Rated: M for language. Not mine, not making any money.
Operation Thaw
-Chapter 37-
Following the directions on the GPS, they easily found the junkyard. Anything that takes over two square miles in a city like Trenton is hard to miss. A comprehensive cruise around the perimeter revealed there were only two entrances. Parking the car a block away they cautiously made their way back to the second, smaller entrance. The wall was lower at the gate and would be easier to breach.
"Give me a boost," Amber demanded. She gritted her teeth, promising herself the time to kill her would come soon enough. Threading her fingers together, Amber placed her foot in her hands. "One, two, three."
She launched the old cow up as hard as she could. Amber caught the edge of the concrete wall and pulled herself up. Amber turned to offer her a hand but she just looked at her in disgust. After backing up about ten feet she ran towards the wall leaping with her last stride. Her right foot hit against the wall, and she launched herself up to grab the top of the wall; using her momentum she easily pulled herself upright. She then carefully balanced on the five inch ledge so she could step over the razor wire. The junkyard owners kept a clean yard and, to discourage trespassers, kept a five to ten foot margin between the fence and the piles of broken cars. Steadying herself she put all her weight on the balls of her feet and lowered her body until she was like a tightly coiled spring. Launching herself backwards, she performed a midair flip and landed on the pile of smashed metal behind her.
Amber hissed, "What the fuck was that?"
She just grinned in the dark. "I'm a traceuse." 1
"A what?"
"Nevermind. Just get your fat ass off the ledge and be quiet." While Amber clumsily struggled to get over the razor wire and up to her, she scanned the junkyard for any sign of Ruslan.
The junkyard was quiet and she idly wondered where the "big, scary" dogs were. Amber finally made her way over to her and demanded, "Give me my Glock!" She handed it over without concern. She was faster and deadlier than the older woman even without the gun.
From their location they could clearly see the main entrance of the junkyard, the office building, the car crusher, and a large empty area that could hold at least three semi-trucks. "We can't stay up here," Amber whined from her left, "we're too visible." Silently she agreed but she had no intentions of conceding to the other woman.
"Get down then. I'm staying up here until I spot Ruslan." As if her words conjured him up, they heard the crunching of gravel outside the large gates. Amber scrambled down but she remained, hunkered down flat against the crushed vehicle.
Three black SUV's made their way through the gates circling around protectively. Seemingly on command, the driver side doors opened simultaneously and three men stepped into the circle created by the vehicles. The men took up defensive positions while the passenger side doors opened and three more men got out. The SUV's headlights lit up the circle casting odd shadows. Two men stood on either side of the center vehicle's rear door while the third man, a hulking monster with a flaming skull tattoo, hauled Ruslan out of the backseat. He was in bad shape; his face was a bloody pulp with his eyes swollen shut. He wore only a pair of boxers, and she caught a glimpse of his filleted back. She fought back the bile that rose in her throat. Amber was not as successful, and her soft retching filtered up from the ground.
Her eyes never wavered from Ruslan as the man shoved him to the ground. Quickly the three men got back in their respective vehicles, followed a moment later by the drivers. The window slid down and the scary man chucked something near Ruslan. His words drifted toward her, "Легкий путь. (Legkiĭ putʹ.)" 2 Ruslan didn't make a noise or move at all.
Five minutes after the vehicles left she scrambled down the pile of cars but hesitated before entering the coverless area. Whirling on Amber she demanded, "Explain again how you got away?"
Amber frowned but then recounted how the men had tortured her and threatened her but then abruptly left her cell. She explained how she frantically searched for an escape when she realized how much they were hurting Ruslan. She laughed at how stupid they had been by leaving her cell unlocked and how she stealthily escaped into the night. When Amber was done, she reeled backwards as Anastasia's fist connected with her face. "You stupid cunt! It was a trap. They let you go. Fuck! Do think it was coincidence that they brought Ruslan here right after we showed up? How long did you wait for me in the alley?"
Amber's hand was still pressed against her throbbing face, "A…a couple hours, I guess."
She scoffed, "And it never occurred to you that this might be a setup? You really thought it took them this long to dispose of Ruslan's body? Idiot."
"No! You're the idiot!" Amber pulled her glock out and trained it on Anastasia. "You're the stupid bitch that keeps getting in my way. I have no idea why Vladimir sent you here but I'm going to send you back. Back to hell!" She began firing as Anastasia launched herself at her.
As he knelt on the ground where the men had left him he thought he heard soft voices. The voices grew louder and he recognized them as belonging to Amber and Anastasia. Shit! He was glad they were here and afraid for them at the same time. He wasn't foolish enough to believe the men had truly left. They seemed the sort to leave an observer to be sure the job was done. When the gun fire erupted he quickly struggled toward the gun the man had thrown at him. He checked the magazine and felt a single bullet. The man had offered him noble suicide. He heard Anastasia scream, "Bitch!" before all was silent.
He held his breath and listened for any sign of life. Tears dripped silently down his face as he thought of his beloved. Soft footsteps approached and through his swollen lids he could barely make out shoulder length light brown hair. Blood dripped from a shoulder wound, streaking down the arm over the hand holding what appeared to be a gun. Amber! The gun rose slowly toward him and without another thought he fired.
"Ruslan." The word came out choked as Anastasia crumpled to the ground. Horrified he moved as quickly as he could to her side. Her arm was clenched around her stomach but it did nothing to staunch the flow of blood. Cradling her in his arms, he saw that her blond hair was matted with dirt and blood. In the dark, she had resembled Amber. "Sweetheart. I'm sorry. Oh my god. I'm sorry, my love." He paused before asking, "Where's Amber?"
"If I had the strength I'd hit you for asking that. The stupid bitch is dead. I slit her throat after she shot me." She shivered. "I'm so cold Ruslan."
"I know my love." He knew she didn't have much time left. Apparently the commotion had finally garnered the attention of the dogs. Three Dobermans and four pit bulls were approaching them growling. He threw the useless gun at them and yelled, but they came closer. "Ruslan," Anastasia's words were short, her breath shallow, "Ruslan, don't leave me." He picked up the gun she dropped and checked the magazine; two rounds remained. He was in a winless situation. He could shoot two of the dogs but had no way of defending against the rest. He looked at Anastasia's ashen face and made a decision.
"I'll never leave you, sweetheart." He placed a kiss on her lips, breathing in her last exhalation. Placing the gun against his chest, he fired.
"Santos."
"It's done. They're all dead."
"Explain."
"Popov shot Liberty. On accident it appeared. Then he shot himself."
"Huh. Fucking Romeo and Juliet. Get the bodies before the dogs tear them up."
"Affirmative."
"Report."
"It's done, boss. They're all dead. Cal and Junior are bringing the bodies back."
"Put 'em on ice and call Russia."
"Babe?"
"Hey, Ric," she sleepily opened her eyes.
"The doctor said you can go home in the morning. Lester and the guys caught Amber, Anastasia and Ruslan. They're all dead."
"It's over then?"
"Yeah, Babe. It's over."
1 A female practitioner of Parkour (check it out on youtube…it's really cool)
2 The easy way out. (Russian)
Word count: 1,438 (excludes title, disclaimer, etc.)