UnAlaska

26. Appa

Brian stopped immediately. The ship was rocking constantly. A gentle, big, sweeping motion that didn't stop. Once the giant ship reached the amplitude of the big rocking motion, it would creak and flex as it changed directions. In the cargo area, the creaking was loud. It echoed harshly on the bare metal walls and floors. Brian had to wait for the right moment to listen. He waited for the ship to swing downwards into another arc, and then trained his ears. There it was.

He could distinctly hear a child crying. A moment later, he heard them blow their nose. A small, pitiful sound in the huge open space.

He tapped Danilo on the shoulder and silently pointed toward the sound. Danilo nodded. A barely perceptible movement in the dark. Brian kept his flashlight low. He tried to navigate toward the sound using the dim glow reflected off the floor. They made their way around palletized cargo, wrapped in wide rolls of cellophane. They kept their footfalls as quiet as possible, on the painted metal floor. They had to turn sideways to squeeze through the spaces between rows of pallets. In the dim glow, he could see cardboard cartons of toilet bowl cleaner on his right, and paper towels on his left.

The sound was growing more clear. They started to make out other sounds. Footsteps. Even, cautious, measured footsteps. They sounded large. Brian guessed they were adult men's footsteps, pacing around in a nervous watch. The kidnappers. Hearing them sent a chill down his spine.

He took a few cautious steps forward. He inched around another shrink wrapped pallet. His flashlight spilled forward in the dark space. He decided to switch it off and slipped it into his pocket. The darkness was almost absolute. It felt stifling and disorienting. They stood in silence for a long beat. Waiting, listening, and letting their eyes adjust. Shapes came into view, just barely resolved. The world was grainy and indistinct.

Brian tucked his shotgun into his shoulder and quietly snicked off the safety. He felt they were close. An animal stirring in his brain was sounding alarm bells. Something primitive, nonverbal, and automatic. He steadied his breathing. He turned to Danilo, and could see the outline of his shape and the whites of his eyes. He pointed silently in the direction he last heard footsteps and nodded.

Brian held up his hand. Three fingers in the air. He lowered them slowly in a count. Three, two, one. In one swift motion, he rounded the corner and raised his gun. There was a small open area, divided by thick steel support beams and a low steel bulkhead. Behind the bulkhead, he saw the outline of two men. Two shapes in the dark. They clocked the noise and turned toward it.

Brian ducked behind the next pallet. Danilo swiftly filed in behind the pallet across. Brian had no idea how they were armed, but he registered that the math worked. It looked like this would be a two-on-two showdown. He had seen worse, years ago. Serving warrants in barracks. He took cover behind another pallet and cleared his throat. He summoned his best authoritarian voice. A police voice. He still remembered standing in the mirror at his barracks in Yongsan, practicing it.

"Police! Drop your weapons! Hands above your head. Do it now!" His voice was low, urgent, and menacing. It was a bark that boomed and echoed. "Now! Now! Drop them! Hands above your heads!"

He poked his head around the pallet. In the gloom, he expected shouts of confusion or a scuffle of feet fleeing. Instead, the air around his head exploded in dust and shrapnel. He heard a rapid 'thud-thud-thud' of a three round burst. The boxes of deep fry oil above his head started to pour down on him. It took him a second to register what had happened. When it did, he knew the math had changed. They were up against trained men with silenced submachine guns and night vision goggles. His heart sank. He knew this was going to be harder than they thought. He thought of Juni, tied up and crying in a dark corner. He shook the thought away.

Looking across the small aisle, Danilo's face was a grim mask.

They heard a voice in return. An easy, conversational tone with a dense Russian accent. "I was wondering when we would meet. You must be Brian, with a friend. I recognize you from our dossier. A clever ruse to pose as police. I admire your courage."

There was a pause. The man sucked air through his teeth. He paced forward. "Please understand that Juni is safe. She is in no danger, unless you bring danger to her." A pause again. His speech was laconic and confident. He struck a tone like advice to a friend. "You know, I wouldn't shoot in here. The children are in a shipping container behind us. The walls are thin. You don't have a clean field of fire. If I were you, I would reconsider the whole thing. Go back upstairs."

Brian leaned his head against the crate of leaking fry oil. He bumped the back of his head on it in mute frustration. He knew they couldn't retreat safely. They would be hunted down in the dark.

He scanned the cargo area. He knew the two men would be using the steel bulkhead for cover. He pictured the beams at either end, and the container behind them. Dark and rectangular. He thought about the layout of the pallets, and made a plan. He gestured with hand signals to Danilo. 'Flanking, on my count.' Danilo nodded.

He shouted. "Juni!"

A small, muffled voice returned. Barely audible. "Appa!"

The sound brought a tear to Brian's eye. He felt a wave of grief rack him, like a physical weight. "Juni, I love you!"

He held up his hand again. Three, Two. One. 

They exploded sideways at a sprint, in sync. Closing the gap between pallets, then turning on their heels to weave behind another perpendicular set. As they ran between the gaps, they heard the harsh sound of echoing gunfire. Rapid, mechanical, and relentless. Fragments of plastic wrap, cardboard, and cleaning powder rained down on them.

They reached a row of pallets equidistant to the shipping container and the metal bulkhead, on either side. They made it this far. Brian caught his breath. His heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest.

He spun around the far side of the pallet, raising his shotgun. He saw the crouching form of the Russian, and fired. The muzzle blast lit the area like a flashbulb. He saw the two Russians and Danilo beyond. The shot was a deafeningly loud roar. He missed, too high.

He ducked behind the next pallet beyond for cover. His ears immediately started to ring. He heard nothing else. No fire from Danilo yet. Then a moment later, another flash and blast. The Russians shouted and scrabbled.

Brian broke cover again, spinning on his heels and raising his gun. He shot, this time too far right. A pallet behind Danilo exploded and collapsed.

Before he could reach cover again, he felt a punch in his chest. It felt like he had been stabbed with a burning hot knife. He looked down, and couldn't see anything in the darkness. He leaned against the pallet and lowered his gun. He felt with his fingers. There were two bullet holes in his chest. His chest tightened. He couldn't breathe. His vision went black, and he fell to the floor.