The Untouchable

Chapter 21

Under the harsh glare of the freight elevator's electric light, Maxim's light gray eyes gleamed with a metallic sheen as they scrutinized Daniel's face. Evidently, his appearance was quite worn, prompting Maxim to inquire anxiously.

"Can you manage the walk to the car?"

"Yes, I can manage," Daniel shifted his gaze downward, avoiding eye contact with the man he harbored disdain for. Like the others, Maxim seemed indifferent to inflicting pain upon him, treating him as though he were insignificant, merely an object to be manipulated. The elevator jolted to a stop at the underground parking level, exacerbating Daniel's nausea, causing him to sway and tightly shut his eyes - even the harsh light was unbearable to look at.

"Damn," Maxim said, his grip on the elbow noticeably softer as he guided Daniel across the parking lot permeated with the scent of car oil and gasoline. "We're almost there, there's water in the car."

"I'd prefer soda, it might help," Daniel mumbled, navigating blindly and breathing through his mouth to avoid the strong odors.

"Soda?" Maxim paused briefly and offered, "Ah, cola? I believe there's some in the fridge, let's check it out."

"Hold on," Daniel, feeling a nauseating lump rise in his throat, quickly scanned the area for a trashcan and lunged towards it, but Maxim instinctively pulled him back towards himself. Daniel ended up throwing up on the dirty concrete floor, his palms damp against his knees. 

Maxim, releasing his grip and groaning, paced nervously nearby, his every movement heightening Daniel's anxiety - it seemed like he might strike him again in frustration over the delay. As Maxim made a step forward, Daniel shuffled to the side, nearly losing his balance, his head spinning violently as if he were intoxicated.

"I'll just... Damn," Maxim breathed out, his voice strained, catching Daniel as he stumbled and helping him to his feet. "Let me walk you to the car. Are you okay?"

"Not really," Daniel replied honestly, turning away. For some reason, the embarrassment of littering in a public place surfaced, and Daniel stared blankly at the yellow-brown vomit. "We should clean it up."

"No need, there are cleaners here," Maxim said, guiding him between the cars, and Daniel followed slowly. His head throbbed and spun, but he felt a little better, at least the nausea had subsided.

Maxim settled him into the car, shut the door, then deftly circled around and took his seat. He opened the mini-fridge, let out a satisfied grunt, and retrieved a fogged-up can of Coke, offering it to Daniel tentatively.

"A hot tea with lemon would be better..."

"Oh, no," Daniel shuddered, recalling the Russian custom of using black tea with lemon and sugar to remedy everything from colds to hangovers. He grabbed the can, barely pulled the tab, and eagerly took a sip from it. The sugar and caffeine infused him with energy almost immediately, alleviating the headache. Daniel slouched in the seat, ruefully realizing that all he could do in his situation was savor the temporary relief.

"I'm sorry I hit you," Maxim whispered quietly, so as not to be overheard by Artem in the front seat. "I was extremely angry. Very angry. And scared. They'll have my head if anything happens to you."

Daniel mumbled without turning to face him. He didn't want to make eye contact with Maxim, but he could understand that there would be no reward for his escape.

"I can offer you some painkillers," Maxim leaned over, retrieved the first aid kit, and began searching through it. "Here you go."

"Not unless you're going to hit me again," Daniel stared blankly out the window, watching as the gray, dreary Moscow scenery passed by. "I'd rather wait until later, or else you might overdose me."