The Rain: The End by Marietta Standlee (good summer reads TXT) 📕

He takes us down a hallway, stops in front of a door at the end, and knocks. A voice from inside invites us in.

A wave of smoke greets us as we enter. It's all I can do to stop myself from coughing and waving my hands in front of my face. I'm very proud of my self-control. A large man behind a desk slowly gets up, a humongous cigar stuck between his thick lips. Glasses sit on top of a bulbous nose, enlarging already light brown, bulging eyes. The man is dressed in a at least one size too small uniform with so many accolades on his chest that they seem to pull him forward.

He comes around the desk and embraces first me and then Colin, kissing both of our cheeks. "Welcome, welcome."

Litvin stares at us wordlessly, his face expressionless. He is not a slight man, but next to the General, he is dwarfed. Same goes for Colin, though, to be fair.

"Lieutenant Litvin, you did well." The General praises in English. "You brought us, American heroes."

I smile at Colin, surreptitiously pointing towards myself. He shakes his head, grinning.

"Please, please. Sit." The General pulls some chairs out for us. "Do you want some water? Coffee?"

"Water would be great." Colin smiles.

"Coffee. Please." I manage, as saliva already collects in my mouth in anticipation of the hot, bitter goodness.

"Lieutenant Litvin." The General orders his subordinate.

"On my way, Sir." Litvin turns on his heel.

Bulygin makes his way back behind his desk while never stopping to smile at us, puffing on his cigar and filling the air with even thicker smoke. Despite that, I admit, it feels good to be welcomed.

"What brings you here, my American friends?" He wants to know with a jovial tone to his voice.

"If you don't mind, Sir, this is a delicate matter, and we'd like to discuss it with the President first." Colin hedges.

"Of course, of course. I understand. But you need to understand too that I can't just let you walk into the secret place where our President currently resides." Bulygin says slyly. Fishing for more information.

Colin nods, "I appreciate your position. There is no need to take us there; all we really need is a ride back to the United States; our Presidents can hash it out afterward."

"Oh no, you misunderstand me, our President wants to meet with you. I spoke to his assistant, who assured me he wants to see you." The General puffs on his cigar, the smoke tickles my throat, and I use all my willpower not to cough.

"But it takes time to arrange. You understand." The General cautions.

Colin inclines his head. "I do. This is time-sensitive, though."

I can't help it any longer. I cough as discreetly as I can, just as Litvin returns with water bottles and coffee. Gratefully I grab one, unscrew the lid, and take a deep, greedy sip.

"Thank you." I manage and smile into Litvin's amused face.

"Why don't you two go, get cleaned up, eat something? In the meantime, I'll arrange for transportation to meet with our President." Bulygin offers.

"Thank you, Sir, that would be greatly appreciated, and I'll make sure to let the President know about your hospitality."

My body heats up from the inside out. Is this really going to happen? Are we really going to meet the Russian President? So much has happened in the last months that this shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does. Life has become very interesting.

Chapter 7

After the meeting, Litvin took us to an empty room where we were able to clean up. Clean clothing and everything else needed for hygiene, was provided. It felt good to get rid of all the grime from the road, washing up in little streams just doesn't seem to do the trick.

Afterward, Litvin escorted us back to the General who wanted to eat dinner with us. The entire time during dinner, he grilled us about everything we know. He wanted to know about where we were when the Rain first hit, the aliens, our militia, and so on. Answering his questions was like a snake dance, on the one hand we didn't want to divulge any secrets, especially since we had no clue what our President had told Bulygin's President, but on the other hand, we didn't want to insult our host and had to give him some information. We not only depended on his goodwill to feed us and keep us alive, but we also needed him to give us a lift.

Dinner ended with another cigar; Colin declined the one offered, saying he had to stay in shape for missions, the General laughed so hard that I was scared for the chair he sat on.

After dinner, we were reunited with Karsten in a four-bunk-bed room. The fourth was empty and stayed that way during the entire night. We offered Karsten to come with us, and he gratefully excepted.

So now all three of us, Litvin and four other soldiers, sit in the Russian equivalent of a Black Hawk, making our way down the coast to parts unknown. Sometime during the flight, Litvin asked the other soldiers and us to put on masks to cover our eyes.

To say I'm nervous is an understatement. Usually, I enjoy a ride in a Black Hawk as much as the next girl, but this time, blindfolded, it's more nerve-wracking than enjoyable. Plus, the knowledge that we're about to meet the second most powerful person in the world is doing no favors to my stomach.

Last I was able to put my eyes on Colin; he looked all collected and calm, as calm can be. In typical Colin fashion, he's taking all this in strides. I'm grateful for his hand holding mine, though.

"So, what do those aliens look like?" Litvin attempts to make small talk through the microphone and earbuds.

I shrug and try my best to explain the aliens to him. "They're human-like in many ways, but their eyes are huge, like an owl's; they blink sideways. Their ears are large, like a cauliflower sliced in half."

"You