Chapter 43 Vitali The Goodbye
Vitali: The Goodbye
Iwasn’t going to blow Katya’s childhood and everyone around it to bits, but I needed somewhere to construct what I needed to construct.
They were coming, so I had to do it by the window, and when cars started pulling up, I knew to get out.
I would have to go off the balcony and needed a strap, and Maxim’s school bag with the two cartoon hockey players facing off was big enough to fit the bottles.
It didn’t make for a cool descent between floors with that flapping on my back, but Katya wasn’t watching, so that was okay.
I had to talk myself through the next part because this was the closest I’d come to snapping, and this time I couldn’t let that happen. Not if I wanted to return to her, because I didn’t know what went on when I wasn’t in my head, and this was a delicate matter.
Return to her. Because I let her leave.
I made her leave.
Deep breaths. Track sixteen, then loop back around to one. Repeat.
I took the bus to Galeeva Street, then walked two blocks because the buses didn’t run that way in the middle of the night.
The casino was dark. They shut it down at midnight. The top floor was where Musa had his flat, and the rest of them gathered around him like flies, so the others’ apartments were filled too.
I wasn’t stupid; the place would be guarded, and they—armed. I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere near a door, but I could get to the roof. They had security cameras, but there wouldn’t be time for them to be useful. I needed a minute, maybe two.
I didn’t think I was followed, but worked quickly anyway, because I had somewhere to be later and I wanted to change clothes for the flight. I would need to grab some of Kotik’s things since she was already at the airport, and all of that was across town.
The two large, plastic kvass bottles I pulled from the school bag sloshed as I emptied them into the rooftop water tank, careful not to splash any on my arms. A shame I had to pour the kvass out at the apartment—I liked kvass.
The other, much smaller glass bottle remained in my bag. Despite the label, it didn’t contain Pepsi.
I slid back down the ladder and snuck down the wall, ducking under the windows, just in case. One. Two. Three. Four. The kitchen would be on the eastern-most side, away from the main doors. No bars at the top of the windows for better ventilation.
I took a moment to stand and appreciate what I was about to do. Sergei would have pissed himself if he were alive to see it. Misha will piss himself, but he’ll be impressed. My farewell gift to him, because he has to work here when I leave.
I pulled out a cigarette, because apparently I had a death wish sparking something so close to my face, and lit it. Had to get it going well before getting the Pepsi bottle out.
I held it to the makeshift fuse until it ignited, and threw the Molotov cocktail, shattering the window glass.
Then, ran.
Here is the funny thing about Molotovs—they’ll burn, but they’re not the end of the world. Hard to put out, not impossible. But I didn’t need it to burn, just burn long enough to set off the fire sprinklers running from the roof.
And here is the funny part about napalm—it’s not hard to put out—it’s impossible. It sticks to every surface and doesn’t dilute in water because of its chemical structure. All it needs is a spark, and it spreads. That’s why its use is restricted by Protocol III of the UN Convention.
I waited long enough to hear the fire alarms, and then there was no reason to wait.
I’d need to pack Kotik that dress from our first date. Call me sentimental.
And that’s what I thought about while I waited for the number two bus, because it ran early enough that I could catch it at the beginning of its route.
The thick column of black smoke still rose above the city when I got in the taxi two hours later and headed to the airport.
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About Russia:
kvass – a traditional fermented drink