7 Months: A Prologue

While the kids were innocently indifferent to the newcomers (aside from the four-legged one), Malorie didn’t care for the looks the adults gave her. It was like they were judging her just for being a wanderer.

“I’m not Russian.” She affirmed, looking back at Evgeny’s retreating outline. "And neither is he."

"But I am his friend."

The old woman cast a condescending scowl, as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out of Malorie’s mouth, but it disappeared when Malorie finished digging into the bottom of her backpack. In her hand was something almost perfectly round, with a little stopper on the top. “How many of your tokens can this be traded for?”

The smirk returned to the crone’s face, and then she laughed, exposing more than a few crooked or missing teeth. “Now that’s something I haven’t seen in many months. Where did you find it?” One of the guards looked over at Malorie’s outstretched hand with what could almost be called admiration.

“Would you trust me if I said that you don’t want to know?” At the woman’s contemplative silence, it was Malorie’s turn to laugh. “Well trust me or not, you don’t want to know.”

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Not fifteen minutes later, Malorie came prancing over to the little bar munching on what looked suspiciously like a piece of chocolate. Morgan was at her heels, lacking both his little entourage and any of the now slobbered and chewed playthings they may have proffered. “I dunno about the exchange rate, but I think this should last us for a while.”

Finishing off her snack, she thrust both hands into her pockets, withdrawing two handfuls of tokens and dumping them onto the table in front of Evgeny’s drink as she slid into the booth beside him. Each of the grimy coins read “Yakima Airport Arcade” and featured a grinning mouse in the center.

Malorie's grin was almost as big.

Evgeny shut one eye carefully, unsure as to what effect his drink had on his eyesight. When he covered one eye with his palm he could confirm that he was not hallucinating. He poked them suspiciously and then looked up at Malorie. The grin on his face was only half that of hers but far greater then he normally ever showed. He picked up one of the tokens and flipped it in the air, "I do not know what you did but I never get this many."

He poked a few others, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps it is because there is twice as much gear this time? But who cares! We should get water first, then figure out what to spend the rest on later."

Evgeny appeared a little uncertain suddenly and took a swig of his drink. He pulled a cigarette from inside his jacket and lit it, looking out of the terminal window. "I have been thinking. About things. Lots of things. But mostly you."

He took a slight drag of the cigarette and untensed, leaning back in his seat. "If tomorrow I was to die I'd like to know you'd live."

He tapped the cigarette on a ashtray, not making eye contact with Malorie. "You should come here. They would never let me live here, but you are young and american and a woman. They like people like you. You would have a chance here."

The cigarette was raised back to his mouth again and he took a small drag. "If I ever tell you to run we will meet back here. If I don't come back then you live here."

Evgeny’s initial reaction made Malorie feel quite smug with herself. “You’d be amazed how much value some people place on the tiniest little explosive. I don’t even know if it’ll work when they pull the pin. But I figured we could do without it much better than we could do without water.”

She rescued one of the tokens from her comrade’s prodding, and then proceeded to spin it on its side in place like a top. When he mentioned thinking about her, she let the coin clatter back onto its face, her own a little warm. It was silly and she knew she had no reason to get flustered over something like that. After all, they’d been traveling together for over three months now. It wasn’t absurd to think about someone when they were your sole companion for that long.

But why had he mentioned it? He was staring out the window, his face turned away from hers so that she couldn’t read his expression.

Then he continued, essentially insisting that she leave him behind if they ever got in too deep. Leave him to die. At first that pissed her off, but then she thought about why. Three months ago, he probably wouldn’t have helped her if it had meant his own life. He’d even been annoyed at the ammo he’d lost to save her when they’d first met. But now…

Theirs was a complicated relationship, but she knew that shared experiences had strengthened their bond. Perhaps more than either of them realized.

“I’ll agree to rendezvous here if we get separated. But I don’t think I could live here.” Even as she spoke, she noticed the bartender eying them suspiciously as he cleaned a glass, almost as if they were conspiring to start a brawl or a heist or something. “Besides, historically speaking, being a young American woman doesn’t get you as far as you’d think."

"And I’m only half-white.”

She crossed her arms then, kicking her feet up on the chair across from her, and gave the bartender a pointed stare in return as if to say “what of it?”

"I want there to be somewhere for you," Evgeny said slowly, his cigarette puffing away. "Somewhere where you know you can always go back to."

He stood slowly, stretching his muscles. "But I guess you must decide for yourself. Let's go get water then go for a little walk. A little bird told me there is man who knows about best route to Seattle hiding here."

Evgeny flicked a token at the bartender who caught it and gave a little shake of the head. Outsiders were always trouble.