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As he walks down the corridor, blood drips onto the floor from the brown paper bag in Kai’s right hand, leaving red splotches on the concrete. Looks like the captain wanted a souvenir again, and judging from the size of the bag, it’s probably someone’s hand. When Kai reaches the office door, he drops the bag, and it makes a disgusting grotesque sound as it hits the floor. It might not be a hand after all.
Kai nods at me as we pass each other, and I notice a badly stitched cut on his chin that still oozes blood. He probably sewed himself up again. Since he killed his handler, medical personnel refuse to treat him unless he’s sedated.
I grab the doorknob and step over the bloody bag on the floor, entering the captain’s office. Kruger is seated behind the desk, watching the monitor in front of him and reviewing the mission reports. I wonder what he’ll do when he finds me unreachable tomorrow.
He’ll likely send someone to dispose of me. Probably Kai. Natalie and I will be long gone by the time that happens, though. I’d already decided this would be my last mission and, before I left, instructed my wife to pack and be ready to go the moment I get home. I tried calling her twice on my way back to the base, but the call went to voice mail.
“Have a seat, Az.” Kruger motions at the chair on the other side of his desk.
“I’ll stand.”
“Suit yourself.” He reaches for his coffee and takes a sip. “Your wife was in a traffic accident this morning.”
My vision blurs as I process his words. I grab the back of the chair. “What?”
“The hospital staff mentioned that she may not make it through the night, so I guess you should head over there,” he says nonchalantly, looking back toward the screen, as if discussing weather.
I turn around and storm out, while my heart climbs into my throat.
***
I stare at the doctor’s lips as he speaks as if that will help his words penetrate into my brain.
“. . .multiple fractures that resulted in massive internal bleeding . . .”
I can’t make sense of what he’s saying. It’s like my mind won’t accept it.
“. . .resuscitated her twice . . .”
I grab the front of his white coat and press him to the wall. The words keep pouring from his mouth, and, with every syllable, rage and despair brew inside my chest. I need the motherfucker to stop speaking!
“. . .we tried. I’m so sorry.”
My hold on the man’s coat wanes. I want to smash his head into that wall until he takes back everything he said, but I seem to have lost the feeling in my hands.
“I want to see her,” I bark into his face. “Now.”
The doctor nods and steps out of my reach. My ears are ringing as I follow him down the hall until he stops at the door on the right.
“Leave,” I say, gripping the knob.
I can hear the footsteps retreating, but I only stare at the door in front of me. It’s a plain, pale-blue piece of wood, but for me, it feels like I’m standing at the gate of doom. The rage that consumed me earlier has evaporated, and the only thing left in my chest is soul-shattering pain. I grip the knob harder but can’t make myself go inside. There’s still a sliver of hope, a desperate thought at the back of my mind that this is some big mistake. It’s someone else’s wife in there. My Natalie is at home, sitting in her favorite chair in our living room, waiting for me to come back so we can finally leave.
I can still remember the day we met like it happened yesterday. She was trying to steal a wallet from a man in the snack aisle of a gas station in full view of the security camera. I dragged her outside and gave her an earful about how terrible of a pickpocket she was. We were both seventeen at the time and living on the streets, but it was as plain as day that she wasn’t cut out for that life. I usually didn’t give a fuck about other people, but I guess I saw a part of myself in her that day. So, I took her to the abandoned house I used to crash at after my old man ended up in jail two years earlier. She was only supposed to stay a few days but never ended up leaving.
I taught her how to pickpocket with finesse and even took her with me to some smaller jobs. It was good to have someone to come home to. To share the good and the bad. And considering the conditions in which we lived in those times, there was more bad than good. I’m not sure how our comradery transformed into love. It crept up on me without my noticing, like a stream wearing away stone grain by tiny grain. We were both young, neither one of us had any family or anyone else left in the world, so we had to fend for ourselves. It was the two of us against everyone else in this fucked-up city. Friendship became affection, then reshaped into something deeper. She became the only good thing in my miserable life.
When Kruger nabbed me and made me join his fucked-up team of killers, I promised myself I would dance to his tune until I got enough money to move Natalie and me far away, somewhere he wouldn’t be able to find us. I figured it would take me a year or two to save enough money so we could disappear.
I was wrong.
In order to get off Kruger’s radar, I couldn’t use any of the IDs I already had because he could track those. I needed new documents for me and Natalie, and Kruger had connections everywhere—the government, the police, the underground, every fucking place. Getting new identities without him finding out was close to impossible. I knew way too much to be let off the hook easily, so I had to make sure I didn’t raise any red flags. If I did, both Natalie and I would end up dead. It took me years, several hundred thousand, and four dead bodies to find channels Kruger couldn’t trace. I got the damn papers a week before I went on this mission.
And now she’s gone. Some asshole has taken away the only family I had.
Closing my eyes, I open the door and step inside the room.
***
