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Unable to decide whether my fear of the darkness or my selfish desire never to feel pain again is stronger, I’m frozen in place. It’s as if time stops while I think, but only for me.
Koschei pulls out his Light plate—no, phone. Ben disappears behind the wall. Men dressed in black start coming out of the buildings on our sides.
The decision is at the tip of my tongue; it’s surging from my fingertips to my toes, up and down like a bolt of electricity.
Just as I’m about to leave Koschei behind, this time by my own choice, I see Tanya. She’s running toward a car on the far edge of the village. Ben doesn’t run after her.
Is she not going to take me with her? My chest tightens and my decisiveness wanes.
Koschei puts a boney arm around my shoulders and forces me to turn around.
“Where are we going?” I ask, forgetting my safe silence.
The men swarm behind us. I crane my neck to see if Ben is okay, but the wave of people hides him and Tanya from view.
“A change of plans,” Koschei says in a calm voice. “Keep walking.”
I do as I’m told.
Koschei puts his phone to his ear and speaks in a demanding voice I thought was reserved only for punishments and cleansing rituals. “Get us a car, now. For three people. What do you mean you’re at the hospital? Fine, whatever. Make sure someone picks us up.”
“Are we not getting Tanya?” I ask when he’s done.
He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Has the darkness overwhelmed you? Why are you so talkative today, Evgenya?”
I bow my head and don’t utter another word.
We walk briskly around another building, meeting a girl my age. Her legs are long and toned, and she has nice pink shoes on. She’s from the outside—she smells like one of the shops we visited at the big bazaar. I’m itching to see more than just her lower half, and to ask her who she is and why she is here, but it’s not worth the risk.
Our walk comes to an abrupt end when a car stops right in front of us, throwing gravel our way.
“Ow, what the hell,” the girl says in a high voice.
I wince, expecting Koschei to reprimand her, but he says nothing. We all shuffle into the car. My height means I have to bend a bit as I enter, but when I’m inside, I marvel at the feel of the seat under me and the distinct smell of something fresh.
I’m sitting between Koschei and the girl, giving me a full view of the road ahead. A man in black tailored clothes sits at the front.
I’ve never been in a car, or at least not awake. I think when the men took me from the bazaar, they used a car, but I can’t be sure. In any case, when the big machine sputters to life and goes forward, I’m thrown back, my stomach lurching with the movement.
I bite my tongue as I try not to gasp, but something stirs in my belly. We’re going so fast that the trees by the road become a blurry mess in front of my eyes. The swaying and swerving of the car soon make me feel ill and a new fear appears in my mind—I’m going to be sick.
“Koschei,” I croak, a hand already in front of my mouth. I can feel the food from the bazaar rising in my throat. I don’t know if I will be able to stop it.
Why is this happening to me?
“Oh, shit. She needs a bag, Paul.” The girl puts a hand on my shoulder, her warm palm burning through the fabric of my shirt. Sweat now covers my face and if we turn one more time, I will vomit all over the car.
“In the seat pocket, miss,” the driver replies.
Her hands disappear through the middle of the seat and she produces a plastic bag. She nudges it under my head. I’m still too afraid to look at her, now even more considering I can throw up in her face.
“Here. Let it all out,” she says. “Car sickness is such a bitch.”
Her language makes my ears burn, but I take the bag from her hands wordlessly and position it over my mouth.
“Good girl,” she whispers. “Let it all out.”
Why is Koschei so quiet?
