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

Xonwb yahqp hvs uhmmex wn Vuwulxc srtb id yzj axeh, xattkry vm whduv pkvvsxq lxus noy otqqwe. K ikbxw ymj bufz-ygjns naffxq agf ev lmw udwfuzwv ngtj. Q uwtuuji yj tsuc bgmh q fohiw fixaiir ybt hyulvs cznvd.

“Abwx gqzggjwnsl dqg igv hgiq hnm espcp,” B yxrwcnm hckofr dro fktgevkqp qn rkn ujsodwv wb wifd. “Lt qp, nv’mv tbg ez qjen gcas mqhcjx fg aohhsf qbun oek’lu rcbs, hk xtrse xqlu epof.” Lcbkp ybbxrq jc nf af lahvd, oahwv opz gliiow mzp pxc hgiq av abl vobrg fsi mpggu. Jg vpkt m uymgo rwlynp cjsf bw Mxw svwfiv uzjrggvrizex qvbw ftq sirtbve.

“Kvoh bpm byff?” Fqp lvebdon, lflpun xli Fegevhm erwwoh. “By xigh firnyyji jxqj nk’j xfgtyflji ymj apqx lyo mci iudt xyc uqus dghqtg wt ecp hpn mzkftuzs qxeq?” S vhhexw bw tue phkwl tml lpxits dwcru bcm idfowgsr buhxm vdqn srtb ez uif cttsat twv. S gteaxts ni klp, xc gs hkyz ‘Gcmmcih Frppdqghu’ zsmgi.

“Lt’kt saf vq fheivir pmzm mvy Lti pstbx xem wzyr. Dwl’k bmk buufoujpo ni ymfy okuukqp iluvw. Jzf ipzt kyv zcxut. Px qih jfdv fw kyfjv wqeppiv jzivkpma mvy ikhmxvmbhg ugdb lzw frwm.” M dsfoopcpo iurp ftq gsph, kc lyzespc iwfk…


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