Destruction - The Oasis Project Book 2 (Complete)

Twenty-Nine - Ira

Colonel Shao marched us off the plane, Emma and me in front, while Keshav awkwardly followed the person who was Linkin on the outside, but not much more than a computer on the inside. I was surprised by how easily I was able to push the extra thoughts about Linkin out of my mind, parting them like curtains so I could focus on the mission ahead.

I'd barely slept on the plane - Keshav kept filling up the silence with the most random conversation topics, from pigs to the Himalayas. When he'd felt tired enough to doze off, I was wide awake, and I watched the colour of the sky change outside the window until we landed.

We were at a small private airport, vacated except for our plane, which took off after we unloaded the crate of weapons. Keshav drove a forklift over which made transporting our arsenal so much easier. Shao opened up one of the plane hangars and told Keshav to drop the box inside. The lights were already on.

I was surprised to see the two European men standing in the middle of the space, as was Emma, but only mildly. Linkin didn't bat an eyelid and when Keshav came back from the forklift, he gave the men a nod just as Shao had done. The men acknowledged us with their gazes, standing their feet planted shoulder-width apart and their big hands wrapped around pistols.

"1-2 and 1-3, from Russia," Colonel Shao said, pointing to each of the men in turn. 1-2 had a bushy light brown beard and tattoos crawling up the side of his neck, looking like he really didn't want to be here, and 1-3, looking a few years younger, had golden-brown hair that grew past his ears and thin lips that tugged faintly upwards when he was introduced.

"2-1, as you know," Emma said sweetly before turning to Linkin. "2-2." Her voice became strained.

I remembered my code number. "3-1, Keshav here is 3-3." I got a disapproving look from Shao when I mentioned Keshav's name. I didn't give my own, but I noticed 1-3 staring intently at me, as if trying to figure me out.

Colonel Shao looked at his smartwatch and pressed a button that made it beep. From his briefcase, he took out a large map of Cairo and the surrounding Sahara. He drew attention to the red circle that had already been marked in the Eastern Desert, crouching close to refresh us on the route that we were planning to take, even though I had already burned it into my memory, and I was sure that the others had, too. Then Shao straightened up and gave a brief rundown of what each of us was capable of, and informed us that 1-3 and I were to lead the expedition into the desert as literally the eyes and ears.

Still, 1-3 had his hazel eyes on me whenever weren't focused on the map, even before Shao mentioned his precise hearing. I wondered about his commitment to the Oasis Project, but at the same time I couldn't shake off the feeling that his gaze was strangely familiar.

󠁌♟♙♟♙

We were to get changed in the same room, into black full-body suits that made me entertain the thought of sand-diving in this wetsuit-type garment. Even though I was a lot calmer than my ridiculous first mission, I wasn't entirely okay with the presence of the two Russian recruits. Russia never expected you to survive. I couldn't stop thinking about the truth that Doctor Nita told me about my childhood captors, and as I peeled off my clothes and exposed the scars all over my body, strong memories of my time in Vitaly's camp hit me.

Emma had claimed a corner and was fumbling with her clothes while blushing like a tomato. Linkin was already zipping up her suit, as was Two from Russia. I stared at the strange remnants of the injury from Desmond's shot on my upper right arm. It had recovered way too quickly - the skin was pink, and the muscle underneath was sturdy.

I could smell the metallic stench of blood, and I heard the neat clink of metal against metal. I saw bloody tweezers in a small hand, which were shakily exchanged for a needle and thread. Gruff voices egged me on in Russian and laughed, and behind the unruly men, a pair of hazel eyes watched me, keeping me focused.

"Ira?" Keshav's voice cut through the overwhelming memory. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." I noticed that my breaths were shallow as I clenched a fist around my black bodysuit. I was still undressed, standing in a sports bra and grey underpants. The others were either ready or almost ready, but they tried to act like nothing was happening. Even 1-3 had turned away, although I was too caught up in my memories to appreciate his respect for my privacy.

I quickly stepped a leg into the suit, the cool temperature of it making me shiver. In my mind's eye, there was a glimpse of swirling snow. A boy with soot on his face was smiling at me, and I thought it was rare. "I picked the lock on the tool shed," he told me in Russian, pointing to a truck that carried a rusty shipping container.

I pulled the fitting sleeves over my arms and zipped the suit up from navel to neck.

Bright blood was spurting from a bearded neck. A little hand twisted the screwdriver before tugging it free of flesh. I didn't know back then, but I'd gotten an artery by sheer luck. I knew from Nita's anatomy charts.

I tied my frayed hair up in a high ponytail. I had time on the car trip to braid it and make it less irritating in terms of movement.

"Ira?"

I froze. The accent was familiar, but the voice wasn't. I looked around to see 1-3 peering at the thin scar at the back of my neck. It was from a needle, I recalled, but I banished the memory before I could think of any more details.

"Irina?" Strands of 1-3's golden-brown hair had fallen in front of his eyes. He looked like he wanted to move, but he stayed where he was. In Russian, he said, "It's Yulian. Remember me?"