Rated for violence and adult themes.
Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Forty-Seven
"Is it plugged in?"
Kwame stood behind Linka, staring over her shoulder as she hurriedly connected the cords and cables into the monitors and laptop. She scratched her head, eyeing the power outlet on the wall.
"In all honesty, I do not even know if we will require conventional power outlets. Gaia's instructions were a little vague."
"That big white one plugged into the computer," Bleak said, pointing to a long, thick piece of wiring dangling from the ceiling. "I remember. Blight nearly tore my hide. Came close to neckin' myself on it."
"Pity you failed," Wheeler muttered under his breath.
Bleak glared back at him. "Har-dee fuckin' ha ha, turd-burger."
Linka ignored them. She blew her hair away from her face, checking the ethernet cables and rummaging through Blight's box of computer paraphernalia.
"Is this even going to work?"
She sighed, glancing at Ma-Ti. "I am hopeful regarding the portal. What worries me is getting your power back on."
"How so?
"I can backtrack Blight's flies to locate keystrokes and commands. Isolate corrupted data — but I may require access to DNS servers for anything else. IP addresses and such, in order to hack into the local power grid." She straightened, sweeping her hair over one shoulder and surveying the confused faces. "The internet. I cannot access something that may no longer exist."
"Surely there would be some remnant of —"
"Perhaps the satellites are still functional," she said, glancing up. "I do not know, Kwame. But I will do my best."
Kwame nodded. He poked his head out of the double doors, conversing with someone on the other side — Tyreece, she presumed.
"Any sign of Kroi?" Gi asked.
Kwame shook his head, beckoning to Wheeler and Ma-Ti — needing help to barricade the door for the duration of the team beam. "No," he grunted, pushing a cabinet over. "There is a blood trail leading out into the desert. We have a team tracking him."
"You gettin' anything?" Wheeler asked Ma-Ti.
"I can sense him, but I cannot pinpoint a location." Ma-Ti shook his head. "Rage. Fury. I think the man has officially lost his marbles."
"Lost 'em years ago," Wheeler muttered. "Psychopathic piece of sh —"
"All right," Linka said. "I think… I hope it is done. Are you ready for this, Grace?"
"No," she muttered, rubbing her ring with her finger. "Really throwin' me in the deep end, here."
"It will be fine," Linka said, smiling at the nervous girl. Kwame had made the decision to have the five original rings in order to create the power surge, leaving Linka's own past ring unencumbered for the journey home. It was just a theory, but this meant that Grace was an unwilling participant. "Just point and say the word."
"Uh huh."
"Last team beam, my friends," Kwame said.
"Heard that before," Wheeler said, eliciting nervous laughter.
"All right," Kwame said, clapping Wheeler on the back. "You have me there. Hope Island's coordinates are —"
"Still burnt into our memories," Gi said quietly.
"— needed for Linka's journey home," Kwame continued, pointing at the displacement manifold hanging from the ceiling. "We are aiming there?"
She nodded.
"Okay," he said, eyeing Linka worriedly. "All right."
He stood for a moment, seemingly apprehensive. All eyes were on Kwame as he finally looked up, giving everyone a tight smile.
"Lets do this. Earth!"
"Fire."
"Wind — oh, holy hell!" Grace gasped, flinching away from the resulting beam. "Is that meant to —"
"Water!" Gi said, unable to keep a straight face.
"Heart."
The beams converged into one, making a sharp, continuous cracking sound. Sparks went flying in all directions but they held firm, watching the pulses of pure energy radiate in waves towards the equipment.
"Jesus!" Wheeler threw his head to the side to avoid the embers. "Bout to lose my eyebrows here, people."
The combined beam continued sparking and Linka watched on in shock, staring at the peculiar, jerky movements made by the trail of energy. She raised her arms, noting the fine hairs standing on end. The static electricity in the room was palpable.
Right on cue, Wheeler reached out with his free hand, poking Grace in the arm, and she gave an almighty yelp as she was zapped by the current.
"Quit it!" she cried, ignoring Wheeler's wide grin. "Jesus!"
"Is this meant to happen?" Bleak yelled over the noise. "Is something meant to —"
"I have some movement here," Kwame said. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He gripped his wrist in an attempt to hold his ring-hand steady. "I am finding it difficult to —"
White light seemed to radiate; pushing forth from the rings. Spiralling up the beam and surrounding the equipment — almost seeming to emanate from it.
"Should we —"
A massive bang sounded, followed by a shockwave. The ground shook and they all hit the ground, inadvertently breaking off their powers. Linka clutched the side of the work surface, ducking low, breathless and not knowing what to expect.
"Was that it?"
The smell of smoke remained in the air. The Planeteers looked around — searching for some sign that they had been successful.
"Did we do it?"
Kwame stumbled to his feet. He raised his hands in confusion. "I do not know, I —"
"There's no change to the portal. I can't —" Gi said, glancing around and spotting Grace tucked face-first between two crates on the other side of the room. "Dude, how'd you get over there so fast?"
"It failed?" Bleak stood with his hands on his hips, looking beyond devastated. "After all this fucking build-up and —"
"Wait," Linka whispered. She dropped into the swivel chair and pursed her lips, reaching out and touching the blinking green light on the side of the computer. "Oh!"
"Did it —"
"We have power!"
She pressed a button and the home screen lit up immediately — desktop icons springing forth one by one.
"Blestyashchiy!"
She grinned; delighted upon realising that the computer must have been in sleep mode when the power went. Aware that she was already past the first hurdle — not knowing Blight's password.
"I am already in," she said, cracking her knuckles as the others gathered around her. She held her hands above the keypad in anticipation, watching the screen flicker. "All right. I will search through the command history first. Locate and open the portal files. Have the portal ready to go before I attempt restoring the power."
"Do you know what you are looking for?" Ma Ti asked. "The portal files?"
"I have no idea," she replied; her attention never wavering from the screen as she scanned through the hundreds of prompts filling the monitor. "I guess I will know it when I see it."
She spent a few minutes going through Blight's lines of keystrokes and commands. Lips moving — mouthing the lines of coding as her friends shifted impatiently behind her.
The monitor flickered. She held her breath, leaning back as the keypad sparked beneath her fingers.
"Chert voz'mi," she whispered, hands trembling.
"That ain't good," Wheeler muttered.
She shook her head, continuing to scroll through; stopping the search and passing her finger over the dusty screen.
"Here," she said.
Kwame leaned in, studying the small, white print. "Do you think that might be —"
"The last command in this thread contains an executable file named "Einstein-Rosen," she said. "I am going on a hunch."
"Einstein?" Wheeler said, frowning. "Dead old dude with the crazy hair?"
"Yes," she said. She scrolled to the top of the thread, selecting the first command in the chain and double-clicking. "Einstein-Rosen Bridge."
"Wormhole," Grace whispered from somewhere behind her.
Linka nodded; her eyes focused on a dialogue box that appeared, divided into three sections. The first two were easy to distinguish — sequences of numbers that were broken up by dots.
"Longitude and latitude coordinates?" Ma-Ti asked, pointing at the screen. "Perhaps the origin and destination?"
"Must be," she said, hovering the mouse over the destination tab and clicking. Her eyes widened as a list of previously-entered coordinates popped up. "At least we know where Blight was trying to test the technology."
"Busy girl," Grace commented drily.
The third box contained a crude world map, along with several vertical columns beneath — all unmoving. At the base were bars; annotated with symbols and algorithms that Linka couldn't decipher.
"All right," she said. "The previous test runs are listed here. There do not appear to be any other possible paths for us to take."
"You don't think we'll end up in a completely different timeline?" Bleak seemed worried.
"Nyet," Linka said. "I think only one split has resulted. That was the impression Gaia gave me. All of Blight's experimentation in my timeline created a direct path to here, so —"
"You were told to reverse the polarity, remember."
"Oh!" Linka's hands paused above the keyboard as another power surge struck the computer. The keyboard glowed as a spark issued from the top left — close to the shift key. "Oh, I think I need to hurry this up."
"Try 'file'," Gi said, and Linka moved the mouse towards the menu bar. "Maybe it's —"
"Found it," she said, selecting the tab and clicking once. "All right."
She minimised the program and returned to the DOS interface, scrolling through the commands. Scanning the prompt screen for a sign of any executable files that would have been caused by the CIA virus. Searching for a sign of intervention from MAL's programming.
"Do not worry about the power, Linka," Kwame said. "It is more important that you —"
"Wait," she said, blinking rapidly as the commands continued descending. "I am nearly at the approximate time period that MAL would —"
"I am more worried about getting you —"
"Here," she said, pausing the stream and highlighting the coding. She leaned forward, staring hard at her apparent handiwork. "Oh, what a mess."
"Virus?"
"Bozhe moy," she breathed, staring at the damage. "Goodness. I outdid myself."
"That was never your work, babe." She felt Wheeler's hand settle on her shoulder, and she squeezed it gently. "CIA fuckers modified it."
She nodded. "All right. I am tracking the path of the infection. If I can isolate MAL's responses —"
She flinched, turning and staring at the door. Shouts and loud bangs could be heard beyond the lab doors.
"Think we got company, people," Wheeler said, glancing in the direction of the noise. "You think it's Kroi?"
"More than one," Grace said, glancing back worriedly. "Sounds more like a raid."
"Linka, you need to go," Kwame said. "We must already be approaching —"
"Just wait," she said, pointing at the monitor. "This is the point! This is where MAL's programming took over. I can see the protocols! If I can re-route the —"
"Hurry up," Gi whispered. "Something's going on out there."
"Patience," she replied, tapping away furiously.
"Not today."
Her fingers worked furiously for several moments as the others paced nervously behind her.
"All right," she said, swinging around to face Kwame. "I have isolated what I can. Quarantined MAL's protocols. It is all I can do in the time I have. You may need to head to the local power supply station and reset the switches. I cannot guarantee it will work, but I have done my best."
"Thank you, my friend." Kwame squeezed her shoulder. "Now let us get you home."
She nodded, maximising the portal software and pressing the destination tab. Another surge from above and the monitor glowed so bright that Linka had to shield her eyes. Another spark; this time near the return key. The faint smell of smoke again.
"It is becoming unstable," she said, opening the dialogue box. "Are the bodies —"
"Ready," Bleak said.
"Let's do this," she said," typing Hope Island's coordinates into the window. "All right, I —"
She stopped suddenly, the words trailing away as she squinted hard at the screen.
The dialogue box remained blank.
She tried again, typing the coordinates into the box; double-clicking and repeating the same step. Watching as the cursor flashed at regular intervals — but no numbers appeared. Linka's shoulders slumped in defeat as she realised the problem.
"The keyboard has short-circuited," she whispered.
"What?" Ma-Ti leaned over, trying for himself. "It was just working!"
"Not anymore."
"Any shortcuts?"
"The onscreen keyboard should…" she said, negotiating the start menu and doing her best to ignore the flickering screen. She lowered her hands in defeat when faced with the "file not found" error. "Dyermo!"
"Is it —"
"I have no keyboard function."
"Great," Wheeler said, throwing his hands in the air. "Bet Gaia didn't see that comin'."
"There goes our water landing," Bleak muttered, kicking aside the tyre tube. "Just fuckin' —"
"I still have USB function — I have the mouse. For how long, I do not know."
"The drop-down menu," Kwame said, pointing at the destination. "Where else has Blight attempted to visit?"
They crowded around the small table, watching nervously as Linka hovered over the first set of coordinates.
"Look," Gi said, pointing at the map as a small dot appeared. "That'll be desert."
Linka tried the next set, flinching again as the monitor glowed a little to bright for comfort.
"Uganda? Maybe Rwanda or Congo," Kwame said as the next dot marked the rough coordinates. "So far, our choices are underwhelming."
"That one pops up a few times," Gi said, pointing at the screen. "See?"
"South America," Ma-Ti said. "Maybe Brazil?"
"Plunder has a factory in San Jose," Bleak said. "Textiles. Off the books, it's where he mainly operates from. Babs was developing the technology for him — might have been tryin' to —"
"It might be your best chance —" Kwame started.
Wheeler quickly shut him down. "Yeah, because droppin' Linka in the center of Plunder territory seems like a terrific idea," Wheeler spat. "No fuckin' way."
"You got a better idea?" Bleak shot back.
"How the hell do we know you're —"
"I'm not gonna stab her in the back, kid! You can —"
"Memory loss, genius!" Wheeler shouted back. "You're not even gonna remember we had this conversation!"
"Just chill out, I'm —"
Wheeler groaned, storming away and kicking an empty wine bottle across the floor. He disappeared behind some metal shelves as Gi hurried after him in an effort to calm him down. Linka bit her lip, glancing at Kwame for reassurance.
"I do not have a choice," Linka murmured. "You had all better clear the lab."
More shouts from outside. The monitor flickered again, and Kwame nodded. She stood, stepping away from the computer; wrapping her arms around Kwame and hugging him tightly.
"Thank you," she whispered, touching his scarred face. "For everything."
"Be safe, my friend," he replied, pressing his forehead to hers. "We miss you more than you will ever know."
Linka nodded; a lump forming in her throat as Ma-Ti approached her. She gave him a watery smile, wiping away more tears as he embraced her quickly, knowing they were on borrowed time now. "Goodbye, Linka," he said, his voice husky. He touched her cheek. "Take care of yourself. Good luck."
"Thank you," she whispered back, glancing at Bleak who was now dragging Past Blight and Past Kroi's bagged remains towards the lowered section of the floor — where she hoped the portal would open in a few moments from now.
Gi came to her next.
"Love you, Lin," she murmured, hugging her tightly and pressing a kiss to Linka's cheek as they swayed together. "I miss you so much."
"I love you too." Tears were falling now. Linka couldn't stop them; gazing upwards in an effort to blink them away. "Take care of yourself, Gi."
"Yeah," she whispered, wiping her face with the back of her hand and walking into Ma-Ti's waiting arms.
Linka smiled as Grace approached; taking her outstretched hand. "Lovely to meet you — this version of you, anyway."
"I will be sure to keep an eye out for you if I make it home."
Grace threw a grin over her shoulder, raising her fist and thumping Bleak on the back. "Bye, dickhead."
"Fuck you, Freckles," he replied without missing a beat.
Wheeler stood quietly by a glass cabinet with his hands in his pockets. In three strides he was there; gathering her up in his arms and lifting her up off the floor. Her feet swung idly as she hugged him back fiercely. He dropped her down gently and she rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"I am so proud of you," she mumbled against his shirt. "So proud."
He nodded. "You'd better go, babe," he said, embracing her. "That thing's not stable."
"I love you," she whispered, squeezing him tightly. "Do not hold on to me, Yankee."
"Love you, too," he said, tilting her chin up and kissing her softly. "If the CIA call — tell 'em to fuck off."
She smiled against his cheek. "I will."
He lent back, nuzzling her nose and kissing her again before turning away abruptly, striding past Bleak and almost seeming to purposely knock against him. "Do the right thing, Argos," he said blithely.
"Yeah yeah," Bleak threw back, following him towards the lab entrance. "Good riddance to the lot of ya."
Linka watched her future Planeteer's file out. She waved as Wheeler threw a last glance over his shoulder. Kwame's hand pressed firm against Wheeler's back as he guided him out. The doors closed behind them — and then they were gone.
"Let's get this over with," Bleak said, pushing the cabinet back against the doors. "Push the damn button."
Linka let out a heavy breath; leaning over and pressing the 'execute' button. The machine fired up and the portal exploded to life. The roar of the machinery was overwhelming; the force just as impressive as the first time.
"Grab a body," Bleak yelled, pointing at the macabre packages. Linka hurried forward, gripping the edges of the smaller bag and hauling the cargo into her arms.
"She is heavier than I thought," she yelled, needing to be heard above the din.
"Goin' in together, remember?" Bleak bellowed back. "Watch out for debris."
"What?"
"Debris!" he hollered just as a metal plate connected with the side of his head. "Ah, fuck!"
He shuffled past her, muttering under his breath. A loud scraping noise issued from the basin area and Linka straightened, searching for the origin. Creaks and groans were just audible above the wild circulating forces converging within the room. The sound was gone as quickly as it came and she sighed, gathering Blight's body again and dragging it backwards.
"What are we —" she started, glancing over her shoulder. She froze, dropping her heavy cargo in shock.
Bleak stood stiffly, his face a mask of pain; hands clutching his abdomen and a red stain spreading against the stark white of his t shirt.
A knife handle protruded from his gut.
Bleak staggered towards her, dropping to his knees and slumping to the floor.
There was no mistaking the figure standing hunched behind him.
Andrei Kroi now stood between her and the portal; a sweaty, bloodied mass. There was no light in his eyes. No empathy, or compassion. A murderous glint. He tilted his head, scrutinising her. Studying her intently; as if she were an insect under a microscope.
With the benefit of hindsight, Linka realised Kroi had been here all along — probably tucked away inside one of the metal storage cabinets, or hidden within shelving.
Kroi advanced on her and Linka took a step back, eyeing the portal glistening behind Kroi, knowing she couldn't return without the original four time travellers. She also couldn't risk Kroi following her through and causing havoc in her original timeline.
The blood drained from her face as she glanced at the barricaded door; then back to Bleak's lifeless body.
Taking advantage of her distraction, Kroi bent low and charged; bellowing at the top of his lungs. Unprepared for the attack, she screamed as he crash-tackled her through a glass display cabinet. Shards flew in all directions and she shrieked in pain, skidding across the floor and bouncing violently off the far wall.
"Wind!" she croaked; raising her fist as he came at her again.
Nothing.
She scurried away, sobbing; feeling the glass cutting her hands as she scrambled to her feet. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth but the sight of Bleak's lifeless body took over all other conscious thought. She stumbled forward, tripping over in a blind panic; glass splintering beneath her palms as she screamed Bleak's name.
A hand closed over her ankle and she wrenched away; kicking out desperately.
"Bleak!" she cried; desperately trying to reach his still body.
Kroi lashed out at her again, grabbing hold of her shoes in an attempt to drag her back. She kicked her way free of the sneakers; on her hands and knees again, dragging herself through the debris. She cried out in terror as he threw himself over the back of her legs; crushing her against the floor.
"Bastard!" she screamed as he grabbed her hair; dragging her to her knees and slamming her down onto her back. His hands closed over her throat and fear turned to blind terror as she thrashed violently, fighting him with all that she had; clawing at his hands and wrists in a desperate effort to relieve the pressure.
"STUPID BITCH!"
"Get off me," she choked. "Bastard! I hate you! I hate —"
He shouted back in a steady stream of Russian, his face bright red — spit issuing from his mouth as he bore down on her.
He tightened his grip; his face a mask of fury. The lab blurred as her air supply dwindled and she released his wrists, punching and scratching at his face. Gouging his eyes as she gasped for breath; her legs and arms jerking helplessly. She dropped her hand, fumbling around for something to use — anything. Her fingers closed over a shard of glass and she clutched it tightly; feeling the edges pierce her skin.
"Bastard!" she screamed again. She lashed out, swinging her fist and slicing him across the face before wrenching away from him. Dragging herself towards Bleak again, she coughed and gasped for breath , crying as she gulped precious air down into her lungs.
A bellow sounded from behind her and she cried out in terror, adrenaline surging; desperate to reach her prone travelling partner.
Bleak wasn't in the same position as before. He was now curled up in a foetal position on his side. One arm was clutched against his stomach; the other gripped the knife handle, his hand outstretched — a silent offering.
The blade skittered towards her and she lunged for it with both hands.
"Stupid girl," Kroi's voice bellowed, his words heavily accented. Linka's fingers closed over the knife as Kroi grabbed Linka around the waist. He dragged her kicking and screaming to her feet, slamming her against the wall with enough force to disorientate her. Stars burst forth as sweaty hands closed around her neck once again. "Kill you all! You and your stupid friends! You thought you could escape me?"
"I did," she gasped as he lifted her off the ground, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of her throat.
"You think the little ones are safe?"
He smirked, loosening his grip and wrenching her head to the side, exposing her throat. He leaned forward and she felt his breath; hot and wet against her skin, almost intimate in a repulsive way.
"They will feel the end of my blade, you —"
With an almighty roar, Linka swung her fist and plunged the blade into her attacker's neck. His hold on her was momentarily weakened and Linka dragged herself away, still eyeing him in terror. Exhausted, she tripped and stumbled, landing on her ass amongst the debris.
Kroi staggered towards her, a look of pain and disbelief on his face. He lurched forward, and she scurried further back on her hands and feet through the broken glass, backing herself up against the wall.
Kroi finally sunk to his knees, pulling the knife from his neck — a look of utter bewilderment on his face. After several moments he finally slumped over.
Trembling in shock, Linka gave an anguished howl; barely heard above the roar of the machine. A small fire had started — the ceiling above the portal had flames dancing around the metal lip. She glanced down, realising she still had the knife gripped tightly in her hands. Tossing it aside, she limped onwards; her bare feet cut to pieces and leaving a bloody trail in her wake
"Get up, Bleak," she screamed, grabbing him under the arm and trying to lift him. "Get up!"
Her hands were slippery with blood. She lost her hold and he fell back to the floor again. The whirlwind inside was increasing; sparks issuing from the portal equipment. The noise was horrific. The room was filling with smoke.
"GET UP!" she bellowed, taking his arm again and hauling him to his feet. It took several attempts to get a secure hold on him. "NOW!"
He swayed, doubled over. Blood was pooling in the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide and unfocused — no doubt going into shock.
"MOVE!" she shrieked, and they lunged forward. More glass crunched under her bare feet and she gritted her teeth, grabbing Past Blight's body with her free hand and dragging it along the floor, dodging the missiles barrelling past at high speed. "GO!"
The shimmering silver mass beckoned. She gasped as Bleak reached for Past Kroi's body, hauling it along beside him. He grabbed Linka around the waist and she turned, trying to speak, her hair whipping around her face. The portal roar was now a high-pitched, frenzied wail that assaulted her ears.
Tightening her grip on Blight's body, she screamed as the last of Bleak's adrenaline seemed to wear off. He collapsed at the edge of the portal — dragging her downwards and pulling her into the rippling silver pit beyond.
Reaching across for the small pile of mail, she leafs through the letters until a small white envelope catches her attention. She holds her breath, noting the familiar small, neat handwriting on the front - with no forwarding address on the back.
She slides her thumb under the seal, tearing the envelope open before unfolding the letter contained within. Reading the first few lines, her eyes widen. She grins happily. Delighted at the unexpected correspondence.
Rising quickly to her feet, she starts making preparations: gathering nappies, bottles, drink bottles and other miscellaneous items deemed necessary for the short trip into town. They're quickly tossed into a back-pack as she glances at her watch, checking that she has enough time.
She does.
Jackets are grabbed for the kids and tucked into the base of the pram. She reaches for her cell phone purely out of habit, frowning as she realises that the network is still down. Her husband will remain unreachable anyway. She returns it to the bench-top and scrawls a quick note, just in case he returns home early.
"Hannah, let's go!"
The little girl blinks, standing as her mother gently places Eli into the pram. Dropping the back pack over the handles, she ushers the children out into the hallway and towards the lift, chatting softly to her young charges.
It's colder than she thought. Grabbing Hannah's coat, she dresses her wriggling octopus of a daughter before stepping out of the foyer. They turn right, walking at a steady pace. Hannah skips along beside her, dragging her much-loved, tattered monkey through the slush coating the sidewalk.
"Hold him higher, moya lyubov," she says, slowing and waiting to cross the road. "Cheburashka is going to get dirty."
They walk for around fifteen minutes. She sighs, looking around. It's been an unseasonably wet spring. England is so cold and grey. She misses Auckland very much. It's been harder to form friendships here. Harder to make connections. Everyone tends to keep to themselves, at least where they live.
The frustration bubbles away. The despair and anger at having to uproot their little family to the UK. They'd been so happy in New Zealand. So careful. Perhaps it was Sicily, a trail left behind that they hadn't been aware of.
But they'd taken the risk and she had no regrets. It had been so wonderful to see everyone again.
Her husband hates it here. He doesn't complain, he works so hard to support them. He's a breath of fresh air — her loneliness and self-pity dissipate as soon as he walks in the door. He's amazing. They have a good life. A comfortable life. It's a life full of laughter and affection and love.
He wants another baby. She laughs every time he brings it up; teasing that it's the baby-making process that appeals to him more. Inviting him to suffer through the heartburn, swelling and morning sickness, not to mention the labor itself.
But secretly, the idea of another child pleases her.
Eli is trying to pull himself up. She pauses and adjusts the pram, allowing him to sit upright. He grips the sides and she coos to him, talking softly. Making faces at him.
The town square looms. There's a post office, general store, butcher and florist. A small cafe is located nearby. The outdoor settings are vacant. Everyone is inside near the fire.
She pulls her coat around her, pushing the pram towards the center of the square. A large fountain sits in the middle; discolored with age. She applies the pram brake and sits down on a timber seat, ushering Hannah over and placing a beanie on her head.
"Do not go past the garden," she warns, and the little girl nods, skipping off and heading for the tulips. She smiles, crossing her legs and settling back. Watching Hannah play.
Her eyes scan the square. It's just after midday. She taps her foot nervously, sitting straighter, unable to contain her excitement. Not sure whether to laugh or bawl at the thought of seeing Gi again.
It's been nearly four years. Sometimes it feels like a piece of her heart has been ripped out. Time hasn't made things any easier.
The minutes tick away. She glances up as light raindrops begin to descend, cursing the fact she didn't bring an umbrella.
Eli is babbling away in the pram and she leans forward, tickling him. Extending the cover to keep him protected from the elements. Smoothing her hand across his fine fuzz of red hair. Ten months old and already such a big personality.
"Mommy!" Hannah's doing cartwheels across the grass. "Mommy, look at me!"
She applauds, watching Hannah's thick blonde hair flying in all directions. Navy blue coat, white stockings and pink boots with flowers, chosen herself from the local Marks and Spencer. Her daughter tends to be fussy with her clothes. Headstrong and sometimes a little too confident, but sweet natured all the same.
Her malyshka is going to be a heartbreaker.
A flash of lightning strikes in the distance. She looks around, still searching for that beloved face. That crooked grin and the kind, compassionate eyes. Imagining Gi bouncing towards her. Arms outstretched.
She finds herself welling up and she wipes her face on the back of her coat sleeve, taking a deep breath. The anticipation is taking a toll on her.
She sits for another twenty minutes. As the time window passes, she gazes down at her hands. The disappointment is crushing.
Gi is not coming.
She sits for a moment, contemplating her next move. Feeling foolish — and a tad uneasy.
"Hannah," she calls, beckoning her daughter over. "We are going."
The rain becomes heavier. The cafe door jingles as an older couple step out, raising their umbrellas and heading across the square.
She wipes away more tears, cursing herself for getting her hopes up.
"We only just got here," Hannah grumbles as she returns. "Can we —"
"We are heading home," she says, rising to her feet. She spins the pram around, dodging a group of teenagers talking loudly — probably on their lunch break from school. "We will come back to the cafe tomorrow."
"Can I have a hot chocolate?"
"Yes," she replies, flicking Hannah's nose affectionately. "With whipped cream too."
Umbrellas everywhere. The rain is getting heavier. She hurries away, gesturing for Hannah to move faster. Trying to reach shelter.
"Will Daddy be home soon?"
"Soon," she says, distracted. "I think he —"
She feels a presence close behind her. Almost too close for comfort, invading her personal space. She turns in surprise, opening her mouth to speak but a sharp stabbing pain in the back of her thigh takes precedence. She yelps, stumbling slightly as someone's shoulder brushes against her.
She stops in her tracks, doubled over and clutching the afflicted area. Glancing up, she sees someone stride away. Dressed in an overcoat and hat, only the mystery person's back is visible. The coat tails flap in the wind and the figure disappears amongst the raincoats and umbrellas crossing her field of vision.
She gasps, gripping her thigh tighter. Pain radiates into her muscles.
"What happened, Mommy?"
"Felt something..." She trails off, glancing around in mounting fear; her mouth dry. "Something has…" she begins, and she's sweating now despite the cold, her hands shaking. "I don't feel…"
Wetting her lips and struggling to focus, she glances down at Eli, who is currently chewing quietly on his fingers.
"Hannah, I need you to…"
Her speech is slurred, heart pounding in her chest. Sick and dizzy. She grabs hold of the pram to steady herself, feeling her knees buckle beneath her.
"Mommy?" Hannah's face is a blur. "Mommy, what's the —"
"Don't feel…" she begins, dropping heavily to the ground. "I don't…"
"Mommy?"
Hannah's voice is tearful, frightened. She feels her daughter's hands touching her face, gripping her shoulders, trying to shake her. Someone else; a man's voice, asking if everything's okay.
"Mommy!"
Without warning, her body pitches and fits. She's conscious throughout. Her breath comes in shallow bursts and she reaches out blindly, trying to grip the pram wheels in an effort to drag Eli closer.
The convulsions are too strong. Jerky movements and spasms overcome her body. She senses someone holding her hand, talking to her urgently.
"What's your name, darling?"
Rachel, she wants to say.
Rachel.
No.
My name is Linka.
But her voice has failed.
More onlookers. Hannah is howling in the background but the sound of her daughter eventually fades away; replaced by a high-pitched single note ringing in her ears.
Linka's life ebbs away with the rain pooling around her.
Infinite nothingness as she draws her last breath.
End of Part Two.
Author's Note: I'm sorry, but that flashback had to happen. Don't hate me!