Swimming Electric Blue Water. Samantha Holmes

far more than any trip.

      The phone at Grigori’s rang twice before his wife answered.

      “Hello, Helena. It’s Ingra. I just wanted you to know that Yuri has already left for the pool and that Grigori can bring the baby home.”

      “He isn’t home yet, love. He probably went to a movie. Congratulations on the wedding! I’m so sorry I missed it!”

      “It was very nice, but short. We will all be able to celebrate after the race.”

      “Yes, Grigori is so excited. He is sure Yuri is going to win.”

      “Well, let him know where Yuri is when he gets home. Feel better soon. Do you need anything?”

      “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Bye, bye, Mrs. Konikov.”

      Ingra hung up the phone. It was very quiet in the apartment. She almost wished her neighbors were talking or had their music up loud. She walked over to the television then sat down on the couch. She still couldn’t believe that she was married today.

      • • •

      Yuri was alone in the pool. A dull light shone down from the main building where a night watchman made his rounds. An icy fog haloed the few outdoor lights that weren’t even strong enough to illuminate the pool, making the water look like black tar. Yuri felt better and better with each stroke, going faster with each successive lap until he was only aware of pushing off after each turn. He swam seventy laps before leaving the pool. He was not tired, but he was anxious to go home. Odd that Grigori had not come. Maybe, he thought Yuri was not dedicated enough to leave his new bride’s side. Yuri planned to tease him about that tomorrow.

      The night air was bitingly cold. Body heat steamed as he walked over to his towel and clothes. He dried and dressed quickly, and then headed to the gate. The noise from the watchman’s television filtered out of his small booth.

      “Comrade Konikov! Comrade Konikov!” the watchman yelled at him from the building entrance. Yuri waited for him to walk over.

      “There is a message for you.”

      “From Grigori?”

      “It doesn’t say on the envelope. I found it by your towel and took it in so it wouldn’t get wet. The news said it might snow again.” He handed the envelope to Yuri.

      “Thank you.”

      Yuri opened the envelope and a clump of blond hair fell out. He reached down and picked it up off the slushy snow. It was soft and smelled of bubblegum shampoo. He quickly pulled the note out. It read:

      Be at 6600 B Markovo at 12:30 A.M. Come alone or the child dies.

      Yuri’s hand went to his chest as it seized with fear. He looked at his watch. It read 12:05 A.M. He didn’t have time to think of what to do, only to run as fast as he could. He sprinted through the gate and down the ice-coated roads.

      • • •

      Ingra had been waiting for Yuri to come home. She had made the bed, eaten some fruit, taken a shower, and watched some forgettable programs on the Corporate television station full of so many advertisements that it was almost unwatchable. She could not afford the independent stations. Ironically, only Corporate employees had the money to avoid their own commercials. It was 12:15 A.M. when the phone rang. She answered it, thinking it was Grigori finally calling to say Anna had fallen asleep on their couch. The voice on the line was hardly recognizable — it was Helena. Her sobs and groans made it almost impossible to understand. Panicking herself, Ingra tried to calm Helena, shushing her as if she were a child stung by a bee. Ingra heard the words “police,” “hospital,” and “Grigori” and tried to make sense of it.

      “Is Grigori sick? Hurt?”

      “He’s … dead. Oh, my husband! Grigori, Grigori. Oh God, no!”

      “Where’s Anna?!” The terror grabbed Ingra by the throat and didn’t let go. “Where’s Anna!?” Ingra was screaming now.

      “I don’t know,” Helena sobbed, gasping for breath.

      Ingra hung up the phone, grabbed her boots and coat, and ran out of the apartment. She was crying and sobbing “No!” over and over again. Yuri, she had to get to Yuri. He would bring Anna home and make everything all right.

      • • •

      Markovo was in the warehouse district. No one lived there except for a few homeless people who would occasionally break into abandoned buildings to avoid the cold. Yuri ran 8 kilometers, arriving at 12:28 A.M., exhausted. His head pounded and his knees were weak as he pulled open the large door to 6600 B. Rats scurried away as the door screeched open. There were fresh scrape marks on the concrete. Yuri made his way out into the center of the warehouse. His breath was returning, although the cold, dry air burned in his chest, and his mind raced like his heart.

      They want to scare me. They probably want me to leave the running for the Olympics. That’s okay; there are other races. Just let Anna be all right. They wouldn’t hurt a baby. God, if she’s hurt, oh Lord….

      The door slammed shut behind him. A low, evil laughter came from different locations all around him.

      “Where is my sister?” he yelled.

      It was very dark with the door shut. Only a single streak of light from a street lamp came in through a high window, illuminating a small patch of ground. Yuri moved toward it, trying to gain some comfort from it.

      He heard footsteps and some mumbles. Were there two people… more?

      “Yuri… Yuri… over here…” said a voice, taunting.

      Was that Saviar? Even in a whisper, the voice registered.

      “Do you want me out of the race? Is that it?” Yuri shouted, bolder than he felt. “I can do that, but you must promise to let my sister go.”

      More laughter and footsteps and bangs seemed to come from everywhere. There were more than two of them.

      “I can see you, can you see me?” Biskovich’s voice again, Yuri was certain.

      “Come out, you cowards! I told you what you want to hear.”

      A figure stepped toward him, but it was hard to make out who it was. He was wearing something on his face, like goggles that glowed green.

      “You wanted to see me, you piece of shit,” Saviar’s voice was like a growl. “Go ahead, Dog, let’s get it started.”

      Yuri thought the comment was directed at him, but immediately, a man behind him responded with a vicious strike to Yuri’s back near his kidneys, throwing him forward. Yuri yelled in pain, staggering to stay on his feet. There were more men surrounding him, emerging from the shadows like nightmares. Some brought clubs made of found pipes or wood. A glint of a knife flashed.

      Blows rained down from every direction. Yuri’s chance of defending himself decreased with each strike. When there was a pause in the beatings, Yuri fell forward and curled into a fetal position to guard his head. More blows landed, smashing his ribs, breaking his arms, and bursting his spleen and kidneys. He felt the knife cut him, slashing at his arms to get to his chest.

      “That’s it! Hit him harder!”

      Yuri heard Saviar chanting at them. Soon, he felt very little. He could still hear the ringing in his ears, mixed with their muddled voices.

      “Is he dead? He sure looks it. God, I’m going to be sick,” said a familiar voice.

      Yuri held his breath, but that hurt. He was wet. For a moment, he thought he was in the pool, and they were finally heating the water.

      “Biskovich, you wimp,” Micki said.

      “Fuck you, Micki!” Biskovich snapped back.

      “If he’s not, he will be soon,” Dog commented.

      “What should we do with the little brat?” Saviar