Authors: Deanna Proach
Alex narrows his eyes. "She couldn't handle the trauma, and she didn't want to face me."
"Some friend that is."
"Yeah. I mean, look at my nose," Alex says pointing to his swollen nose. The pain hasn't ceased since the shooting. In fact, it has gotten worse.
Bill furrows his brow. "Did Anya do that to you?"
"Yes."
"I noticed all this time that your nose is swollen and I'm sorry I didn't give you an ice pack. I'll get you one now," Bill says, rising out of his chair.
"That'll be great. Thanks."
"Do you know where she could have run to?" Bill says the moment he returns.
"I don't know. But I'll find out soon enough," Alex says, taking the ice pack from Bill. He presses it against his nose, being careful not to hurt it even more than it has been hurt.
"Well, I think I now have all the information I need," Bill says. "Thank you, Alex. I will contact the Preschnikov family as soon as I find out where they live. Once you find Anya, bring her here. There are a few questions I'd like to ask her. If you don't find her within five hours, contact me."
Alex's heart begins to race.
I can't bring her here. She'll tell the truth and then I'll be in deep shit. Once I find her, we're leaving this city.
"Will do," he says with a brisk nod of his head.
As soon as he steps outside of Bill's office, he scans the entire hallway, from one end to the other. He grunts when he doesn't see Anya. Once outside, Alex circles the building, but still, he does not find her.
****
On the way back to the apartment complex where he lives, Alex does not encounter Anya, so he decides to find people who he thinks may have seen her within the last two hours. His first choice is Carbosa's Cafe; a place where she used to work and a place he used to frequent years before he became The Dark Soul's leader.
The cafe is almost empty with the exception of one elderly couple and a small group of teenagers who look no older than the age of fifteen. A husky woman stares at him from behind the serving counter. Alex recognizes her the moment he sets his eyes on her face: she is Sally the manager, the woman who always has a reason to be condescending towards others; at least Alex remembers her being that way. The look on her face suggests that she hasn’t changed in five years.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" The tone in her voice isn’t unfriendly, but it's not friendly either.
"Yes. I used to eat here all the time, but that was five years ago. Anyway, you know Anya Preschnikov. Right?"
Sally recoils as if he has just slapped her face. "Yes. She used to work here, but I fired her when she failed to show up for one of her shifts."
"Well, have you seen her within the last two hours?"
She shakes her head slowly from side to side. "No."
"Thanks," he says, turning away from her.
Thanks for nothing, bitch.
"Why are you asking me this? Are you her boyfriend?"
Alex turns around to face her. His body is so stiff that it begins to ache. "No. She's just a friend. That's all." He has the urge to pick up one of the fancy mugs on display beside the serving counter and hurl it at the wall, but he refrains himself. Instead, he walks over to the door, then flings it open hard enough for it to bang against the wall. He can hear Sally yelling at him, but he ignores her and continues walking.
As Alex makes his way down the street, he scans the sidewalks and between the parked vehicles repeatedly. "Where the hell are you, Anya?" he says under his breath. A few people passing by stare at him as if he's some mental patient who just escaped the psych ward. To add to his misery, the pain in his nose returns. To get his mind off the pain, Alex turns his attention away from the street. He realizes that he’s standing in front of Max's Music store the moment he sees guitars on display in the window. When Alex shifts his gaze to the left, he recognizes the geek -- the guy with the thick curls who had a guitar slung over his shoulders – he and Maria encountered in the hall at Peach Valley Senior Secondary School more than two weeks ago. That is the guy who used to be Anya's best friend, so maybe he's seen her recently. Alex's mood lightens a little when he enters the store. He scans the entire area. Thankfully, there are no customers present.
"Hey, you," he says in a loud voice.
The boy's naturally pale face turns white the moment he sees Alex.
"What's your name again, kid?"
"Patrick. What are you doing here?"
Alex has expected Patrick to stammer like he had the first time he met Alex, so his brusque response takes him by surprise.
"I want to know if you've seen Anya at all this afternoon."
Patrick's lips tremble and this eyes glaze over. "Did you hurt her?"
"What the hell?" Alex yells.
Haven't you heard the news? Oh, wait. I didn't see any reporters there.
"Did you hurt Anya?" Patrick says, this time in a raised voice.
Alex shoots Patrick a fierce look. "Answer my question, freak! Did you see Anya this afternoon?"
"That's none of your business. If you don't leave now, I'm going to get my manager."
The defiant look on his face amplifies Alex's anger. On impulse, he pulls his Swiss Army knife out of his coat pocket. He unfolds it so that the blade is visible, then holds it up in front of Patrick's face. "See this? If you don't answer my question, I'll find you later and then I'll put this where it'll bleed the most."
Patrick's eyes bulge open. "I-I saw her in Walter's Drug Mart before I came here."
"How long ago was this?"
"I don't know. What time is it?"
Alex glances down at his wrist watch. "It's twenty to five."
"I started my shift at three-thirty, so it must have been around three when I saw her," Patrick says, his voice shaky.
"What did she tell you?"
"N-Nothing."
Alex grabs Patrick by the collar of his shirt, then holds the blade against his throat.
Beads of sweat form on Patrick's forehead. "She…she was in a hurry to go somewhere and…she couldn't talk."
Alex eyes him suspiciously. "And?"
The sweat trickles down Patrick's face. "She didn't tell me anything. She ran out of the store right after she paid for her stuff."
"Do you know where she went?"
"I-I don't know."
Alex presses the blade firmer against his throat, but not firm enough to draw blood.
"I tried to talk to her, but she didn't tell me anything. Trust me," Patrick says, sounding like he’s on the verge of tears.
"Okay then," Alex says, releasing his hold on Patrick. He folds the knife so that the blade is no longer visible, then slides it back into the pocket of his coat. "If I find out you lied to me, you won't live to see another sunrise."
"I'm not lying," Patrick says.
Alex shoots him a threatening look. "I'll find out soon enough." He then storms out of the store.
****
Alex paces the entire length of his living room. It is now five thirty in the evening. He has returned home, angry that he hasn't found Anya, but the moment he sets his eyes on the large, blue mug on top of the kitchen table -- Marissa's favorite mug -- the tragedy of today's events finally sinks in. The sadness he begins to feel is almost more overwhelming that the anger inside of him.
Terri slips through the door and appears in the kitchen just as Alex downs a fourth can of beer. He hurls the empty can across the living room the moment he sees Terri. It bounces off the TV screen before it lands on the carpeted floor. The double mattress where Maria and Anya slept is left untidy and their bags remain at the edge of the living room, waiting for their return.
"Marissa and Maria are dead," he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the TV.
"What?"
He can hear the surprise in Terri's voice. "They were shot several times."
Silence falls over the room. Alex finds it unbearable. After a few painstaking seconds, he shifts his body until his gaze comes in contact with Terri's face. "Adrik did this." He grabs another empty can, then crunches it.
"So, did he find out that we killed three of his men?"
"I don't know," Alex says.
"Well, are we gonna kill those sons of bitches?"
Alex's hard look falls on the flattened beer can. For a moment, he imagines it to be Adrik.
I swear by my gun that
I'm gonna find the dickhead before Bill does.
"Yes. When I finally get my hands on Adrik, I'm gonna burn him alive. But first, I have to find Anya."
"You mean, the bitch ran away?"
"Yes. If we don't find her soon, she'll rattle on us to the cops."
And I don't want Bill to arrest me. He'll make damn sure that I spend the rest of my life behind bars for lying to him. I have to prevent that from happening somehow.
"Then, what are you waiting for? Let's go get her.”
Alex realizes that he is slightly drunk the moment he stands on his feet, but it doesn't deter him from leaving his apartment suite for the second time today.
"I know where she might be," Alex says once he is seated in Terri's truck.
Terri gives him a hard look. "Where?"
"The place where she used to live."
"Well, where is it?"
"The little white house on Gerard Avenue."
"Can you give me the address?"
"I don't know the address. I'm just going by what Maria and Marissa told me.”
"Okay then," Terri says while he guides his truck onto the busy street.
Despite the rush hour traffic, they arrive at their intended destination within ten minutes. Terri parks his truck in front of the pathway that leads up to the little house. Both men exit the car, then march up the narrow, stone pathway.
Alex feels a rush of malevolent joy the moment he jerks open the door. "Well, the door was unlocked, so someone’s gotta be here.” He calls Anya's name.
Silence is his response.
"Anya," Terri yells after a few seconds of agonizing quietness.
Still, no one responds.
Alex's eyes dart from one corner of the room to the other. "Anya, where are you," he shouts while approaching the door on the left-hand side of the living room. He kicks it open only to find that the room looks nothing like he thought Anya's room would look like. The small room reeks of stale beer and sweat; dirty clothes and empty bottles of beer and vodka lay strewn all over the bed and on the floor; the old carpet is so badly stained that its natural color is scarcely visible, and the window is streaked with thick layers of grime.
"Oh my..."Alex says, wrinkling his nose. He can almost taste the vomit in his throat. He slams the door shut, then yells out every foul word in the English language.
Terri snickers. "To bad we don't have a grenade and some matches. I'd blow this joint to smithereens."
"That's a good idea, Terri. Maybe later, though," Alex says.
In three long strides, they reach the door to the bedroom on the opposite side of the house; the one that is nearest to the front door. That door is shut. Alex is quite hesitant to open it, afraid that he’ll be confronted with the same filth as he had in the other room. So, he leans against the door, pressing his ear against its cool, smooth surface. Both men are still and silent until Alex hears a faint rustling of sheets from inside of the room.
I guessed right. She's here.
"Anya," Alex yells, bursting through the door. His hope deflates the moment he finds the room empty. The rustling noise is coming from the curtains over the opened window.
A new thought occurs to him: Anya has taken Maria's wallet and left the city. He thought he heard the sound of a vehicle door being shut while he was talking to the two police officers, but he was so deep in conversation with them that he hadn’t thought to keep an eye on her. But where would she go? Would she have gone to the Greyhound station, or is she standing somewhere on the highway with her thumb out, waiting for someone to pick her up?
"No, she couldn't be doing that," Alex says out loud to himself.
"Doing what?" Terri says.