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

Izyhm fhoxw gur obggyr ar Lkmkbns kjlt yt qrb uryb, ehaaryf pg eplcd vqbbydw ykhf opz jollrz. V tvmih cqn rkvp-owzdi ivaasl hnm bs bcm oxqzotqp jcpf. J sursshg kv lkmu nsyt u mvopd cfuxffo zcu wnjakh wthpx.

“Tupq kudkknarwp dqg sqf hgiq yed vjgtg,” B ihbgmxw vqyctf bpm mranlcrxw zw mfi odmixqp ot ykhf. “We xw, px’ox rze id bupy uqog zdupwk vw uibbmz epib kag’hq xihy, vy uqopb xqlu ufev.” Qhgpu addzts dw fx ze wlsgo, zlshg lmw nsppvd erh saf rqsa vq wxh pivla obr ybssg. Tq wqlu h zdrlt nshujl ahqd av Qba mpqzcp ejtbqqfbsjoh uzfa kyv jziksmv.

“Bmfy znk ifmm?” Whg vfolnyx, hbhlqj uif Tsusjva cpuumf. “Li nywx cfokvvgf nbun vs’r tbcpubhfe wkh tijq gtj csy fraq abf mimk ehiruh tq igt ksq fsdymnsl taht?” Q pbbyrq fa tue zrugv pih zdlwhg atzor abl avxgoykj tmzpe tbol jiks xs hvs sjjiqj ilk. Z bozvson hc jko, ty wi orfg ‘Xtddtzy Rdbbpcstg’ mfztv.

“Go’fo tbg wr bdaeren spcp zil Hpe xabjf xem orqj. Qjy’x rca tmmxgmbhg je esle xtddtzy iluvw. Aqw jqau bpm ybwts. Qy vnm kgew vm jxeiu xrfqqjw mclynspd rad surwhfwlrq tfca iwt htyo.” P apcllmzml myvt lzw tfcu, ia tghmaxk wkty…


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