Zhukov's Dogs (23 page)

We gathered around the column. I was so on edge, standing at the center of it all, that the simple click of Val’s lighter was enough to make me flinch. I took a deep breath, bits of nicotine catching in my lungs and easing my mind. Had I not been so repulsed by the thought of smoking, I would have asked for a cigarette in a heartbeat.

“Michael, Anya, and Gemma,” Val said, waving his hand to gather them in. “I want you three to get out there and start talking to people. Let them know what’s going on, and tell them to bring everyone they can. Lee and Fritzi, you two head to the refinery by the water and talk to the workers, then get over to the school and let the staff know what we’re doing. Take the two-way and radio in if you bump into trouble.”

They ran into the cul-de-sacs to do as they were told while Val, Jayne, Tibbs, Marco, and I unloaded the truck. The heavy, manual labor distracted me from my stress, and Tibbs even made a couple of jokes to help lighten the mood for all of us.

“How many Grey Men does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

“I don’t know. How many?” Val replied.

“Twenty. One to hold the light bulb in place, and nineteen to rotate the house.”

Firsthand experience with the genuine incompetence of Grey Men made the joke all the more hilarious for me. I’d have to tell Gully that one when I returned to D.C. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I dismissed it. I did not want to think about going home, or what would happen to Seattle after I left.

I climbed back into the truck and picked up a bulky box filled with oranges. Getting fruit like this so far west must have cost the governor a ton. Even back home, they were a treat that cost nearly six dollars each. I carried the crate to the end of the truck and handed it down to Val.

“Don’t break a nail.” Jayne sneered.

“Oy!” Tibbs barked back at him.

It was the first time anyone other than myself had stood up for Val since he’d been forced out of the closet. Val smiled up at me over the top of the crate a little, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth tilting at an awkward angle. I think we both felt better about everything at that moment. I gave him my first genuine smile since the announcement of Operation Oxford.

Val walked off to set the crate of oranges with the rest of the fruits and vegetables. I looked around the truck for another, and picked one with particularly rough looking edges to carry over to Jayne. He’d been watching Val intently, and likely readying another snide remark. I stood very close to the edge and cleared my throat to get his attention. Jayne turned without looking and, just as I’d hoped, whacked his head against the side of the crate.

“Don’t break your head,” I said, mimicking his malicious tone with a grin.

Tibbs, Marco, and Val laughed out loud. With a mean gash on the side of his face, though, Jayne clearly hadn’t enjoyed my trick. He snarled and snatched the crate from my hands, throwing it to the ground. The wood cracked, and rice poured out as Jayne grabbed me by the ankles and yanked me from the truck.

I landed flat on my back on top of the crate, rice flying in all directions as the wood splintered under my weight. Jayne let go of my ankles and seized me by the front of my jacket. He pulled me to my feet and drew his fist back to strike. I swung my fist much faster than Jayne, though, and punched him under the jaw. His teeth clashed together loudly. Disoriented, Jayne released me and staggered backwards. He snatched the crowbar off the ground as he cursed and spat blood from his mouth.

Any other day, I might have listened to Val, Marco, and Tibbs as they shouted to break up the fight. Today, however, I wanted nothing more than to tackle Jayne, rip the crowbar from his hand, and take out all my frustration.

I unbuttoned my coat and shrugged it off, pulling it in front of me as Jayne charged forward and swung the crowbar. The thick wool caught the full force of the weapon. I whipped the fabric over the crowbar and yanked it out of Jayne’s hand.

Jayne froze, stunned and rigid. I reached into my coat to retrieve the crowbar, dropped the coat, and stepped toward Jayne. I was ready to clobber him when Val suddenly grabbed hold of the weapon. He stepped between us and pushed me back with a hand firmly on my chest.

“I said that’s enough!” he shouted.

My heart was flying. Val must have been able to feel it. He must have known how badly I wanted to tear into Jayne. There was a fire in his eyes, though, which told me if I truly wanted to do so, I would have to go through him.

I stood, staring at him, silently pleading with Val to move aside and let me do what I knew we both wanted to do. Jayne had caused him all sorts of trouble; surely Val wanted to beat his skull in as much as I did. Val didn’t budge. My heart didn’t slow.

“Let go,” Val said sternly.

I did without realizing I’d done so. My arm fell limp at my side, and I stared past Val to Jayne. He did not deserve to be shown this sort of mercy. A smug, taunting smirk tugged at his lips. It was enough to make blood pound in my ears, but with Val’s hand still on my chest, I didn’t budge.

“And as for you,” Val said, turning away from me. He pressed the sharp end of the crowbar against Jayne’s throat. My pulse shot up. It wasn’t over. Val wasn’t just letting him go.

“I’m sick of this,” he continued. “We’re trying to help people, and you make that pretty damn hard to do when you’re picking fights with everyone and being such an ass. If you don’t want to play nice, then leave. Otherwise, knock it off, act like a grown man, and help us.”

I had hoped for Val to whack Jayne across the head, but a verbal beating was almost as satisfying as a physical one. Val folded his arms and stood tall, even though Jayne towered a full head over him. Tibbs and I stepped closer to indicate we were ready to jump in if Jayne tried to start a fight again.

Jayne looked from one face to another. Then, without a word, he turned and trudged down the street. We watched him disappear around the corner before Marco asked, “Want me to go after him?”

Val shook his head. “Nah. He’ll come back when he’s cooled down.”

“And you’ll let him back?” I asked in utter disbelief. In my experience, any disruptive or unfavorable behavior was treated with swift and unforgiving discipline. If Jayne had started a fight in the Y.I.D., he’d have been suspended, if not discharged.

Val shrugged and tossed the crowbar into the back of the truck where it landed with a loud clank. When he turned to me, I saw his eyes were out of focus. His mind was elsewhere, and he was only there with us physically.

Tibbs climbed into the truck to get another crate, Marco following his lead. I decided to stay outside to be handed the supplies since we were now short one set of hands. As I waited, I watched Val walk to where some crates were stacked. He sat atop one and reached into his jacket to pull out his pack of cigarettes.

“Didn’t you just have one?” I asked.

Val didn’t reply. He lit the stick of nicotine and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger idly. Tibbs handed me a crate, and I set with the others, next to Val. I brought over three more crates before I realized he was deliberately ignoring me.

“What?” I asked, dropping a crate next to him with more force than necessary.

Val cut his eyes to me, then back to the ceiling. He took a drag from his cigarette, flicked his tongue over his teeth, and said in a curt tone, “You provoked him.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I laughed dryly and went back to the truck. Was Val honestly mad that I’d defended him? By the time I returned with another crate, I’d pulled my thoughts together.

“I stood up to him,” I said. “For you, nonetheless.”

“You deliberately started a fight.”

I shook my head and looked him in the face, even if Val refused to meet my eyes. “Right, so you don’t want to stand up for yourself, and you don’t want anyone else doing it either. Good to know. You’re a very proud man.”

Val brought the cigarette back to his lips. The fingers resting on the crate began to tap as they so often did. I made it halfway to the truck, listening all the while to the tapping fingers, before I felt something inside me snap.

“It’s funny,” I said, whipping around and walking back toward him. “You’re fighting to help a city filled with people who are afraid to stand up for themselves, and all the while, you’re just as bad as they are.”

That definitely got under his skin. Val was on his feet in an instant, eyes sharp and narrowed on mine. Tibbs jumped out of the truck and rushed to step between us. “Oy, one fight is enough for today.”

“Don’t worry, Tibbs,” I said. “We both know he won’t do anything about it.”

Tibbs was like me. He didn’t expect Val to lunge over his arm and sock me in the face. I staggered back against the truck with a hand pressed over my stinging cheek. Stunned by the attack, I stared up at Val. He looked angry, but the expression didn’t last long. He snickered. I chuckled. He laughed.

“I don’t get what’s funny about this,” Tibbs said.

Truthfully, I didn’t either. Maybe it was the dumbstruck look on my face, or how Val was trying to discreetly shake the pain out of the hand he hit me with. I doubted Val even understood it.

Val calmed down and ran a hand across his face, lingering to rub his tired eyes. “You’re an ass.” He sighed through a small smile.

When I opened my mouth to offer a witty reply, I was robbed of the words. A gunshot ripped through the air around us, an all too familiar sound followed by an equally familiar sensation. The puncture of skin, the shred of muscles, and the burning, unrivaled agony of a bullet. My hands clamped tight over my torso. Blood soaked through my shirt and seeped hotly between my fingers. I grunted an incomprehensible slur of words as I stumbled forward.

Val’s cigarette fell from his mouth, and he shoved past Tibbs to help me to my knees. “Shit! Shitshitshit! Nik, hey, can you hear me?” He pressed his hands over mine to keep pressure on the wound, even as he continued to swear loudly.

Over Val’s shoulder, I saw a horde of Grey Men marching down the street toward us in perfect unison. Like robotic drones, they lifted their weapons together to fire. “Grey Men!” Tibbs yelled with his hands cupped over his mouth, calling out to warn the others, even when I already feared it was too late.

Interrogation Block 02, Eisenhower Building—Washington, D.C.
Wednesday, November 25th, 2076—4:35 p.m.

o, just for clarification sake, at this point in your story, you’ve killed three Grey Men and four of Governor Granne’s personal guards?” Dr. Halliburton asked with a small edge to her voice, suggesting it wasn’t a question as much as an accusation. “Seven, individual deaths which you are not being held accountable for, due to the fact you were still maintaining contact with the Y.I.D. at the time.”

“You don’t have the right to talk to me about being held accountable for deaths,” I replied coldly. Since the doctor pinned The Council sigil to her lapel, any regard for verbal restraint went out the window.

She clacked her nails against the side of her tablet, lips pulling into a thin smile. “Careful there, Mr. Zhukov. I have the authority to add blasphemy to your long list of offenses.”

“Go right ahead.”

Dr. Halliburton waited a moment longer to see if I would change my mind. I stared straight at her, imagining all the ways I’d like to make her pay. Her nails, clacking on the tablet… I’d rip them off one by one until she gave the names and locations of other members of The Council. And then, once I had the information I wanted, I’d—