Impurities

Seven

"You're kidding me," I muttered, staring at the asphalt.

The two groups ahead of us were already charging down College Avenue. Petrov had given a little prep speech after Rhino issued the next order: run. No one said how far. No one said why. And we will get shot if we disobey.

Aside from the Red Patches, running was my enemy. I hated it. Especially for long distances. Long distance being anything more than a few steps.

To make matters worse, Goose couldn't run. She could hardly walk, so I had to carry her.

The Red Patch at the unofficial start mark blew a whistle and our group lurched into motion. Petrov led the pace, which, thanks to her Amazonian legs, happened to be quite fast. I cradled Goose to my chest, ordering her to latch onto my neck. The action restricted my breathing, but it made each stride a little easier.

We had gone half of a mile before I started falling to the back. I hated running. This sucked big time. Tiana kept her distance, but I caught her glancing at me a few times. She annoyed me. Now she cared?

A hand touched my shoulder, but I was too tired and hot to look. I had to focus on moving, making my feet obey. Zima drew alongside me and stared until I returned his gaze. He pointed to Goose and opened one his palms. I knew what he wanted, but couldn't respond. My eyes were stuck on his scarred fingers and the jagged marks across his palm.

"Let me," he whispered, hardly out of breath.

"No." I tore my eyes away from him and tightened my grip around the baby.

"Petrov will punish you."

Instinctively, I glanced at him again. How much English did he speak? A few of our group seemed to notice he'd drawn close to me, but couldn't tell we'd been talking.

"I won't hurt her," he said. The words were a promise.

"No. Leave me alone." I pushed myself to run faster to put more distance between us, but the obnoxiously fit Russian kept up.

"She will take her from you."

Now he had my attention. Even if he was lying about Petrov taking Goose from me, I couldn't risk it. I peered into my enemy's deep blue eyes, needing to see a shred of humanity in them, needing to see the honesty of his promise. To say the least, I saw what I was looking for.

"Let go," I told Goose, wondering if I would regret this.

The baby didn't understand and wouldn't let go, so I had to pry her off. She squirmed and cried when I placed her into Zima's hands, all while we ran. Before Zima could turn away, we looked at each other one more time. Even though I was too breathless to reassert my protectiveness, I gave him the hurt-one-hair-on-her-head-and-I'll-kill-you glare. He nodded once in return before focusing on the path ahead.

Although I would have preferred to carry Goose myself, running was immensely easier without her extra weight. I still hung to the back of the group, because, even without extra weight, I would always be slow. Zima ran faithfully by my side for the rest of the way, a distance of a mile and a half or so. We returned to the start line and Petrov slowed to a fast walk, telling us to do the same. I focused on my breathing so I wouldn't sound like a dying animal.

Petrov led us off the road and over to the lawn where the two groups ahead of us were cooling down. Zima handed Goose back to me without a word. I thought the gesture almost strange until Krupin marched up to him. He spat some accusatory words at Zima and the sweat beading on his forehead trickled down onto his cheeks and nose, rolling off his chin and diving to the grass below. He was a repulsive creature. Icy blues eyes popping out of his feverish, red flesh, thick saliva lining his purple lips.

Whatever Krupin said caught Petrov's attention because she jumped into the conversation. Well, it was more of an argument really. Krupin threw a finger in my direction as his voice rose. Soon our entire group was watching, wondering what had occurred. I wanted to turn away and not think about what was happening, yet I couldn't do it. Zima had helped me, and, even though it had been against my will, I felt indebted to him.

Only when I saw Rhino's approach did I understand the gravity of the situation. My eyes scanned the area, searching for a place to hide. I was sorely out of luck. We were in a field of sorts with a few scattered pine trees, none of which were close enough to shelter me and Goose. My toddler wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face into my hair.

I happened to lift my head at the wrong moment. Rhino's cold eyes pierced mine. The feeling of being cornered rattled me, driving the urge to flee deep inside my bones.

"Your name?" the Russian demanded.

"Flora."

"Flora," he repeated, completely botching it. "You know what happens to soldiers who disobey?"

Naturally, I thought he was referring to me. The levels of adrenaline in my body were too high for me to think rationally enough to wonder what rule I had broken. All I knew was this frightening, loathsome, evil man thought I had done something wrong.

"Punishment is due," he told me, taking a step closer. "Indeed it is."

Everyone on the lawn was silent. Every eye bounced between me and Rhino. Wondering when the cobra would strike. Wondering how the mouse would react. I wondered, too. As I stared back into his depthless eyes, I recognized the desire within me to be a fighter, a rebel, a symbol of courage. But I didn't know if I had it in me.

Not that it mattered because Rhino was suddenly swinging around, driving his fist into Zima's jaw. The soldier stumbled backwards, shocked. Things unfolded so quickly. One moment Rhino was still, quivering with either fury or humor, and then he was launching himself forward, knocking Zima to the ground. Fists were flying, but none belonged to the lowly footsoldier on the ground. Blood sprayed, but not of the vicious Russian leader.

I watched in horror.

We all watched in horror.