A Ghost Encounter: My Time with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Part Eighty-Two: The End of Makarov - Part Three

Victor is the first one to dig into his food.

And here I stand, watching the dunce eat himself to death.

But Makarov is...waiting.

To paint a clear picture: Makarov is leaning over the dinner table, his elbows resting on the table, and staring at Victor while he eats.

But why? Why isn't he touching his food? He couldn't possibly be into me...

Could he?

"Is the food to your liking?" I ask, careful not to raise any suspicion.

Victor, with his mouth full, says in Russian, "Delicious."

"And you, sir?" I tilt my head—pretending to just be curious—at Makarov.

Makarov doesn't break his stare at Victor as he says, "I like to let my food kool down before I begin eating it."

Of course, he does.

"Annoying prick," Ghost sighs frustratedly over the comms.

What if Makarov doesn't eat his food before Victor goes down from the effects?

Shit! Start figuring out a Plan B, Breanna.

I'll shoot him. I have an X13 Auto tucked into the waistband of my pants.

But there are guards near the entrance of the stairwell and they might hear the sound of the gunshot. This is a stealth mission, and if we're caught, we're fucked.

COUGH. COUGH.

Quickly, I shoot my gaze at Victor, who is now choking. The poison is starting to kick in and Makarov still hasn't even taken a bite of his food.

"Shit!" Victor coughs in agony. Through his pained struggle, Victor looks over at me, hands scratching at his throat. "Vhat fuck is inside my food?" And within seconds, Victor's lifeless body slams into the dining table, vomit involuntarily spilling out of his mouth.

A bone-chilling sensation takes its course through my body. Slowly, and with absolute horror, I peel my eyes off Victor's dead body and focus my attention on Makarov who is laughing at the scene.

"How?" I say, my voice trembling. "How did you know?"

Finally, Makarov removes his attention from Victor and looks me dead in the eyes.

If looks could kill...

"Head Chef apologized in advance. He said bekause today is vaitress's first day and zere's possibility she kould make mistake." He smirks cruelly. "And I do not trust new people."

"Take cover, Sergeant!" Price yells over the comms.

I turn on my heel and make a sprint for a piece of coverage on the roof.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Bullets sent from Makarov fly toward me. Barely—and just barely—was I able to find coverage and dodge death.

"We're climbing up the side! We're almost to the top so hold on!" Laswell yells, her concern evident:

I begin to respond, "Make it quick-"

CRACK.

A bullet rips through the metal of the coverage I'm behind.

"Shit!" I yell as I struggle—due to a mix of being flustered and pure adrenaline running through my veins—to grab my gun from my waistband.

Got it!

Barely peering my head over the coverage I can see Makarov finding some coverage of his own behind the dining table.