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Zoya knew her instructions. Stay in the area, look interested in what people were selling, but don’t stay still for too long. Her mother and father's meeting with the Councilor would be over soon and they would meet in the alley near Sasha's Bakery. Father had promised to let her play on the pond once they got home, and breaking the thin layer of ice on top was always so much fun. After that, they'd all sit and watch the sunset's light reflect off the snow. Zoya was getting antsy just thinking about it, but she couldn't show it, so she moved along to the next stall, a red one. The person on the other side of the counter stood out from the other sellers in two ways, he was younger, and a man. That could be dangerous. Zoya's training was extensive, but not yet complete. She continued to the next stall.
She started a conversation with an older lady behind a blue colored booth, but only got to talk for a minute before she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She turned her attention back to the man in the red stall. He was watching her, with a scowl on his face. Zoya ran through the probabilities of a few different scenarios, but calmed her mind with the realization that his eyes seemed unfocused. Something else was on his mind. Turning back to the woman, she tried to continue where they'd left off. She was still on edge, though, too many people around her to know who was staring. Too many to know who was a threat. She apologized to the lady behind the counter and excused herself, thinking it was almost time to meet up with her parents anyway.
The walk to the alley wasn't very long, so she took her time. She figured that looked less suspicious anyway. There was a young girl selling toys and Zoya briefly entertained the idea of buying one, but shoved the thought away and continued towards the meeting place. Her father calls toys distractions, says she has better ways to spend time than playing make believe. She supposes that's true, though a toy would be nice.
She was busy staring at the pastries and bread on the other side of Sasha's window when she felt a prickling on the back of her neck, the hairs standing up again. She turned her head slowly, so she didn't look as if she'd noticed her follower, and took in her surroundings. The man from the red stall stood by the toy booth, making conversation with the girl there. He hadn't seemed to be focusing on Zoya, but he was the only familiar person around. Panic gripped her lungs, she wasn’t trained enough to take him down, she wasn’t big enough. She had to hide.
Zoya entered the bakery and looked around, spotting a bathroom in the back. She made her way to the door and knocked. Counting down and rocking back on her heels, she waited. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. No response. As she opened the bathroom door, the bell above the entrance rang.
Her head whipped around, just in time for her to make eye contact with the man from the red stall.
The bathroom door slammed shut behind her and her eyes flitted over the room, scanning for an escape. There was a window just above the sink, big enough for her to slip through, small enough for anyone else to be stuck. She quickly locked the door before moving towards the sink. As she sized up her way out, a loud knock filled the room, followed by a deep voice,
"Miss Antonova, please come out. This will be much easier if you cooperate."
Multiple lines of thought raced through her head. How does he know me? What does he want? Should I know him? But she pushed them aside and turned to what she did know. She had to run. Getting on the sink was simple, now all she had to do was get the window open and get going. The sound of the window popping open was quickly followed by banging on the door, spurring Zoya forward. She wiggled through the opening and scrambled for something to reach for as she fell to the concrete.
Zoya came to with a deep breath in, but coughed immediately, expelling the snow she'd sucked in. Her head throbbed and she wondered if she'd fallen asleep by the pond again, the sound of moving water filling her ears. But, no, that didn't make sense, the waterfall didn’t run in the winter. Zoya's eyes flew open, only to be met with darkness. Suddenly, the earlier events of the day came rushing back. Goddamn it.
Panic crawled up her spine, settling heavily in her chest. How was she going to get out of this? Any reasonable thought seemed to have left, leaving only anxiety behind. But the feeling of cold water lapping at her feet grounded her. This, this she knew how to deal with. She slowed her breathing and moved her hands in their binding, trying to feel for something. Right behind her, there was a porcelain edge. She's in a bathtub? Weird. She tilted her head to listen for something besides the sound of the water. The possibility of incoming footsteps echoed through open air, causing the some of the panic from earlier to return. She tugged at her wrist's bindings and felt the wood of the chair give a little. That's good, broken wood can be a weapon in a pinch.
The footsteps drew closer, the way they reverberated around the room made Zoya picture nice shoes on a concrete floor. The wind brushing her face, and snow in the air, spoke of a large opened door.
The walking person stopped in front of the tub, the hair on the back of Zoya's neck stood up. She heard a grunt and fabric on the ground. Suddenly there were hands touching the back of her head, untying the blindfold. When it fell away, she was temporarily blinded, white light reflecting off the snow a sharp contrast to the near complete darkness from seconds ago. Her head pounded and she couldn't help but to close her eyes against the onslaught of brightness. The
short reprieve from pain was what she needed to ground her. Her eyes flew open and she quickly took in her surroundings. They were in a warehouse, open garage door to her left, snow drifting in on a breeze. The celling was high above their heads and everything echoed slightly. Her eyes finally landed on the person kneeling in front of her.
The man from the red booth looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed. His expression was almost... apologetic? She blinked, that couldn't be right. He frowned slightly and stood, letting out a groan as his knees straightened. He looked a bit sheepish, his cheeks coloring, and shrugged before speaking in the same deep voice that said her name outside the bathroom door,
"Honestly, my knees shouldn't be this bad for my age. It's probably all the grunt work they have me doing here," he was looking at his shoes and Zoya was struck by how young he seemed, her memories from earlier in the day painting him as much older.
She stared in stunned silence, not expecting him to say something like that. He shifted his weight and looked up at her again, as if waiting for a response. He chuckled a little before starting again,
"Uh, sorry, erm-" but Zoya cut him off with a sharp tone,
"Where am I? Who are you? Who do you work for? How did you know my name? Why did you take me here? Why am I tied up? Why is the water turned on? Why, Why am I in a bathtub!?"
Isaak wasn't sure what question to answer first, she sure asked a lot. He was nervous about this whole thing, to be honest. But, he needed the money and they said it would be simple. Capture Zoya Yolkina Antonova and keep her in the warehouse until her parents agreed to the terms. They told him she was quiet and small, a meek little girl who'd cry until her mamochka came to get her. Isaak thinks they underestimated her.
Her expression was sharp and her eyes so angry that Isaak briefly forgot that she was tied up and much smaller than him. I nagging feeling that this will end badly for him creeped into his mind and he spoke slowly when he said,
"I'm, uh, supposed to tip the chair if you get... um, unruly," she narrowed her eyes at him, "But, I think that I'm going to, just, uhh," as he stepped closer to the tub she flew into a flurry of motion. A crack sounded out through the open room and before Isaak could comprehend what was happening, she was hopping out of the tub, bringing her hands forward under her feet, and standing in his space. Her hands were tied together against a broken piece of wood, and she had maneuvered it so it was grasped in her right hand and pointed at his windpipe.
"I'm going to ask again; Where am I?"
"We're still in Lesnoy! Only two kilometers west from town! Please don’t kill me, I'm only nineteen!"
"And I'm twelve!"
"I wasn’t going to kill you!"
"And I won't kill you if you listen!"
Zoya was breathing hard, but Isaak was nearing hyperventilation. He nodded, and Zoya sighed,
"It's simple, sit in that chair and stay there for an hour. Don’t think about following me, because I'll know, and you won't get a second chance. That clear?" He nodded again, "Good."
She stepped back and observed Isaak until he was seated, then walked forward and held out her bound hands, Isaak reached up slowly and untied the knotted rope. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it and looked down. Zoya let out a long exhale,
"What is it?"
"Can you turn off the water?" She huffed and twisted the faucet until the water stopped. The warehouse was eerily quiet without the sound of the water, and Zoya listened for anything besides their breathing, smiling when nothing happened.
She turned to the door with no preamble, and sprinted, heart feeling too big for her chest. The snow met her soaked shoes and she ran east. The sun set behind her, reflecting off the snow.