She hated it, but she would have to risk not only their lives, but Alek’s too. She could flip him. She was sure of it. He was already halfway there by offering her and 2-Stroke sustenance and information. He was primed.
It was time to remember her vow. No mercy.
5
“Hey,” a voice called, and 2-Stroke opened his eyes. It had been a couple of days since Zasha’s ultimatum video aimed at the US, and 2-Stroke was still feeling the effects of his beating. His ribs and torso were mottled with bruises, his lip cut, and a gash at his temple all made him feel like hamburger meat.
He focused on Alek standing at the bars. It was as if Zasha had washed her hands of them, tired of her petty game to get him to renounce the SEALs and the US. He had effectively done it when he’d said he would say anything to save Agent Mikos’s life back in Croatia. Maybe that was enough for the psycho bitch.
He blinked a couple of times, clearing his head. For a moment, Alek looked like…Riley. But Riley was dead. Killed by their father in a mad drunken moment. He pushed up to a sitting position, the regular meals helping to get him back to a balance. Alek’s expression brightened when he saw 2-Stroke rise.
“I brought apples,” he said, holding out the bundle.
2-Stroke pushed off the bunk and walked the short space toward Alek. He smiled. The kid meant well, but this was dangerous. Too dangerous.
“Thank you, Alek, but you shouldn’t be risking yourself for me.”
“Why not? You’re being held against your will in a cage with my freaking crazy uncle holding your life in his hands. What do you want me to do? Turn the other way like all his flunkies do, like they don’t care about anyone? I can’t do that. My mom…” He swallowed hard. “…taught me better.”
2-Stroke accepted the apples, and the pensive look on the boy’s face relaxed into a smile. He walked back to the bunk and tucked the fruit under his pillow to eat later. Alek settled into a cross-legged position near the bars. “Chry says hi. Do you know her well?”
“Yes, we grew up together. We’re friends.”
“Oh, she’s pretty…beautiful. Her hair is like moonlight.”
2-Stroke smiled. Did the kid have a crush? “You a poet, Alek?”
He stiffened. “What’s wrong with writing poetry?”
“Nothing. I like to draw. The arts help us to express ourselves, especially when we have a lot to express.”
“My mom read me poetry,” he said. “Poets are artistic social changers. They talk about cultural connection to uplift and educate, create a special place for reflection to feed mind, body, and soul to transform the world. I like to think of the world as one culture, the human race. It can be daunting, but rich. You know what I mean?”
Having an uncle like Darko must be grating for a kid with such intelligence and sensitivity. Once again, he couldn’t help comparing Alek to Riley. His brother had been sensitive and smart and, like Alek, hated his guardian.
“I know what you mean, but there are a lot of closed minds in this world, Alek.” 2-Stroke had spent most of his adult life killing people who didn’t think the same way his culture thought, and he had a job he loved because of that ideology. It wasn’t long ago that Alek’s country had also clashed over ideology and religion. People who were always ready to fight for their beliefs. “What happened to your mom?”
“She died from a broken heart,” he said softly. “I wrote a poem about it. Do you want to hear it sometime?”
“Yeah, kid. I do. I lost my mom when I was eight.”
“How?”
“Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a breath. “I don’t know what Zasha hates about you and Chry. But that’s her problem. My uncle is helping her because he loves her in his own sick, twisted way.” He looked around and leaned in. “I have a relative, my mom’s cousin, who lives near Washington, DC. You know this place?”
“Yes, it’s the seat of our government. It’s a federal district not associated with any state. It’s a place where we govern.”
He sighed. “Yes, freedom, democracy. Is it true that you can just walk to school and hang out with friends there without armed guards?”
“Within limits. But yes. Whatever you want to be, you can accomplish that in DC.” He shifted on the bunk and walked to the bars and sat down across from Alek. “Is that what you want? To be a poet?”
“Yeah. Is that stupid?”
“No. Not at all. Like I said, you can be anything you want to be. We are all shackled in some way, Alek. Some of us by our past and others by circumstance, like you with your oppressive uncle.”
“He has tried to make me be like him. I’m not like him. I will never be like him.”
I’m not like him, Neo. I’ll never be like him. Those words echoed in his head and again, for a split second, he thought he was talking to Riley. He shook his head. No, his brother was dead.
“I want to go to DC. My mom’s cousin said he would take me in. He would help me to become a citizen.”
A chill radiated through 2-Stroke, his insides balling up into a hard, cold knot. He didn’t like the direction Alek was headed. It made him feel sick. “Alek…”
“No, I already agreed to do what Chry asked me to do. I will help you escape. If you live, I live. Really live. Do you understand?”
Feeling as if his insides had been excavated, 2-Stroke got it, but he didn’t like it. He gripped the bars, his knuckles turning white. Forcing aside the surge of concern, he rubbed a sudden tight spot in his temple, softening his voice from the harshness that had threaded through it. “I do. But I don’t think it’s a good idea. What if your uncle finds out?”
“I don’t care. I can’t live like this anymore with all this death and destruction. He wants me to be like him and I can’t. I won’t. I want something better. My mom wanted me to get out, go to DC and live with her cousin. She told me to run when I had the chance. Chry promised—”
“She can’t guarantee you will get to DC, Alek. You’d be risking everything.” 2-Stroke closed his eyes and massaged his head, the knot in his stomach getting worse. It was more than a generous offer, and Alek would benefit if everything went off without a hitch. But 2-Stroke knew all about Murphy’s Law, and the best-laid plans never went the way they were intended.
Alek lifted his chin. “Of course, I would. But the reward would be the chance to live my life on my terms. Isn’t that worth it?”
2-Stroke gripped the bars again, and said, his voice low and fierce, “He will track you down and hurt you, Riley.”
Alek tilted his head. “Riley?”
2-Stroke shook his head to clear it. “Sorry, he was my little brother. He’s dead now because he tried to break away. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” This should have been good news. 2-Stroke should have been thrilled, but instead he felt like throwing up. Taking a deep breath to quell the sick feeling, he managed to push back the bile.
Alek smiled. “My uncle doesn’t think much of me. He won’t suspect me. He doesn’t even know I’m talking to you. Chry and I have a plan.”