Oleg spat on the ground. “Phuu, dignity. Americans have no dignity,” he said with a groan.
“You’ve already won. All I’m asking is for an act of kindness.”
Oleg shook his head. “No, you’re looking for an opportunity to escape.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Escape? How? You’ve got the big gun.” He nodded toward the AK hanging across Oleg’s chest. “And I’m locked.” He rattled his handcuffs.
Oleg grinned, but did not say anything.
“You’re afraid I’m going to overpower you, that’s what it is.”
Oleg’s jaw tightened. He drew near Justin’s bed. “I’m a Russian and I’m afraid of nothing.”
“But you are — afraid like a little boy.”
Oleg’s left fist slammed against the side of Justin’s head.
“You even hit like a little boy,” Justin said.
The next blow hit him on the jaw. Justin felt blood in his throat.
“Not very chatty now, are you?” Oleg said, his arms ready for another onslaught.
Justin took in a deep breath and swallowed his blood. “Right, but you’re still scared shitless.”
Oleg raised his fist for the third blow. Justin swung his head to the other side, bracing for the impact. But halfway through, Oleg stopped. “I’ll show you who’s the one scared,” he sputtered the word in a fit of rage. “I’ll show you who the loser is.”
Justin said nothing but his eyes were carefully following Oleg’s every move.
“I’ll prove you that you nothing but a loser.” Oleg’s English was getting worse the angrier he became.
He walked to the end of the bed and took out a key from a pocket on his uniform’s vest. He uncuffed Justin’s left leg and proceeded to do the same with the right leg. Justin remained still, feeling he was getting closer and closer to his goal.
Oleg circled Justin’s bed. “You stupid, very stupid for thinking I afraid of a piece of shit like you,” Oleg scoffed as he placed the key in Justin’s left handcuffs and turned it while grumbling through his teeth.
Justin kept his arm in place. A few seconds and I’ll shut you up for good.
Oleg struggled with the other handcuffs but finally he snapped them open. He took a step back and began to pull his pistol out of his holster. “Now you get up and do what I tell you or I—”
Justin’s sharp left kick caught Oleg at the throat and cut off his words. The pistol flew out of his hands before he could squeeze off a round and it landed a few feet away. He threw a punch to Justin’s stomach. Justin gasped for air as he struggled to his feet. Oleg’s second blow caught Justin’s left shoulder and he fell to his right knee.
Oleg came from the side with a fast kick. Justin blocked it with his right arm and threw his body hard against Oleg, attempting to throw him to the ground. Justin locked his arms around Oleg’s legs and lifted him up in the air for a moment before slamming him backwards onto the hardwood floor of the cabin. Justin ignored the volley of blows against his shoulders and his head. He slid his hands upwards and wrapped them tight around Oleg’s throat.
Oleg stopped his attack and tried to wedge his fingers under Justin’s hands. Justin redoubled his efforts, encouraged by Oleg’s painful gurgling and low breathing. Oleg reeled violently to throw Justin off like a wild horse trying to get rid of his rider. The tactic almost worked, but Justin was able to hold on. Oleg’s reeling began to wind down as Justin tightened his grip around the dying man’s throat. A few moments later, Justin let go. Oleg’s head fell backwards and his empty eyes glanced upwards at the ceiling.
Justin lost no time stripping Oleg of his shirt, jacket, and pants. Then he retrieved the pistol and the AK rifle. He hoped to overpower the second guard and pry some intelligence from him about the whereabouts of Carrie, Becca, and Bashir.
He threw the AK across the chest in the same way as Oleg used to carry it and stepped outside. A quick glance told him the other guard was in the passenger seat of an off-road Lada painted in a camouflage pattern. It was parked about fifty feet away from the door, at the end of a small driveway leading up to the cabin. The area was dark but the snow reflected the dim glow of the moon. Justin turned his head away from the guard and began to walk along the side of the cabin, looking left and right and upwards as if inspecting it. He hoped his movements would draw the guard out of the Lada and make him an easier target. He could not afford to have the guard speed away and disappear.
Justin stopped and crouched on the ground as if observing something at one of the corners of the cabin.
“Oleg, what’s going on?” came the guard’s voice from behind him.
He’s still inside the car.
Justin began to dig in the snow, pushing it to the sides in a very noticeable way. Then he drew out his pistol from his waist and held it tight in his right hand.
The Lada’s door opened and closed behind him with a loud thud.
“Oleg, tell me, what’s wrong?”
Justin spun around and pointed his pistol at the guard. But the guard was not caught by surprise. His hands were holding an AK aimed at Justin and the guard fired off a couple of rounds. Justin pulled the trigger of his pistol as he rolled on the snow and slipped behind the corner of the cabin. He heard the AK explode at full automatic and bullets began to pierce the cabin’s wooden walls. A storm of slivers surrounded him and he raised his hands to his face to protect his eyes. Then he ran away from the cabin toward the edge of the forest about twenty feet away.
He had taken five or six steps when the AK thunder behind him ceased. He looked back and fired a shot even though the target was still around the corner and beyond his line of sight. Justin zigzagged as he reached the edge of the forest and fell behind a thick pine.
The guard walked carefully and began to trace Justin’s footsteps in the snow.
Justin took a deep breath, then sprang forward from his position. His pistol was pointed at the guard’s head around forty feet away. At that distance, it was a safe shot.
“Drop it,” Justin shouted. “Drop your rifle.”
The guard’s AK was aimlessly hanging in his hands. He slowly lifted it upwards and began to turn it toward Justin.
“Don’t do it,” Justin shouted. “Drop it to the ground.”
The guard stopped his movement.
“Put it down,” Justin called at him.
A loud car engine rumble and bright headlights swinging around the Lada caught Justin’s attention. A black sedan stopped at the end of the driveway and a man stepped outside.
Reinforcements.
The guard decided to make his move. He swung his AK in Justin’s direction and let out a series of short, calculated bursts.
Justin dove for cover among the trees. Bullets zipped past his head, striking branches and carving up large chunks of bark. He lay down flat on the ground, burying himself in the two-foot-deep snow. He slithered backwards and away from the kill zone.
Bullets continued to strike around him but they were less concentrated, stitching a large, irregular pattern. Justin waited for a pause in the volley so he could observe his target as he advanced with a low crawl toward the left, trying to come out around the Lada and surprise the guard and his reinforcements.
A few moments went by without anyone firing shots. Justin took a quick peek from behind the trunk of a spruce tree. The guard was walking toward a man, pointing and gesturing toward the forest.
Justin recognized the man talking to the guard.
That son of a bitch is Max.
Max was nodding and observing the edge of the forest. He patted the guard on the back, then gestured for him to move forward exactly toward where Justin was hiding.