Page 24 of Deadfall

We practiced until my fingers tingled and my hands were sore, but as we walked back to the house, I felt something expand within me. I had hobbies when I was younger—interests that pulled me back day after day, but this felt deeper, more like a calling.

Because of my trauma, it surprised me, but then again, it shouldn’t have. Even though my dad had only taken us shooting a few times, I’d eagerly awaited the day I’d be old enough to go on his annual hunting trip. I’d grown up looking at pictures of him in the military, and had heard some of the tamer stories of his past. Going to the range and hunting would have been something that we bonded over.

The loss of that hurt. There was not a doubt in my mind this would have been something he and I shared. While that drove a knife of grief into my chest, it also made me want to throw my entire being into training. I wanted to make him proud, even if he wasn’t here to see it.

13

EMERSYN

Age 13

The weeks passed and the snow fell more frequently. Deep drifts made doing anything outside a hassle, combined with the way the cold seeped through every layer I put on, it made going outside miserable. We kept to the cabin more, although Sacha did head out for a few hours each day to check the trap lines and to ice fish, while I spent time in the mornings chopping and piling wood.

If I’d been worried I’d grow bored staying inside all winter, that notion was quickly squashed because Sacha was endless in his ideas on how to keep me busy. He changed up my workouts—which weren’t as fun indoors, but I made do. It was the same with the indoor gun range—everything was too loud—but I still practiced relentlessly and enjoyed it more each day.

Sacha also implemented a classroom time, where we sat at the kitchen table or in front of the fire for hours and discussed tactical scenarios, strategy, and laid the foundation for the sniper training I would go through in the spring.

In the evenings, we sat in front of the fire and read from his library. It was nothing compared to the one I was held captive in, but he still managed to have a few titles I hadn’t read before—in both English and Russian. On other occasions, he’d have me practice my Russian by reading aloud, or he’d make me speak it for the entire day. I always knew if it was a Russian day by how he addressed me in the mornings. If it was in Russian, he wouldn’t acknowledge anything I said in English. At first, it was frustrating because my vocabulary was limited and I couldn’t remember how to conjugate verbs, but with his grumbled corrections, I soon overcame those shortcomings.

Tonight, it happened to be one of those evenings. I’d spoken Russian all day and chosen a book in Russian. There was a scene about Christmas that made me realize I didn’t have a clue what the date was. It had to be close to Christmas. I looked up from my book.

“What’s the date today?” I asked him in Russian.

Sacha peered at me from over the top of his own book, his brow furrowed in thought.

“December 20th.”

My eyes widened. “You mean it’s almost Christmas and you didn’t tell me?”

Sacha frowned. I had switched to English, the Russian forgotten in my excitement.

“Can I decorate a tree? Please? Nothing too big, I promise.”

I tried to dampen my fervor but Christmas had always been my favorite holiday. Cole would help me find the biggest tree and then my Dad would chop it down. We’d take it home and my Mom would make hot chocolate while we all—

My face fell as the memories assaulted me. They hit so hard I couldn’t breathe. I looked back down at my book. Sacha’s silence probably meant I couldn’t have a tree. I told myself I had to be okay with that.

“We’ll go in the morning.”

I looked up in shock, but he’d already gone back to reading. The smile that took over my face had him scowling at the pages, but I knew it was all for show. I said “thank you” in Russian and went back to my book, but my smile didn’t go away—even when I went to bed that night.

The next morning, I bolted out of bed and threw on clothes as quickly as I could. Sacha was in the kitchen, sipping his morning coffee. He watched me pull on boots and hover near the door, where I bounced on the balls of my feet impatiently.

“If we go now, the wood still needs to be chopped, and your workout done before you decorate it. Understood?”

I nodded frantically, willing to agree to just about anything with how excited I was. Sacha pulled his boots on and tossed me a hat and scarf. Once outside, he pulled a sled behind us and pointed off across the meadow.

“There’s a stand of trees out that way.”

I led the way with Fang as he bounded through the drifts and showered snow in his enthusiasm. Despite the forest being shades of white, grey and muted greens I thought it was the most beautiful I’d ever seen it.

We reached the stand of trees and I carefully inspected each one. Sacha stood patiently by the sled as I rejected tree after tree. After he watched me frown at the sixth one, he cleared his throat to draw my attention.

“What’s the matter?”

I turned away from him and pretended to inspect another one, but really it was to hide the tears that abruptly choked me. Sacha’s footsteps crunched through the snow as he walked over and stood next to me. When I looked up, he didn’t need to speak, I saw the question in his eyes.

“Cole would always help me,” I said quietly.