I PULL SASHA BACK TO WHERE I’D SEEN THE RATS – THE SHORT flight of steps leading up to the prospekt. I turn to see a German Shepherd at the base of the stairwell.
Behind me, Sasha is trying to force the door. I pick up a brick, tell her to step aside, and smash it down. The lock clatters to the floor.
The flashlight sweeps toward us. The dog snarls, bounds across the room and leaps at me. I bring the brick down on its head. The animal yelps, hits the ground and doesn’t get up.
A second later, I am met by a blast of freezing air and the thunderous noise of the six-lane highway as Sasha kicks open the door.
She is through and out. I follow her.
It has started to snow. I look right and see the lights of the Metro station several hundred meters away. I grab hold of her arm and pull her toward it, but at that moment a group of men in long coats appear from a side street.
We turn and walk in the opposite direction, but the same thing happens. A man wearing a balaclava emerges from the basement. He is less than thirty meters from us, and holding a pistol.
I glance across to the far side of the prospekt, then pull Sasha through a momentary break in the traffic on the three northbound lanes. My leg almost gives out, but adrenaline forces me on. A truck barrels past. The snow catches in its headlights. A car swerves. Another blasts its horn.
We make it to the central barrier. I snatch another glance over my shoulder. Balaclava Man is where we left him – waiting for another break. I scan the southbound lanes, readying myself for the crossing, when I see two skinheads walking along its sidewalk toward us. There’s no mistaking their intent.
Sasha spots them. Lets out an awful cry. ‘I can’t … If he catches me …’
One of the men in long coats steps into the slow lane of the northbound and holds up a hand.
It’s gripping the butt of an automatic.
Tires squeal as the traffic grinds to a halt.
I turn back at the moment Sasha steps in front of a truck.
The driver slams on his brakes, but it still takes fifty meters to stop.
The vehicles behind do the same.
When I reach her, she’s lying face up in the center lane. The flickering lights of the prospekt make her eyes sparkle, but only for a moment.
She’s still alive.
I kneel beside her and brush a lock of hair from her face.
‘Sasha …’
She’s slipping fast.
Behind me, there’s a commotion. Shouting. Barked orders. I take hold of her hand, feel her pulse. It’s feathery. Almost gone.
‘Stay with me, Sasha …’
Somebody grabs me and clamps a hand around my mouth.
They drag me up and backwards. I fight, I bite, I kick. Not because I know I can win, but because I have just heard the words that I used to my dying wife.
Stay with me.
Something unforgiving crashes down on the back of my head.
The Jeep is slewed across the road and the roof has been torn off. It’s dark, except for the glow from one of the headlamps of the Kenworth, which has careered into a tree. Silence is now returning to this stretch of no-man’s-land – a shortcut between the edge of town and the interstate. Then the cicadas resume their singing.
Hope’s head has been thrown back. Her face is tilted my way. Her eyes are open. She’s bleeding heavily. Part of the steering wheel has sheared off and driven itself into her chest.
I release my belt. There’s a first-aid kit in the trunk.
I try to get out, but the left side of my body won’t work.
‘Oh, Josh …’
Her breath comes in tiny gasps. I can barely hear her.
‘Don’t …’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Please. Don’t speak.’
Tears are rolling down my face.
‘No … Josh. It’s … all right.’
I try to reach out to her. If I can just staunch the flow of blood from her chest …
‘Hang on,’ I hear myself saying. ‘Help will be here … any moment.’
But help doesn’t come.
I take her left hand in my right, the only part of me I can move. How did it get so cold already?
I look into her eyes. Feel her pulse weakening.
‘Look at me,’ I tell her.
She raises her eyes.
‘Stay with me. Help’s on its way.’
‘It’s OK … Josh. Everything’s … OK.’
‘Stay with me …’
I don’t know how, but she manages to smile. ‘Look,’ she says.
I raise my eyes.
‘See the stars …?’
I look away. I have never seen so many.
And that’s when she slips away.