When Cold-rock spoke again, his voice was loud and clear, likely for my benefit. “No, I’m not buying it. Her tracks lead to this railway car, and no tracks lead away. Ekatarina Tyurin is here somewhere.”

I probed the minds below: six militsiya officers, two camp guards, four dogs, and Vasily. Fuck. I could handle perhaps three people at a time, but there was nothing that I could do about the dogs.

Cold-rock continued, “Vasily Koptev, you’re no longer needed.”

I was startled by a sudden gunshot. I searched for Vasily’s mind to find it quickly fading. He was gone. I had been his friend, and I had used him. I felt like shit. I was ashamed. I was angry.

Cold-rock again, “Ekatarina, you cannot hope for freedom. I will kill you rather than permit that. Surrender yourself and return to camp.”

With the finesse of a chainsaw, I gave the four dog handlers orders, and was rewarded a few seconds later with the sound of four gunshots. The dogs had been dealt with. I’m not going back. Don’t fuck with me.