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The ground was littered with bodies. Many of them were Russian. There were a few different men that I didn’t recognize, which I assumed were James’ men. There was evidence of gunshots all over, as well as signs of an explosion of some kind. There were still small fires burning from it.
The last people in the building were just me and James. It was time to make my move.
We began descending the stairs together. I pretended to stumble, pitching forward. I grabbed the creaky stairwell and threw my right leg back, hooking my foot and catching his ankle enough to make him loose his footing. He made a surprised sound and tumbled down the rest of the stairs. It wasn’t far enough to kill him or really hurt him that badly, but it was enough to give me the leverage to escape.
I sprinted down the stairs, not wanting to waste a single second. The clatter of him falling echoed in the large building, but I didn’t look back. Instead of running out the front door, I ran straight to a broken window at the back of the building. I didn’t know if it had been blown out in the explosion, not that it really mattered.
The alley behind the warehouse was pitch black. When I reached the end of it, I dove to the left and sprinted down another. Behind me, I heard heavy footfalls, but they were pretty far back. I kept going, knowing that every single step mattered.
By the time I finally stopped, my stomach was cramping, and I was out of breath. Running was an exercise I had taken pride in back home, so I’d gone pretty far, at least three miles from the warehouse into a more populated district.
There was a touristy looking shop to my left and I made a quick turn into it. Without wasting any time, I picked up a pair of jeans and a nice blouse in my size. I grabbed a pair of new panties too. I didn’t see any bras, so I figured I’d just have to go without one. There was an oversized sleepshirt with the New York skyline on it and I slipped into one of the dressing rooms. I took off the tags and got dressed, taking out just enough money from Yuri’s wallet to cover the cost. I walked up to the counter and put the three tags down alongside the sleepshirt.
The male cashier looked at me with a distrustful look.
“My clothes are sort of trashed. I needed some new ones,” I explained. I had mine in a ball in my hands that I lifted up to show him. “I would really appreciate it if you’d let me throw these out.”
“Rough night?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You could definitely say that.”
He looked me up and down as he picked up the tags.
“The blouse, the jeans and underwear, I take it?” he asked.
“Yup. This too.” I pointed to the sleepshirt. He rang it all up and cleared his throat.
“$155.54.”
I laid down the cash on the counter. He sighed, picking it up and using a counterfeit pen before he finalized the sale in the register. He took the hanger off the sleepshirt, bagging it up and handing it to me.
“Garbage?” I asked.
He handed me a bag.
“You can throw those in the dumpster out back,” he explained, while handing me the change.
“You keep the rest,” I smiled.
“Thanks,” he said, his whole face lighting up. I bagged up my trashed clothes and left the store. There was a dumpster in the alley behind the store, just like he’d said there would be, and I tossed my soiled ones out back. I went into another store and bought a hooded wool jacket, pulling it up and over my head.
I looked the part of an American with at least a little means.
The first hotel I found was pretty ritzy. I walked inside, approaching the front desk with a confident air of a woman who knew what she was doing.
The front desk attendant lifted her eyes to me. It was pretty late at night, and she looked surprised to see me.
“Checking in?”
“I don’t have a reservation, but I need a room for the night,” I answered.
“Name?”
“Kasia Poplav,” I answered. It was a pseudonym that I’d used several times before. She typed it into the system and was quiet for a minute.
“We have a king room available, non-smoking,” she replied.
“I’ll take it. Thank you.”
