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There’s an alley between the segments of an abandoned hospital where most of our fights took place. The height of the walls kept us hidden while the lack of occupants reduced the risk of police involvement. It felt like a questionable strategy to have the fights there, but my old mentor Mirali knew what he was doing.
Hopefully, he still does.
I park my car in the overgrown, cracked parking lot behind the old hospital, listening for the familiar noises that followed me all throughout my life. The thing I miss the most is the music that constantly plays from one house or another, even if it’s maddening after a while. There’s an authenticity to it that the Bratva lacks.
Bracing myself for the worst possible outcome, I straighten myself and continue towards the alley.
It’s not long before I’m met with three of the six men that I used to call my brothers. I have a feeling that I know where the other three are, and I’m not sure that I want to find out the details.
“Holy shit, is that Dom?” asks Marat, always the first to open his mouth and start something.
While I’m expecting a mixed response to my sudden return, I’m not prepared for how accepting they are of me despite my departure ten years ago. The other two, Antoly and Vadim, turn their heads and watch me approach with none of the malice or resentment that I anticipated.
“You coming here to tell us that you took over the Bratva? You looking for recruits?” Antoly shouts as the distance between us becomes smaller.
“Nah, I’d never want to take over a mess like the Bratva. Especially not the Tambovs. What a fucking mess,” I reply as I wait for the other shoe to drop.
As soon as I’m close enough to see their faces, a thousand memories flood my brain and I’m captivated by the ache that comes with the passing of time. They all look good for their age, but certainly worn by the street life. They’re getting to be too old to be scrapping for money, and I can imagine they’ve been looking for a way out for quite some time.
Vadim walks up and hugs me. “You’re five years too late, motherfucker,” he says, slapping my back before he steps away.
“It’s been complicated. Where’s everyone else?” I ask, regretting my decision as soon as I see their faces grow dark with unresolved sorrow.
Vadim, being the self-proclaimed leader of the group, clears his throat and prepares himself to speak.
“Evgeny broke into the heroin game after he fucked up his leg in a fight. He couldn’t walk anymore, and his girl just had a baby. He did what he could for her, but it didn’t last long. He got caught up in a deal with some shady people and they shot him point blank.”
“Okay, what about Artem and Andrei?” I ask hesitantly.
“Artem got arrested on a weapons charge, then he was stabbed in prison. He was fuckin’ twenty-seven. Andrei actually tried to get off the streets, get a real job and everything, but he ended up getting leukemia,” Vadim continues, his face warning me not to ask for further details.
“Leukemia? He was the only good one out of all of us, and he got leukemia. Goddamn it,” I reply, feeling my blood pressure rising at the onslaught of difficult news.
There’s a moment of silence among all of us, and the world feels quieter. Quieter without my dead friends, quieter without the sound of lively families from the houses in the distance.
“So, I feel like you didn’t come here just to say hi. There’s some intention here. Is something going on?” asks Marat.
The adrenaline is beginning to flow now that I’m about to say it out loud – my betrayal of Remi.
“I need to get out of the Bratva, and I’m bringing someone with me. I need to speak with Mirali, learn how he got out. Without him, I don’t know what to do, and I don’t have much time.”
There’s another silence, but this time, my three friends are exchanging glances that makes my stomach drop.
“He’s around, and he’ll probably talk to you, but he won’t take kindly to your return after being out for ten years,” Antoly says, crossing his arms and showing off the shitty tattoos he’d gotten in jail.
“I’m not expecting him to forgive me. I’m not even expecting him to let me come back, but I need to talk to him.”
After another round of glances, Vadim nods in the direction of an old tavern with bars over the windows and doors.
“He’s in there. Go through the back, down the stairs to the left. He’s almost never gone,” he says warily, as if he’s sending me to my death.
I nod in appreciation and solidarity. This won’t be the last time I see them, and they know it. But I have bigger issues to conquer.
The door to the basement of the tavern is practically falling off the hinges, and at first glance, I wouldn’t even expect a human to be anywhere near this place. Maybe that’s why he likes it.
“Mirali, I need to talk to you,” I call down the stairs to alert him to my presence.
“Who the fuck- Dominik?” he shouts from below in disbelief.
