Red Hand Days - Chapter 9
Title: Red Hand Days
Status: WIP
Warnings: NC-17 for fucking everything
A/N: Umm.. Don't ask me about what language the characters are speaking. I just realised there's no logic in that aspect what so ever. Well, maybe if we just pretend that everyone spoke russian in the first chapter. :P I also just realised that I'm getting weird arabic looking adverts on my screen.
9.
Kashim stayed with Vostrikov, went out at days, bought some food and an old English book about some guy called Huckleberry. Few times they went together to the outskirts of the city to the warehouses where they had left the arm slaves and Kashim made sure everything was still working properly. Vostrikov drank a lot and was often away for the night. During those nights Kashim spent his time mostly reading. He couldn't sleep alone for more than 15 minutes at a time before some noise from outside woke him up.
Kashim was reading about Huckleberry, not understanding very much about the text, but enjoying it all the same. Laughter and shouting drew his attention towards the front door and Kashim glanced at the pistol beside his bed.
The door opened and from the voices Kashim identified it to be his own team, or at least some of them. Kashim remained on his bed and waited for the men to enter. They were clearly heavily drunk.
“...so I said to the bitch that she could just suck my dick and be grateful I want to save bullets and--”
“Vostrikov's not here”, Kashim decided to interrupt the conversation. That way the men could leave now and he could just keep reading.
The men went silent and turned their heads to Kashim.
“Well if isn't the fucking nip-fag”, Kaminski scoffed and stared at Kashim like he had just seen a fly infested carcass. “What're you doing, fag? Oiling up your ass and waiting for Gauron to come back?”
It was mockery, Kashim could tell, not a real question, so he didn't answer.
“No man, he's fucking reading”, Gorlovich laughed with a cigarette between his lips. “Whatcha reading there, jap? Some Fag-Sutra?”
Kashim wasn't sure he was even supposed to understand their slurring anymore. Without moving his eyes from the men he kept making sure his gun was still reachable. He would not take a beating now. He was seriously getting tired of all this shit.
“You know, I'm really feeling like kicking your face in right now”, Kaminski stated with a distant tone.
“Go for it!” Gorlovich cheered. “I can hold him down!”
Kaminski snorted. “Nah. This little bitch will bawl it out to Gauron the minute he comes back.” He stared at Kashim. “Won't you?”
“I guess I have to report him if I kill one of our team members”, Kashim said without a blink.
The men roared with laughter. Gorlovich spilled something from his bottle on Kashim's bed. “Oh man, let's just beat the shit out of him. We can say he tried to run or something. Besides it might be months before Gauron comes back!”
There was a silence for few seconds, before Kaminski and Gorlovich stepped forward. Kashim's hand reached for his gun and when he lifted it up, the barrel nudged against Kaminski's crotch. Everyone froze again.
“The fuck you are doing?” Kaminski snarled, but was clearly nervous. They could all see the gun was cocked, the safety was off and it would take only a tiny squeeze from Kashim's finger to fire.
“Get out”, Kashim ordered quietly. No one moved or said anything. “NOW!” Kashim shouted and the voice was like a whip to a pack of horses. With curses and poor jokes the house was empty in three seconds. Kashim stared at the closed door for a while, waiting for the men to come back. They didn't. With a sigh, Kashim pushed the safety back on and placed the gun back to its place, next to his pillow. He didn't sleep at all that night.
When Kashim returned from his light seven km morning jog, Vostrikov had returned. He was eating some left over Qorma at the living room sofa.
“Heard you had a little fight with the guys last night.”
Kashim walked to the bathroom to wash some of the sweat from his upper body. The house didn't have running water so they had to make do with jerry cans and basins. It didn't make any difference to Kashim, it was the same on the field too.
“I didn't”, Kashim called out to the living room. “They were about to start a fight and I ended it.”
“With a threat to shoot them?”
“Negative”, Kashim answered and poured some of the water to his head. He closed his eyes and washed his face, spitting the water from his mouth to the floor. “I only threatened to shoot Kaminski and the shot wouldn't have been fatal.”
“They disagree.”
“Then they are lying”, Kashim stated and took a towel with him to the living room. He ruffled his hair with the towel to stop the dripping. “I've had it with them”, he spat and stared at Vostrikov. “Always making fun of me and treating me like... like shit when they have no reason to. I'm part of the same team. I've been one longer than half of them!”
“I know”, Vostrikov said softly. “But you can't start shooting them.”
Kashim was silent for a moment. “Yes, actually I can.” He had a gun and sure Gauron would be pissed, but he would probably understand in the end and make some weird comments about Kashim being the angel of death or something like that. And Kashim most certainly didn't have any personal problems on the matter of killing an asshole like Kaminski. The man held no strategic value to the team.
Vostrikov stopped chewing for a moment and glanced at Kashim. “Now, Kashim, don't make me take away your gun.”
Kashim frowned. “Why would you do that?”
“I don't want you to start killing our own men again, do you understand?” Vostrikov's voice was strict.
“Yes, sir”, Kashim said automatically. Vostrikov continued eating. “What about non-lethal shooting?”
“Not that either.”
“Warning shots?”
“Kashim!”
“Yes?”
Vostrikov stared at him clearly pissed. Kashim wasn't sure what he had said to do that. He had just asked. “Hand me your gun.”
Kashim took a step backwards. “I would like to keep it, sir”, Kashim stated, bit horrified. How could he protect himself without a gun? What if they came back?
“I won't have you shooting people when you're overreacting to some stupid joke!” Vostrikov barked. “You're fucking unstable enough as it is with the Singapore and all that shit! Hand over the gun!”
With a stony expression and stiff movements Kashim fetched the gun from his bed and handed it to Vostrikov.
“And keep away from the other weapons. You don't need them here.”
“And what if they come back? They will beat me up and there’s nothing I can do”, Kashim said.
“They have no reason to. They are busy drinking and fucking and smoking O. Just stay out of their way and you'll be fine.”
“I--” Kashim started. The matter wasn't anywhere near solved. He had stayed out of their way before.
“Shut up. I don't want to hear it”, Vostrikov growled and continued his eating. “When you've calmed down, you can have your gun back.”
“I am ca--!”
“Quiet! I'll decide when that is.”
Kashim didn't talk to Vostrikov for few days. The man had been unfair and stupid. Kashim had never wounded anyone he hadn't intended and Singapore had absolutely nothing to do with anything. Sure, Kashim had some nightmares, but that would never make him shoot or kill anyone. Vostrikov didn't say much either. He didn't inform Kashim when he went out or how long he would be gone.
Kashim woke up in an empty house and felt alerted. He didn't know what had woken him up, but he knew everything wasn't right. It was a gut feeling and on a battlefield you always trusted those. Kashim was up from his bed when the window broke and a metallic clink sounded from the opposite wall. He darted to the kitchen without looking the type of the grenade. Luckily it wasn't explosive. Kashim smelled the tear gas and pressed his sleeve in front of his face. He couldn't just run out of the front door, someone was definitely waiting for him there. The window was out of the question too as an obvious escape route and there were no firearms in the house anymore. Quickly and keeping his head down Kashim made his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. It wasn't airtight in any standard and there was already tear gas in the room too. But if Kashim could wait long enough the attackers would have to come in and that was the moment he could take one of them out and get a gun. All the thinking had gone through his head like an automatic script. Kashim dipped his sleeve in the water basin and breathing was a little easier for a moment.
There was one more broken window. The door was kicked in, but instead of steps Kashim heard another clink. That made it three canisters of the gas. Kashim cursed silently and tried to airproof the cracks around the door with whatever he found. The air was getting thick and it was hard to keep eyes open. Kashim was tearing up and starting to cough and gag.
It was a humbling experience to realise he couldn't win this one. He would fail again in something extremely simple. Stupid Vostrikov and his stupid judgement error with the guns. This would have never happened with Gauron. Kashim felt like kicking the wall and shouting out in frustration, but that would have been stupid and futile. But god damned he wouldn't walk out himself! He wouldn't make this easy to them.
Maybe ten minutes after the first canister Kashim had his head in one of the basins, trying to wash out some of the irritation from his eyes and face. That was when they finally decided to come in. Kashim could only see shapes and movements but to his own judgement he put up quite a fight. He was dragged outside and the beating and kicking commenced immediately. He could make out Kaminski's cheerful yells in the background.
“Hey, hey!” Someone yelled. It might have been Wahidi, but Kashim wasn't sure. He wasn't surprised to realise it was his own fucking team. Vostrikov could go fuck himself with his reasonings. “Let's move this somewhere else. We're starting to catch a crowd.”
Kashim was hauled to his feet and to the back of their truck. There was too much blood in his swelling eyes and ears to make anything out of his surroundings or where the truck was driven. It wasn't far anyway, not even outside the city borders. Kashim was dragged out and dropped to the concrete floor.
“This is the day you’ll die, nip”, Gorlovich snarled near Kashim's ear. There was a stench of alcohol and opium smoke around him. “You’re going to the ground. How does that feel, fag?”
Kashim gathered some of the blood in his mouth and spat. Judging from the boot hitting his gut, he had hit a target too.
“You know,” Wahidi stated with a thin voice. He was holding his breath, probably smoking opium even at that moment. “He's got that tracking chip on him. Gauron will find his body.”
Kashim heard the quiet rustle of Kaminski's battle knife coming out of the holster. “Well, we'll just have to carve it out, won't we.”
By now Kashim knew that he would never get used to pain. No matter what anyone said, that just didn't happen. He had learned to ignore some of the pain, when he had more important things to do, fighting, escaping... But to say that after a while a battle knife in your shoulder blades didn't feel like anything was just bullshit. Kashim did scream and he did try to fight and he wasn't the least bit ashamed that he cried while he was doing it.
“Fuck, I can't find it”, Kaminski said and started to sound worried. “There's too much blood! Fuck!”
“You cut his whole back open, stupid. What did you expect?” Wahidi snorted and let out a wasted giggle. “You're so screwed, man. You know what Gauron's going to do to you after that?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Kaminski spat and the knife finally left Kashim's body. “I'll just burn the body then.”
“Come on. Don't you think that's enough?”
There was a silence which Kashim used to catch his breath. The voice was vaguely familiar.
“What the fuck has that runt ever done to you?” the man continued. “Jesus Christ, you're a bunch of whiny-ass bitches. It's like he took your place under Gauron or something.”
There was general laughter, except from Kaminski’s direction. “He's a fucking spoiled asshole, that's what he did.”
“Spoiled?” the man laughed. “Fuck, if being spoiled equals being ass-raped by Gauron, I sure as hell don't want to be spoiled. Nor am I ever going to spoil my own kids, if I ever happen to get any.”
“Get the fuck out of here”, Kaminski growled to the man. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“It does now. I'm not going to lie to Gauron if he asks about the kid. And just to let you know, you can't either. He smells your bullshit from miles away.” Steps walked closer to them and Kaminski stood up. “Now, if I were you, which luckily I’m not, I would get on a car or a plane or a fucking donkey cart and get my ass as far as fucking possible. Because let me tell you man, when Gauron gets back - and he will get back - he's not going to stop searching for you for months, maybe years. And if he ever finds you, even after few decades, he's still going to torture you to death. That's the kind of man he is.”
There was a moment of silence before some of the men further started to walk away. Kaminski wasn't in any haste.
“What? You want to fuck with me now?” the other man snorted. “Stop staring at me and follow your smacked out pals out of here, before I'll start wasting my bullets on you.”
Kashim was lying still on the concrete floor of a building he knew nothing about. He felt the dizziness of blood loss and the pounding ache all over his wounds. The sand gave out a rattle underneath Kaminski's boots as he left. For a moment the whole hall was silent.
“You OK there, little pal?”
Kashim let out a noise, just to let the man know he was still alive.
“Great”, the man grunted and knelt down. “Now, let's get this tracking bullshit out of the way first.”
**
With his legs trembling and his vision blurred Kashim was escorted to a car. He sat in without any questions, the back seat sending flashes of pain throughout his body.
“We’ll patch you up better soon. Just hang in there”, the man said with a calm tone.
Kashim glanced at the man and tried to remember where they had met. The man had ash blonde hair and light blue eyes, something you saw rarely in Afghanistan. A drop of sweat got into his eyes and made him squeeze his eyes shut. “We’ve met”, Kashim said weakly.
“Yeah. Back in Asdabad. I was the one who got that chip in you”, the man answered. “You remember?”
Kashim was silent for a short while. “The medic.”
“That’s right.”
The man drove on, through some small streets. Kashim leaned forward to get his back away from the seat. “You took it off?”
“Better to keep that just between you and me”, the man said and cast a grin at Kashim. “It’s in your jacket pocket, if Gauron wants to check up on you. But once you toss it, he has no idea where you are.”
Kashim felt like he should’ve been more happy about the subject. He should’ve been thrilled about it. To get finally away. But at the moment he just felt sick and sore and wished more than anything that Gauron would be there to make everything normal again and to shoot everyone who wasn’t obeying.
“You do want to get away, right?” the man sounded worried. “I didn’t just risk my whole life for nothing, right?”
“I want to get away”, Kashim confirmed. “I just…” He sighed.
“Yeah, you’re not in any condition to run now. But later. Whenever you feel like it.” The man kept glancing at him. “You want me to take you to Vostrikov’s?”
Kashim would have wanted to say no, but he didn’t have any other place to go. He had nothing in the whole world. Nothing but Gauron and a team that had just tried to kill him. Suddenly his face distorted in a way it had done never before. Like Kashim wasn’t in control of the muscles underneath his cheeks and around his mouth. For a second he felt like suffocating under his breath, but then the first sobs came and quickly pushed him into a wholehearted cry. Kashim covered his face with his hands and wept for the first time in years for something else than physical pain. The medic kept driving, not saying a word, like he didn’t even notice Kashim bawling.
“I…” Kashim hiccupped and swallowed, staring at his hands. “I would’ve fought them, but… He took my gun!” he shouted like it was the most unreasonable thing in the world.
“Vostrikov?”
“He said I was unstable!” Kashim barked. He felt like yelling now, and hitting. He felt like beating the crap out of Vostrikov if he had any more strength left. “I fucking hate him. I hate every one of them.”
“You’ll get away”, the man stated calmly. “And once you do, you’re never going to see them again”, he said and turned the car around. “Let’s go to my place. You’ll at least get a good night sleep and painkillers.”
It was a nice apartment close to the city centre. On the fifth floor with air conditioning and everything. Much like in the hotel in Singapore. Kashim didn’t have the energy to awe the place more than that. He sat on a chair the medic, Alex, had set out for him and tried his best to stay put as the man cleaned his wounds and wrapped bandages around his midriff. He took the pills he was offered without a second thought even though Gauron would have smacked him few feet off the ground for taking medication from anyone else beside himself.
Kashim slept the whole night without waking up and once he did in the morning, he just stared at the wall next to him awhile, before closing his eyes again.
**
He woke up to a loud knock. It was sunny in the bedroom where he had been sleeping. Kashim felt groggy as he sat up and tried to remember what had happened. He heard voices from another room and soon enough Vostrikov walked briskly into the bedroom. Alex stayed at the doorway leaning his shoulder against the frame.
“You ok?” Vostrikov asked surprisingly angry.
Kashim stared at the man and felt the remains of yesterday’s rage build up again. “You brought me my gun back?” Kashim just asked. He knew he looked like shit after getting his ass thoroughly kicked by the others. He was probably covered in bruises from head to toe.
Vostrikov stared back at him and seemed to be gritting his teeth. “Who was it?”
“What do you care?!” Kashim barked and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything about you to Gauron.” He had rarely felt this angry. He rarely felt anything at all to be honest. But at the moment he would’ve given anything not to be around Vostrikov or any other team member.
Vostrikov took a pistol from his belt and tossed it to the bed, next to Kashim. Without saying anything more to him, Vostrikov turned to Alex. “Keep an eye on him, ok? I’m sure Gauron will pay you for the trouble once he comes back.”
Alex just jerked his head in slight resemblance to a nod, his arms folded in front of him. Vostrikov glanced at Kashim one more time and left.