Alex Archer - The Soul Stealer

Gulliver took a folded map out of his pocket and handed it to Annja. “Northwest of here. Out into the Siberian wilderness.”

Annja glanced at the map and handed it back. She looked around the city, now just starting to percolate with signs of life. “As long as we’re getting out of here, that’s fine with me.”

Gulliver nodded. “I understand. There are parts of this city that have a certain amount of charm, but I suppose there’s no denying the awful past of this place. It’s ingrained everywhere. Unavoidable. Perhaps I should have chosen a better staging area.”

“This is the closest city?”

“Yes.”

“Then there really was no other option,” Annja said. “And don’t worry too much about it. I’ve seen my share of horrible places.”

Gulliver smiled. “We should be off, then.”

Annja tested her feet on her pedals and found she could reach them easily enough. Gulliver had estimated her height correctly and ensured she had the right-size bicycle. As she leaned down to see if her water bottle was filled, she heard a sound behind them and looked up quickly.

Gregor skidded to a halt on his own bicycle. Annja glanced at Bob. “He’s coming with us?”

“A trusted comrade is always a welcome thing out in the backwaters of a potentially unfriendly environment,” Gulliver said.

Gregor smiled at Annja. “Good morning.”

Annja nodded. “How are you feeling today?”

Gregor pointed at his ribs. “They have a nice blue to them. You have done very well in marking me up. But nothing that vodka and aspirin cannot handle.”

“Sorry about that,” Annja said sheepishly.

Gregor shrugged. “I was not careful. Not your fault. You were just defending yourself. As I would have done in your spot.”

Annja turned around and saw Gulliver tightening the straps on the dual bags that hung over the back of his bike. Annja saw that she had two bags of her own. “You packed for me, too?”

“Gregor did some shopping. Just the necessities, I’m afraid. This won’t be a glamorous event for any of us. Just a recon as it were.”

“As long as the clothes are warm,” Annja said.

“They are.”

Annja looked at Gregor again. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he said quietly.

Annja removed a playing card from her jacket pocket and slid it against the spokes of Gulliver’s bike. He was too involved in his map and didn’t notice. Finally, he folded the map and looked back. “Are we ready?”

Annja smiled. “Let’s roll.”

Gulliver turned, mounted his bike and started pedaling. Instantly, from the back of his bike came the telltale sound as the spokes slid over the playing card.

Annja smiled. Behind her, she heard Gregor chuckle. “He will not notice that for at least three miles,” he said.

G REGOR’S ESTIMATION WAS correct. They pedaled for three miles on the paved highway leading out of Magadan. The road gradually waned from sleek asphalt to pockmarked concrete rife with potholes and bits of wire jutting out of the ground along its edges. More and more, they had to wind their way around obstacles.

Gulliver signaled a halt and they pulled over to the side of the road. He frowned and leaned back, removing the playing card from his spokes. “This your idea of a funny?” he asked.

Annja shrugged. “Yep,” she said.

Gulliver took a swig of water from his bottle and then replaced it. “The road ahead goes from this to more of a hard mud track. It should be easier once we hit it.”

“Less obstructions,” Gregor said from behind them.

“They don’t believe in road repair in these parts, huh?” Annja looked around them. Anything short of a combat tank would have flat tires in seconds.

“Is not they don’t believe in it,” Gregor said. “Just that the officials all have their hands out ready for a little grease. By the time the money filters down to the workers who must actually repair the road, there is none left.”

“Wonderful,” Annja said.

Gulliver waved them on. “I want to at least reach a way point by tonight. And that’s thirty miles away.”

Annja sighed. A thirty-miler wasn’t the best way she imagined to ease back into the bicycling frame of mind, but she knew that once Gulliver had his mind fixed on something, he wasn’t going to budge for anything short of a life in danger.

Gregor sped past her and then overtook Gulliver. He pedaled ahead. Annja marveled at how easily he rode his bicycle.

Bob glanced back at her. “He’s a former military guy. Did I mention that?”

“No,” Annja said.

“He’s used to driving himself hard. One of those guys who measures himself based on how difficult something is. The bigger the obstacle, the better he feels about himself when he masters it.”

Annja nodded. “I know someone just like that.”

Bob grinned. “I thought you might find that a familiar sentiment.”

They pedaled along for another hour. Magadan’s outskirts disappeared quickly as the stark countryside reclaimed the edges of the road for itself. Annja saw the twisted, bent and hooked branches of the spindly trees reaching in for them. She saw little animal life and only a few birds cruised the skies.

“Is it always like this?” she eventually asked.

“Like what?”

“Devoid of life.”

Gulliver shrugged. “Winter’s coming. And soon. Most of the animals have already wandered off to their various hibernation areas. Birds have flown south. And the landscape just seems to be settling down for the harsh snows.”

“We’ve got time, though, right?” Annja asked.

“Yes. Timing was crucial. I’m glad you were able to get out here. With luck, we should find something before we get snowbound.”

“What happened with Gregor, anyway?” Annja could barely make out his bicycle far ahead of them.

“He likes taking point on these things. Takes his job of protecting me very seriously. Says there are far too many threats out here for a man to travel alone. He insists on driving on ahead to spot anything that looks a bit off.”

“Does he cost a lot?”

Gulliver shrugged. “Not by our standards. But he makes a decent wage. Plus, it gets him away from the mafiya . And anytime he can do that, he’s far happier than he is otherwise.”

Annja dropped behind Bob as the road narrowed drastically. From two lanes, the hard-packed mud and gravel withered to barely a single lane. On her right side, the edge of the road fell away as they ascended what looked to be a fairly significant hill.

“Mind yourself,” Bob said. “We’re corkscrewing up the hill. It’s a long way down.”

“Why don’t we use the left side?”

“Anything coming at us from the other way will crush us against the side of the hill. They won’t see us coming.”

“Makes sense.” Annja kept pedaling. Her breathing was coming harder as her lungs got their first taste of serious exertion. She kept herself hunched low, trying to reduce her wind resistance as she climbed the hill. The bike seemed built for a wide variety of terrain and handled the ascent pretty well.

It didn’t make the strain of the pedaling any easier for Annja, though.

Ahead of her, Bob seemed in his element. He used long, steady pedaling to carve his way up the hill. Annja tried to emulate him, but knew that as her body responded to the stress of serious biking for the first time in years, she was going to have a harder time than Bob or Gregor, for that matter.

She settled her breathing and tried to relax.

She heard a sudden sound. She turned in her seat and saw the large truck rumbling up the hill behind her.

She frowned. “Bob!”

He turned and saw the truck. “Oh, crap! Pedal faster, Annja!”

Annja drove her feet into the pedals. The truck sounded its horn. The sharp wail cut through the cold air and sliced into Annja’s back. She looked back, but rather than slow down as another truck might be expected to do when it was climbing an incline, this truck seemed to be accelerating.