The Soul Stealer. Alex Archer
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.
And it was headed straight for Annja.
4
Annja pumped her pedals harder, desperately trying to outpace the truck streaming up the hillside road behind her. Her breathing felt shallow, as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs to power her legs. Sweat broke out along her hairline and ran down her face. She knew the signs of adrenaline rush and this certainly qualified.
“Annja!”
Bob’s voice broke through the rural air, and Annja heard him above the grinding roar of the truck. She glanced back over her shoulder. She guessed the truck was a two-and-a-half-ton truck used by militaries all over the world as supply trucks and to convey troops from one region to another.
There was a nasty gash across the radiator grille that gave the front end an almost comical toothy appearance. It looked as if the truck could simply overtake her and eat her alive.
Annja looked ahead and kept jamming her feet against the pedals as hard as she could. She huffed as her lungs worked like bellows. Her breath stained the air with steam and mixed with the sweat pouring down her face.
Ahead of her, Bob was pedaling fast, as well.
The road sloped at a severe angle. The increase meant Annja would have to pedal even harder and she didn’t know if she had it in her.
Keep pedaling, she told herself. She could see the crest of the hill. If she could just manage to make it—
The truck horn blared behind her, jarring her. She glanced back and saw that it was even closer than before. It showed no signs of easing back or slowing down. Whoever was driving that rig was having a lot of fun at her expense.
She couldn’t see through the windshield. For one thing, the entire panel of glass seemed to have a jagged line scored through it. She could see the buildup of bug guts and dirt had stained it so much that being able to determine who was driving was an impossibility.
Her legs felt like lead weights. She wanted to vomit.
Keep going!
She pedaled harder. She could hear the gravel underneath her tires kicking away from the wheels as she sped her way up the hillside.
Fifty yards to the top.
The truck horn blared again.
Annja turned and saw the bumper closing in on her bicycle. There was only twenty feet or so separating them.
He really means to run me over, she thought.
She felt herself growing angry. Furious even. Who the hell would want to kill her like this? Why were they so determined? She hadn’t even been in Russia long enough to annoy that many people.
Annja gave one last, monumental effort, her lungs straining to their capacity. She drove her heels into the pedals and the bike shot forward.
Along the side of the hill, she could see the sheer drop-off, plunging hundreds of feet to the ground far below.
The truck nudged her.
Annja lost control.
“Bob!”
She jerked the handlebars of the bike to the right and then to the left. The truck nudged her again, and Annja headed straight off the edge of the hill.
She was falling.
Annja had the briefest sensation of being weightless—suspended in midair—before gravity exerted its pull on her body and jerked her back down toward the earth.
She hit the side of the hill and tumbled, rolled and somersaulted over jagged rocks, tree roots, upturned branches and forest debris. Somewhere she heard her bicycle doing a passable imitation of her own body as it caromed down the hillside.
Annja tried to relax herself as she bounced her way down the slope.
And