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“They’ve let us out for bathroom breaks before. We could ask for one later tonight and strike then.” A new plan formed inside her mind, and she focused on the ceiling to concentrate.
“They plan to guard us in shifts, so if we’re lucky, we’ll have one gunman to fight, instead of two,” Mark said.
“I’d prefer we face Dmitry rather than Sergey. Sick bastard.”
“Agreed. Also, Dmitry vomited today, which means he’ll be dehydrated and weaker.”
Discomfort furrowed her brow, and when she tried to arch her back, she flinched. “Doubt we’ll get a choice. All we need is enough time to hike those twenty kilometers to the highway.”
“Let me make sure they’re gone.” He checked the barred window, then jumped off the hay bale. Before turning in her direction, he brushed away random pieces of straw from his pants. “Then what?”
She hoisted herself up and paced the cell, taking a few steps forward, and then backward, like rehearsing a dance. “They’ll be armed, and if just one of them comes…” She paused to test the heavy wooden door. “I’ll say I’m sick and demand a bathroom break. When one of them opens the door, I’ll spray him. You grab him, throw him into the cell, then take away his weapons and phone. We get out, lock him inside, and run.”
“Well, it buys us time to escape, if our captor isn’t discovered missing right away.”
“Sure, best case. If two of them come, you’ve got my knife. You’re a surgeon and know how to disable someone, if needed.”
He opened his mouth to speak but fell silent.
At once, she stopped, and her concern escalated. They couldn’t afford an ounce of doubt; any hesitation could prove fatal. She grabbed his shoulder. “You must be prepared to use deadly force. You understand that, right?”
“I hate this. I’ve spent my life healing people.”
“I know, but here we are, and if we don’t fight, we die.” She recognized the resentment running through his voice, but doubt wasn’t an emotion she could tolerate right now. She needed to be certain he could take lethal action if necessary, or else their plan would fail. “Mark, you need to commit 100 percent. Any doubt could kill us. Are you ready?”
“We’re out of options.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Practice with me. Let’s master this sequence so we’re both ready.”
Together they mapped out where each of them would stand, with weapons ready, which hand signals to use, and how to maneuver to trap their captor. They pantomimed the ambush and rehearsed every footstep to memorize the cell’s space, as well as mapping the sequence of each motion for the first critical seconds.
“Can you move the hay bales away from the door, so we have more space?” While she waited, she inspected her pepper spray canister, double-checking it remained loaded and functional.
“I hear someone.” He grabbed her arm and raised a finger to his lips. They stopped practicing and waited to see which captor appeared. He leapt onto a hay bale by the door and peeked out the bars. “Ah, we’re in luck. Dmitry.”
“You ready?” Dress rehearsal was over, and she tightened her jaw. To squash her own doubts, she imagined her fears as innocuous objects she could store in tidy, sealed boxes in her mind’s attic and ignore forever.
“No choice, right?”
“Here we go. Give it your all.” Luck wouldn’t be enough to save them, and she didn’t believe in miracles. Survival depended on their courage alone, and she hoped they didn’t run short.
Chapter Six
Barn Battle
Perched on her tiptoes on top of a hay bale, Tess peered out their cell window and spied Dmitry entering the barn. Inside, she worked up her courage.
He carried the battered wooden chair from Yuri’s interrogation shed and a newspaper, blanket, and bottle of water. He placed the chair on the floor in plain view, about four yards away, and took a seat. Every time he shifted, the chair creaked from his weight. Engrossed in his reading, he flipped the crinkled pages, which rustled like falling leaves.
“Does he have a rifle?” Mark asked in a faint whisper.
“Yes, on the floor beside him, but he could have a gun in his pocket. He’s reading now,” she whispered. Adrenaline pumping, she hopped from the hay bale, ready to set their plan in motion. On impulse, she grabbed Mark’s hand and squeezed it. “Let’s go. Good luck.” Standing tall, she took a deep breath and crossed her fingers, hoping she’d trick Dmitry on the first try. “Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom.”
“No.” Dmitry didn’t glance up from his newspaper.
She scowled at Mark to express her frustration. “I’m going to be sick, and I need a toilet, bad. Please.” This time, she injected more panic into her request.
“She’s sick. Get her out of here,” Mark said.
