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I pause. There is no one else in the cabin. I walk around looking for Arseny, but he must have gone outside.
I rush to the back door and try to exit, but it’s dead-bolted closed. I go to the windows to try to lift them, but they won’t budge. I try everything I can to get them to open, including throwing one of the bar stools at them. It doesn’t even scratch the windows. They must be bulletproof.
I rush over to the front door and tug and push at it. I go back and try running into it, but that just hurts my shoulder. Still, I try it again, determined to get out now that there’s hope. I try again and cry out in pain.
I try to find something to pick the lock with or anything to get out, but there’s nothing in the cabin. I grab a kitchen knife. Maybe I can fight my way out of here. No, no, I put it down. That’s stupid. The man is an expert with knives. He’ll not only disarm me, but he’ll probably skin my face off or something.
I hear a bolt slide back and reach for the rope Arseny left on the table. As he opens the door, dressed in black with his face painted dark, he looks at me as I tie the rope around my waist.
He stands there for a moment before I say, “The pants were too big, and I don’t have clean underwear.”
“You could say you’re in my pants. No need to hide it.” It’s a tease, but the way he looks right now has me frightened.
“I’m going to cuff you to the wall while I go shower and get the blood and paint off me. Then we can get some sleep.” He leads me to the wall with the thick pipe and slips the chain around it before he cuffs both my hands. “I promise I won’t be long.”
I nod. “It’s fine. I understand.”
He looks at the toppled bar stool I didn’t pick up. “Good thing I reinforced the windows.” He walks to the bathroom without a backward glance.
He’s covered in blood? Did my father’s men find me? Did they try to rescue me before Arseny went all GI Joe on them? Is there hope they’ll still find me? Someone has to know about this place, someone other than Arseny’s stupid guard.
After the water turns off, there’s a moment of silence in the cabin, and I shiver. The fire is dying, and the cabin is getting cooler. Still, Arseny comes out dressed only in clean briefs, wiping his face with a towel.
He sees me shivering and goes to the fire, stacking up the wood. “That should see us through the night.” He blows on the fire so that the wood catches alight, and it’s almost an instant relief that washes over me.
He uncuffs my one hand and re-cuffs his so we’re bound together again.
“Bedtime,” he says with a yawn.
“Whose blood were you covered in?” I ask as I follow him to the bed. He doesn’t answer as we climb in, and I build my pillow fort again.
He shuts the light off, and we get as comfortable as we can.
“Don’t worry about the blood. It isn’t anyone you’re close to.” He sighs afterward, and I can’t keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted from all the excitement from today.
I doze off, and the next thing I know, I wake up to find Arseny out of bed and the front door open. I hurriedly get up and walk toward it. As I’m about to reach it, the smell of blood overpowers me. I stop and peek around the corner on the porch, and looking back at me, I see a dead deer. I recoil as Arseny steps out from the side of the cabin with something wrapped up in his hands.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Good morning,” I say back.
“I trust you won’t run away while I skin my friend here. I run faster than you and thought you’d like some fresh air.” He motions to the chair he’s brought out. It’s in the corner where I can’t easily just jump over and run. I nod and sit there, unsure of what I should say.
He unrolls the bundle he’s carrying, and I see the knives.
This guy and knives!
I cross my legs under me and watch as he picks up a knife and sharpens it on a stone. I bet if I tried to run away, he could throw a knife pretty accurately into my back.
I’d rather not test that theory.
“You went to hunt deer last night? That’s whose blood was on you?” I ask.
“Yup, I needed to release some pent-up frustration, and I needed to clear my head. The best way for me to do that is to stalk some prey and take it out. I don’t believe in wasting, though, so I thought I’d skin our friend here and use the meat for food. Most of the meat I’ll send to the butchery, but some nice steaks could come from this.” He looks up at me before he leans down. I watch as he makes his cuts and starts to separate the flesh from the skin.
“I don’t know of anywhere close to Vegas where you’re allowed to hunt,” I comment, hoping he’ll give me a clue of where we are.
“Well, firstly, I don’t play by the rules, and secondly, this is a black-tail deer. They’re not endangered. I would never hunt an endangered species.”
