"Were you expecting someone else?" the Ghost in front of him asked in an amiable tone.
"Funny, I thought it was me you wanted."
"*Nyet*. This... this is not real," he said to himself. "It cannot be."
The Ghost shook its head and smiled, and it was that same irritating grin from all those
years before. "I'm real, Kyril, I assure you," it said, taking a step forward.
Panic surged through him, gripping him as it had that day so long ago, and he reacted
instinctively. He grabbed the woman by the arm, dragging her close and pushing the gun
barrel into her temple even as he took several step back. "Stay back!! Stay back or she
dies!!"
******
She had been hanging on to Clay, her only focus keeping him alive and warm, when she
heard the stranger speak. A quick glance up, and she felt her sanity slip loose from its
moorings. She was either going insane or hallucinating from the starvation. She had to
be, because she was looking Harm's father, seemingly alive and well. Either that, or she
was seeing a ghost.
Either way, there was no question of his identity. The resemblance between father and
son couldn't have been much stronger, she thought idly, even as her disjointed mind
registered Tikhomirov's cries. Well, at least she wasn't hallucinat--
Oh God. She was going to die. She knew a dozen ways out of this situation, but she was
too weak to use any of them. She was going to die here, in the middle of the snowy
Russian wilderness, with a bullet in her head and with only a ghost to mourn her...
She sought the phantom's eyes, so like those that always gave such strength. She locked
her gaze on his, trying to explain everything she'd done, why she'd turned away so
quickly, praying that somehow, the message would travel from father to son, losing
herself in the azure depths, trying with all she had to read what they held...
And she knew.
***********
"GuetigeMuttergottesVerdammteScheisseVerfluchtnochmal......." she muttered under her
breath, desperately trying to remain motionless in her precarious perch high above the
ground. How the hell could a situation take such tremendously lucky and completely
shitty turns at the same damn time????
A few more steps, and they'd be in the *perfect* position for her to make a move... if
Mac didn't get killed first. Tikhomirov was rapidly coming extremely unglued...
Move or wait? Verdammt, just three more steps...
************
"Something wrong, Kyril Andreievitch?" the Ghost asked, a hint of menace slipping into
the affable voice as it moved forward again.
The gun dug painfully into Mac's forehead, causing her to wince. "I will kill her,"
Tikhomirov threatened again, retreating again from the specter's advance.
The Ghost paused for a long moment before speaking again, this time with all warmth
gone from the voice. "Then I will have company, Kyril Andreievitch. Even more than
intended."
Tikhomirov's grip weakened slightly, his face bloodless. "What?"
"Surely you know why I'm here, Kyril." It moved forward, cold ice for eyes. "You
butchered me. You've left nothing but blood, pain and death wherever you've gone."
Another step forward, even as Tkihomirov retreated further. "Now they've come for you,
Kyril Andreievitch."
"NYET!!!" The Russian screamed. "NYET!!! NYET!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
The Ghost charged as the sky fell.
TBC..........................
"Funny, I thought it was me you wanted."
"*Nyet*. This... this is not real," he said to himself. "It cannot be."
The Ghost shook its head and smiled, and it was that same irritating grin from all those
years before. "I'm real, Kyril, I assure you," it said, taking a step forward.
Panic surged through him, gripping him as it had that day so long ago, and he reacted
instinctively. He grabbed the woman by the arm, dragging her close and pushing the gun
barrel into her temple even as he took several step back. "Stay back!! Stay back or she
dies!!"
******
She had been hanging on to Clay, her only focus keeping him alive and warm, when she
heard the stranger speak. A quick glance up, and she felt her sanity slip loose from its
moorings. She was either going insane or hallucinating from the starvation. She had to
be, because she was looking Harm's father, seemingly alive and well. Either that, or she
was seeing a ghost.
Either way, there was no question of his identity. The resemblance between father and
son couldn't have been much stronger, she thought idly, even as her disjointed mind
registered Tikhomirov's cries. Well, at least she wasn't hallucinat--
Oh God. She was going to die. She knew a dozen ways out of this situation, but she was
too weak to use any of them. She was going to die here, in the middle of the snowy
Russian wilderness, with a bullet in her head and with only a ghost to mourn her...
She sought the phantom's eyes, so like those that always gave such strength. She locked
her gaze on his, trying to explain everything she'd done, why she'd turned away so
quickly, praying that somehow, the message would travel from father to son, losing
herself in the azure depths, trying with all she had to read what they held...
And she knew.
***********
"GuetigeMuttergottesVerdammteScheisseVerfluchtnochmal......." she muttered under her
breath, desperately trying to remain motionless in her precarious perch high above the
ground. How the hell could a situation take such tremendously lucky and completely
shitty turns at the same damn time????
A few more steps, and they'd be in the *perfect* position for her to make a move... if
Mac didn't get killed first. Tikhomirov was rapidly coming extremely unglued...
Move or wait? Verdammt, just three more steps...
************
"Something wrong, Kyril Andreievitch?" the Ghost asked, a hint of menace slipping into
the affable voice as it moved forward again.
The gun dug painfully into Mac's forehead, causing her to wince. "I will kill her,"
Tikhomirov threatened again, retreating again from the specter's advance.
The Ghost paused for a long moment before speaking again, this time with all warmth
gone from the voice. "Then I will have company, Kyril Andreievitch. Even more than
intended."
Tikhomirov's grip weakened slightly, his face bloodless. "What?"
"Surely you know why I'm here, Kyril." It moved forward, cold ice for eyes. "You
butchered me. You've left nothing but blood, pain and death wherever you've gone."
Another step forward, even as Tkihomirov retreated further. "Now they've come for you,
Kyril Andreievitch."
"NYET!!!" The Russian screamed. "NYET!!! NYET!!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"
The Ghost charged as the sky fell.
TBC..........................