Read Online Russian Roulette by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anthony Horowitz
Ads: Link
gobbled down one of the cans, leaving the other two for him. I was still hopeful that he would be feeling better in the morning. It seemed to me that now that he was resting, he was breathing a little easier. Maybe all the rain would have washed away the anthrax spores. His clothes were still drying in front of the fire. Sitting there, watching his chest rise and fall below the covers, I tried to convince myself that everything would be all right.
It was the beginning of the longest night of my life. I took off my outer clothes and lay down on the second bunk, but I couldn’t sleep. I was frightened that the fire would go out. I was frightened that the soldiers would find the hut and burst in. Actually, I was so filled with fears of one sort or another that I didn’t need to define them. For hours I listened to the crackle of the flames and the rattle of Leo’s breath in his throat. From time to time I drifted into a state where I was floating although still fully conscious. Half a dozen times, I got up and fed more of the furniture into the stove, doing my best to break the wood without making too much noise. Once, I went outside to urinate. It was no longer raining but a few drops of water were still falling from the trees. I could hear them but I couldn’t see them. The sky was totally black. As I stood there, I heard the howl of a wolf. I had been holding the flashlight, but at that moment I almost dropped it into the undergrowth. So the wolves weren’t just a bit of village gossip! This one could have been far away, but at the same time it could have been right next to me, the sound starting impossibly low then rising higher and higher as if the creature had somehow flown into the air. I buttoned myself up and ran back inside, determined that nothing would get me out again until it was light.
My own clothes were still damp. I took them off and knelt in front of the fire. If anything got me through that night, it was that stove. It kept me warm, and without its glow I wouldn’t have been able to see, which would have made all my imaginings even worse. I had taken out the roll of ten-ruble notes that had been in the tin and at the same time I found the little black bag my mother had given me. I opened it. Inside, there was a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a ring. I had never seen them before and I wondered where she had gotten them from. Were they valuable? I made an oath to myself that whatever happened, I would never sell them. They were the only remains of my past life. They were all I had left. I wrapped them up again and climbed onto the other bunk. Almost naked and lying uncomfortably on the hard mattress, I dozed off again. When I next opened my eyes, the fire was nearly out, and when I pulled back the shutters, the very first streaks of pink were visible outside.
The sun seemed to take forever to rise. They call them the small hours, that time from four o’clock onward, and I know from experience that they are always the most miserable of the day. That is when you feel most vulnerable and alone. Leo was sound asleep. The hut was even more desolate than before—I had fed almost anything that was made of wood into the fire. The world outside was wet, cold, and threatening. As I got dressed again, I remembered that in a few hours I should have been going to school.
“Wake up, Yasha. Come on! Get your things together . . .”
I had to force my mother’s voice out of my head. She wasn’t there for me anymore. Nobody was. From now on, if I was to survive, I had to look after myself.
The two remaining cans of fish were still waiting, uneaten, on a shelf beside the fire. I was tempted to wolf them down myself, as I was really hungry, but I was still keeping them for Leo. I made some more tea and ate a little chocolate, then I went back outside. The sky was now a dirty off-white. The trees were more skeletal than ever. But at least there was nobody around. The soldiers hadn’t come back. Walking
It was the beginning of the longest night of my life. I took off my outer clothes and lay down on the second bunk, but I couldn’t sleep. I was frightened that the fire would go out. I was frightened that the soldiers would find the hut and burst in. Actually, I was so filled with fears of one sort or another that I didn’t need to define them. For hours I listened to the crackle of the flames and the rattle of Leo’s breath in his throat. From time to time I drifted into a state where I was floating although still fully conscious. Half a dozen times, I got up and fed more of the furniture into the stove, doing my best to break the wood without making too much noise. Once, I went outside to urinate. It was no longer raining but a few drops of water were still falling from the trees. I could hear them but I couldn’t see them. The sky was totally black. As I stood there, I heard the howl of a wolf. I had been holding the flashlight, but at that moment I almost dropped it into the undergrowth. So the wolves weren’t just a bit of village gossip! This one could have been far away, but at the same time it could have been right next to me, the sound starting impossibly low then rising higher and higher as if the creature had somehow flown into the air. I buttoned myself up and ran back inside, determined that nothing would get me out again until it was light.
My own clothes were still damp. I took them off and knelt in front of the fire. If anything got me through that night, it was that stove. It kept me warm, and without its glow I wouldn’t have been able to see, which would have made all my imaginings even worse. I had taken out the roll of ten-ruble notes that had been in the tin and at the same time I found the little black bag my mother had given me. I opened it. Inside, there was a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a ring. I had never seen them before and I wondered where she had gotten them from. Were they valuable? I made an oath to myself that whatever happened, I would never sell them. They were the only remains of my past life. They were all I had left. I wrapped them up again and climbed onto the other bunk. Almost naked and lying uncomfortably on the hard mattress, I dozed off again. When I next opened my eyes, the fire was nearly out, and when I pulled back the shutters, the very first streaks of pink were visible outside.
The sun seemed to take forever to rise. They call them the small hours, that time from four o’clock onward, and I know from experience that they are always the most miserable of the day. That is when you feel most vulnerable and alone. Leo was sound asleep. The hut was even more desolate than before—I had fed almost anything that was made of wood into the fire. The world outside was wet, cold, and threatening. As I got dressed again, I remembered that in a few hours I should have been going to school.
“Wake up, Yasha. Come on! Get your things together . . .”
I had to force my mother’s voice out of my head. She wasn’t there for me anymore. Nobody was. From now on, if I was to survive, I had to look after myself.
The two remaining cans of fish were still waiting, uneaten, on a shelf beside the fire. I was tempted to wolf them down myself, as I was really hungry, but I was still keeping them for Leo. I made some more tea and ate a little chocolate, then I went back outside. The sky was now a dirty off-white. The trees were more skeletal than ever. But at least there was nobody around. The soldiers hadn’t come back. Walking
Similar Books
