Ivan Kosin

May 5

At eleven in the morning on Friday, May 5th, Ivan Kosin got out of the shower, prepared to die.
He dressed quickly, checked on things around his apartment, wrote out a short suicide note (to be found when they came to go through his things), slung his backpack over his shoulder and stuck his wallet in his back pocket, reminding himself for the hundredth time to leave it in the jeep. As if he could forget. Fuck, his balls hurt. They were so much smaller now than they had been before, little hard knots that ached when touched even lightly. He'd been running a slight fever for the past few hours, but he'd checked the literature and everything assured him it was common to carriers going through the change - nothing at all to worry about unless it persisted.

Kosin zipped his pants, his fingers brushing over the little plastic patch that rested squarely on his lower abdomen. Kosin hoped that he'd gotten enough patches to last him. He'd been sure to acquire some of the higher dosages, as his pain seemed to be increasing in severity now. It worried him a little, because it seemed to come sooner than it should, but everyone was different, he supposed. He'd gotten the patches the day before - a carrier in the pharmacy who was under investigation for behavioral problems had been all too happy to supply them in exchange for the mysterious loss of his records. Kosin counted them out - most of them lasted 12 hours each, and he'd taken 12 packs. Eleven if he changed one now. He debated doing so, then decided he'd better. He picked one out and put the box back into the zippered pocket of his backpack. He would need all his strength for the task at hand, and the last time he'd been dosed was almost eight hours past, and it had been a weaker patch. By the time he'd left his office, its effect had already been waning. He lifted his shirt, pushed down the hem of his jeans and peeled off the old patch, crumpling it and shoving it down into his pocket. No sense leaving evidence of any suspicious goings-on. He rubbed the tender spot on his lower belly, stripped of hair by the adhesion of the patch, before placing the new patch on it.

The effect of the pain patch came in so quickly that Kosin got a little light-headed for a minute, and wondered whether he should have waited to dose himself. But there was no helping it now - if he didn't leave soon, his window of opportunity to get the jeep would be gone.

~:~

In the car yard, the gravel crunched under his feet. The young soldier walking beside him - Buck? Bick? Biff? - chattered on, making the entire walk unbearably noisy. Poor kid, Ivan suddenly thought, he still thinks I can help him. The boy wanted to be an Investigator, he'd told Kosin, and was desperate to ingratiate himself to one of the best in the business. When Kosin had mentioned that he'd be making a trip up to the mountains this weekend, to see his father and wouldn't mind borrowing a vehicle, the boy had practically leapt at the chance to offer him one.

Now, walking beside him, the boy's eager voice rattling off his own qualifications, Kosin felt a little guilty. The kid was just so damned...zealous. He wished he could help him. They arrived at the jeep, tucked off behind a shed - it had been reserved for visiting officials, the kid told him. But we haven't got anyone coming in this weekend. So as long as you're careful, I don't see why not. Kosin smiled an icy smile and thanked him again, assuring the kid he'd be in touch as soon as he returned. The boy grinned, saluted, and turned to go. Just remember, Kosin had said, if anyone asks - I was never here. The boy nodded gravely and disappeared. Kosin was left alone. It was almost noon.

~:~

It was almost nine o'clock, and the sun had long since begun to decline into the low light of the early evening. Kosin drove on. He was close now, barely ten miles from the spot he was looking for, and nervousness was beginning to spike up in his consciousness. Fear of failure and fear of success warred equally in his mind.
He kept driving.

At some length, he began to look for the signs that marked the turn off onto the small mountain road. There was the rock that stood like a sentinel...two more miles then. Time passed, several minutes, and Kosin began to worry. He turned around, went back and retraced three miles. Nothing. In the encroaching darkness, it was difficult to see where the road ended and the forest began. Had he missed the turn off? Had he gone too far? Come the wrong way? Worry began to seize him. He couldn't keep driving like this - not with night coming on. He didn't know these roads as well as he once had, and once false move could send him to a very real death. He hesitated, then flicked on the lights of the jeep. Already, pain was beginning to seep through the edges of his awareness. It hovered just off now, on the outer edges of his plane of consciousness, preparing itself to pounce. He shifted in his seat, seeking some relief. Perhaps he should pull off for the night - sleep in the jeep by the side of the road. No. Not a good idea.
He kept driving.

Twenty minutes later, with his headlights showing the way, Kosin saw the sign that he'd been missing. It was rusted, bent, and lying in a tangle of thicket. Stern Point, it said: .3 miles. The road it had once marked was gone. Kosin's stomach dropped immediately, and he had to lunge out of the door to keep from throwing up in the Jeep. He retched for a while, managed to remember to turn off the lights, then knelt there on the ground for fifteen long minutes, just trying to breathe and regain his footing on the rapidly slipping world.
No sense in crying, he told himself. There has to be another way.

When he was a child, Kosin had wandered these backroads every summer, when his father brought him up here for the season. It had been his escape, his refuge when his father's anger or disgust or just general short-temperedness had driven him out of the house. He had also learned to come here when there were guests at home - Kosin had learned quickly that the presence of other men never brought out the best in his father. He'd danced a careful ballet of avoidance and deference during those times. One memory surged up, unbidden, into his mind, and Kosin tasted bile again as he knelt over in the brush.
Don't let it in, he heard the trees tell him. He can't get you here.

He would take the back pass up to Stern Point.

~:~

It was after ten by the time Kosin got close to the proper point again. He'd had to drive carefully up this way - the road was much traveled by both bandits and MP rangers, and he had no desire to tangle with either. He was getting low on gas now, and worried over this - it limited his options greatly. If he made even one false move, he would have to drive back to town, refuel and start again in the morning. Kosin wasn't so sure that going anywhere but to the Point was a good idea.
So he drove.
His left knee ached by now, from being held in one position for so long, and his lower back was starting to pinch a little, but he didn't have time to stop for a stretch. He had to keep going. The other turn-off couldn't be more than 7 miles from here, and Kosin was sure it would be open. It had been used frequently by rangers and firewatchers, and had even been gated at one point. Kosin hoped it was't now.

He drove on through the endless darkness, rolling his windows down so that the cool May air chilled his skin but also brought in the lush green scent of the forest, calming him. The stars looked over him. Kosin drove on.

Twenty minutes later, he spotted the turn-off. It was close, just there up the hilly straight road, so near to where he was. Just another hour, he assured himself, and this would all be over. He could make a nest in the forest for the night, and in the morning, keep moving. He would have to disguise it well - better than he had as a child. The woods were not as friendly now as they once had been. But Kosin didn't mind - he was ready for this. Ready to be reborn, to become new again. Ready for Ivan Kosin to die.

Halfway up the hill to the turnoff, Kosin's jeep stalled.

~:~

"Well, you're lucky we happened to be passing by out here, son. Not another soul for miles. You could've been stuck out here all night."
Kosin smiled grimly and leaned against the side of his jeep. The older of the pair of MPs was speaking to him; his partner had gone back to the car, ostensibly to check for supplies and call for backup. Kosin knew what he'd really be doing - running the tags on the jeep, checking Kosin's ID against known criminal activity, calling in to the local sheriff to ensure there was nobody wanted roaming through their town. The older man tapped the side of the jeep idly with his baton.
"What were you doing up this way, after all? Pretty late at night for a drive."
Kosin worked hard to keep himself from glaring. He tried to sound casual.
"Just on my way to my father's house - he lives over by Abrams Creek. Got a little nostalgic on the way, and I thought I'd go for a drive up to Stern, see the view."
The officer nodded, but Kosin could tell that he was busy scrutinizing Ivan Kosin's face.
"Who's your daddy?"
"Nicholas Kosin."
Sheriff nodded.
"Heard of 'im."
Kosin kept himself from congratulating the man. A wave of dizziness overcame him. How long had it been since his last pain patch? Eight hours. This shouldn't be happening - he'd put on a 12 hour one, hadn't he? The edges of the forest were starting to look a little fuzzy. Kosin suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten since the morning. Well, he told himself, just don't pass out. Don't pass out, and everything will be fine.

~:~

Kosin woke up propped halfway up in the arms of the younger MP. The man was looking down at him, worriedly, through a pair of eyes so dark they seemed black.
"You back with us, buddy?"
Kosin wanted to talk, but his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He groaned instead, and rolled sluggishly over. The MP struggled to keep his grip on him.
"Whoa now. Careful. Don't want to hit your head again. Let's get you to drink a little water."
The water helped, and presently, Kosin was able to speak again. He coughed, jostling his belly. More nausea came, chased by pain, but he managed to hold himself together.

"Sorry about that, officer. I haven't eaten since the morning - I can get a little hypoglycemic sometimes, and I must have overestimated myself." Kosin shook his head in a self-scolding manner. "I should get on to my father's house and eat something."
Let me go, his eyes said.
Let me go let me go let me go let me go.
"I don't think I can let you do that, son."
The older MP was standing over them now, and there was a cognizance in his eyes that Kosin didn't at all like. "Why don't you get your backpack and go ahead and get in the back of the car. We'll take you down to the station, get you something to eat, and then in the morning, we'll bring you back to your vehicle and you can be on your way."

Kosin stared at the man for a minute, trying to formulate a proper response. He felt winded, lost - did this man know something? Had he found something? Had they gone through his stuff? That was illegal, wasn't it? He had a government ID. But if it was a medical emergency, perhaps they'd felt it was justified...what had they found? His patches? The accelerant? Couldn't be the accelerant. They weren't treating him like a suspect. More like a victim. Fear seized him. He shook his head.
"Thanks, officer, but I think I'd better just head on home. I can - "
"It wasn't a suggestion, Investigator."
They knew who he was. They'd called him in. But how much did they know? Had Henrik reported him? Was the CEC looking for him? He felt sick again, but throwing up on the officer - who was still holding him firmly - would not help his case. He tried to sit up, pushing the other MP away.
"OK. OK. Let me - I'll get my bag."
The other officer picked it up from where it was resting by his leg and held it out to Kosin. Kosin swallowed, then took it.

In the car, the older MP got into the passenger seat and turned to the younger one.
"You call in?"
"Yep."
"And what'd they say about the jeep?"
The younger MP paused, glancing at Kosin in the rearview mirror with those black, unfathomable eyes.
"They said they'd had no idea it was even missing."

~:~