Page 3 of Break Me Open
“It is on a hill, in a forest, with mud,” Niko shrugs. “And ice sometimes.”
“So just like home,” Collins says.
Niko’s gaze flicks over to him.“We don’t close if it rains,” he says mildly. “Or if it snows. Or if you cry.” That almost smile creeps in again.
“Alright, that’s enough flirting,” Hall says, clapping his hands. “Let’s move.”
We troop back out into the corridor.Niko leads, unconsciously taking point, adapting to us behind him without having to think, it’s the mark of someone who pays attention to what’s happening on his flanks, not just what’s right in front of him.
I catch myself watching the way he walks, he’s confident and balanced, then I tell myself to stop staring.
We head over to the mess hall, which is a long, echoing room with big windows on one side and rows of tables on the other. Russian soldiers are already sitting, eating trays of something steaming in front of them.
Conversations drop to a murmur as we file in.
A few heads turn, and I hear the word “Anglichane” mumbled twice. We queue with our trays like it’s school dinners all over again. The food is... beige — putting it politely — some sort of stew, potatoes that have seen better days, and bread so dense it might stop a bullet. Niko appears at my shoulder with his tray already loaded. “You should eat,” he says. “You will need the energy.”
“I’ve had worse, I think,” I say, eyeing the stew. “Just hope it’s not still moving.”
“It is not good,” he huffs in agreement. “But it is edible.”
We find a table halfway down, and Niko sits with us instead of with his own men, which earns him a few looks from across the room. It’s nothing hostile, just curious glances, like the way people look at someone who’s volunteered for extra work.
“So,” Mason says, halfway through his first mouthful. “Be honest. You lot think we’re idiots, don’t you?”
Manners, that one.
Niko chews, swallows, and considers the question. “I think,” he says slowly, “movies make youlook... stupid.” He gestures vaguely. “Drinking. Fighting. Falling off things.”
“Pretty accurate,” Collins says.
“But you,” Niko continues, “are trained. You came here, so you’re not so stupid.” He shrugs, returning to his food.
It’s a compliment, in its own strange way.
“High praise,” I murmur.
Heglances at me sideways, tilting his head. “What did you think we are?” he asks. “Before you come.”
I stab a potato, buying myself a second. Honestly, I thought exactly what everyone else thinks: that they’d be humourless and stone-faced, marching around in hats too big for their heads, waiting for orders from men who look like they’ve been carved out of granite. “I thought you’d be bigger,” I say instead.
Mason snorts stew up his nose, and Collins almost chokes on his bread. Niko looks at me, and for a second I’m sure I’ve overstepped.
Then the corner of his mouth curves. “I’m big enough,” he says dryly. “If you see me running, it’s generally a good idea to run also.”
“I like this one,” Hall says, thumping the table.
We eat, and there’s the usual low-level chatter, murmurs of ‘what d’you think they’ll have us doing?’ and ‘bet their ranges are shite’ and ‘do you reckon they have proper tea, or just leaf-flavoured sadness?’
“After food, we’ll give you a tour,” Niko says eventually. “Ranges, assault course, motor pool. You’ll meet some of my men. They’re curious about you.”
“Curious, good?” Bennett asks quietly. “Or curious like... gonna see if we break?”
“Both,” Niko says, sipping his tea. “It’s good. You’ll test each other and hopefully learn a few things. Just don’t try to steal their cigarettes, they bite.”
“How long have you been here, for?” I ask. “You look like you know every inch of the place.”
He tilts his head, considering again. “Two years at this base. Before that, two other postings. It feels like a long time,” he shrugs.
