Beyond the Shadow of Night(72)

Save yourself, Asher told himself, save yourself, and he raced away into the woods, darting left and right as the gunfire continued behind him.



Fires blazed at every corner of the camp. Only the brick buildings were untouched. The prisoners had done their best to wreck the sturdy gas chamber block, but burning the wooden doors and dislodging a few bricks with grenades was hardly recompense for the deathly offenses against human decency inflicted there.

The door that they knew held the secret—the source of the killing fumes—was bombarded and battered, but personal freedom was more important, and soon they either escaped or were shot by guards.

Inside the engine house, one Mykhail Petrenko cowered in a dark corner behind the oily mass of the engine, in no doubt as to what was happening outside and what would happen to him should they break through. He’d been dragging the last of the victims out of the chambers when the fighting had started. He’d heard shots, then grenades, then seen guards shot by prisoners, and had run back into the safety of the engine room before the fires and major explosions started. He’d shoved everything movable—tables, tools, fuel containers—against the door to barricade himself in. He’d heard guards ordering him to open up, then heard gunfire, then heard the mob trying to break the door down.

Like a cornered animal, Mykhail sat in his own personal darkness, knees to chest, rocking his lonely figure, trembling and wide-eyed, and mumbling nonsense to himself.

By now the mob had left, and he could only hear the crackle and roar of an inferno, but in his head Mykhail still heard the voices demanding vengeance, telling him to open the doors, screaming that they would break them down and kill anyone inside.

He was to hear those voices for a long time.





Chapter 23

Parking lot, Allegheny County Jail, Pittsburgh, August 2001

Diane slumped into her seat, and slumped a little more before reaching for her seat belt. “Thanks,” she said.

“How’d it go this time?” Brad replied.

“Let’s just get out of this place,” she said, pointing to the exit.

They’d traveled a mile before either of them spoke again.

“Is everything good?” Brad asked.

He spoke as sympathetically as he always did when she was giving him the silent treatment. And she knew she was giving him the silent treatment right now, but felt powerless to do anything about it. As always, he accepted it, and it seemed to work, without either of them getting upset. He would just wait; she would eventually give in.

They stopped at a set of lights. She gave in.

“I’m going to live with Mother in Baltimore for a while,” she said. “I mean, in a few days, when I’m done listening to that murderer back there and done dealing with Father’s house.”

“Okay.”

She glanced right. “What does ‘okay’ mean?”

“It . . . it means it’s fine with me.” The lights changed and he set off again. “It’s just . . . I thought you might want to stop longer at my place, perhaps even make it permanent.”

“I need a bed in Pittsburgh while I sort out Father’s stuff, and I’m really grateful it’s yours, but eventually I’ll go stay with Mother.”

“And her new husband.”

“So she’s remarried. So what?”

“Nothing. But you know I’d like you to move in permanently—when you want to, that is. And there’s your job here to consider.”

“Screw my job.”

“All right. As long as you know the offer’s there. Just promise me you’ll consider it.”

“I am considering it—right now. And I’ve just told you, I’m . . .” She let out a long, frustrated breath. “Brad, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I’m grateful for all you’ve done, really, but I think I owe it to Mother.” They drove another few hundred yards before she continued. “I don’t expect you to understand, but we missed out on a lot of time together because of Father. And as for moving in with you permanently, thank you again. Perhaps one day. I don’t know. I’m a mess at the moment. You may have noticed.”

“Whatever works for you. It’s not a now-or-never offer. I could visit you and your mom in Baltimore at weekends—that is, if you’d like that.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “Hey, that’d be lovely. And I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass right now.”

“Hey, will you cut that out? You’ve had a hard time. Just do what you feel you have to. If you really want to move in with your mom, then move in with her. It’s not gonna kill me.” He grimaced. “Sorry. Unfortunate choice of words.”

Once Diane had given that some thought, it brought a smile to her lips, which brought a smile to his lips.

“I guess you’d like to know what just happened back there?” she said.

They stopped at another set of lights, and he looked to the right. “You don’t need to tell me the details, just whether it was worth it.”

“Worth it?”

“Did he tell you what you wanted to know?”

“Hmm . . .” She pursed her lips tightly.

“I’m guessing he didn’t, right?” Still he got no answer, so he said, “On the other hand, if you’d rather not tell me anything at all . . .”