MORNING SERIAL
BUT she pulled away. “I left something,” she said. “I need to tell Evgeny something. He needs to know something.”
She straightened and walked back down the corridor, and a curious thing came to me then: she had said Evgeny's name, and it sounded clear and tireless in her mouth, as if it lifted her, as if it had been pronounced by those lips a thousand times. As my ears tried to understand the subtle perfection of her voice, I also then became sure that none of us had spoken our names at any point during the walk from the tunnel to the hotel.
I stood there with these thoughts and everything turned calm.
I called to her as she walked away, but then one of the girls shrieked and I turned and could see the unmistakable silhouette of Stelly right down the far end of the corridor; his taut diminutive shape in that ugly little dance he did on the balls of his toes, his head made square by the frayed-brim cap he was never without. He looked as if he was waiting for us. We all stood still for a moment. I then saw we were just a few steps from the emergency staircase and I quickly pushed the girls through the door and I told them to go up – “Get up to the roof and jam the door shut behind you when you get there” – and no sooner had I said it than the dense silver echo of gunshots began to clack behind us. I pushed the girls with one arm as I dived to crouch inside the doorway, and they both ran up the staircase. I turned and leaned on the frame to sneak one eye. Another gunshot and then several more. They overlapped and I lost count, and then I could see Stelly, coming slowly down the corridor with no gun so far as I could make out – but of course I had no weapon either, and the closer Stelly's silhouette advanced down toward my position the more I could feel a hopeless situation emerging. More gunshots. This all happened in just a few seconds.
The Golden Orphans by Gary Raymond is published by Parthian www.parthianbooks.com
CONTINUES TOMORROW