19
Na Celné 1391/11, Prague, Czech Republic
November 28
Eva’s heel hit the ground, and for a moment she thought she had dropped two storeys unscathed.
But then her weight shifted, her foot slipped on slick ice, and before she could react, her head hit the pavement. Pain shot pink and bright blue streaks across her vision; she blinked rapidly to regain her sight. She gasped at the pain, closed her eyes again and held them shut so tight it felt like her brains might collapse from the pressure.
When she opened them again, she was floating, her arm wrapped over Pyotr’s shoulders, her feet grazing the ground like they were pretending to walk.
Shock set in, and she gripped into Pyotr’s neck and gasped. He pulled her against a cold wall in the darkness, pushed her back and looked at her with a panicked face.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear. She tried to calm herself, but her head was swimming and something about it didn’t seem real to her, and she shuddered, her head aching so intensely she had trouble seeing past it.
To her right, a street. She was in an alley she didn’t recognize, off a wide street without tire marks on it. Snow was melting from the buildings above, dripping down next to her, on her, and the tap, tap, tap of drops hitting puddles was mesmerizing. She almost didn’t hear the footsteps in the street, cautious and careful.
Pyotr put a hand down onto her stomach, pushed her back, and she fought against her delirium, kept herself still.
She saw the figure through the pain: Sobotka, silhouetted by streetlights, standing at the edge of the alley, peering in. She checked over her shoulder, then back towards them. Eva didn’t even breathe, heard her heartbeat in her ears, the sound of her head rubbing against brick.
Sobotka pointed a light into the alley… too far left, too far right, then she settled on a spot just ahead of them, so close the beam was blinding…
Water tapped, and Eva could hear Pyotr’s slow breathing beside her, and his hand was pressing so strong into her stomach it hurt. The light wavered slightly, darted quickly toward them, and then swung back, away, and Sobotka was gone.
Neither of them moved for a minute or more, and Eva put her hand on Pyotr’s, took hold and tried to move it so she could breathe again. The pain came flooding back to her head in the absence of fear, and she nearly collapsed. She looked to Pyotr, who was still watching the street nervously. He reluctantly pulled his gaze away, saw her, smiled.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Eva nodded, willing a calm facade.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “you saved me.”
They moved deeper into the alley, took a turn to the right, then a few turns more that Eva only noticed in the corners of her mind; the pain kept coming in waves up her neck and into her eyes.
They paused in a small deserted courtyard, a bench bolted to giant slabs of concrete. Empty, broken, wooden crates strewn everywhere. Eva smiled weakly at it, the refuge, and then promptly fell to her knees and vomited all over the slushy snow.
Pyotr ran to her side, rubbing her back and carefully leading her to the bench, helping her down. She felt another wave coming on, but swallowed, tried to see past the pain in her head.
“Concussion…” she wheezed, spitting bile into the snow.
Pyotr ran a hand across her cheek, looked nervous.
“You’re pale,” he said, uncertain, probing for answers beyond his reach. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried holding her breath.
“It’s going… to get… worse…” she gasped, and he gripped her hands tighter.
“Wait a second,” he said, rattling urgent fingers through his pockets. Eva doubled over and tried not to vomit again. She was counting to ten for the third time when he found them: two large, blue pills, dusted with lint.
“Take these,” he said gently.
She squinted, looked up at him, her vision laced with light and pain.
“W-w-what are they?”
He put the pills in her hand, and she squeezed them tight as another shot of nausea stunned her.
“It’s called Tezocet, I think. Painkillers. Um, anti-inflammatory something.”
She nodded slightly, the motion causing unbearable pain. With a quick motion, she shoved the pills into her mouth, swallowed, then pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to focus past the agony so she wouldn’t throw up again.
Pyotr was rubbing her back, gentle circles counter-clockwise, over and over… she felt the pain slide back, and she turned her head to him, opened her eyes, groggy.
“Working,” she said quietly.
He nodded, smiled.
“Where did you get those pills?” Eva asked, her vision not clearing but the pain almost a shadow of what it was.
Pyotr looked down at the snow, guilty.
“Maselle,” he said simply.
Somehow the cold was less frightening than it had been before, and Eva almost thought the sound of the wind on the rooftops above sounded muffled. Somehow off. She took a deep breath and her vision rippled with light.
“Painkillers working,” she slurred. “and strong…”
She fell into his arms, and he held her tight.
“Listen, Eva,” he said softly. “I know you and Rhodri had your differences, but…”
Eva’s vision was so blurry suddenly she couldn’t see her own legs beneath her, and the fuzzy shapes around her were shifting and turning, and she felt so dizzy and sleepy it was hard to listen ...
“Sometimes you don’t appreciate what you had till it’s too late,” she heard Pyotr say, but she didn’t really know what it meant anymore.
“I need to find my mama,” she sighed, and he caught her head as it fell backwards.
“Eva? Eva, can you hear me?”
Eva felt her eyes roll back in her head, and fell as if she were sinking into a snowy field, with Pyotr somewhere out in the sky, calling her back to him.