the entrance, and Fyodor guides me with a hand in the small of my back.
The place is mostly empty at this hour, just a couple of truckers at the counter nursing their coffees and an old man reading a newspaper in the corner booth.
A waitress who looks like she's been working the night shift waves us toward a table near the back and hands us menus that are sticky with old syrup and have half the items crossed out with marker.
Sasha orders hot cakes because he's been talking about pancakes for days, ever since our breakfast got interrupted.
Fyodor and I both get coffee because neither of us has slept enough to function without caffeine.
The waitress brings our drinks and disappears into the kitchen, and we sit there in silence while Sasha plays with the sugar packets.
I'm watching him build a little tower out of the pink and blue packets when the door opens and two men walk in. Fyodor relaxes when he sees them, though I’m not as quick to feel comfortable around them.
It's been more than a week since we interacted with them in person, but I still don't like the cold chill I get when Lazar and Vasili are around.
I try to reserve judgment because for all I know, they're like Fyodor who is trying to be a different person, but my body and my nervous system aren't fooled.
They slide into the booth next to Fyodor and nod at me like we're all just old friends meeting up for a casual meal.
"Took you long enough," Fyodor grunts and lifts his coffee mug up in the air, jerking his chin up at the waitress who nods at him.
"Traffic," Lazar replies with a shrug. "You alright after last night?" Lazar's question reveals that all of that frantic texting Fyodor was doing this morning was telling his men about what happened.
"Nothing I couldn't handle. But our friend has more eyes on him than we thought. We're going to need to adjust our approach if we want to finish this job." His eyes flick over to me and I scowl at him.
They're speaking in code, dancing around the specifics because Sasha's sitting right there soaking in every word like a sponge.
But even in code, the conversation is heading somewhere I don't want it to go. They may be used to this sort of coded talk but Sasha isn’t a dumb boy.
He'll figure it out sooner or later, and I'd rather it be much, much later.
"Maybe we should talk about this later," I cut in, keeping my voice casual even though I'm glaring at all three of them hot enough to burn. "When we're somewhere more private and can speak freely."
Lazar glares at me, but I hold his gaze without flinching until he backs down with a grunt. "Sure. Later works."
Vasili's been watching the exchange without saying anything. Now he glances at Sasha, who's moved on from the sugar packets to trying to balance his spoon on the edge of his water glass with intense concentration.
"Lady, the kid's got to learn some day…" Vasili's not wrong, but this isn’t the time.
"The kid's already lost too much," I say, and I cover both of Sasha's ears with my palms to drown out the sound.
"His mother is dead, his whole life got turned upside down, and he doesn't need to hear about any of this on top of everything else.
Whatever you need to discuss, you discuss it when he's not in the room. Are we clear on that?"
Sasha looks up at me and scowls before waving my hands away, and I hold him for a second longer and press a kiss to his forehead. When he pulls away he's snickering.
There's a beat where I'm not sure if I've pushed too far, but I don’t care if they don't like it. When Lazar lifts an eyebrow and looks over at Fyodor, and when our eyes meet I know he understands.
"Ah, thank you," he says, and I look up to see the waitress with two more mugs of coffee and plates of food.
Sasha demolishes his pancakes while the men continue to talk in very coded language about their package and how they'll find it. I'm still tense, but they've gotten my point and won't slip up hopefully.
I'm on my second cup of coffee when Fyodor's eyes fix on something outside the window. I follow his gaze and see a car rolling into the lot very slowly. The long black sedan pauses near his SUV and then two men climb out.
"We might have company," Fyodor says.
Lazar and Vasili exchange a look and I feel my heart start pounding so hard I can barely think straight. This is happening again. This is really happening again, and Sasha is sitting right here in the middle of it.
"Maybe you should take the boy out of here now," Vasili says as he stands and I'm on my feet moving before he has to repeat himself.
"Sasha," I mumble and my voice cracks. "I need you to come to the bathroom with me."
"But I don't have to go."
"I know, but I need you to try anyway. We've got a long drive ahead of us and I don't want to have to stop on the highway later. Come on, it'll just take a minute."
He looks at me like he knows something's wrong.
He can sense the fear I'm trying so hard to hide, but he doesn't say it out loud.
Instead he just slides out of the booth and takes my hand and I lead him toward the back of the diner where the bathrooms are, walking at a normal pace even though I want to run.
"I didn't get to finish my pancakes," he whines, and all I can think about is getting him to safety. This can't be happening. My heart can't take much more of this.
The men's room is a single-occupancy with a lock on the door, and I push Sasha inside before he can protest.
"Wash your hands really well, okay? Lots of soap, get under the fingernails, the whole thing. Take your time and do it properly."
"But I didn't even go to the bathroom, so why do I need to—"
I close the door before he can finish the sentence and look around the hallway for something, anything, I can use to keep him in there.
There's a mop propped against the wall near the supply closet, and I grab it and wedge the handle under the bathroom door, jamming it tight so it can't be opened from the inside.
"Noemi?" Sasha's voice comes through the door, confused and starting to get scared. "I can't get out. The door's stuck."
"I know, sweetheart. Just stay in there for a minute. Everything's fine."
Everything is not fine. I can hear voices rising in the front of the diner, angry shouts and the scrape of furniture against the floor, and I press myself against the wall and try to remember how to breathe.
"Noemi, the door won't open!" Sasha is pounding on it now, his voice getting higher. "Let me out!"
"Just wait, baby. Please just wait."
The first gunshot makes me jump so hard I bite my tongue. Then there's more of them, a rapid string of cracks that echo down the hallway, and Sasha is screaming now, banging on the door with both fists. I can't do this to him. He's in there and I'm out here, and neither one of us are safe.
I yank the mop handle free and throw open the bathroom door, pushing myself inside with him and locking it behind us. I drop to the floor and pull him into my arms, pressing his face against my chest and wrapping myself around him like I can somehow shield him from all of this with my own body.
He's shaking so hard it feels like he's going to vibrate apart, and I'm shaking too, both of us huddled on the dirty bathroom floor while gunfire explodes just a few dozen feet away.
"What's happening? It's so loud!"
"It's okay," I whisper into his hair. "I've got you. Just hold onto me."
The shots keep coming, mixed with shouts and crashes and sounds I don't want to think about too hard. I rock Sasha back and forth and try to keep him calm.
There's no fire drill that covers this. No clever story I can tell him to make this okay. He knows what gunshots are and he knows what's happening. And there's nothing I can do to protect him from the truth of it except hold him and hope neither of us gets shot.
When silence finally comes I'm shaking and sobbing so hard there's no way to explain it away. Sasha is still trembling, and his face is buried in my shirt. And I hear heavy footsteps outside the bathroom door.
I look around the bathroom for something I could use as a weapon if I need to, but there's nothing except a toilet and a sink and a paper towel dispenser bolted to the wall. If whoever's out there wants to hurt us, I won't be able to stop them.
The knock on the door makes both of us flinch.
"Noemi. It's me." Fyodor's words boom through the door and the relief floods me. I scramble to my feet with Sasha still clinging to me and reach for the lock with hands that won't stop trembling.
He pushes into the room and snatches Sasha off the ground into his arms then grabs my wrist and starts moving. I can barely walk let alone run, but he moves so quickly I have no choice but to try.
"We need to go," he says. "Lazar has the car running out back."
I let him take my arm and lead us out of the bathroom. As we pass through the destroyed dining room, I catch a glimpse of overturned tables and broken glass and at least one body on the floor before we're through the door and into the parking lot.
The car is idling a few feet away, Lazar behind the wheel and Vasili in the passenger seat with blood running down his forehead from a cut somewhere in his hairline. Fyodor opens the back door and we pile in, and then we're moving, tires squealing as we tear out of the lot and onto the highway.
Sasha's still crying but the tears are silent now that he's in Fyodor's arms. I reach up and stroke his hair and lean on Fyodor’s shoulder so I can whisper into Sasha's ear that it's going to be okay.
"Are you okay?" Fyodor asks, and I realize he's looking at me.
"We're not hurt…." I assure him, but that, too, is a lie. Some pain isn't physical and things like this have a tendency to scar a soul worse than a bullet scars flesh.
Sasha's crying fades to hiccups and then to silence, and eventually his body relaxes against Fyodor's and his breathing evens out. He's asleep, exhausted by fear and adrenaline and I cling to him and his father because I'm not able to stop myself from shaking still.
When will this nightmare be over?