Zhukov's Dogs by Amanda Cyr Page A

leaned against a long table shoved against the wall covered in winter clothes, including snow boots and thick goggles. As I looked over it all, asking myself if they ventured above ground frequently, I got the feeling I was being watched. I assumed it was Val. He was probably hoping to catch me doing something suspicious so he could barrage me with questions again.
    When I looked up the hall, though, I saw it was a little girl. She was one of the children who’d rushed at Tibbs when we first came in, her foam sword still in hand. I didn’t know what to do with a child. My only experience with children was in a mentorship role, and not in the sort of position where I taught them how to make macaroni art or finger paint.
    I forced a smile. The girl didn’t smile back; she didn’t even budge from her seat on the stairs. She just stared at me with her big, gray eyes behind her long, blonde curls.
    “Zoe?” Anya called from upstairs. She appeared on the landing a moment later, wearing an oversized cable-knit sweater instead of her jacket. She smiled as she came downstairs and picked Zoe up in her arms. “This is Nik,” she said, bouncing the little girl on her hip. “He saved us today.”
    Zoe kept staring at me.
    “I don’t think she likes me,” I said.
    “Don’t feel bad. She’s just shy and doesn’t talk much,” Anya assured me. She kissed the top of Zoe’s head, and untied the washrag around her neck. I took the rag from her and tossed it onto the table with the winter clothes.
    “Thank you,” she said. “I’m going to put her down for a nap, okay? Val wanted you to meet him in the war room upstairs. Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s not an actual war room; it’s just fun to say. Come on.”
    I followed her upstairs, all the while under the constant watch of gray-eyed Zoe. Anya left me on the second floor with simple instructions, “Go up one more floor and down the hall. It’s the last door on your right. The purple one.”
    On the third floor, my pocket buzzed, and I pulled my phone out to read the message—a reply from Aiden.
    So glad to hear you made it to Seattle safely. Things are dull here. Your cat ate another one of my socks, and your mother won’t stop calling. Hurry home. <3
    There was no code, only the bored ravings of my best friend who was likely slacking off at his desk. I pocketed my phone as I reached the purple door standing open at the end of the hall. Inside, half empty bookshelves lined the walls, while ancient looking maps of the world and solar system hung in dusty frames. The entire room reeked of an old woman’s bedroom, a combination of mothballs and death, and I doubted any of the windows had been opened in months.
    A tall girl in baggy, mismatched clothing stood at the table in the center next to Val. She had dark hair, crudely woven into long dreadlocks and pulled back into a birds nest knot on the back of her head. As I stepped into the war room, the girl’s hand whipped out from where it had been tucked inside her jacket. Impulse seized me, my mind forcing my body into action. My hand shot back into my bag and closed around my gun. I brought it in front as the girl turned her body and pointed the pistol straight at me.
    The draw ended as quickly as it started. Val lunged, grabbing the girl’s wrist, and forcing her aim toward the ground. Judging from the way his other hand white-knuckled the edge of the table, Val was just as alarmed by the sudden turn of events as I was.
    “Put it away,” he barked. “Both of you.”
    Slowly, I lowered my gun. There was no way I was going to put it away before the girl who drew first, though.
    Val sighed and shook his head at the girl. “Christ, Lee, this is the guy I told you about, Cook’s friend.”
    “Oh,” she said, her eyes softening and cheeks flushing.
    “Sorry about that, Nik,” Val said as he released the girl’s wrist and introduced us. “This is Lee. She’s kind of trigger-happy.”
    “Couldn’t