Nadya’s Nights: Road to Vengeance
Night One: A Hard Night’s Work
Chapter Six: Language Barriers
by Indy McDaniel
Copyright © 2009 Indy McDaniel
Nadya awoke suddenly.
She was lying in a small bed with a thick wool blanket pulled over her. The room she was in was dark. She glanced around, trying to see through the shadows. A barrage of feelings struck her at once. Her wounded arm throbbed, as did her back. Dragging her able hand from her side up to her shoulder, she also realized she was nude. At least from the waist upwards.
She felt anger flare up inside her at the thought of someone undressing her while she was unconscious. She felt the bandage around her wounded shoulder briefly then reached down to confirm she was still wearing panties. She started to push herself up, holding the blanket to her chest, looking around for her clothes. Pain streaked up her back and she let out an involuntary yelp, falling back onto the bed. She lay there, trying to push the pain away but it was being persistently stubborn.
Across the room, a door opened, letting light spill into the room and reveal some of its secrets. Nadya looked and saw what seemed to be a more or less clean and well-stocked bachelor pad. She spotted the silhouette of a man entering the room and she tensed, bringing the blanket closer to her chest and trying to look for something she could use as a weapon. The door closed again and the man moved further into the room, clicking on a lamp by the wall.
The light allowed Nadya to get a better look at his face and she recognized him as the man that had answered the door to the apartment. The doctor Vladimir had sent her to.
That explained the bandages on her arm. But not why she was mostly naked.
Her eyes narrowed and she spoke in a low, cool voice in her native language. “Where are my clothes?”
The man gave her a blank look.
She tried again in heavily accented English and he seemed to understand better.
“I had to remove them to treat your wounds,” he told her, also speaking English, although his voice held a German accent. He sat in a chair across from the bed, looking over at her. “I’m afraid the shirt is ruined. The jacket will need mending.”
“My pants, my boots?” she asked, hostility filling her voice. “My bra? What were wrong with them?” She tried sitting up again, giving him an accusing glare.
The man raised a hand to try and calm her. “You shouldn’t move much. You may have internal injuries.” The pain in her back was too much to remain in a semi-elevated position so she slumped back into the bed again. But her glare remained locked on him. He seemed to relax a bit when she lay back down. “I had my assistant, Greta, remove your clothes. I wasn’t in the room. She’s going to fetch you something clean to wear now.”
Nadya’s hostile look faded slightly. But only slightly. She wasn’t sure how much she could trust this doctor. “But you bandaged me?”
“I only looked at what I had to,” he responded, meekly. He looked very young for a doctor and Nadya guessed he was probably a student. Part of her mind saw him as attractive but it was mostly a label applied to his aesthetics. She wasn’t interested in him sexually. But compared to the assholes she had fought in the pub earlier, he was much easier on the eyes. His behavior was a bit odd to her.
Almost shy.
She was used to much more firm people. Their opinions were their opinions and if you disagreed you’d better be ready to put up your fists or get knocked to the ground. He seemed much mellower. She figured that would make him a better doctor.
“You really should go to a hospital. I don’t have the right equipment here to treat you properly. I was able to give you blood, but if you’ve suffered internal damage, there’s not much I can do here.”
Nadya shook her head. “No hospital. Not unless Vladimir says so.” Either this ‘doctor’ hadn’t been working for Vladimir for long or he was just stupid. Taking her to a hospital would more then likely cost her life instead of save it. The police would be looking for her by now, or someone at least.
Anyone admitted to a local hospital with a gunshot wound would fit the bill nicely. Not to mention, anyone related to the woman she’d killed would also be pretty angry with her. She wondered if there were any other monsters working for the dead woman that would be hungry for revenge.
Nadya still wasn’t entirely sure what the deal with that thing had been but it was disturbing and she had a shuddering suspicion that she’d gotten very lucky in defeating it. Thinking back to the encounter was only making her heart pound faster in her chest so she turned her thoughts to other things. “The car,” she stated abruptly.
The man looked up at her, confused.
The Russian girl looked over at him. “The car I came here in. You have to get rid of it. Hide it. If it’s found outside, they’ll come looking for me.”
The man stood and looked down at her. “I’ll take care of it,” he told her reassuringly then turned and headed back to the door he’d entered through. He stopped as he opened it and looked back at her. “I’m Ulbrecht, by the way.”
“Nadya,” she responded.
The man nodded. “I know.” He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Nadya laid back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her arm and back were still throbbing but somehow she managed to close her eyes and drift off into a somewhat restless slumber.
The sound of the door opening again brought Nadya back into consciousness and she looked over to see a young woman entering the room. She had blonde hair similar to Nadya’s, but her shoulders were wider and she had more weight on her. She looked over at Nadya with shyness and held up a stack of clothes, bringing them over to the bed and setting them down for her.
Nadya thanked the girl and started to sit up, finding the pain in her back somewhat more bearable if she moved slowly. Sliding her legs off the bed to sit on the edge, she still held the blanket to her naked chest, looking up at Greta. The woman looked back, a blank expression on her face. After a moment she got the hint and turned around, looking the other way.
Nadya dropped the blanket and reached over for the stack of clothes. They were a few sizes too large for her and she assumed the articles came from Greta’s personal wardrobe. She wasn’t going to complain though. No bra in the stack, so she worked the baggy shirt over her head before slowly sliding her bandaged arm through and finally her good arm.
Pushing the blanket further off her and revealing her pale legs and black panties, Nadya grabbed the equally baggy jeans, slid them on and fastened them. Under the pants she found a belt that, thankfully, was more suited to her smaller size. Sliding it through the loops of the jeans, she tightened the belt to the point that it would keep the pants from dropping off of her as soon as she stood up.
Nadya spotted her boots sitting beside the bed. Her socks were tucked inside. She reached down and pulled the socks out, lifting one leg to rest on her knee as she slid the fabric over her foot. She switched legs and did the same with the second sock.
Greta turned around again as Nadya was starting to lace up her boots. She seemed alarmed at the Russian girl’s movements to leave the apartment. “No no, you can’t go,” the young woman spoke in German. “You’re not in any shape to leave.”
Nadya only knew a few words in German.
Mostly curses.
‘Nein’ was one of the words she did know, however, and she looked up at the woman. “I’ll be fine,” she said, trying her accented English out on her as well, hoping that she’d catch on like Ulbrecht had. Nadya sighed when she didn’t, and kept on speaking in German. Her words came more rapidly and made it impossible for Nadya to follow along at all.
“You can’t leave,” Greta said to the Russian girl, shaking her head emphatically. “You’re not well. You must rest. I won’t let you leave. You have to stay until Ulbrecht gets back, at least.”
Nadya did recognize Ulbrecht’s name.
She sat on the edge of the bed, boots half-laced. Letting out another sigh, she slid her feet back out of the combat boots. “Fine,” she said in Russian, figuring there was no point in continuing with English since the cow of a girl didn’t speak it. “I’ll wait for Ulbrecht.”
She lay back onto the bed, slowly to keep her back from screaming in pain at her. She hoped it wouldn’t take the young doctor-in-training long. Even if he wouldn’t let her go, at least she’d be able to talk to someone in a language she actually understood.
