Page 17 of Enemy Within

He said nothing. Outside, snow billowed, flurries carving Sasha’s face into the wind.

“What happened to ‘you have my support, and my friendship, always’? Sergey, we were more than just world leaders. We werefriends—”

“I cannot look at you, Jack!” His fist came down, hitting the steering wheel. “I cannot!”

“Why?” Jack hissed. “Say it to myface.”

Slowly, Sergey turned to Jack, but closed his eyes as his vision blurred. He tried to breathe, but the knife in his chest was back, digging into his heart, trying to cut it out of his body. If only hecouldcut out his heart. It would hurt less than continuing on like this. “You remind me of him,” he whispered, his eyes closed. “You remind me of him,” he choked out again, his words breaking apart.And you remind me of so much more.

The heavy anger filling the jeep popped, vanishing with a fizz. He heard Jack exhale, heard him slouch back against the front seat. “I remember what it was like when I thought Ethan was dead.”

“Do not compare. Please.” Sergey grunted, turning back to the window, and tried to sniff away the burning behind his eyes. “You have a happy ending. I—” His lips clamped shut.

“I remember I wished I had died with him.”

Even that desire had no comfort for Sergey. Every moment he wished for the pain to end, wished to just lie down and let the world pass over him, guilt flooded him from all sides of his soul. Guilt, and Sasha’s voice, admonishing him about his responsibilities.You are the leader Russia needs, he heard in Sasha’s voice, like they were sharing drinks again, relaxing in his apartment.You need to bring reform to the rest of Russia. Your government, it can change things. You cannot give up.

How had Sasha become the voice in his head?

A part of Sergey wondered if he had cracked. Was he so desperate that he’d reconstruct Sasha in his mind, keep his memories alive like a psychic voodoo doll? When would the voice in his head become a phantom that he saw? Would he start talking to shadows and corners?

Would he be happier if he did? Would he rather have Sasha back with him, even as a ghost or a phantom of his mind, than cling to sanity?

“He would not want that,” Sergey croaked. “He believed so much in me. Wanted so much from me.”

He heard the smile in Jack’s voice. “Sounds like Ethan. He wants me to run for another term. Thinks I’m some kind of hero for the country. But I’m not Superman. I’mjusta man.”

And I am a broken man. Sergey rubbed his chapped lips together, the torn, frayed skin rough and catching, pulling in painful tears. “I keep reliving the last moments we had.”

“The call?”

He shook his head. “At the air base. When he was doing his final checks. I chased him. I was angry. Shouting. I found out he intended it to be a one-way trip. We fought.”

“Sergey,” Jack breathed. “Is that how you left things?”

“He kissed me.” His voice was lighter than a snowflake. “It is all I can think of.”

His sniff broke the silence of the jeep after a moment, and then Jack’s hand gripped his shoulder, slid down his arm, and found his clenched, trembling fist. Jack wrapped his hand around Sergey’s and squeezed.

Slowly, Sergey opened his fist, capturing Jack’s hand and squeezing back.

Sharp knocking on the passenger window made them both jump. Jack pulled his hand back as Ethan opened the jeep’s door, standing in the way of the wind.

“Something’s gone wrong. The last jeep cracked the ice. We may have to move the crossing if the ice is too badly compromised. Scott and I are going to check it out. We’ll be back for you both.” He said the last to Jack, staring into his lover’s eyes.

Jack nodded. He grabbed his radio. “We’ll watch from the bank.” Jack followed Ethan without looking back, heading for where Scott was prepping Jack and Ethan’s—Sasha’s—jeep to scout the ice. Sergey followed slowly.

They’d unloaded everything, piling their gear and weapons on the bank and leaving the jeep as light as it could be. Scott had both doors wide open and the windows down.

Ethan passed Jack the binoculars, pointed out where the crack in the ice was, and then slid into the driver’s side. He left the door open, as did Scott on his side.

Slowly, they crept out onto the ice. Creaking, the river sounded different than it had before. Maybe it was the wind changing direction, or the cold dropping the temperature of the ice. Sergey plunged his hands into his jacket and stood beside Jack, watching and waiting as Ethan and Scott drove forward.

“AHEAD IS CLEAR FIVE FEET.”

Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He kept his focus on the ice, the feet in front of their jeep illuminated in the headlights. Scott scanned ahead, scouring in every direction. To their left, the dark, jagged crack split the ice, gouging deep. If they stayed away from the spider webbing fractures, they’d be okay. They could still get the last two jeeps across. Or one, if they doubled up.

“You’re looking good, looking good…” Scott kept up a steady stream of encouragement as Ethan slowly rolled forward, barely touching the accelerator. He kept it in first gear, kept the engine low and slow. “I think we’re good, Eth—”