Page 109 of Bad Bishop
It amazed Tiernan that Alex did not see anything amiss about their friendship. That he was able to buy into this unlikely bond, considering his father killed Tiernan’s mother and snatched him from his home.
Then again, Tyrone did the same to Alex’s mother when he was but a newborn.
“I need the code to the entrance gate,” Tiernan said dryly.
Alex brought the match to the cigarette’s tip, lighting it before shaking out the flame. “Do you, now?”
“Yes.”
“You guys are leaving me?” He took a drag, releasing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“We want to take dips in the water.”
“When?”
“Whenever we want. Tierney’s depressed.” Not a lie. “She needs an outlet after what happened with her surgery.”
Alex considered this.
“Can I come?”
“Sure.”
“Then what do you need the code for?”
“We want to come and go as we please. Not depend on you. Besides, you’re not always here.”
Lyosha mulled this over.
“And you promise you won’t leave me here?”
“I promise,” Tiernan lied.
It wasn’t the first or the last lie he would tell, but it was by far the most justifiable.
“I won’t forgive you if you betray me.” Alex snuffed out the cigarette in an ashtray. His hands shook.
“I wouldn’t, either.”
“I love you,” Alex said dejectedly. His eyes met Tiernan’s. “Like a brother. More than a brother, maybe. Because you are a choice. Slava and Jeremie aren’t.”
“I won’t leave you, Lyosha,” Tiernan said softly. “Not ever. You can trust me.”
Alex gave him the code.
The next morning, the twins were gone.
_______
Four days later, they were in Yakutsk.
The journey was a blur of frostbite and darkness.
He and Tierney took turns driving Olga’s old Lada Niva. Tierney spiked a fever the night they escaped but deliriously kept on going, unwilling to stop for more than getting gas. They peed into empty bottles of water. Ate and slept in turns.
When they rolled into the city, they sold the car to the first salesman they found. They held the rubles in their hands with shaky, uncertain fingers. They’d never seen money before.
It was nine in the morning, and too soon to wait for Dima, so they entered an eatery. There, they ordered eggs and ham and roasted tomatoes and mushrooms and kasha and butterbrots. Coffee and tea and sugared cranberries, too. After paying, they rushed outside to vomit everything they’d eaten. Their stomachs were too small for a hearty breakfast.
