2009 - 08 - 21

Toronto. Canada.

8 years after the First Eruption.

“I am telling you, whatever you think of doing, think again. Nobody wants to deal with Nikolai if they don’t have to. That dude is dangerous.”

“Listen, Max, I know. Just give me the damn address and don’t worry about it. I have my reasons, alright? Just like I am not asking why the hell you have an address of a Russian gangster and know him so well, you are not gonna ask why I need it, ok?”

“Okay Alex, just don’t do anything stupid. Here it is, write it down…”

After an exhausting conversation with Max, one of my old-time acquaintances I finally had a point of contact with Nikolai, a local Russian Mafia boss.

I don’t know why I'm doing this. Even if I have at most half a year left to live, I should’ve stayed here, with my friends and family and prepared myself and others for my eventual passing. DIPG (brain cancer) doesn’t leave survivors and in my case, 6 months left to live in the most optimistic forecast. I should’ve spent this time writing down my will, getting myself a comfortable bed where I would stay for the rest of my life. Prepared a cozy casket and a ceremony instead of rushing in haste to visit the mysterious Zone. Doctors say that hallucinations and paranoia aren’t present as symptoms for the disease but they might be wrong.

No, I am sure they are wrong! I am hallucinating! Why in hell, do I keep having those dreams if I am not. But even if I try to rationalize everything I do, I can’t fight off this urge to visit that place. There is absolutely no chance of me getting there even if I managed to get Nikolai to help me. What are the odds that some random Russian mob can or even want to get me inside of the most dangerous place on Earth, on the opposite side of the globe across countless patrols? Zero. Absolute Nil. But if I don’t try and do anything to get there, I will shoot my brains out trying to fight against anxiety that runs rampant inside my chest.

__________________

“Where do you want me to drop you off? Is here gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, sure. Here is the payment. No need for change.”

“Thanks, man, have a good night.”

I closed the cab door and went towards the club. I was filled with nervousness and was feeling twitchy. I don’t know how to react around those guys. Who knows maybe they’ll beat me up if I say something wrong or disrespectful but getting beat up is still better than waking up in the middle of the night, horrified by nightmares that I can’t even remember.

“The club is closed,” said the bouncer with the thickest Russian accent I ever heard in my life.

“I am here to visit Nikolai, I am from Max,” I responded.

Bouncer suspiciously looked at me from under his frowning bushy eyebrows. Looked over to his partner and after receiving a nod from him, looked back at me.

“Follow me.”

I did as I was told. I followed him into the club that was supposedly closed but had music blaring from every speaker, flooding the space with noise.

We didn’t go down to the main hall and instead went up the stairs that were closed off with a fancy red rope right behind the entrance. To be honest, I found it hard to move up the stairs, my knees were feeling stiff and didn’t want to bend. Up until that point, I didn’t even realize how frightened I was. Somehow I understood that I was terrified not because I was going to face people who break the law and kill for a living, but because all my instincts were screaming at me, telling me that there is no going back from it. Something irreversible was happening and I was struggling to understand what it was and whether I wanted it to happen.

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The realization of my position and immensity of the situation hit me like a brick. All my jittery movements disappeared, irrational fear and terror receded like a tide and calm acceptance filled its place. I was already here. I already made my decision. I don’t know what awaits me but the die was cast and fighting the results is pointless.

My emotional turmoil went unnoticed to the bouncer. Or maybe he thinks that I am like Max, a druggie and “scheduled time for medication” snuck up on me and I am here “on an appointment with the doctor“. That would explain it if he noticed my unusual behaviour and didn’t react.

We’ve already reached my destination when the bouncer suddenly clamped down on my shoulder from behind and started to pat down my pockets. My heart almost leapt out of my throat but it quickly calmed down. Seems like that earlier battle with a feeling of terror helped me not to humiliate myself.

“All clear, you can go inside.” said my guide.

For a second I thought it would be hilarious to give him ten bucks right now like a tip, but I doubt he would appreciate the humour. So like a good boy all I did was nod and move on.

I opened the door and found myself in a lavishly decorated room. The whole wall to my left from top to bottom was filled with various fancy looking bottles, standing proudly on countless rows of shelves and cabinets. Obligatory bar stand was parked right in front of that impressive collection of spirits. Wall to my right was absent. Instead, there was a window stretching throughout the whole side of the room opening a view to the bottom floor of the club. The centre was occupied with sofas and couches placed in a semicircle, facing the window. That’s where I found my target.

A pudgy, harmless-looking middle-aged man with receding hairline sat lazily in the middle with a skanky dressed lady sitting by his side. Two other men sat at the corners of the semicircle sipping their drinks. To me, they looked like much more dangerous specimens than the man sitting in the centre of the room. What I can say, appearance can be deceiving.

“Good evening Mr. Nikolai.” slowly approaching the man and without any jerky movements, I extended my hand to him for a greeting.

“You are Max’s friend, right? Are you here for the same thing?” without acknowledging my hand, said the local Mafia boss.

Instead of standing there awkwardly with my stretched hand in the way, I unhurriedly sat down, being mindful not to sit too close to him.

“No, sir. I am in need of some of your services but we need to discuss them in private.” was my reply.

Apparently, that caught his interest. With a nod of his head, the lady, lazily but still gracefully stood up from the couch being careful to show all her assets to Nikolai in the process. Walking her off with his eyes, Nikolai waited until the door was closed to continue the conversation.

“Alright, now we can discuss business but first let my friends check on you.”

My agreement wasn’t necessary, it would seem, because as soon as he finished the sentence one of the guys who sat to the side earlier was already dragging me to my feet to carry out the order. Patting down my pockets wasn’t enough in their opinion as I had to take off my shoes and suit and tolerate the most thorough search that thankfully excluded cavities and my junk.

“Sorry for the experience but now we can finally talk about services you might need and how much you will pay for them,” said Nikolai, obviously just paying some lip service with an insincere apology.

After being manhandled for the last few minutes, his total disregard right now made my patience run low.

“I need to get into The Zone.”

The look of panic on his face and genuine fear elated me for a second before I realized that this was a reaction that didn’t bode anything well for me. And I was right. The guy who only seconds ago was so close and personal with me landed a heavy punch right at the back of my head. Like a sack of shit, I crumbled onto the floor.

As I tried to pick myself up and start with “What the fuck was that for?” I felt a barrel being pressed right against my temple. The justifiable question died in my throat before it had a chance to get out as well as all the composure and bravery I had before opening the door.

“Who the fuck are you? Police? CSIS? Who the fuck told you about the deal?” shouted Nikolai.

It was hard to understand him with his suddenly heavy accent and the headache didn’t help it either.

“I have no idea about the deal! I came here to take my chances! I don’t know or even heard of anyone who does illegal stuff except you! I didn’t even fucking expect to get help. At most a recommendation of who might do shit like that.” I shouted back.

I felt the barrel slightly slack against my head, so I knew that whoever had a gun pointed at me expected me to continue.

“For the past few months, I’ve been having dreams, nightmares. They are all about The Zone. I have to get there, I know it and I have to get there soon. I’ll pay you to get me there. You can check with Max on me. We’ve known each other for a long time. He knows I have the money.”

A brief silence came upon us as soon as I finished my impromptu sales pitch.

“Cyka, now I have fucking loaded nutcase banging on my door a week before the fucking deal. I knew it was a bad business,” he said.

There were a few points that I would debate but I guess right now nuances weren’t important. Behind me, they started talking in Russian. I knew Russian well enough to carry a conversation but the rapid-fire speed with which they were talking and the splitting headache didn’t let me understand anything at all.

“Don’t fucking move nutjob. Lay there.” said someone else beside Nikolai still keeping the gun to my head.

The next moment I heard the door being opened and someone leaving the room.

Well, all I could say is that my adventure started with a bang, all I can hope for is that the bang to be figurative and not quite literal.