Zhukov's Dogs (35 page)

“Okay. Hand ‘em over first,” I said.

Val’s grin vanished. I lifted the hand that held the lighter, palm open so he could snatch it back if he wanted to. Val stared for a second, probably waiting for me to laugh and tell him I was kidding. When he realized I was being serious, he reached a hand inside his jacket and pulled out the packet of cigarettes. He pushed it into my open hand, and my fingers closed around it.

The packet felt much heavier than it was. It was more than a flimsy cardboard box filled with cigarettes; it was a surrender. Val was willing to give up his addiction, but only if I met him halfway.

I wanted to tell him the truth; I really did. And for a second, I thought I was ready to. I wasn’t, though. My mind put together worst-case scenarios I couldn’t handle—Val being furious, calling me a lying bastard and declaring his hatred for me; things which would end bad for one of us if he pulled a gun on me. I’d tell him when the time was right.

Soon
, I told myself as I opened my hand back up.

The message was as obvious as Val’s disappointment. He frowned, arms dropping from my shoulders. Without a word, he took the items from my hand, and the silence itself was worse than anything he could have said. I watched as he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it mere inches from my face.

“I’m sorry.” I sighed.

Val shrugged and took a step back so the arm I had around his waist fell. He took a long drag from his cigarette, held it in his lungs for a moment, then exhaled skyward. “It’s fine. I just think it’s funny you ask me to trust you, yet you won’t do me the courtesy of trusting me back.”

“It’s not like that,” I said. “I trust you, Val. It’s just not easy to say.”

“See? You keep saying things like that, but do you wanna know something? I’ve run through all the horrible occupations out there—even the really, really nasty ones—and I don’t think there’s anything that could change my mind about you.”

I wished I was one of those things he imagined. Anything would be better than being the government’s dog, sent to spy on him and his friends. I was a hundred times worse than Tristan, and I knew how much Val hated him. He’d hate me too if I wasn’t careful about how I told him.

Val took another pull from his cigarette. I watched the smoke circle over his head, feeling like a jerk. I wanted to say something to smooth the situation. I wanted to go back to when I’d pinned him to the bricks, caught up in a kiss sweet enough to make me forget about the life I’d left behind.

“Let’s get back to base and see how the others are doing,” Val said.

Translation: Conversation over.

We made it most of the way home without so much as a sidelong glance at each other. As we were crossing the bridge, though, a pair of Grey Men stepped out from behind a building. They pointed right at us, shouting for backup and raising their weapons. I grabbed Val’s hand, and we bolted the rest of the way across the bridge. Down a residential side street and through a schoolyard full of children, we reemerged behind a distillery. No Grey Men in sight. Val continued to hold my hand long after we were safe. I didn’t mention it.

By the time we reached Second Avenue, we still hadn’t exchanged a single word. The occasional graze of a thumb or squeeze from the hand still in mine assured me that, despite the silence, everything was okay.

Gemma was sitting on the porch and greeted us with a cheery, “Hiya boys!”

“Hey. How’d it go uptown?” I asked. Val let go of my hand and went inside, already dialing a number on his phone. I tried not to think about what the silence between us meant.

“Good,” Gemma said. “Fritz and I made our rounds with the families and then swung by a couple of mills up that way to talk to the workers. We got like fifty big guys to agree to help us fight. What about you two?”

“Held a few rallies in the denser population areas. Grey Men kept stopping by to break things up, though, so it looks like low-key isn’t going to play out well.” I shrugged.

“Boo.” Gemma sighed and put her hands behind her head. A second later, her eyes flashed with renewed spirit. “Oh! Guess what? Benji coordinated the first evacuation for tonight. The engineers over at the station are being super awesome about working with us, he says.”

“That’s great. Wow, it’s nice to hear some good news for a change.” I chuckled.

Gemma laughed, nodding in agreement. She opened her mouth to say something when Val suddenly began cursing. We rushed into the house, veering into the parlor, right as Val dropped to the sofa. One hand held the phone to his ear while the other tugged at a fistful of hair.

I ran to his side and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. He flicked his eyes up at me then straight back to the floor. Gemma sprung onto the sofa next to him, running a hand up and down his back as she mouthed the question: “What’s wrong?”

Val ignored us, eyes still downcast as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. “This is… Christ, God damn it! Are you absolutely sure? … Okay. Okay, stop crying. Just… Just come over here. We’ll figure it out, so please stop crying… I’ll see you soon. Be careful.”

He hung up and dropped the phone on the sofa, his newly-freed hand tugging at his hair like the other. Gemma continued to rub his back. She looked up at me, shaking her head to warn me she didn’t know what to do. I leaned forward and rested a hand on Val’s knee.

“Talk to us, Val. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Val rubbed small circles on his temples with his thumbs. He took a deep breath and moved his hands in front of his mouth as he exhaled. “That was Lee… There was a raid while they were on the train. She says twenty Greys swept the cars and… Raleigh is dead, Patrick and Jude too. She jumped from the train, but… Nobody else made it off.”

“What?” Gemma stammered.

“Why did the Grey Men attack?” I asked. “Did they pick a fight or—?”

“No! Those giants just opened fire! They were shooting at everyone!” Val hung his head, hands tugging at his hair again.

That was exactly how Grey Men kept control in times of anarchy. Seattle wasn’t in anarchy, though, which meant someone was ordering them to treat it as such. I swallowed as the perilous nature of my situation sank in. The S.O.R., or worse, The Council, was pulling strings all around me. How much longer could I avoid their snares?

Behind me on the television, a reporter droned on about changes in the stock market. It was the meaningless jabber that got us through the tense silence. Finally, Val cleared his throat so his voice would come out composed. “Gemma, can you call everyone back?”

“Of course,” Gemma said, jumping to her feet and hurrying off.

Val sank into the sofa when she was gone. He stared at the television, lost in his head somewhere far beyond my reach. I moved to sit next to him, but Val didn’t acknowledge I was there. I hated seeing him in such a miserable state. There was only one thing I could think of which might make him feel better.

“I was born in D.C.”

Val kept his head forward and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. No response. That was fine by me. I went on telling him less significant truths he might be curious about. I told him about how, thanks to my father’s position in the S.O.R., I traveled a lot. I told him about the five languages I was fluent in and even rattled off a bit of Russian for him.

“English is complicated enough, thank you,” Val admitted.

I chuckled. “With a name like Valery I thought you might have some red in you.”

“Mom was Russian. She wasn’t around, though, so I never learned.”

Silence settled in again. Over the chatter of the television, we faintly heard Gemma making calls in the hallway. Things were uncomfortable, and not just because of how beaten up the couch was. I was trying to put together another conversation when Val spoke.

“I got to travel some too,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Nothing fancy or anything. Just a couple of detours while I was working down south… One time, I hitched a ride on a fishing boat in Oregon. Took it all the way to Alaska.”

“Never been there.”

Val smirked. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“Why not?” I asked, not about to ease off and risk letting the tension return.

“You’re not a big fan of the cold, right? Well, Alaska is kind of like upper Seattle, only about thirty degrees colder.” I shuddered, and Val laughed. “It wasn’t all bad. I mean, I got to see the northern lights, which were really amazing… I’ve been to Hawaii, too.”

It was my turn to laugh. I tried to imagine Val in Hawaii. Hell, I tried to imagine Val anywhere he might get exposed to the sun. “Serious? Pale, Seattle kid in the sunshine?”

“To the natives, I looked like a star turning supernova.”

“Bet you burned.”

“I was a lobster by the end of the first day.”

Our laughter ceased when the headline
Pioneer Square Panic
flashed across the television. Val leaned forward, grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and turned the volume up.

“
In other news, Pioneer Square has been blocked off from the public after a riot occurred less than an hour ago. Channel Five’s own Chelsea Rollnick is reporting live near the square. Chelsea?”

“
Thank you, Tessa. Due to heavily restricted access to the scene, we are unable to provide any estimation on casualties. Behind me, you can see Grey Men lining this entrance to Pioneer Square. One witness who lives in the area informed us that thirty minutes ago, this area was packed with people. The crowd was apparently ‘rallying peacefully’ when Grey Men swarmed the square and open fired on them. Similar incidences have been occurring all around the city today. These rallies have been started by youths who claim the city will be crushed when the Oxford reconstruction begins early next week. Governor Granne will be holding a press conference at 7:00 p.m. to—”

All of a sudden, there was a quick, deafening crack from outside, like an enormous cable had been pulled too tight and snapped. The television and the lights went out simultaneously. Without any natural light, the entire house was pitch black. Gemma screamed.

The sofa shifted as Val got up. A clamor, a curse, and a heavy thud. I took my phone out and lit up the screen. It wasn’t a lot of light, but it was better than nothing, and enough to let me see Val sprawled on the floor, holding his right knee to his chest. The coffee table was askew, and I realized he must have tripped over it when he got up.

“Val? Nik?” Gemma cried out. She rushed in, holding her phone out in front of her like I was. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Heavy footsteps on the stairs sparked panic. I hurried around the coffee table, one hand already on my gun. Fritzi’s voice set us at ease.

“Is everyone okay?” she asked.

Gemma turned her phone light toward her, and we saw Joey and Brian balanced on her hips. Zoe was right at her side, holding onto Fritzi’s shirttail with both hands. “Gemma, there’s a flashlight on top of the fridge. Go get it,” Fritzi ordered, bouncing Brian as he whimpered.

As Gemma disappeared into the kitchen, I dropped down to check on Val. From the sound of it, he’d hit the table pretty hard, and it wasn’t like him to stay down longer than he needed. “You okay?” I asked.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just found the funny bone of the knee or something.”

That was when I heard it. The faint crackle, like tape on a poster slowly peeling away from a wall. It was a familiar sound. Then came the unmistakable chorus of shattering glass.

Wide-eyed, I connected the sounds to memories and ran for the front door. I stepped out onto the porch just in time to watch the first level of the house next to ours go up in flames. Two more across the street were engulfed by enormous fires.

An entire city without power. Everything in the underground dark, save for the homes burning along Second Avenue. Shadows danced on the ceilings, screams of neighbors sent chills through the night, and a squad of Grey Men marched down the street toward our house.

257 Second Avenue East—Seattle, WA
Friday, November 20th, 2076—6:40 p.m.

here had to be fifty Grey Men in the street. More than I’d ever seen in one place. Between the herds of giants was a large, steel cart, teeming with bottles. Rags had been stuffed into the mouth of each one, and Grey Men lit the ends on fire before hurling them into the houses.