The Soul Stealer

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 then suddenly, she came to a stop.

Blackness came for her.

“A NNJA !”

Her head pounded.

“Not so loud. I believe she has a concussion.”

“Annja.” The first voice was softer now.

Annja blinked, saw the bright light of the gray sky and closed her eyes again, groaning as she did so.

“Annja. Can you hear me?” Bob’s voice sounded as if he might break out sobbing at any moment.

“Unfortunately,” she mumbled.

She heard Gregor chuckle. “Is good sign. She has sense of humor. That tells me she is not too badly broken.”

Annja opened her eyes again. “Speak for yourself. I feel like crap.”

Gulliver shook his head. “My God, when you went over the side of the hill…I thought you were a goner.”

“So did I,” she said.

Gregor frowned. “You should be dead.”

Annja smirked. “That was subtle.”

He held up his hands. “Forgive me, it’s just that you fell so far it is truly a marvel that you are still alive.”

Bob moved away and nodded for Gregor to move in closer. “Check her for broken bones, will you?”

“Hey—” Annja protested.

Bob held up his hand. “Annja, please. Humor me, will you? Gregor has some medical training and knows how to look for these things.”

Annja felt Gregor put his hands behind her neck and then feel his way down the center of her back, pause briefly at her buttocks, and then continue down her legs. Then he ran his hands down her arms and finally peered into her eyes.

“Having fun?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No broken bones.”

Gulliver whistled. “That’ll be one hell of a way to start this show off. A dramatic reenactment of you tumbling over the side of the cliff and then emerging unscathed.”

Annja tried to sit up, but Gregor held her down. “Not yet. Too soon. You rest a few minutes.” He held a water bottle to her lips and Annja took a sip of the cold liquid.