"Sasha," I mumble and my voice cracks. "I need you to come to the bathroom with me."
"But I don't have to go."
"I know, but I need you to try anyway. We've got a long drive ahead of us and I don't want to have to stop on the highway later. Come on, it'll just take a minute."
He looks at me like he knows something's wrong. He can sense the fear I'm trying so hard to hide, but he doesn't say it out loud. Instead he just slides out of the booth and takes my hand and I lead him toward the back of the diner where the bathrooms are, walking at a normal pace even though I want to run.
"I didn't get to finish my pancakes," he whines, and all I can think about is getting him to safety. This can't be happening. My heart can't take much more of this.
The men's room is a single-occupancy with a lock on the door, and I push Sasha inside before he can protest.
"Wash your hands really well, okay? Lots of soap, get under the fingernails, the whole thing. Take your time and do it properly."
"But I didn't even go to the bathroom, so why do I need to?—"
I close the door before he can finish the sentence and look around the hallway for something, anything, I can use to keep him in there. There's a mop propped against the wall near the supply closet, and I grab it and wedge the handle under the bathroom door, jamming it tight so it can't be opened from the inside.
"Noemi?" Sasha's voice comes through the door, confused and starting to get scared. "I can't get out. The door's stuck."
"I know, sweetheart. Just stay in there for a minute. Everything's fine."
Everything is not fine. I can hear voices rising in the front of the diner, angry shouts and the scrape of furniture against the floor, and I press myself against the wall and try to remember how to breathe.
"Noemi, the door won't open!" Sasha is pounding on it now, his voice getting higher. "Let me out!"
"Just wait, baby. Please just wait."
The first gunshot makes me jump so hard I bite my tongue. Then there's more of them, a rapid string of cracks that echo down the hallway, and Sasha is screaming now, banging on the door with both fists. I can't do this to him. He's in there and I'm out here, and neither one of us are safe.
I yank the mop handle free and throw open the bathroom door, pushing myself inside with him and locking it behind us. I drop to the floor and pull him into my arms, pressing his face against my chest and wrapping myself around him like I can somehow shield him from all of this with my own body.
He's shaking so hard it feels like he's going to vibrate apart, and I'm shaking too, both of us huddled on the dirty bathroom floor while gunfire explodes just a few dozen feet away.
"What's happening? It's so loud!"
"It's okay," I whisper into his hair. "I've got you. Just hold onto me."
The shots keep coming, mixed with shouts and crashes and sounds I don't want to think about too hard. I rock Sasha back and forth and try to keep him calm.
There's no fire drill that covers this. No clever story I can tell him to make this okay. He knows what gunshots are and he knows what's happening. And there's nothing I can do to protect him from the truth of it except hold him and hope neither of us gets shot.
When silence finally comes I'm shaking and sobbing so hard there's no way to explain it away. Sasha is still trembling, and his face is buried in my shirt. And I hear heavy footsteps outside the bathroom door.
I look around the bathroom for something I could use as a weapon if I need to, but there's nothing except a toilet and a sink and a paper towel dispenser bolted to the wall. If whoever's out there wants to hurt us, I won't be able to stop them.
The knock on the door makes both of us flinch.
"Noemi. It's me." Fyodor's words boom through the door and the relief floods me. I scramble to my feet with Sasha still clinging to me and reach for the lock with hands that won't stop trembling.
He pushes into the room and snatches Sasha off the ground into his arms then grabs my wrist and starts moving. I can barelywalk let alone run, but he moves so quickly I have no choice but to try.
"We need to go," he says. "Lazar has the car running out back."
I let him take my arm and lead us out of the bathroom. As we pass through the destroyed dining room, I catch a glimpse of overturned tables and broken glass and at least one body on the floor before we're through the door and into the parking lot.
The car is idling a few feet away, Lazar behind the wheel and Vasili in the passenger seat with blood running down his forehead from a cut somewhere in his hairline. Fyodor opens the back door and we pile in, and then we're moving, tires squealing as we tear out of the lot and onto the highway.
Sasha's still crying but the tears are silent now that he's in Fyodor's arms. I reach up and stroke his hair and lean on Fyodor’s shoulder so I can whisper into Sasha's ear that it's going to be okay.
