Infinity Rises Read Online Free PDF Page B

completely still.
    I crouch beside my small pile of wood and sort through the sticks and branches until I find one of the short logs lying among them. I check the bark to make sure it’s the right one and unscrew the end. I pull out a thin, folded piece of gold-colored cloth. I unfurl it with a flick of my wrist and drape it over Viktor’s corpse. I push the short pegs attached to the corners into the ground with the heel of my shoe, and as I stake the last one, the cloth silently changes color to match the snow beneath it, perfectly camouflaging Viktor’s dead body. I pick up my three special logs, tuck them into a small sack slung over my shoulder, and trudge farther into the forest, following Viktor’s boot prints. They lead me around a loosely circular perimeter, and it isn’t very long before I see movement between the trees and smell smoke wafting from a small fire. I crouch behind a tree and take a moment to focus on consciously enhancing my hearing. Voices gradually grow in my ears like a radio tuning into a distant signal.
    “What about you, Erik; why do you think we’re out here?” one of the voices asks.
    “I don’t care,” says another voice. “We are getting paid a lot of money to guard one cabin in an empty forest a hundred and fifty kilometers from anywhere. So I’ll just keep my questions to myself and walk around it for as long as they pay me to.”
    “Hey, don’t touch those,” says a different voice. “They’re Viktor’s.”
    “But they’re so good,” says another man.
    “Hands off—I made him a promise. Eat something else.”
    “Here, have some of my wife’s oreshki .”
    Yes. There are five distinct voices. Viktor was telling the truth. Well, why wouldn’t he? He was talking to a defenseless little farm girl promising liquor. I smile to myself. It’s time to go in. I close my eyes and think of waterfalls: huge, cascading torrents of water pouring down my face. When I open my eyes, there are tears trickling down my cheeks. I practice a quiet, mournful sob and almost burst out laughing. I punch myself on the leg and try again. I make a sound like a mewling puppy and decide that it’ll do the job just fine. I’m thankful that none of the guys in the Blackstone Covert Tactical Division can see me right now. I set off, crying and whimpering, crunching through the snow toward the men’s camp. When I’m just within earshot, I call out in my most pathetic and desperate-sounding voice.
    “Help . . . please? Someone help me.”
    They’re still quite far off, but I can see the men’s faces suddenly snap to attention in my direction.
    “Who goes there?” shouts a voice as the click-clacking sound of weapons being readied echoes through the trees.
    I call to them, “Help me, please; I’m lost!”
    The men begin moving, fanning out in formation. Their torsos are rigid, and their assault rifles are propped under their chins as they stride through the snow toward me. It isn’t long at all before I’m facing a semicircle of guns. One of the men aims his rifle at my chest as the other four sway their guns from side to side, scanning the forest around them.
    “Where did you come from?” barks the man.
    “I was with my brother. We were gathering wood when a bear found us. He told me to run, and now I’m lost.”
    “Show me,” grunts the man. “Show me what is in the bag.”
    I unsling the sack from my shoulder and reach into it, feeling the ridges on the sides of the logs.
    “Slowly!” shouts the man.
    I pull one log out of the sack, and as I do, I press a piece of bark on its edge and begin counting slowly down from ten in my head. I throw all three logs on the snow in the middle of the half circle, then show the man the sack is empty and raise my hands.
    “What should we do with her?” asks one of the men.
    “We have our orders. We shoot her and leave her for the wolves.”
    “I can’t just shoot a peasant girl for no good reason,” protests another man.
    “We were