The Soviet Comeback by Jamie Smith (best ereader for academics TXT) 📕

watchfully waiting. He then carried out a quick reconnaissance of the property’s perimeter. Using the scope on his sniper he scanned the surrounding area but there was no sign of life and all was deathly quiet. Almost too quiet.

He returned to the front door and entered discreetly. His family were all ready and waiting. Their outfits were a range of colours, all of which would stand out like sore thumbs on the glistening white tundra, but it couldn’t be helped on such short notice.

“Is everybody ready?” he asked, and they cheered, Milena’s eyes looking full of excitement. He reminded himself that he was the only person other than his parents that she would have seen for many years, aside from whoever delivered them their food.

“OK. Part of the adventure is that we have to go as quickly and as quietly as we can round the left of the hill. It will not be easy going away from the track.”

“Daddy says we should never leave the track.”

“Normally Daddy is completely right, but today is a very special day for a very special adventure!” Nikita said. “Now I need you to all follow me in single file once we leave the izba, understood?”

They all nodded. Gabriel’s eyes were an unreadable combination of fire and sadness, while Sophie’s face was set with a determination that could not disguise the intense fear. “We are right behind you, Niki,” she said encouragingly.

Nikita threw open the door and stepped outside. As he did, he heard the sound of broken glass in an upstairs window.

CHAPTER 28

As he heard the gunshot to the upstairs window, Nikita turned to see his mother coming out behind him and screamed, “MOTHER, TURN BACK!”

She looked down at him with alarm just as he heard the terrible crack of a rifle echo across the valley and he dived at her, as Gabriel grabbed her with a giant hand, and together they propelled her back into the cottage.

Nikita had barely landed before he had slammed the door shut with his foot and leapt onto his feet.

He had dropped the Makarov in the fall and bent over to pick it up. That was when he saw the blood on the cream carpet and his heart froze. He looked up to his mother, just as his father released a heart-wrenching wail that came from the depths of his soul.

Sophie Allochka was lying in her husband’s arms, a benign smile forever fixed on her face. That gentle, kind face was blemished in death by a bullet wound just above her left eye.

Gabriel Allochka was covered in blood and rocking with his wife in his vast arms, his eyes closed, a gentle giant.

Milena, pale and wide-eyed ran to her mother and started shaking her. “Mama! MAMA!” she cried, her small fists beating on the now silent chest of her mother.

Nikita ran over, everything seeming a blur. He pulled Milena up and hugged her tightly, and felt the tears coming. The tears he had buried for so many years. He had failed.

Another gunshot through an upstairs window brought him back to his senses. They were coming.

Suddenly his sadness was replaced by a burning, red hot, destructive rage. Then his training reasserted itself. His eyes were ablaze, his own mother’s blood spattered across his face.

He released Milena and went to his father.

“Papa,” he said, a strong hand on his father’s shoulder. “Papa, are you hurt?” he asked, running his hands over the blood-and-brain-spattered face and chest of his father. Gabriel looked up at him with so much pain that Nikita’s legs buckled beneath him, falling to his knees, his forehead against his father’s.

He pushed himself off, and tried to pry his father’s arms from around his mother. He would not release.

“Father, we have to go; they are coming,” he said slowly.

His father only shook his head, a fresh wave of sobs racking through him. “Father, please,” he pleaded, before adding softly, “for Milena.”

At that, Gabriel’s shaking ceased and he nodded. He released Sophie with a tenderness that belied his size, and wrenched himself to his feet. He then picked his wife up gently and laid her on the sofa near the fire before turning with fury written through the lines of his face.

Milena had curled up in the corner of the room, her head between her legs. She wasn’t crying, but her entire body shook as Nikita lifted her easily into his arms and carried her over to their waiting father.

“We do not have long; they will be through the door any moment. Chairman Klitchkov is trying to cover us, but we do not know how many there are.”

“Chairman Klitchkov?” Gabriel said sharply. “I will not go anywhere near that man; look how much he has taken from us.”

“He is our only hope now, Father,” Nikita snapped. “Follow me upstairs, and do not walk in front of any windows,” he ordered, leading them upstairs, focusing only on the situation at hand. He walked into his parents’ bedroom which faced out onto the front of the house.

His back to the wall next to the window, he waved Gabriel and Milena down onto the floor and behind the bed, and peered sideways through the window. He pulled back the curtain a fraction, as he removed the sniper from his back, holding it in both hands. The room was cold due to the broken glass from the gunshots and his breath rose before him. He closed his mouth and controlled his breathing. He couldn’t afford to give any indication of his location. All was quiet, a blanket of white.

Unscrewing the scope from the sniper, Nikita gazed through it, taking in as much as he could from the tight angle, before squatting below the windows and moving to the other side. From this angle he could see Klitchkov lying flat on the floor,