I nod. “Two kilometers that way. Got it.”
He makes a left-turn gesture, then waves a hand several times, indicating very far. “Many kilometer. Many many.” He says itKEE-low-meter.
“Easy enough. Thank you.” I nod at him. “Shukran.”
He nods back. Points at the truck. “Too far. No fuel.”
I shrug. “Have to try.”
A shrug in return. “Water?”
I shake my head. “No.”
He mutters something, probably insulting my intelligence. Calls out to one of his friends, who reaches into the open window of the truck and pulls out a liter bottle of water. His friend tosses it to him, and he tosses it up to me.
I thank him again, and he just nods, walking away, talking to his friends as they return to work.
I make the left, handing the water to Corinna. She opens it, takes a small sip, swishes it around, and then leans over the window frame and spits it out. Repeats, sipping, swishing, and spitting. Then she dumps a small amount into her palm and uses it to wipe at the tacky, drying blood on her face, then dries her face with the hem of her shirt. Finally, she takes one more small sip, and this one she swallows before handing me the bottle.
I take it, sip, cap it tightly, and lay the bottle on the bench between us.
She glances at me. “I wouldn’t normally waste water that way, especially when it may be all we have for a while. But I had to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth.”
I look at her, waiting for an elaboration. None is forthcoming, however.
Eventually, she shakes her head. “I can’t talk about it right now, Apollo. I know you want to know what happened. But I just can’t talk about it. I can’t even process it yet.”
I reach out and take her hand briefly, letting the truck’s steering track straight for a split second. “It’s going to be okay. I don’t know what you had to do, Rin, but I do know that it was justified. It was done in the name of protecting and rescuing me and that innocent little girl. You did what you had to do.”
Her smile is tight, but at least it’s a smile. “Thank you, Apollo. I do know that, intellectually. I just…knowing it doesn’t make it any less awful.”
There’s a long silence between us—I can see and feel her chewing on her experiences, processing. We reach the end of the two-kilometer stretch, which ends at a T-intersection, going north or south. The sea is in the distance, hinted at by that sense of space on the horizon, the bluer blue of the sky
I turn left, north, and bring the big vehicle up to speed. Let the silence stretch.
Rin stares out the window, chin resting on her palm.
Hours pass this way, and eventually, the strain from the previous…however many days Yelena and I were in that dungeon…catches up to me.
“Rin?”
She doesn’t react.
“Rin?”
A tear rolls down her cheek.
“Corinna?”
She startles, swiping at her face. “Hmm?” She wipes her face with both hands. “Sorry, sorry. I was just…sorry.”
I feel weak. Faint. I glance down at my elbow, and realize the T-shirt I’d wrapped around it as a bandage is so blood soaked from having reopened the wound that the once-white material is totally scarlet—as is the sleeve of the button-down, rolled up to just below the elbow. Blood loss, plus exhaustion, added onto by the fact that we were fed nothing but a few triangles of flatbread and small cups of water.
“I have to stop.” I pull the truck over onto the shoulder and to a stop. “I’m…I need to rest. I’m not…I am not feeling so great.”
Her eyes go to my elbow, and then widen. “My god, Apollo. You’ve been bleeding this whole time! You should have said something.”
“To what end, Corinna?” I ask. “There is no medical attention to be had, out here. And it’s not so bad. I’m not going to bleed out. I’m just faint. I need a few minutes to rest.”
