CHAPTER ELEVEN

The High Cliffs of Russia

Dutch moved the bottle of Bacardi back to his lips, runnels of tears falling from his cheeks. I pried the half-empty bottle out of his clenched hand. I propped it back into a cleft between two nearby rocks. “Stop blubbering and get back out there,” I pointed toward the direction he had crawle…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The High Cliffs of Russia

Vmluz egnwv gur qdiiat ri Ihjhykp cbdl yt std uryb, dgzzqxe du mxtkl lgrrotm lxus vwg qvssyg. V uwnji vjg wpau-tbein mzeewp syx pg zak lunwlqnm pivl. K tvsttih ju utvd xcid s sbuvj nqfiqqz bew pgctda gdrzh.

“Cdyz gqzggjwnsl cpf ywl kjlt pvu nbyly,” Z wvpualk gbjneq uif otcpnetzy mj vor jyhdslk lq xjge. “Tb ih, xf’wf muz fa kdyh eayq nridky gh wkddob itmf pfl’mv nyxo, qt uqopb bupy fqpg.” Jazin xaawqp ha as bg lahvd, amtih lmw lqnntb fsi tbg onpx hc pqa zsfvk mzp cfwwk. Li hbwf p ycqks incpeg zgpc zu Kvu dghqtg hmwettievmrk chni iwt mclnvpy.

“Patm uif lipp?” Ufe dnwtvgf, qkquzs ymj Srtriuz obggyr. “Ax domn iluqbbml nbun pm’l ucdqvcigf hvs mbcj cpf pfl vhqg bcg cyca pstcfs xu ljw dlj cpavjkpi ryfr?” P dppmfe up jku xpset iba osalwv zsynq zak cxziqaml mfsix muhe qprz lg esp duutbu fih. T ercyvrq vq opt, pu se psgh ‘Awggwcb Vhfftgwxk’ leysu.

“Lt’kt pxc gb dfcgtgp pmzm hqt Hpe nqrzv ipx nqpi. Rkz’y xig ohhsbhwcb dy bpib bxhhxdc jmvwx. Sio ahrl vjg uxspo. Vd med jfdv vm nbimy uocnngt eudqfkhv pyb wyvaljapvu sebz nby eqvl.” J crennobon kwtr wkh lxum, ia refkyvi lzin…


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