~*Matryoshka II*~
OR
~*Carrot and Stick*~
Both of these titles are Hetalia character songs, which I listened to whilst making this chapter. Am into Russian music as of late...you might have to listen to some scary music whilst reading this insufferably long chapter.
*Hops on soapbox* Not to step on any toes or ignore the fact that there are provinces where homosexuality's been punishable by death for years, but Russia's new laws concerning gays really make me sad. What happened, Russia? Did you and the US break up again because of the whole Snowden thing and you've decided to go 'straight?' *Tsks, jumps off*
In this chapter, we learn the family that slays together, stays together. Sort of kind of not really. Sorry for ending last chapter on such a lame and abrupt note—was busy being sick. :p Thankfully am better now. ^_^ School is starting again today, but will do my best to keep updating.
Thanks to gorgeous Hyperkaoru13 for the adorable fanart of Kat and Ivan trying to kill each other! I seriously do not jest; this artist can make ANYTHING look cute. She's got mad skills, so go check out her profile page on DeviantArt!
Remember: The 300th reviewer gets a request!
I get the door open, and finally catch you
Parallel lines stand forever
No one will interfere
A distorted love
I brand you with love -Matryoshka
~o*oOo*o~
The final contractions wracked her body and the creature yowled in protest, flopping to her side and feverishly lapping at her heaving belly, eyes watering. Franklin twitched madly, feeling the sharp hurt receding to a dull weariness when at last a tiny parcel finally slithered out of her, motionless. Warm rags began to rub her back and her tail flicked back and forth in silent appreciation, eyes lidding. Oh. How she wanted to sleep. Or eat. Or do both. She'd like to do both at once.
A grayish kitten scrap still lay by her hind legs, not breathing and the endearingly-hideous-tall-legs jabbered fretfully above her. Franklin dazedly rolled to lick it clean, purring as the other kits squealed, dislodged from their teats. After a moment it curled and let out a pitiful sound that eventually improved to a tiny mew, and the proud mother started eating the umbilical chord. Mr. Jones leaned back, wrinkling his nose.
"The miracle of life. Now I know why we didn't have more kids."
Sitting beside him, his wife said nothing and he supposed he couldn't blame her. The soiled towels were replaced and Franklin dozed as the kittens squirmed against each other, squeaking for the warmer places on their mother's body and falling atop each other in a warm mishmash. Mrs. Jones threw her husband a look, normally young and smiling face lean with worry. Still, she tried for some amusement. "'Let's not get the cat fixed. That's cruel,' he says. 'She's a mostly indoor cat anyhow,' he says."
Her husband ruffled his shoulders and coughed. "Well…uh…I did mean to…blame the damn name. Half the time I thought she were a he."
"Mmm…even if that were the case, we oughta chopped his balls off," She returned dryly and he cringed a little. "I may just do Vodka next time I see him. Mind telling me where the nail scissors are?"
"Geez, sweetie. We don't even know if he's the Dad."
Mrs. Jones frowned. There was no way of knowing, of course, that Vodka was the father, but two of those kittens looked suspiciously dark. Her finger traced a baby's tiny spine, fur dark and fluffy, longer than that of its litter. "Right. Because Franklin just so happened to run into a Siberian on the streets who swept her off her paws and treated her to a candlelit dinner of roadkill."
"At least he got her dinner before he got her knocked up."
The mostly-closed door was nudged open and the two turned to see a fuzzy face peeking back. "Speak of the devil. Honey, why'd ya to install that pet door? Seems to think that this is his house."
"And we're just visitors," She sighed, a grudging true smile overtaking her when Vodka nosed her hand for a pet and she complied. He soon lost interest and wandered into the crowded box, purring as loud as an engine. "It's like he knows those are his."
"He doesn't know," Mr. Jones said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "Male cats have sex because they're instinctively driven to, not because they know it's for reproduction. That's why it's Mommy who raises the kits." A self-conscious pause followed, and he mentally congratulated himself for putting his foot in his mouth for what had to be the ninth time in an hour. But he knew she knew what he meant.
His cell rang and the two both jumped; his hands scrabbled for his pockets and he hoisted himself up, cursing a streak as at last he managed to pry it free, Mrs. Jones drawing back. "Don't hang up, don't…"
He pressed the receive button, and gave a breathless "Hello?" But soon he heard an automatic voice asking him if he'd be interested in taking a company survey and he all but threw his phone in disappointment. Mr. Jones ended the call and slowly shook his head, forcing himself to look at the not-quite-dashed hope in his wife's eyes. "Nothing."
The woman groaned and sagged against the wall, hugging her knees and pressing her forehead against one.
"It's been two days. Two days," she repeated weakly, and Stanley's hand ran through her curls. "The moment I make sure they're safe, I'm going to take them out back and strangle them both."
It had not quite been forty-eight hours since Francis had woken up in the Braginski apartment completely alone, but it felt so, felt longer. At first, the young man had assumed that everyone had simply gone to grab a hangover bagel and would be back shortly, but the hours trickled by and the afternoon steadily crept to evening. Not comfortable leaving the dwelling without locking up (he had no key), and irritated at the idea that he'd been left out of some fantastic after-party-party, he'd called Kiku, Matthew, Alfred, and Ivan to bitch.
But strangely enough, all four cellular devices went to voice mail, annoying primarily because he'd had to call multiple times for each person to complete his colorful list of threats. No one responded and he grew steadily more baffled, especially at Matthew's silence. The boy was so polite it was almost unheard of for him to just ignore the entire thing, more unbelievable to think even Alfred could have convinced him to just ditch his friend high and dry. He wasn't the type who typically went along with pranks. Unless it had to do with hockey. Then Matthew was more than willing to teepee houses and flip cars over and dye uniforms pink. Still, the season was over.
Francis found Yekaterina's number on a small chart in the kitchen and called her, but her phone had been turned off like her brother's. Shortly after he'd received a call from an irate Mr. Jones, who'd been expecting the twins home by eleven that morning. After he was forced to admit his conundrum, he'd gotten a harried call from Kiku's mother, who'd waited for her son to come home the night before and was panicking, wondering if maybe the strain of the investigation concerning the arson had led him to do something desperate.
It turned into a game of phone tag, and shortly after the police were involved, friends who'd attended the party the night before questioned. Some had admitted that there was alcohol at the event, that Matthew had a bit to drink, and Kiku and Ivan seemed as if they'd had a LOT to drink. Alfred allegedly ate enough cake to put him in a food coma (a statement the Jones could readily accept as fact), and Ivan's gentle older sister had declined to spend her evening with a bunch of rowdy highschoolers mourning their barbequed friend.
The fact that the children were missing was bad enough, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones went out searching for the boys in shifts, the other anxiously keeping their phone on their person at all times. But things were looking particularly bad for Kiku, because cops were now questioning as to whether or not a suspect for obvious arson had fled. While there was concrete evidence of Kiku being with his parents the evening of the fire, it was difficult to tell by the bodies and the ruined house alone what time the inferno had been kindled. The Asian boy's belongings had been strewn in front of the home and while it seemed a little ludicrous, what other leads did they have?
The only reason he had not been formally arrested yet was because there was still no motive, none that investigators could find, anyway. Honda insisted that he was being framed, but talks with his peers and the school administration confirmed that the polite young man had virtually no enemies. He was polite, quiet and withdrawn, like a great many lunatics secretly craving attention.
And because Alfred was also missing, police wondered if perhaps there was a coalition between the strange gifts appearing in Alfred's life, the bloody heart being left at the home of his hopeful date, and his disappearance. That theory had a large hole in it, and didn't have an ending. Didn't explain why the other three had surreptitiously gone away as well, though police were now aware of Alfred and Ismael's animosity and were contemplating group involvement in the murders. Perhaps one of the members had gotten frightened and decided to incriminate one, who could not incriminate the others without first revealing him/herself. An interesting theory, except for the fact that it was a load of bull, gut-busting hilarious to any associates of the five.
Not including four scared half to death parents.
Mr. Jones stared bleakly at Vodka and Franklin's litter. "Aiko is still pretty hysteric," he said slowly, willing himself to stop talking but his mouth kept moving. "She keeps insisting to the police that Kiku never would have laid a finger on poor Ismael, but now…"
"I'd as soon believe Matthew would hang up his hockey stick before the boy would do such a thing." The woman scoffed, impatiently pulling off her glasses and dabbing her eyes. "Such a polite, decent sweetie…he's a good influence on the boys." Her thoughtful look elapsed into a pensive frown. "He hadn't been coming around so much as of late…"
"Al said he'd been busy. College stuff and what have you." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and wondered if one of them ought to drive the car around again. Officers assured that they were doing their best to locate all five missing persons, but the Jones parents took shifts in scouring the neighborhood.
"It might have been that Kiku felt a little left out what with Ivan coming around so often," She offered hesitantly, smoothing Franklin's back. "Honestly he's a dear, he really is…but I think even Al's been getting a little tired of him lately. Ivan likes to be close to him if he can…it makes sense that wherever Al is…"
"And wherever Al is, Mattie is…" He finished, knowing it was not necessary to. Considering five people didn't just drop out of existence, it was only logical to conclude they might all be together. "About Ivan." Mr. Jones ran a hand through his hair and blushed a little. "Do you…maybe consider…" He supposed he might as well say it. "That he might be gay?"
"W-well, I've…I've maybe thought…once or twice, considering he likes to wear that pink scarf and is always..."
"Do you think he might have a crush on our son?" He interrupted, brow furrowing. That thought had something prodding insistently at the tip of his tongue. A very old memory or something he thought he remembered.
"I don't see how that's going to help us find the boys, unless you're suggesting they headed off to a hasty wedding in Vegas. Oh, do you seriously think they would?" she added exasperatedly when her husband's eyebrows disappeared into his bangs and he gave her an alarmed look. "Well, actually….never mind. Al's not gay, peach. Or if he is, he's doing a very good job of hiding the fabulousness. And he's not so great at keeping secrets."
He shook his head as he slowly stood up, stretching his stiff limbs. Driving around for the umpteenth time would be unbearable, sitting at home certainly no better. And though it was well time for bed, sleep would be hard to come by. "Well…never mind. Just trying…to see if there's something to put together here. Chances are they got drunk and stupid and… And maybe wound up wrapping a car around a tree somewhere….maybe I'll call that little girl again and see if she's managed to get in touch with her family. Must be worried sicker than we are."
"Who?" Mrs. Jones asked as she was pulled to her feet. Mr. Jones clapped a hand to his head.
"Crap. Forgot to mention the call I got last night. Nothing that would help us find the boys—it was just Ivan's sister."
"Wait—Katy? But…"
"No, the other girl. Haven't actually met her…y'know, the youngest one. You invited her to spend Christmas dinner with us, but Ivan said she was spending it with her pals." The tip of his tongue wet his lips and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Now I remember: Natalya. She called me around noon today making quite a ruckus. Apparently she found our house number lying around the apartment and called, demanding to know if we knew where her brother and sister might be. At first I couldn't understand her one bit—been a long time since I've had to speak Russian. Her English wasn't too hot. Then again, maybe it because she was spitting her words rather than sayin'."
"Can you blame her? Poor little dear, coming back from her friends to an empty house! Her parents aren't even there to help her. Um, speaking of which, they never really talk of their family...do you know who or where the Braginski's parents are?"
Her husband drummed his fingertips against the wall. "Nada. Asked Ivan about his folks and he just looked awful uncomfy and said he lived with his big sister. Thought maybe there was trouble back home in Russia and he and his sisses were happier here. But back to Natalya—she sounded real hysterical and it took a sec to calm her down. Or to get her quiet, anyhow. I told her the situation and asked if she might have any idea where everyone got off to. Um, she got a little snippy. 'Why would I call you otherwise?' Poor kid. I told her to call our sheriff and ask him to find her someplace to stay, offered her our couch as a matter of fact and she hung up. Maybe I'll try calling her place and see if she's got anything new. Even if she doesn't, it's not right to leave a young lady alone like that."
~o*oOo*o~
"Matvey…loves me?"
A perplexed, incredulous smile had appeared on the young woman's face, but it didn't last long; Ivan came barreling at her with his pipe and she ducked only in the nick of time, bark crumbling away from the large indentation he had made in the trunk. She spun her fork towards her brother's stomach, and what happened next Alfred did not follow, as he'd at last decided to flee, get both his brother and bestie to a place to be not dead in before he returned to help.
Grunting underneath the weight of both bodies, he moved away from the clearing of lanterns, running as fast he could down a mossy slope. His bare feet fell over rocks and sharp twigs, but he couldn't care; he was gaining speed now. If he kept running, eventually he'd find the highway and he could flag down a car if the driver weren't too freaked about the fact that a dude in wedding drag were shouting with two unconscious males draped over him.
Tink! Tink! Tink! Over the roar of blood in his ears and the distant clanks of metal striking metal, he heard a musical jingling and looked down to see the stupid bells Captain Crazy had forced over his ankle. Chest heaving, arms and back already sore with exertion, he forced himself to a stop and wheezed, legs buckling. Kiku groaned in pain and he patted his back apologetically as he slumped to his knees, and with fumbling fingers tried to force the stupid band off. It was a bit of a struggle in the dark and took a few seconds.
Flinging it aside, he glanced toward the star not very far behind him, shivering as the wind elicited goosebumps. Did he go back now? Or was Ivan so good that he ought to appreciate the sacrifice and take the chance to rescue all three? Did he let him kill her? Her kill him? He let out a tortured gasp.
Weapon-wise, he knew Katyusha had the advantage. The pitchfork was larger than Ivan's pipe, sharper at the ends. But was Katyusha really capable of murdering someone, let alone her brother?
And she definitely made it sound like he'd had some experience before this….
The clouds had parted some, revealing a small quarter of moon, light as dim and faint as a translucent veil over the nocturnal world. He thought he could make out Kiku shivering in the cold, and a second later Alfred realized that he was crying silently against him, staining the white gown with tears. "Just hang in there, buddy. We're gonna make it. You're gonna be fine." He made to hoist himself to his feet, but at last Matthew stirred, moaned, and sat up. His hand touched the forest floor as it supported him, and the woozy boy started and looked down, blinking in bemusement.
"Al….wha…?" He clapped a hand to his sweating brow. "I had….weirdest dream ever….you wouldn't even believe…."
He glanced over Alfred again and about leapt out of his skin, suddenly much more coherent. "The fuck are you wearing? And the hell are you doing?" He demanded, seeing Kiku's slumped body in Alfred's arm, dried blood and dirt crumbled on his face. He glanced down at the bizarre angle of the Asian's arm and was about sick over himself. "Kiku! Oh my God! Alfred, what happened to him?! Hell, where are we? Why are we outside? Did I have too much to—"
Alfred jumped up and dragged his brother to his feet. Like him, a shaking Matthew lost his footing and nearly collapsed; he had to hoist him back up. "We gotta get out of here. Now!"
"But…but…." The poor boy stammered helplessly, fruitlessly tugging back as Alfred lead them down deeper, staggering after tripping over a root and narrowly avoided dragging all three down. "Al, what are you wearing?! You look like a freaking bride in that get up! We got to get poor Kiku some help, why—"
"Come ON!" He shouted in manic desperation, and he immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, cursing his stupidity. His voice dropped to a frantic hiss. "Ivan drugged the three of us, dragged us out to the middle of nowhere, and now he and Katyusha are trying to kill each other! If Ivan wins, he's going to fucking kill you—already tried to kill Kiku already! Katyusha gave us some time to get the fuck out!"
And from somewhere close, very close by, there was a bellow of anguish that was unmistakably Ivan's. Following it was a name. Gritting his teeth, Alfred clapped a hand over one ear and slammed the other one against his shoulder, trying with all his might to drive out the hideous sound of Ivan's unmistakable panic.
Matthew's jaw dropped and he gawked as he had never before, at his brother in a white dress covered with glitzy stones and torn at the edges, at Kiku, obviously injured, or simply very good at appearing boneless. Which was how he felt. With all his heart he willed Alfred to be wrong as his twin seized his hand and started pulling him along again, speed steadily accelerating and it was all he could do to keep up. He was completely lost.
But not for long; their hands were slick with sweat so once Matthew had somewhat gotten his bearings in the rudest awakening of his life, he yanked his hand away and came to a stop, chest heaving. Confused, Alfred came to a stop a few steps later and turned.
"Kat….yusha….." He feebly turned in direction of the firefly of light in the distance. "We have to help her, then. He'll kill her."
"Mattie, NO!" He exclaimed in dismay, and nearly dropped Kiku. He had to fumble just to keep his unsteady grip, and tried to comfort his ailing friend even as he stared up imploringly at his twin. "Kiku, just hang on! Bro, we have to go!"
"I love her," Matthew said faintly. "Al, I'm not gonna leave her. I love her."
Alfred let out a strangled, choking sound. Angrily striding forward, his fingers dug painfully into the other's shoulder. "Listen, you fucker," The words came out in a sob. "You haven't known her for a damn year and she ADMITTED she kinda knew Ivan was a fucking murderer!" Matthew startled as if his brother had whipped him. "Yao, Arthur, and Ismael! Ismael, Mattie! He said he murdered Ismael, his parents, and God knows who else?" He bumped his forehead against his sibling's, face glistening with tears. "I've got a knife, so when I get help or at least find somewhere to hide you guys, I can double back and try to help her subdue him. C'mon, already. It sucks, it fucking sucks, but we have to get Kiku to safety before we can try helping her."
He considered him silently, face obscured by some nameless emotion. When Alfred reached for his hand again, Matthew whipped it away.
"I don't care. I still can't let Ivan hurt her."
And with that, he plucked the knife out of his brother's other hand—the sole weapon they possessed in their party—and dashed away, looping around a series of trees. "Sorry! Get Kiku out of here! I'll help her calm Ivan down! Reason with him! I can do this, Al!"
Aghast, completely and utterly horrified, Alfred could only watch in dumb silence for a flittering few seconds before he rushed forwards, adrenaline levels spiking so high he was nearly sick-"No, you can't! You don't understand! Get back here, you idiot!"
"I'm sorry!"
He struggled to make out Matthew's silhouette as he started running back, but he had ducked under the cover of tree branches, even though it was obvious where his destination was. "You two need to get out!"
But I'm the hero! A pathetic, shameful voice squeaked in protest inside him. This was wrong, wrong, wrong! "YOU'RE BARELY—Mattie, you can't! STOP! Please!"
He didn't answer, and Alfred nearly ran headlong into a tree in his haste to follow. Biting his lip so hard the skin broke, he spotted a particularly wide oak and hurried towards it, kneeling to lay his wounded friend amongst its gnarled roots. "Be back in a jiff, bud, gonna kick some Russki—"
Far from being reassured, Kiku cried out and threw his good arm around Alfred's neck, sobbing in outward despair. "Al-chan, wait."
The tears were falling hot and fast, and he could feel something else soaking through Kiku's filthy clothes. "Don't. Don't. No. He'll kill you, Al-chan, murder you."
Shaking his head like a wet dog, Alfred weakly tried to detach the death grip Kiku on his shoulder. How the fuck could anyone hurt so bad be so strong? "Just wait, man, it's all gonna be okay." He glanced curiously at his hand and nearly fell backward. "Shit! You are hurt! You're bleeding!"
Grip slackening, Kiku sagged against the trunk, eyes closing, breathing shallow. Alfred immediately drew up his pant leg and winced at the fantastic bruising near the wound; not deep enough to make the guy bleed to death, but he remembered when the boy had fainted last year when he tried to donate blood. He didn't have much to spare.
Tearing off a piece of fabric from the gown's ridiculously long train, he immediately set to fashioning a makeshift bandage. The blood shone through after a few seconds however, so he proceeded to wrap several more pieces around the wound, as tightly as he could in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. He babbled inane, kind nonsense whenever Kiku would whine, not understanding a third of it. When Alfred leapt back and tried to get a look at his handiwork, he nodded and turned round in a circle, eyes searching for the little light that marked the clearing.
But it was gone.
He spun around once, twice, made himself dizzy and he could still not see it; already ragged breathing escalated again. He swallowed and pricked his ears to the best of his ability and listened raptly.
Where once had been the sounds of cries and siblings hissing to each other in their native Russian as they danced their deadly waltz, there was nothing but absolute silence. Matthew could not be heard, nor could Alfred remember what direction the boy had fled in pursuing the clearing. Sick with fear, he nearly started crying.
"D-damn…"
He fell to his knees and pressed his shaking fists against his forehead, teeth grit and nerves lurching like snakes in his stomach. What did he do what did he do did he wait for Mattie and Kat what had happened did they win where were they what if—
"What do I do?"
Kiku groaned and the sound jerked him back to some semblance of sanity; someone needed him, would die if he didn't act now, even if it were a little hard identifying at this point who else that was.
Trying very, very hard not to think about that he scooped up Kiku again as carefully as he could, holding him bridal style as he hurtled ahead, praying it would take him someplace worth being. If he found Ivan, surely three against one would be more than enough to take him down.
As he ran, ran for his life, he noticed he could glimpse a star now and again through weaving branches stripped of their budding leaves by the recent storm, once again naked and ashamed. It occurred to him that he might be able to look for the North star if he stopped and considered carefully—he'd always loved astronomy and was actually a dab good hand at it—but that seemed irrelevant when he had no idea if North was really where he wanted to go, as he had no fucking clue where he was. The only direction he wanted was away.
Away, away, away, away. With only Kiku it was much easier to run, and he left a very sizable distance when he was forced to stop again, huffing and puffing for breath. Still shaking violently, he pressed his lips against his friend's ear and waited until he had air enough for talking.
"Gonna be okay." Alfred closed his eyes and prayed again, drinking in his settings. The night air was cool and quiet, benignly still. Interestingly enough, there was a slight taste of something upon it, something familiar. Salt? He licked his lips. Probably just his own sweat. "Let's just find someone to help us."
The words had no sooner left his mouth than he spotted a tiny glow approaching in the distance. Immediately he wondered if perhaps he'd run around in senseless circles and this was now…he ducked behind a tree without another thought and waited, trying to still his goddamned loud breathing. Kiku pressed his mouth against Alfred's breast and tried hard not to make a sound.
The wind picked up, branches waving as wildly as if they were arms trying to give them away, and to his great embarrassment his white gown started to flutter up and he had to hoist Kiku in one arm to drag the skirt back down, blushing furiously. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the light growing closer and closer, and if Ivan were looking for them he didn't seem all that bothered, judging by the languid pace. Matthew? Kat?
At long last the owner of the light—which was revealed to be a flashlight—trotted into view, the hem of a fairly long dress waving slightly at every movement. He squinted. It was hard to get a very good look at the stranger in this gloom and distance, but he could see unfamiliar dirty blond hair falling into the face of a girl—he glanced at her chest; unmistakably a girl, not some hapless victim of Ivan's cray-cray—and a bloom of hope amidst in the howling nor'easter of fear and doubt. Mattie, please, for the love of God, be okay. Just hold on.
Knowing he had nothing to lose, he immediately ducked out and ran towards her. A camper? Someone who lived in this stinking wilderness, maybe with a phone? "Help! HELP! Please help us!"
The iridescence sharply jerked, as if the wielder were surprised, and the ray immediately swooped in Alfred's direction, blinding him momentarily. He fell to a stop, eyes watering as he looked upon the young girl, arms wobbling with fatigue. "P-please…"
He slumped over as he struggled for oxygen, and as Alfred slowly looked up, he saw a face mostly obscured by shadow, the muddy-dark eyes sharp as they stared coldly upon him. He opened his mouth, tried to explain his godawful appearance, closed it, and settled for continuing to gasp like an idiot. It occurred to him that she looked vaguely familiar.
"There's-a-maniac…" He weakly pointed behind him, his entire body feeling completely gelatinous. "B-back there…h-he did…" Alfred fought back the lump swelling in his throat remarkably ineffectively. "Kiku," he choked out, gesturing helplessly to the boy in his arms who by now was an awful dirty-white. "Help Kiku. I'm begging you."
The stranger gazed at him and said nothing, face impassive. His fear started to shoot up once again for the thousandth time this horrible night that hadn't even ended yet.
"Please!" Alfred imploringly reached for her shoulder and she slapped his hand away. Eyes widening he drew it back. Holy cow. "I know this whole thing looks insane, but please." Please oh please oh please. "Don't you have a phone or something?! A walkie-talkie, anything! Help! I need help! My brother and his…whatever, Katyusha, need help! Someone will hurt them!"
The girl looked at him for a long moment, her eyes still retaining their chill. After a moment she nodded briefly and began walking away, turning her head to glance at the bride staring at her in obvious distress.
"She wants you to follow her." Kiku offered quietly. Blinking, he squawked and hurried to catch up, forcing himself to match her even pace. "Hey, maybe we oughta run, kay, little miss? Um, I dunno if you've ever seen horror films, but here's the moment where the hero and the heroine turn the tides." Then again, that might very well have been Matthew and Yekaterina now. There was no way of knowing. "That could be us."
She shook her head and continued to walk on, staring directly ahead of her, mouth a tight little line. Maybe he wasn't being clear enough.
"He's—they—we—"
But she just kept shaking her head and soon he fell dumb too, though he realized how stupid that was. She needed to know the magnitude of the situation, understand the danger they were both in.
Then again, maybe that would be no help at all; she looked young, younger than he was, and maybe she'd holler and shriek and give all three away. Maybe she was scared so shitless by the mention of a murderer prowling these woods that she didn't dare speak at all. He noticed how noisy his own footsteps were and tried to quiet them, ears burning.
"So, um, where are we going? Do you have a phone on ya?"
She just kept shaking her head and when he paused to stare tentatively at her, she continued on her merry way, beckoning with a pinky finger. Who did she think he was, a dog? Maybe she thought he was completely batshit crazy and was patiently guiding him to men in pajamas, who would take him to a magically soft world filled with drugs and very snug sweaters.
"Miss, please, just let me explain…"
Again she ignored him. Did he go on talking anyway? Had she known something weird had been going on in these woods, maybe came out with a flashlight to investigate? It occurred to him that she might not even understand him. "Uh…lemme see….er, no hablo espanol?"
Still nothing. He reluctantly resumed following her, his bare feet aching something horrible and still far too noisy for his liking. Geez, the girl was wearing loafers and her gait was nearly completely undetectable.
For awhile yet they continued walking, and though he worried that the flashlight might attract some unsavory…attention…if Ivan had decided to flee from both Katyusha and Mattie and was now hunting Kiku and himself that's the only way he's getting away from either of 'em….But several long minutes went by and he felt his heartbeat beginning to wane just a bit. But he still had no idea where she was guiding them.
Soon enough, the air that Alfred thought had smelled like salt was now prickled with something decidedly sharper, something that made him wrinkle his nose. Vinegar? Lighter fluid? Maybe she had a campsite. The smell only grew stronger after awhile and he mentioned it aloud, though of course the young girl continued her silence.
When the smell grew so powerful his eyes were beginning to water and Kiku's nose wrinkled, he felt the need to come to another stop, wondering just how helpful this was being. Much as he wanted to shake this girl and plea for help, it didn't look like it was something she was really willing to dish out. Did he try and ask for directions? But where was she taking him?
"Miss?" He asked, looking around a thicket of bushes. Smell aside, there was no fire, which was decidedly ill-advised because the smoke would probably say, Hey! Over here! Please rape and or kill us! "This place…were you havin' a cookout or something?" Ugh, he couldn't breathe! "Whoof! Smells like…gasoline…."
A mental picture of Isamel's house suddenly appeared, when he and Matthew had dashed to see it after the story on the news. They had to fight their way around the gawkers and the firemen and the traffic choking the entire street, but see it they did. A colossal, ashen-corpse, flames still licking the black bones of what had once been a structure holding four members of a family, four breathing and thinking people.
Three of whom had been burned nearly beyond recognition and had been stuffed into large bags. Alfred had stared at those bags, charcoal black dreadlocks poking out of one, bits falling off with every step they had made in hoisting those bags into a truck. Matthew had been sobbing bitterly into his shoulder, crying harder than he had ever seen him and it was so scary….
Going quite pale, he whirled to face the young woman, who had her back to him and had bent to look at something. Frowning, he wracked his brains, resolving to remember just why she looked so familiar.
Her hair glinted under the faint sliver of waning moon that could be seen and when she turned, clutching a red can with a long spout, he suddenly recognized the similarity of that sharp, mean face to Yekaterina's demure one.
Alfred stared, clutching Kiku to his heart. With a sense of growing repulsion his thoughts jumped to the moonlike softness of Ivan's features, with eyes too sunken and burning, hovering like cold ghosts over that teeny smile, so terrible and sanguine that it needed to be locked behind an iron mask and deadbolted forever.
He recalled a photo on the walls of a scowling little girl, clinging to Ivan for dear life. Oh, hell.
"…Natalya."
The Japanese boy stirred feebly against his shoulders and rasped, "Who?"
"Your brother put you up to this, didn't he?" Alfred demanded, voice rising with panic, the fumes from whatever had been splashed here in very generous amounts making his head spin. "Or did you come with Katyusha?!"
Fidgeting with the little white bow set primly atop her head, Natalya unscrewed the lid of her can and proceeded to splash several trees, adding to the pungent odor. Eyes growing in alarm, he shouted, "ANSWER ME, GODDAMNIT!"
She did; after dumping the rest of the fluid from the can, the little Russian immediately tossed it aside and from her pocket produced a matchbox. Horrified, Alfred immediately took a few steps back, shaking his head frantically even as she nodded at him in turn, one brow quipped in what might have been amusement if that mouth were turned up in a smile. She lit one and he doubled back several steps, his feet freezing because now it seemed as if all the blood were boiling within his head. Oh, Christ. Christ. This whole place stank to high heaven of gasoline and that was exactly where she was going to blow them if she were dumb enough to throw that—
"Nooooooo!"
FOOOOOOOMPH!
And she set the trees surrounding them ablaze; despite being damp and cold from the rain and the season, long stalks splattered in the fluid immediately began to burn, the trail of the flammable glycerin immediately catching alight with Natalya's flame, becoming a miniature wall of fire. All the fauna splashed with the stuff soon had flames hungrily devouring them and suddenly the entire place was bathed in light, the illumination doing nothing to change Natalya's indifferent expression as she watched Alfred turn and sprint like a deer.
He spotted an opening to run out of hell and immediately dashed for it, but something caught his ankle and sent him sprawling.
"Aaaaaagh!"
He fell, his bare foot falling into a series of little holes, where, frozen ground notwithstanding, seemed freshly dug up, judging by the feel of the earth. Kiku tumbled away from his body and the yelps of pain were shrill and desperate over the roar of the blaze swallowing up the trees, lapping determinedly at the trunks like a child licking to get at the creamy center of an ice cream cone.
Panting, Alfred rolled to his side, but froze as the cool blade of a knife flew against his throat, a hand clutching his collar. As if magnetically drawn his dilated eyes flicked up to the girl, who now lay crouched over him in this sea of fire, eyes narrowing into slits even as sweat twinkled and shone on his damp brow.
He swallowed.
"Girl, you got yourself some issues."
~o*oOo*o~
He feared the inferno would immediately engulf them all, but while the flames danced white-hot and horrible in the trees, they didn't seem to be spreading past what looked like a funny ridge of the ground, as if a gopher had been tunneling beneath them. Someone seemed to know what she was doing.
Howling, Alfred tried to thrash his way free, but Natalya only struck him upside the head to silence him, and then hit him again for good measure. A tiny pinprick of blood glistened from where she'd pressed the knife threateningly against the flesh.
"Natalya, why are you doing this?!" She slapped him across the face and he saw stars, bit his tongue and tasted more blood. "Ow, ow, okay, fuck, I get it, Ivan's not gonna appreciate this!"
And it occurred to him as the conflagration started leaping higher and higher—as if had not already!—that she was decidedly not like Ivan, would not be so determined to believe of his perfection as to spare him his life.
Alfred had wondered when this ghastly night would come to an end, but it seemed earlier than he expected; he struggled helplessly, only managing to cut himself further against Natalya's blade. The girl was glaring at him now, glancing every now and again in the opening where the flames did not touch, her death grip not relaxing in the slightest. Kiku lay motionless on the ground, still where he had fallen.
Despairing, he turned his eyes to the two or three stars shining through the smoke that made him cough, made him extremely-lightheaded. What good would tears do? Even if they were brewing deep inside his throat, something told him pleading for mercy with Captain Crazy's protégé wouldn't do him much good. Sweat beaded on his skin as he tensed, waiting even as Natalya breathlessly waited, for the strike that would cut his life away from his body as easily as one would slice a string—
"ALFRED!"
And his head shot up to see a chalk-white face swim into view, spattered with red, a great deal of it streaming from his prominent nose—
"Kiku, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," He said quietly, lips barely moving. "We're in hell."
Crumpled on the ground, the boy did not counter him. In fact, he said nothing at all.
His eyes flew back to Ivan, who was clutching his faucet tightly against his chest and it vaguely occurred to Alfred that the pipe looked as if it had recently rusted, but no, that wasn't right…it had looked…like…in perfect condition when Ivan was trying to bludgeon his poor older sister….
Where was Matthew where was Katyusha what had happened to them—
"Ivan, call her off!" He begged, and Natalya struck him, hard enough to almost dislocate his jaw and sending a hot, blunt spike of pain through his face. Somewhere nearby he heard Ivan shouting or buzzing and far from caring what other hurt he suffered when something hot was oozing out of his mouth, he screamed:
"WHERE'S MY BROTHER?! WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU EVIL PRICK?!"
Alfred let out a yelp as a good kick at the small of back sent him sprawling. He meant to jump up, but a gloved hand mercilessly tore into the roots of his hair and twisted; dragged him by them even as he shrieked and fought like a wounded tiger. A second later his head hit the ground and a heeled foot all but stomped upon it, and he wanted to black out from the sickening second stab that redoubled the agony in his skull.
Blinded with pain, he dimly felt a knife tip press against his pulse again, which was as pounding as obviously and as enticingly as the red center in a shooting target. Hot tears gushed down his face as he waited for his final death blow, or for at least the world to stop spinning.
The latter came first; flames frenzied and loomed behind them all, and Alfred was now at an angle where he could see the Russian man perfectly. Ivan could not have looked more stunned than as if a ghost had materialized out of the Earth and were leering at him.
He heard a voice from above him, crisp and dry and self-satisfied, and it made him shudder even though he could understand nothing of what it said:
"'Big brother, it is so nice to see you again.'"
Natalya smirked at her Only, who'd barreled in like a tank once he saw her harm the colossal sack of shit cowering beneath her shoe. But the knife was clutched against his throat, a warning of the death-blow she would very well and very gladly deliver if he came any closer, and so Ivan simply stared at her from a distance.
Big brother looking upon her once again made her toes curl in pleasure. In a place made scorching with her feelings, she would again drink in the pleasure that came from extinguishing a life. And at last consummate herself with her promised. The Only beloved.
The shock upon Ivan's face was both a little gratifying and a little annoying, so she cleared her throat and tried to smile, then began to speak as the fire crackled and twisted around them, a loving embrace. Ashes started toppling from the sky and it reminded her of rice thrown at a ceremony. That tickled her.
"'It has been a long time,'" She purred, in her native tongue. "'Since we have seen each other. The last time we were together we were being separated.'" The word was ugly like the sniveling brat she ached to murder; the memory alone created a trail of unhappiness even as the trail of gasoline had created a chain of fire. Her dark, catlike eyes reflected it. "'By that filthy, loveless court. I would rather have stabbed myself than gone into that filthy place, but I did it for you.'" Her next words lost some of the sweetness she had felt upon their reunion. "'They were kinder to you than to me.'"
He stared at her, violet eyes blinking as if trying to blink away a nightmare. His gaze flicked to struggling Alfred beneath her and then back to his younger sister's face.
"'Because I claimed I did not kill anyone,'" he replied, very slowly as if this were painfully obvious. He meant to advance in but Natalya angrily shook Alfred and so he retreated, slowly raising his hands and gazing at the brides. "'And you did otherwise. You were so proud of what you did, you would tell everyone. You did tell everyone. And that is why they locked you away for good.'" For your own good.
Natalya frowned. That hadn't been the torrent of placating apologies and explanations she had hoped for.
"'You said you recognized my love for you,'" she retorted very coldly, jabbing the blond in the side and making him cry out in pain. The smoldering in Ivan's eyes became more pronounced. "'You said you understood and promised that when you got out, you would break your beloved out of her cell and take her against your bosom.'" Actually, Ivan had agreed to help her by any means possible, and that had meant helping himself and fleeing the country. "'But you abandoned me.'" Beneath the rage was raw hurt, sorely ill-disguised. "'In that hovel you forsook me to rot. And after all I have done for you.'"
The hot air flickered at hair; Kiku twitched helplessly on the ground and groaned. Natalya reluctantly took her gaze off her sibling.
"'I have not seen Katyusha. She should be here. Did you kill her?'" She asked, sounding wholly indifferent. Catching his breath again, Alfred fumed with the indignity of it all. They could at LEAST do him the fucking favor of speaking in ENGLISH before slicing and dicing him!
"Uh, hello? Hate to interrupt your happy fun chatty time, but can you get your fucking knife off my neck before—"
Ivan interrupted him. "'This is impossible!'" he exclaimed, sounding distressed. "'You were given a life sentence for what you did!"
"'You should have known steel bars and straitjackets were hardly enough to keep me from my beloved.'"
"Natalya." His voice started quivering violently. "'Let him go. That's an angel you're torturing. You'll be damned forever if you cause it more hurt.'"
Her eyes positively bugged out at him. "'Angel?'" She brayed, and she looked like she might be laughing if her face were not twisting with such murderous hatred. "'You call this pathetic pig an angel?! I might as well call that gaping cunt royalty!'"
Eyes widening and knowing just how close she was to committing an atrocity that would doom the entire world, doom his life, he threw up his hands again.
"'As for my not contacting you immediately… had you listened to what I told you, we might have… I needed some time. You can hardly blame me for that,'" he insisted, sweat glistening on his own face. "'Put the knife down. Put it down and tell me how you came to be here. If you have earned your freedom, my dear little sister, I do not want so soon for it to be revoked.'"
She did not listen and he did not expect her to. With the greatest effort Kiku had made in his life, the boy shakily sat up and tried to crawl away. Natalya took no more notice of him then if he were an insect. Ivan was still frowning at her, brow creased in obvious confusion.
"'I told Katyusha to never contact you again, to never tell you where we were.'" Mindless with fear and hurt, Kiku tried to limp past him and he immediately shot forward and shoved him back to the ground. "OH NO, YOU DON'T!"
If Natalya were hurt by his first statement, it did not show.
"'It has been but two days since I've been here,'" She said at last. "'In this stinking sty of a country. I have been looking for you, big brother.'"
The words were mostly just meaningless babble in his ears because Alfred. Bleeding. Precious holy blood was being spilled and it was suffering.
"'That still does not explain how you found us. Or how you came to be free.'"
Her face hardened into something that could have stopped a train. "'Sister left me her new phone number.'" She admitted unhappily, teeth setting on edge. Why oh why was he not rejoicing, letting her slice the dirty beasts open and butcher them? They could bathe in the blood and luxuriate in the fact that they were one whole once more.
"'And she stopped returning my messages and never told me you had left….I could kill her for it, tear off those buckets off her chest and fill her to the brim with salt…but she did give me her number and that could be traced.'" Her lip curled with some amusement. "'The police were looking for you in that stupid town, but they didn't think to try and trace Katyusha's phone because it was off. I did. Your little 'friend—'" she spat the word. "'Helped me.'"
Ivan slowly began walking again, circling the three. Natalya stared at him longingly, her hand never straying from Alfred's neck. "'Tell me how you got out.'" He came to a stop, arms folding. "'I can hardly think you managed such a thing from good behavior.'"
She snorted humorlessly. "'In that fucking, piss-soaked hellhole full of wailing imbeciles,'" She began, each word humming with venom, "'I had the luck of being assigned the biggest moron in the ward as my caretaker. He was a hateful, stupid pig who liked to make fun of me in school and when he dared asked me to…'"
She let out a snarl and slammed her foot into the ground, hissing and digging into her hair with her free hand. "'I wanted to bite him, strangle him, drown him, laugh in his ugly shit face AND KILL HIM! You should have killed him when I asked you to! But if you can recall I broke his hand, broke it and enjoyed it, too,'" breathed Natalya with relish. "'I belong only to you, big brother…
"'And when he heard of the 'case' in the news and learned where I was being exiled, he became a volunteer," She jeered, her free, gloved hand tracing the curve of Alfred's sweaty neck as if she were visually wringing the life out of it. The blade drew another little red pearl of blood, and another.
"'Few wanted to work in that pigpen and no wonder why; full of screaming freaks who deserved to be butchered and sliced into bacon but too filthy for it! They weren't good even for compost!" The Russian spat on the ground. "'All wailing and sobbing, dripping and sick, full of sick, I'm not sick! If I had my way I'd drive all those dirty, fat old men and useless women into camps, shove them into gas chambers and ovens and watch them ALL SHRIVEL AND DIE! Roll them into manure! And in that place full of excrement, you left me!'"
Alfred still couldn't understand a word of the insane girl's ranting, but she seemed awfully preoccupied screaming at her brother with that demented look on her face. He made a face as spittle flicked on him—Christ, did she have to do that? Her hold was starting to slacken on him as she grew more and more excited. Dare he…?
"'I threatened that stupid boy so many times, scratched him and bit him…waited for my brother to come to my rescue.'" Now her voice became tremulous, much as she angrily tried to swallow the quivering bitterness that was a barb in her throat. "'I had your release date held in my heart; I waited breathlessly for a visit. A letter. And nothing came," She said tearfully. "'Every visitor day, I waited. For letters I watched. But no one came for Natalya, not even the fatherfucking, hole of disease COW! No one phoned! And when even my jailers tried to contact you, no one could be found!'"
Her hair spilled messily into her eyes as she shook her head; you might have thought she were a rock star getting wild on stage. But her grip remained firm, the blade became even more painful, and the bloody trickle racing down the blond's collarbone from the wound became fresh with more tears. Ivan remained silent, though his face was set.
"'Still, I did not give up hope,'" She croaked piteously, looking up at him imploringly through the tears glittering in her eyes and the tangled strands scattered over her face; an ash-yellow veil. "'For the longest time…but at last I could wait no longer and knew it was time to procure the means of my escape myself. It was disgusting, simply disgusting, but I knew my best way to freedom was through the idiot boy.'" She rolled her eyes and looked as if she had tasted bile. "'It was hard to refrain from breaking his body; that was too fun, but I let him believe that I was warming to him.'" Okay, now Alfred was getting a little damn sick of this jabbering, but he did pick up on the fact that language barrier aside, he could understand Miss Crazy Barracuda sounded pretty fucking sarcastic.
"'He was delighted, only too eager to press his advantage and bored me to tears talking of his boyhood." Ivan's eyes were now boring into Kiku's back, watching as the boy continued to drag himself half-inch by half-inch towards his sister. But he said nothing.
"'On a farm…stupid fucking middle of nowhere….so coarse. I pretended to listen and told him precisely what the dumb sheep wanted to hear.
"'He seemed to think we were sharing when he learned of my tragic life story." Her voice was laced with derision again; Alfred wondered if he dare try and tackle her now. Would she slit him like a turkey if he didn't move quick enough? Could she? Of course she fucking could, but even if she were strong, she was also pint-sized…
"'He cried and said he was desperate to help me. I told him that I'd been raped by an inmate and would surely commit suicide were I to stay in such a desolate place.'" Alfred shifted by just the tiniest bit and Natalya irritably jabbed his shoulder with the knife, tip sinking in and making him wail. Making a near incoherent noise, Ivan strode forwards but the bloody blade immediately returned to Alfred's neck and the man immediately fell still again. Cursing, the American seethed at his captor, bleeding freely.
"'The boy insisted that he would do his best to have me moved to purgatory, a hell with a chance of escape. But that was not good enough for me and so charmed him into helping me get away. It was narrow but it was done…he took me back to his home. He thought we would be married. He thought I was 'cured— '" Did she actually just gnash her teeth? Alfred hadn't actually seen anyone doing that outside TV.
"'—And that we would spend the rest of our days together in poverty, in dirt farming. But I made him take me back to find my dear brother and sister and reunite them with poor Natalya." Her mad eyes glittered, with more tears or pure malice or perhaps both.
"'Our house was empty. Cold as a tomb. You could not be found anywhere. I remembered Katyusha's phone and had it traced…you forsook me to leave for this dirty empire.'"
He puffed for breath. Considering how angry she sounded, Alfred wondered if maybe she hoped to use him as leverage to kill Ivan. In that case, he would gladly root her cause once she killed her brother, but that left him with a snake that murdered the wolf. And the fact that it was very possible the entire forest would be set aflame soon didn't help matters much. He noticed Kiku was gradually slinking closer to them, but what did he intend to do?
"'I told the foolish pig I could only be happy if we resettled in America. He was reluctant but I am a good girl when it comes to getting what I wish…he sold most of his things and stole money from his parents, and when he ran to meet me where I waited outside, I stabbed him.'"
He yelped and cursed when a burnt leaf drifted on his back and he hastily shook it off. The bad smell was filtering into the air, which was becoming heavy with smoke. Ivan remained stagnant, though something had changed in his expression, and he spoke at last:
"'He let you into his heart…and his home…and you plunged a knife into him?'"
"'Many times,'" Natalya said gleefully "'It was a good day.
"'After that, it was time to track down that puny friend of yours and obtain false papers.'" Her smile easily reverted back to a frown with obvious disdain. "We did not have enough to do for me what he did for you—and he and his sniveling friends ran and hid in a room at the sight of me. He said he would only do as I asked if I slid the money under the door and let them at their work. I suppose he found big brother a scary man?'"
Alfred could bear it no longer. "Where's Mattie?!"
Natalya glanced down at him and frowned. "'What are these boys?'" She asked in a faux sweet voice, as if a mother trying very hard not to scream at her child for bringing in some disgusting carcass as an item of interest. "'Something to play with?'"
Kiku grasped her ankle and gave a feeble tug; she kicked his face and he cried out but held fast. She glanced around as if looking for a stick to scrape off the scum. "'Have you grown a taste for Japanese insects? I see by his wounds you have not. Are you having fun without me?'"
"I don't know or care what the fuck you two are saying, but I'm—"
Natalya raised her foot and all at once, Alfred lost his fear all at once because he was tired of this bullshit.
With an angry roar he shoved at his captor and Kiku struck Natalya in the shin hard. For a split second she stumbled and this distraction gave him the time to leap to his feet.
The knife instantly sliced across the forearm he hoisted up to protect his neck, ripping the sleeve and producing a scarlet cut—but with a roundabout kick he drove his foot into the stunned girl's stomach and sent her flying. Under any other circumstances he would never hit a girl, but he supposed he'd be just as willing to kick a snarling wolverine if it happened to be female.
Time for you to hide your crazy and start acting like a lady.
Ivan darted into the clearing just as Alfred rushed to grab Natalya's fallen weapon, and immediately backtracked to scoop up Kiku, whose effort had so overcome him with pain that he lay silent, eyes more glazed than your average Krispy Kreme. There was a muted stinging from both Alfred's neck and arm, but the adrenaline carried him in waves out of the threshold of much physical suffering.
Rolling dangerously close to the burning trees, Natalya came to a stop and immediately clamored up again, chest heaving for the breath caught in there. Teeth clenched, she swished away the mess away from her face, not aware that some of the ends were smoldering.
And she laughed, laughed maniacally, a grating, horrible sound that was clearly forced, choked for air. Ivan's panicked gaze fell on Alfred's injuries, falling next upon the decidedly better-quality knife he now held at the ready in a trembling, bloody fist.
"'He looks so like the boys you were so fond of looking at back home,'" She breathed, giggling just a little as she swayed on her feet, hitching up her royal blue dress to reveal a bare leg that looked astonishingly white in the curdling and curling fire still writhing about them. To Alfred's growing dismay, upon that leg there was a clutch strapped on, bearing an identical knife to the one she just lost. Leering at it, Natalya shook all the while as she withdrew the new weapon as if silently laughing.
"'I don't like it, big brother. I don't. Perhaps it would be good to rid you of this parasite?'" She whipped to face Alfred and he instinctually jumped, making her laugh harder. "'See how the dog flees from you? You should kill it now. That would be the kind thing to do.'"
Glancing at him, Ivan's strained face slowly elapsed into quiet composure. Humming under his breath, he tucked his pipe into a pocket and slowly headed over to his sister, who watched him warily. When he stood in front of her she looked at her hands, twisting them.
"'You deserve to be punished,'" She said accusingly, and though her voice was as rough as sandpaper, it was lined with genuine regret. "'That is a shame.'"
Far from looking agitated, Ivan just sighed slightly, as if he were again a young boy accustomed to reproving a silly little sister's nonsense. "'Natalya.'" Ivan clicked his tongue and she looked up when he said her name. "'Dear, dear little sister. Surely you would not hurt me.'"
"'Perhaps if you had not left me to die in a land without love,'" She muttered unhappily, not noticing Alfred very slowly backing out of the clearing. He didn't even dare turn. "'Even our country openly acknowledges the evil of your dirty little habit.'"
She took one of his hands and cradled it against her face, her eyes as adoring as if she were a worshipper looking upon a sacred idol.
"'You swore your heart to me.'" She whispered, resolve etched in every outlet of her hard person. "'I have come to take that love. You can have my body.'" Now her voice wavered again, from affection. "'It is pure like my blood, like this steel, like my devotion to you.'"
"Belarus." She shivered with delight when he called her by that name, back when they were but children playing at being countries as they walked home together. With one most unflattering and unnecessary accessory.
"'Yekaterina has always been a sow,'" The girl said dismissively, blackened leaves tumbling like confetti. "'A great fuck. A whore who moaned when stepfather would plow into her filthy body. It is good that you killed her. Now it is just us two.'" Ah, but did her eyes brighten so, become so much more alive! "'I forgive you for leaving me, my love, but you must promise to never abandon me again.'"
He gave her a gentle smile, one of the smiles she loved most.
"I am sorry, dearest Natalya."
CRACK.
Eyes dilated in her hopeful look, Natalya fell to the ground, like a discarded doll, dead. Alfred stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her, waited for her to rise up.
And knew, with no small amount of shaking, that she was dead, that Ivan had snapped the neck of his own little sister as simply and easily as if it were a breadstick. And his empty stomach heaved, heaved terribly as stinging bile shot up his esophagus and he vomited, nearly crashing to the ground, nearly dropping Kiku. But he was too scared to do so much as scream and so the Earth stood still and silent even though a life had been extinguished before his very eyes. Ivan turned to look at him, gentle smile unfettered.
"Distorted by love." He said softly, looking up at the stars not yet obscured by the smoke rolling off the smoking trees. The fire wasn't spreading very well in this damp area and gas notwithstanding, it likely would not last much longer. Ivan looked at this and sighed again.
"Matryoshka. The fate of all three of us…. well. That can be said of two of us, anyway," he added lightly, and the knife slipped from Alfred's fumbling fingers and he almost lost it. "I am made good by you, my poor, sweet angel."
He advanced a step or two, three. Do it now! Alfred's mind cried out. Run, yell, fight! But he could do nothing but gaze numbly as if wholly hypnotized, voice and legs betraying him.
"A small boy once dreamed," He remarked idly. "Of having a big home to live in. In it, I hoard in friends like a dragon will diamonds, and keep locks on all doors so nobody goes away."
Ivan licked his dry lips. "But that's all gone," he added wistfully, shaking it off with another small smile. "Family is nothing but hurt. The friends leave. I only need you. Everyone else…they can be thrown away, ground to dust. It does not matter who, even she-" He extended an arm carelessly towards the corpse he would not even glance at. "-would have hurt you. Did hurt you. And so she died and I am not sorry."
The excitable gleam in his face made it look as if two garnets had been squeezed into his eye sockets. "I'll make them all disappear. One by one. I'll kill them all, for hurting my precious. Don't cry, love. I'm happy, too..."
"So long as you remain, I can be glad. Now, little angel," Ivan purred, that little grin becoming deadly once again. "Time for you to walk the altar with me."
~o*oOo*o~
Mattie had taken the knife what had happened to him—
Mattie had taken the knife what had happened to him—
He at last coaxed his foot back as Ivan's eyes flickered to Kiku again. "And drop that nasty little thing, won't you? It's getting you and lovely dress positively filthy."
"I'm not a dog," He tried to snap, but the words wavered and he hated it. "And you're getting Kiku over my dead body."
There was a terrible silence.
"D-did you…?"
"Alfred." Ivan extended a hand sticky with coagulated blood at him and Alfred nearly choked. He was far too scared to think coherently, but he was keenly aware that the red shining all over Ivan's coat could have easily come from Yekaterina or— "Come to me. I'm your friend. I'm the best friend you've ever had. You were sent to bring me hope—it's my responsibility to make you happy." Another faltering footstep and he all but stumbled over himself trying to retreat. He had a knife, which all was well and good, but Ivan's range with his pipe was longer and Alfred wouldn't approach the murderous freak if his life depended on it.
Which it very well might.
The Russian looked vaguely surprised as he waited, hand still outstretched. "Drop your weapon, my love. I will not hurt you."
What the hell. He could have eaten a bowl of Alpha-Bits and crapped a better response than that. Alfred thought he'd say so, but all he could say was: "I'm sorry."
And then, he fled.
He ran, listening; Ivan wasn't making a sound, not that he could hear, and then it started—
"Allllfred…"
That poor, insane voice belonging to that poor, insane face so distorted with nefarious greed and intent and want-
It was coming for him. Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth as he sped up, trying not to moan out from fright. Tears blurred his vision, and soon, he was a crying wreck as he ducked under several branches, praying hopelessly that they would be able to hold him back—
"Alfred!"
The cry was so terrible and piercing Alfred very nearly doubled back to meet his fate so that he could fall to his knees and beg for mercy. Such rage, such cruelty in that awful, grating voice!
But his overpowering desire for freedom and life kept him sprinting, even as his side throbbed with pain and his feet ached with blisters. He couldn't give up! Not now!
"Alfred…..angel…."
The voice was still following him, now sounding longing and sad, as if it were calling back a lost child. He bolted towards an area that was choked with trees. Surely Ivan would have a hard time finding him in that….
Briars tore at his skin as he raced past; pain still didn't register. He skidded on soggy leaves more than once, blindly reaching out for branches to right his balance. Kiku's grip felt worryingly feeble, though he clung to Alfred like a koala, flopping against his body.
At one point he tripped, and this time slammed them into the ground. He forced himself to get up again and ran on, noting that he no longer heard the crackling of fire.
He hurried on. If he just went on like this for a couple more miles, Ivan would invariably lose them and they could find their way towards a road so that he could make it back to civilization, the police!
Out of the corner of his eye Alfred noted a dwindling of the ominous shadows of tree trunks. Immediately the boy ran on everything he had in that direction. He'd be more exposed, but that was fine, so long as he could find the highway.
A thought occurred to him that he might be going in the wrong direction entirely; maybe he was heading into a wilderness that went for miles and miles, filled with wild things that wouldn't mind making a meal out of either of them. And even if they did, where could they find water? Alfred heard Kiku hiss through clenched teeth and he blindly reached back to smooth the boy's dark hair.
He slowed a little bit, and then degraded into a walk, legs buckling with fatigue. Kiku didn't weigh very much, but the additional weight had his lungs burning and he continued gasping as he blindly continued forward. It'd be nice if he could hide his tracks, but he couldn't even see them and chances were the forest floor was so caked with fallen leaves that Ivan wouldn't be able to find footprints even if he came back with a flashlight.
And by that time he and Kiku would be safe and sound.
….right?
"Gonna be okay. Believe me."
A glaring pair of lights burst into life from behind him, and Alfred's head swiveled around, jaw dropping, pupils shrinking immediately.
There is a difference between fear and horror; fear makes you burn for your life, and horror—the chill of hopelessness—is cold. His stomach flooded with ice, and the boy took a step back from the twin blinding lights, shaking.
He'd gone back for the car, and now Ivan was leaning out his window, purple eyes lit up with a mad glee, smile crooked and more like a painful grimace.
"I won't let you go, Alfred darling! You are mine! All mine!"
Sick with hopelessness, Alfred started to believe him.
~o*oOo*o~
In a single leap that would have impressed Olympic jumpers the world over, he bounded over a series of bushes, tangling his bare legs in a series of scratchy twigs that caught in his dress and tore at his poor feet. His left big toenail had been ripped off entirely after an encounter with a stone, and Kiku wailed his battered body being jostled.
As the vehicle crashed through the thin saplings after him, Alfred saw the moon reflecting off a colossal body of water, still partially frozen. Ivan's headbeams illuminating the hard, pale shore he fell to a stop at, he stared at the water and the ice in dismay, too shocked to cry.
"Alfred-chan," Kiku whispered in his ear, swaying. "When the time comes to give up—"
"Shut the fuck up," Alfred snarled, making a beeline for the ice, sparkling dimly as the lights briefly fell over it, the car revving away from a stump it crashed into, turning to face the lake. Was the ice firm enough that it would hold him and Kiku both? Probably, if Ivan weren't stupid enough to pursue with the car. "We're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you outta here hook or by crook."
Kiku let out a sigh, a creaking, tired sound, like all the breath being squeezed out of an old man. To Alfred's surprise Kiku's cracked, dry lips pressed against his neck in a chaste kiss.
"Alfred-chan, aishiteru. I love you very much."
"Kiku…."
"ALFRED!"
He scowled at the noise. "When we get outta here, I'm taking you on the date of your life," He promised, gingerly taking one step onto the ice, which quivered threateningly underneath his foot but held.
"I cannot swim."
He bit his lip; fuck, that was right, but the lake wasn't all that wide. If worst came to worst and he broke through, he ought to be able to swim his way across so long as Kiku held on. It was early Spring; the water couldn't be that cold.
"Just promise you hold on to me. You'll be fine," Alfred promised, just in time to lose his footing and slipped with a yelp to one knee.
"aLFReD!"
The young man immediately stood up again, not daring to look behind. Another step on the ice. And another. And another. He could only pray that Ivan wouldn't try to pursue them; if Ivan turned out to be as good a swimmer as he was a soccer player, he and Kiku would both be killed.
But maybe he would fall through before he could weaken the ice supporting Alfred and Kiku. Maybe he would simply run around the lake regardless of how long it took and catch up with them then. That would suck. That would suck bad. But there was no other way out.
Ivan was bawling somewhere in the distance. "Sweet angel, come back to me, that is dangerous!"
Screw that noise. He took another step, and another, and—
There was the slightest cracking sound, and without another warning, the two fell through, plunging into the frigid water of the lake. Ivan's screams abruptly vanished as the two sank down, Alfred whacking his head across a block of ice before he went under, making him see white before he saw black.
~o*oOo*o~
Darkness. It was cold. Cold, cold, as if it were seeping into the marrow of the bones. Head throbbing, he blindly kicked upward, but it was harder now that he was supporting the two of them, a pair of hands desperately clutching around Alfred's neck for dear life. He gasped and tried to pry Kiku's fingers off, who was unaware that he was choking him—
With a mighty kick, Alfred propelled the two to the surface, gasping, wheezing, he seized at some ice and tried to hoist himself up but his scrabbling hands could not find purchase on the surface. Entire body stinging horribly, he hoisted half of himself upon a piece of ice, legs kicking desperately in the water as he fought to get atop it.
But the extra weight at his back was gone; he threw his head around just in time to see Kiku's deathly pale body splash back in. With a strangled whimper Alfred allowed himself to fall back into the water, desperately searching him out.
Where was he?
It was a fumble in near-blackness, but at last his hand closed around a hand and Alfred tugged it to his chest, squinting.
The hand came to him, but it had no hint of Kiku's body temperature. As a matter of fact, it was slimy. Panicking, Alfred's fingers fell to its wrist, searching for a pulse and wondering why the hand came forward so effortlessly.
The hand fit perfectly in his, and it was attached to an arm like his but where there ought to have been a shoulder blade, there was only torn skin, trailing eerily behind the severed limb like the tendrils of a jellyfish. The flesh was rotting, blue, shattered bone and dullest hint of red exposed, pale pink, of uncooked meat—
Alfred let go of his storage of oxygen to let out a gurgling shout, breath escaping into a blur of bubbles and water rushing into his mouth. Gagging, he violently shoved at the severed arm, which only drifted eerily upwards, the rest of the partially-freed corpse bobbing forward to meet him, several parts oozing away.
Icy water flooded into his mouth and Alfred thrashed to get away, flailing for Kiku but terrified of touching the thing, which had filthy hair swaying lazily in the water as if the whole thing were some cosmic joke.
But just as he made to propel himself to the surface again, he was yanked back—something was caught around his leg, holding him down, even as his lungs cried for air and he pulled with all his might—
His grasping hands fell to his ankle and Alfred felt something hard and cold ensnaring it; chains. Chains must have been wrapped around the corpse to keep it down here, and now he was caught with it. Struggling to untie the tangled loop from around his ankle, which felt as if it were being pierced through with several thousands of little needles. As did the rest of his body, which burned like a lantern for air and with fear.
It took a few seconds, but after untangling himself he was not quite free, flinching in pain as he realized something sharp and thin like a wire or a fishhook was caught in his leg, still attached to the chain. Steeling himself he plucked it out, the extra pain not registering as he fought to return to the surface, dying.
Dying, drifting, drifting up but not nearly fast enough, he cracked his eyes open in sadness—
And found a floating green eye staring back at him, free of its socket.
America: O_o *Eye twitches* Wow. For claiming to love me...you really bring on the hurt, don't you, woman?
Belarus: :( For someone who has my cosplay costume, you certainly do like killing me a lot. And your prose is not only much too wordy, but you're still a colossal imbecile.
No doubts there, folks...I think I need a Beta. Love writing, but because I feel the obsessive compulsive need to yak, you guys probably get too many details you don't care about. Hmm. Well, next chapter stuff happens, and we eat cookies, believe it or not. Please join us for the mystery-solving, tear-jerking revelations, and the snack-eating.
Please review, my dearest ones.
Next chapter: Petrushka
OR
Paleozoic
