crossed pikes |[ch. 5]|
If ever there was a time to fight, it was now. This train had trapped them for long enough. Jackal hefted the bat in his hand and watched its nails catch the light. Seven on one—the odds weren't terrible, but they could not claim strength in numbers for much longer. A few feet from the water's edge, the Russian raised his weapon.
"Дни и ночи будем биться," he breathed. The bend in his knees was gentle as he drew back. His shoe squeaked against the damp tile. Jackal gave the weapon a hard swing, and with half a smile he watched tendrils of steam curl in its wake.
"Пики с пиками скрестя," he continued in a tuneless hiss, and brought the bat up again. "И не смыть ее дождями." Like keys under his hands, like his language rolling off his tongue, like the grey sea and the cold snap of snow, this was something that brought him all the way home. Comforted, Jackal swung again. "И ... не рассушить ветрами."
He swallowed at the lump in his throat and laughed to himself. Had he not been exonerated for his crime, the doctor would never have been confronted with that choice. Harley and Sawbones had deserved executions no more than he had. Jackal clicked his tongue. Although there was nothing to be gained by looking back, some thoughts could not be chased away.
With measured steps, he crossed the room to stop before a tree. When he looked closely he could see the face of an old, discarded friend. Something sick bloomed in his throat. Jackal raised his weapon.
"Кровь," he spat through gritted teeth, "рабочих ... и ... крестьян."
Chips of bark flew as the Russian hammered at the tree. As far as he was concerned, it was Fennec's face he was driving nails into. Sweat was beading at his hairline when he looked up. Someone was standing in the doorway.
"How long ... are... When do you... No." Jackal ran the back of his hand across his brow. "Never mind." He let the end of the bat hit the floor. His gaze flitted from one end of the room to the other as he hunted down a new subject—anything to draw attention away from his mangled tree.
"You are here ... for a swim?"
