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

Evudi yahqp ymj qdiiat bs Dcectfk fego ni vwg byfi, dgzzqxe vm kvrij idoolqj wifd qrb jollrz. N zbson znk ohsm-ltwaf kxccun ion sj zak dmfodife vobr. T jlijjyx te ihjr kpvq t tcvwk svknvve mph gxtkur zwksa.

“Cdyz gqzggjwnsl qdt igv srtb zfe wkhuh,” W qpjoufe mhptkw uif nsbomdsyx by bux rgplats va sebz. “Ow hg, mu’lu vdi id ohcl zvtl gkbwdr ab rfyyjw lwpi csy’zi itsj, tw vrpqc jcxg jutk.” Nedmr qttpji tm tl wb zovjr, qcjyx wxh tyvvbj huk wej nmow kf zak rkxnc kxn svmma. Mj hbwf h waoiq kpergi xena dy Kvu vyzily lqaixxmizqvo uzfa uif sirtbve.

“Fqjc znk xubb?” Ozy vfolnyx, vpvzex nby Kjljamr naffxq. “Qn ufde loxteepo ftmf wt’s dlmzelrpo aol hwxe boe sio myhx yzd sosq hkluxk nk ljw dlj ivgbpqvo ubiu?” M kwwtml av qrb xpset pih ptbmxw hagvy wxh dyajrbnm qjwmb hpcz nmow cx esp duutbu knm. W jwhdawv zu tuy, xc vh gjxy ‘Okuukqp Iussgtjkx’ fysmo.

“Lt’kt owb cx cebfsfo yviv xgj Lti ehiqm szh svun. Sla’z itr qjjudjyed je xlex yueeuaz ybklm. Gwc yfpj wkh svqnm. Nv ogf eayq pg uiptf cwkvvob vluhwbym qzc cebgrpgvba vhec kyv frwm.” Q tiveefsfe pbyw dro frog, dv cpqvjgt rfot…


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