“So . . . Nik, do you miss Russia?”
His footsteps halt, and for a moment, I think I’ve made a grave mistake. Then, his big body moves forward, his hand gripping the back of the plastic chair and pulling it out. He settles in, a drop of sweat from his brow landing on the tabletop.
“I miss the motherland, yes. My family is still there.”
My eyes widen at the admission, but I lean forward a bit. My dress is sticking to me as the temperature increases. The Texas heat isn’t bearable without air-conditioning.
“I can’t imagine, really. That must be hard. Do you have siblings?”
He sets his gun on the table, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yes, I have two sisters.”
“Wow, that must be fun. I always wanted a sister. What are their names?”
“Helga and Polina.”
“Oh . . . wow. Lovely. Are you an uncle?”
This brings a grin to his face as he nods. “I have two little nephews—twins. They look just alike. One is a little bigger, but the other will catch up soon, I think. I’ll teach them to play hockey when I go back.”
I smile to encourage him to continue on, my mind scrambling to come up with how to use his vulnerability to escape with Becky. The dropkick seemed to help a bit, but we need something more effective to get out. We’d have to take the stairs or hide. Hiding is probably our best shot since he could shoot us while we tried to hobble down with our hands zip-tied. Fifty-six floors is a long way.
“I bet they love their uncle Nik,” I say as he grows quiet.
Becky shifts next to me, and I turn to see what she’s doing.
She speaks up. “You know, I have low blood sugar. Would you mind if I ate a piece of this cake? I’m afraid I could pass out.”
His eyes laser in on the dessert. “Is it chocolate?” He reaches for the gun as he says it, his face hardening.
My muscles tense up as Becky rushes to explain, “No, no...it’s red velvet. The cream cheese frosting looks delicious. Norman’s birthday was yesterday, but he?—”
Nikolai relaxes, hand releasing the gun as he waves at her. “I don’t care. Eat the cake, big woman.”
Becky slowly stands up, reaching for the plate. “Would you like some, Kate?”
I stare at her, wondering why she’s trying to play hostess at a time like this. I can’t imagine eating with the churning in my stomach. “No...no, thank you.”
She moves toward me to get closer to the cake instead of pulling it to her side. I would push it toward her, but if I move, my bloody wrists will sting.
Becky comes alongside me, filling the space between me and Nikolai. He seems distracted, head tilting back toward the heavy footsteps in the hall. They pass by without stopping to talk to us.
Becky chats as she cuts the cake. “Norman is in finance, and one time, he actually asked me out. I didn’t say yes because he wanted to go eat Mexican food. I mean, can you imagine the gas I would have had on the drive home?”
I don’t really know where she’s going with this story, but I nod along.
“I would’ve evacuated with everyone else, but I just couldn’t imagine going down all those stairs. I figured the power would be back on before long.” She serves herself the biggest piece of cake I’ve ever seen.
It nearly covers the plate. I feel sick, just watching her. The scent of the sugary icing mixes with our sweat and body odor to create a stench that I hope I never smell again. She scrapes all the icing off so that the only thing left is the red cake.
“I don’t like the icing,” she says.
This is so weird . . .
The next moments happen in slow motion. Becky picks up her plate, pausing momentarily before she smashes the enormous red dessert straight into Nikolai’s face. He reacts immediately, jumping up and back. He angrily wipes at his face, swiping the plate down to reveal the red stain on his skin. His eyes blaze as he reaches for his gun.
I jump up, fear spiking in my veins. “Becky! Why did you?—”
Then, something happens. Nikolai’s red face turns crimson and begins to swell.
