Club 9

         Club Nine was absolutely packed.  A sea of people stretched from one side of the dancefloor to the other, from the stage at the front all the way to the bar at the back.  Multicolored lights swept over the crowd, moving in rhythm to the beat of the music.  A fog machine kept a haze in the air, adding to the effect of the swaying lights.
         Yuliya Belkonova was loving every minute of it.  She and her girlfriends were in front of the stage, dancing to the heavy beats pulsating from the nearby speakers.  The bass pounded in her chest and her ears were ringing, but it just added to the excitement.  Yuliya loved to dance and it was great to let loose for a night with her friends. 
         The DJ, headphones around his neck and dark sunglasses over his eyes, took advantage of a brief lull in songs to thank the crowd for coming out.  A resounding cheer rose from everyone on the floor. 
         Yuliya took a sip from the now-slippery drink in her hand.  The melting ice had watered it down a bit, but the mojito still cooled her body down.  Nearby, Dasha and Elena were mingling with two mohawked, ostentatious men.  Anna was already making her way off the dancefloor toward an empty table.  Yuliya gestured to Dasha and Elena before joining Anna at the table. 
         The two girls, still out of breath, sat down and watched as the dancing started back up. 
         “Should we rescue Dash and Elena?”  Yuliya asked, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear.  She was glad she had worn her tanktop, but her legs were sweating beneath her tight jeans. 
         “No,” Anna replied.  “Let them work their own way out of that.”  She took a sip of her drink, most likely a vodka and Redbull.  Anna was wearing her grey wool beanie cap, and Yuliya knew she had to be burning up under it.
         “You’re right,” Yuliya said, turning around on her stool.  “They left us to fend for ourselves plenty of times.”  She and Anna both shared a laugh.
         A vibration in Yuliya’s pocket took her attention off the music.  She pulled out her slim cellphone and flipped it open.  1 new txt message. 
         “Checking in on you, is he?” Anna asked with a teasing grin. 
         Yuliya stuck out her tongue, something that made her think of the days when she, Anna, Dasha, and Elena had been schoolgirls together.  They always teased each other about boys.
         It was Alexi, Yuliya knew it would be.  After all, she had texted him when they first arrived at the club.  Just because it was “girls’ night” didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about him. 
         Try to make sure D keeps her shirt on!  Hope you’re having fun!  Miss you!
         Yuliya chuckled at the message.  She looked back out at the dancefloor and saw Dasha and Elena walking toward the bar without their two would-be suitors.  Dasha did in fact still have her shirt on, although as low as it was cut there was little left to hide.
         Using her thumb, Yuliya quickly tapped out a reply then flipped her phone shut.  She looked at the time before tucking it back into her pocket.  The night was young and she had a lot more dancing left in her.

         The bar erupted in cheers as the puck hit the back of the net.  Men jumped from their seats, throwing their hands in the air or slapping one another on the back.  Mugs and bottles sloshed their contents but their holders cared little.  As the replay came on the television screens the patrons of the bar turned to watch and relive the goal. 
         “Look at that shot!  Goalie had no chance!”  A large, curly haired fellow turned to his friends, pumping his fist in the air.  “Just like I used to do to you, Alexi.”           
         “Evgeny, was that before or after your mother made you join the choir?”  Alexi Koromov lifted his beer and tipped it toward his friend.  Beside him, Victor erupted in laughter.
         “That’s right!” Victor shouted.  “Can you give us a few verses of Kalinka perhaps?”  Evgeny, trying hard to look angry, finally burst into laughter. 
                The three men, along with the rest of the patrons in the bar, gradually returned to their seats. 
                Alexi patted Evgeny’s shoulder.  “No hard feelings friend, right?” 
                “We can settle this on the ice, if you ever get some time off from the news station,” Evgeny said, grinning widely.  “For now though, answer your damn phone!”
                Alexi didn’t even hear it going off.  It sat on the table, sliding slowly toward the edge as is vibrated. 
“Maybe Yuliya’s watching the game,” Victor began, teasingly, “and she’s checking to see if you saw that goal.” 
         Alexi doubted it.  Yuliya liked hockey, but she liked dancing much more.  Alexi opened his phone to read the text message.
         So far she’s behaving.  Not me though.  ;)  Just joking.  Hope you boys are enjoying the game.  I miss you too!
         Alexi smiled.  He knew Yuliya was behaving.  In the eight months they had been together he had always trusted her.  He did miss her though, he always did whenever they were apart.  But still it was good to spend time with his friends.
         Setting his phone back on the table Alexi turned his attention to the game, thoughts of his beautiful Yuliya drifting across his mind. 
         
         Sitting off to the side of the dancefloor gave Yuliya a better look at the crowd.  People of all distinctions were there:  University students getting away from school life for a night, groups of men with half-buttoned long sleeved shirts trying to dance with any girl they could, people heavily intoxicated shaking their stuff on the dancefloor.  But everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. 
         A glance towards the bar found Dasha and Elena wading through the crowd, their drinks held up to avoid spilling.  Just behind her friends Yuliya saw several people filing into the club and moving quickly along the walls.  In the lighting it was difficult to tell but they all seemed to be dressed in black, making them blend in with the shadows.  No one else appeared to notice them, or at least they paid them little attention. 
         Suddenly, a loud crack rang out over the music.  Several people on the dancefloor stopped and turned in confusion.  Yuliya immediately looked toward where the sound came from.  She saw Dasha and Elena had turned around and were looking toward the entrance. 
         Another crack split the air.  This time the DJ stopped the music abruptly.  It was then that Yuliya saw the people in black shoving through the crowd, guns held high.  She could hear screams starting to spread across the dancers.
         “Yuliya?”  Anna’s voice trembled as she looked at Yuliya. 
         “Anna, don’t move!”  Yuliya could see the people in black wore balaclavas over their heads.  Each carried an AK-47.
         One of the men approached their table and shouted something in a language Yuliya didn’t understand.  When she and Anna didn’t move he waved his rifle and gestured for them to go to the dancefloor.  Yuliya grabbed Anna’s hand and quickly led her from the table.  She looked around frantically for Dasha and Elena but couldn’t find them.  All around her was hysteria. 
         The masked intruders herded everyone to the dancefloor like cattle.  The house lights suddenly came on, reflecting brightly off the still foggy air.   
         Yuliya tried not to panic.  Instead she kept her mind working by counting the masked individuals, coming up with forty-five.  Anna was gripping her hand tightly, eyes wide with fear.  Over the shouting and screaming Yuliya tried to comfort her friend.
         “Everything is going to be okay,” she said as soothingly as possible, but her own heart was racing, her voice shaky.  She was trying to convince herself as much as Anna.  Her thoughts drifted to Alexi.  She wanted him to be there, holding her.

         A chorus of groans rose from the bar as the words “Special News Bulletin” flashed on the television screen, interrupting the game. 
         “Ah, what now?”  Evgeny slammed his mug down on the table.  “Right when we were starting to come back!”
         Alexi leaned back from the table, resting his hands behind his head.  He hoped it was nothing too important.
         A woman sitting behind a news desk greeted the audience.  It was from the national new station.
         “Good evening,” she began.  “CNN International has just received word of a possible hostage situation in a Moscow nightclub.” 
         The words washed over Alexi like a cold wave.  He sat upright in his chair, concentrating on the TV screen.
         “This video is coming to us by one of our Moscow affiliates.”  It was channel 6, Alexi’s station.  Images flashed on the screen of a parking lot filled with police cars, their blue lights flashing in the dark night.  The camera panned back, offering a shot of the front of the club.
         “Please God no.”  Alexi had a sinking feeling in his stomach even as he said the words.
         Club Nine filled the screen, its neon logo flashing brightly, unmistakably. 
         “Where was Yuliya going tonight?”  Victor’s voice sounded distant but it was still an interruption.
         “SHH!”  Alexi wanted to hear everything that was being said.
         “…not sure yet but apparently sometime around nine thirty several vans pulled into the parking lot.  From there a large number armed men stormed the club and barricaded themselves, along with some eight hundred club-goers, inside.  Police and special forces have secured the surrounding area but have had no contact with anyone inside the club.”
         “Alexi,” Evegeny talked softly.  “You need to get to the station.  We’ll find our own way home.”
         Alexi turned to his friend and saw the concern on his face.  Victor nodded in agreement. 
         Without a word, Alexi grabbed his phone and jumped from the table.  All he could think about was Yuliya.  If he could get to the news station perhaps he could somehow get more information on what was going happening.
         The night air hit him with a cold blast as he raced from the bar to the parking lot.  Fumbling his keys he finally managed to unlock his car.  It started up with a growl and he shifted into gear.  It would take him ten minutes to get to the station.  He tried to push it to five. 

                Yuliya looked at her watch.  Ten thirty nine.  They had been sitting on the dancefloor for over an hour and still none of the assailants had addressed them, told them why this was happening.  The screams and terror of the initial few minutes had given way now to sobs and weeping.  Yuliya had managed to locate Dasha and Elena sitting near the bar, both looking scared but otherwise unharmed.  Beside Yuliya sat Anna, head resting on her shoulder. 
         The gunmen, some of which had turned out to be women, had taken up positions throughout the crowd.  They now patrolled slowly among the club-goers, AK-47s at the ready.  A man in dark army fatigues and wearing ski cap rather than a mask had taken up residence on the stage.  Yuliya assumed him to be the leader of the group.  Several men flanked him, carrying out any task he ordered. 
         The first had been to seize all cellphones from the audience.  The initial thought of hiding hers quickly vanished when several people were physically searched and beaten for not handing theirs over.  Yuliya had managed to text a quick message to Alexi before hers was taken.  45 terrorists in club i am okay scared.  It was all she had time to write. 
         She watched one of the men in black as he patrolled close by.  Strapped across his waist was a light brown rectangular shape.  Several wires led from the object into a small device located next to the man's collar.  All but a few of the other gunmen wore the same across their waists, even the women were outfitted with them.  The whispers had spread like wildfire through the crowd.  Bombs.
         “When is someone going to tell us what's happening?”  Anna's voice sounded exhausted, the way Yuliya felt. 
         “I don't know,” Yulia replied.  She wanted answers too. 
         As if on cue, the man on the stage walked to the center and held up his hands.  Beside him, one of his men produced a video camera.  A hush fell over the crowd as their attention turned to the man on stage. 

                “Hurry!  Get this on!”  Alexi shouted to the four other people in the broadcast booth.  They pushed a series of buttons and onto the screen popped a new image.
                The video was grainy and very bright, but it was coming to the station directly from inside the club.  A tall man in dark military clothing was in the center of the video.  He stood rigid, reading from a paper he held. 
         “Too long we have suffered under your oppression.  You have murdered our children, destroyed our homes.  That ends now.”
         The man’s thick Chechen accent was unmistakable.  He spoke with very little emotion, but with deep determination. 
         “We give you the choice:  Remove your troops from Chechnya and we will lay down our weapons.  Refuse and the blood of these people will be on your hands.  Allah has prepared our place in paradise and we are all willing to die.”
         The camera pulled back and slowly began to pan around the club.  It swept over the hundreds of people seated on the dancefloor.
         Alexi leaned forward, staring intently at the video.  Yuliya was out there somewhere.  He could see people huddling together, crying.  Others were sitting silently, looking dumbfounded.  The camera focused on one of the terrorists, a stocky man with a black balaclava covering his face.  Alexi saw the man, but in the background he saw a beautifully familiar face. 
         Yuliya sat cross-legged, one arm around Anna beside her.  Alexi’s heart jumped into his throat.  He saw her look up, into the camera.  She looked okay, but at this distance it was difficult to make out much else. 
         The camera began to pan once again. 
         “NO!”  Alexi’s shout escaped his mouth before he could stop it.  The other people in the control room looked at him with sympathy.  They knew his girlfriend was there, knew how personal it was for him. 
         As the camera made its sweep around the club the voice began speaking again.
         “These people are innocent, as were our children, our mothers, our brothers.  How many more innocents will you choose to murder?  You have ten hours to make your decision.”
         Just as quickly as it had begun the transmission ended.  The screen went black.  For a few moments no one spoke. 
         “Cut to Katya.”  The voice of the director broke the silence.  The image of a woman behind a news desk popped onto the screen.  She began speaking, recapping what had just been shown. 
         Alexi heard what she was saying through the headphones he wore but wasn’t listening.  All he could think about was Yuliya. 
         “Dmitri,” Alexi said with a thought.  “Can you pull that back up on video 2?” 
         Alexi was the broadcast director for Channel 6’s morning and afternoon newcasts, while Dmitri covered evenings and late nights.  This was Dmitri’s show, Alexi knew that and didn’t want to step on his toes.  But at the same time he had to see Yuliya again.
         Dmitri nodded.  He pushed a couple buttons, then pointed to a monitor beside the control desk.  Up came the video of the terrorist speaking.  Alexi felt his jaw clenching as he saw the man again.  In his ears was Katya at the newsdesk but his mind was focused on the small screen and the video of Yuliya. 

         A commotion near the back of the club made Yuliya raise her head.  She glanced in Dasha and Elena’s direction and saw they too were looking toward the sounds of a scuffle.  Several of the terrorists began racing toward the rear of the club.  Yuliya heard shouting, both in Russian and Chechen.  Other hostages had turned their attention as the shouts increased. 
         “What’s happening back there?”  Anna asked, straining to look over the heads of the seated people. 
         Yuliya was doing the same.  She saw what looked like a fight, a group of three men from the club had grabbed one of the terrorists and were trying to wrestle the gun from his hands. 
         “No no no.”  Yuliya’s voice was filled with worry.  She knew that if his man’s bomb detonated, or if any of the other terrorists set theirs off they would all be dead. 
         Several of the other hostages must have had the same thought.  They began screaming, some trying to grab the attacking men.  Yuliya was holding her breath, her fingers clenched against her sides. 
         Just as one of the men managed to grab the AK-47 away, one of the terrorists struck him from behind with the butt of his rifle.  The man fell forward, dropping the weapon as he staggered.  His friends rushed to him but four more terrorists grabbed them and threw them to the floor.  From the stage the leader of the group drew his pistol and shouted something in Chechen.  The terrorists roughly forced the three men to their feet and walked them through the crowd toward the stage.  A subdued silence fell over the rest of the hostages seated on the dancefloor.
         The three men climbed the stage and were held with their arms behind their backs.  The terrorists’ leader walked over to them with a determined stride, pistol in hand.
         “Anna don’t look!”  Yuliya turned her head and shut her eyes tightly, trying to close off her senses.
         A loud POP rang out over the audience, immediately followed by two more.  As much as she wished not to, Yuliya heard the gunshots.  There was a brief moment of absolute silence in the club.  Yuliya refused to open her eyes.  Suddenly screams broke out, shouts of horror as the reality of what just happened set in.  Anna fell against Yuliya, sobbing uncontrollably.  A feeling of complete helplessness came over Yuliya.  She had never felt anything like it in her life.  Tears began to stream down her face. 

                “...policy has always been that we do not negotiate with terrorists.”  The words had been said numerous times over the last six hours.  They now came from a retired military general being interviewed on the telephone by Channel 6.  The latest video coming from the club was being displayed on the television screens while the man spoke. 
         Special forces troops had moved into the parking lot surrounding the club, some standing behind large black vans, others walking casually through the parked cars.  It was clear that they were growing impatient being forced to wait. 
         “What is the next course of action for ending this crisis then, general?”  Katya was still anchoring the broadcast, her voice beginning to sound tired. 
         “Without getting into classified details,” the military man began, “standard procedure calls for a direct storming of the hostage site.  The primary objective is the neutralization of the hostage takers by any means necessary.”
         “The hostages aren't the primary objective?”  Dmitri held his hand over the microphone leading from his headset as he turned to Alexi.
         Looking up from the monitor, Alexi shook his head.  He knew military policy, had studied the military extensively in college.  Neutralizing, or eradicating, the terrorists was more important to the special forces than the lives of the hostages. 
         Alexi had watched as the first SPETSNAZ units arrived on the scene.  His mind immediately brought up images from the hostage crisis at the Moscow theater and the horrific scene at the school in Beslan.  The Russian forces had managed to take down the terrorists in both cases, but with extremely high civilian casualties.  Yuliya's face popped into his mind.  He couldn't imagine what losing her would do to him.
         “We're getting another feed from inside.”  The words came from one of the techs sitting behind the control desk.
         The video popped up on the monitor.  The images were much the same as before, but there was a noticeable change in the demeanor of the hostages.  Many stared back at the camera with dull, blank expressions.  Others sat weeping, holding on to those around them for support. 
         “I can’t imagine what it must be like in there.”  Dmitri’s voice broke the silence.  Alexi didn’t want to think about it, he just prayed that Yuliya was holding up all right. 
         The camera turned slightly and focused on three forms lying on the stage.  A collective gasp filled the control room as it became clear they were dead hostages.
         A cold sweat came over Alexi.  They had killed some of the hostages, he thought with utter despair.  Once the special forces got word of this they would storm the club.  There would be no chance for negotiations, no turning back now.  His heart ached for Yuliya.
         
         “I just want to go home.”  The resignation in Anna’s voice was obvious.  She had stopped crying several hours ago, and Yuliya was beginning to fear for her mental state. 
         “Anna listen to me,” she began, “we’re going to get out of this.  You, Dash, Elena, and I are all going to be fine.”  Yuliya hoped the uncertainty in her words was hidden. 
         The terrorist with the camera had started filming again, panning slowly over the crowd on the dancefloor.  A strange blanket of indifference had swept over the people, Yuliya noticed.  The defiant attitude of many of the hostages had died with the three men on stage.  Now they just sat there, almost seeming to have accepted the hopelessness of their situation.  Yuliya tried not to be swept up in the feeling.  She held on to the one thing that she could for strength, her love for Alexi. 

         “Look at this.”  Alexi pointed to the monitor displaying the feed coming from the Channel 6 camera outside the club.  The image showed several SPETSNAZ men, in groups of 5 or 6, sweeping around the sides and toward the back of the building.  Another, larger group of special forces, was forming up in the middle of the parking lot.  They had arranged themselves in columns, roughly ten-men deep.  As Alexi watched, two soldiers made their way to the side of the club and stopped.  One of the men was carrying a large device, something that resembled a round portable kerosene heater. 
         “What is that?”  Dmitri looked closely at the monitor, then pressed a button on his headset.  “Camera 1, Mikhail, zoom in on that.”  The camera quickly zoomed in on the two SPETSNAZ men with the device.  They were quickly pressing buttons on the side of the apparatus, but it was still impossible to say exactly what it was. 
         “It’s an EMP.”  One of the techs in the control room spoke.  Everyone turned to him with questioning eyes.  “Electromagnetic Pulse.  Well, technically it’s the device for delivering the EMP.  But it’ll shut off anything electronic inside that building.”
         Alexi didn’t know what to think.  He knew what an EMP was, but had never actually seen one work.  If they used it to kill everything electronic in the club, that meant the terrorists and hostages would be in the dark as the SPETSNAZ units stormed the building.
                “Cut live to Mikhail’s shot!”  Dmitri shouted into the headset.
         The broadcast video cut to the images coming from Camera 1 outside the club.  The new anchor, Katya’s replacement, was trying to describe for the viewers what was being shown. 
         “It appears that the special forces are positioning some sort of device outside the club.  We just saw several soldiers heading around the side of the building and a large cohort has taken up position in the parking lot.”
         Alexi watched the troops readying themselves.  His pulse was quickening as he waited for the next move. 
         Suddenly, the monitor playing the feed from the terrorists’ camera inside came on.  Another video began streaming onto the screen.  Alexi watched as the terrorists scrambled through the hostages, taking up defensive positions behind anything they could.  The camera turned to focus on the terrorists’ leader as he barked out orders, pointing animatedly toward the front and back of the club.  The hostages, sensing the unrest, began to grow uneasy. 
         Several of the terrorists began pulling small sticks from their pockets.  Alexi recognized what they were.  He had been to enough clubs to know a glowstick when he saw one. 
         “How do they know what’s going on?”  Dmitri looked confused as he watched the monitor. 
                Alexi was watching the terrorists position themselves behind tables, the bar, the stage, anything they could.  Then he saw it.  In the corner of the club was a TV.  On the screen was Channel 6 News, and everything they were broadcasting. 
         “They’re watching us!”  Alexi shouted.  “They know what’s coming!”  A rush of adrenaline flowed through his veins as he realized what was about to happen.
         The video from Camera 1 outside the club showed the two SPETSNAZ men quickly running away from the EMP device.  A red and yellow light flashed alternately on its top.  It was armed. 
         An overwhelming feeling of dread swept over Alexi.  All he could think of was Yuliya.  In a few moments she would be in the middle of a war-zone.  Without hesitation, he threw down his headset and raced from the control room.  It would take roughly thirty minutes to reach the club.  He couldn’t watch it through a TV.  He had to be there.  He had to be there for Yuliya. 

         Yuliya knew something was about to happen.  The terrorists had turned their attention from watching the hostages to positioning themselves strategically throughout the club.  The mood of those on the dancefloor grew frantic as they watched their captors turn over tables and take up places behind the bar and stage. 
         “Anna, no matter what happens keep your head down.”  Yuliya’s voice sounded surprisingly strong, even to herself.  She looked back to Dasha and Elena, looking frightened as ever.  Catching their attention she gestured for them to get low and cover their heads.  They quickly nodded in comprehension.
         Yuliya watched as the terrorists behind the bar cracked their glowsticks, shook them up, and tossed them toward the front entrance.  They let off a strange neon green glow as they bounced across the floor. 
         Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal sounded from outside.  Yuliya put her hands up to her ears, but just as she did the sound stopped.  A loud thud reverberated throughout the club, and with it, the lights went out.
         Shouts and screams rang out in the darkness.  Yuliya watched as glowsticks were cracked open all through the club.  Some arched over the crowd on their way to the entrance, others were rolled into the hostages.  One landed against Yuliya’s leg.  She quickly picked it up and tossed it back in the direction it came from. 
         A mind-numbing BANG accompanied with a bright flash of light shook the club.
         Yuliya’s vision went white and a loud ringing filled her ears.  She couldn’t see or hear anything.  Instinctively she curled down to her knees and covered her head with her arms, trying to make herself as small as possible. 
         A sound began to register in her brain.  It sounded like someone clapping underwater, muffled and distant.  Slowly her mind started to clear and the sound became recognizable.  It was the sound of gunfire, coming in quick bursts.  Another noise came into her ears, processed slowly at first.  Shouts, both in Russian and Chechen.  But they too sounded distant, as if her ears were filled with cotton. 
         Something heavy fell against her but just as quickly pushed away.  She refused to lift her head or so much as crack open her eyes.  Instead she kept hunched over, squeezing tightly against herself with her arms. 
         It was hard to say how long the fight had been going on, but Yuliya could feel sweat running down her chest and her arms.  It was unbearably hot.  She tried to think of something else.  Her mind drifted to the walk in the park she and Alexi had taken just a week before.  A light snow had been falling and the two of them had raced about trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues like children.  It had been one of the most magical days.
         An arm around her shoulders brought her back to the present.  She was being shaken, but she remained curled tightly against herself.
         “Miss, are you hurt?”  It was a man’s voice, a Russian voice.  She peaked out from beneath her arms.  An eerie white glow filled her vision.  Yuliya looked up slowly, not sure she wanted to see. 
         The first thing she noticed was the bodies.  Terrorists in their black fatigues lay scattered across the club.  Some were still sprawled over the tops of tables, blood running freely across the surface.  One of the bodies closest to Yuliya was that of a terrorist woman, her eyes still open and staring blankly at the ceiling.  Yuliya had never seen a dead person so close and she found herself unable to look away.
         “Miss, please we need to get everyone out.”  A tug on her arm accompanied the voice this time. 
         She looked up and saw a man wearing a thick helmet with a heavy plastic shield in front of his face.  He held a sub-machine gun in one hand and was motioning her to rise with his other. 
         “Yuliya!”  Anna’s voice rang out over the commotion in the club.  Yuliya saw her being led away by two SPETSNAZ soldiers.  She looked a bit disheveled but unhurt.  “I don’t know where Dash and Elena are!” 
         Yuliya quickly stood, to the shock of the soldier beside her.  Standing brought more bodies into view.  Most were terrorists but she could see soldiers here and there tending to hostages on the ground.  She looked where her friends had been seated but saw only an empty floor. 
         “Miss, please.”  The soldier grabbed Yuliya’s arm more forcibly this time and began pushing her toward the entrance. 
         “Where are my friends!?” 
         “All the hostages are being processed outside.”  The man pointed as he led her through the club. 
         Once outside, Yuliya was greeted by lights and cameras.  The chaos from a few minutes ago was replaced by a new chaos.  People were everywhere.  Police, soldiers, cameramen, all were trying to make their way through the crowd that now filled the parking lot.
         Someone threw a blanket around Yuliya’s shoulders and motioned for her to follow several other hostages that were being led away from the club.  The early morning air felt fresh compared to the stifling heat in the club.  Yuliya breathed deeply. 
                Suddenly she heard a familiar voice.

         “YULIYA!” 
         Alexi saw her being led through a throng of spectators and police.  She looked exhausted, but more beautiful than ever.  Alexi’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest as she turned toward his voice.  He struggled to get through the crowd, but eventually made his way to her.  The police officer leading her paused and stepped back.  Alexi wrapped his arms around Yuliya.  He tried to speak but the words caught in his throat.  Beneath the heavy blanket he could feel Yuliya’s shoulders shaking as she cried. 
         “You got me through,” Yuliya said through sobs.  “I just thought about you the whole time.”
         Alexi smoothed her hair and looked into her eyes. 
         “I love you Yuliya.”  It was all he could say.  He held her close, oblivious to the cameras around them. 
         They finally parted, both wiping their eyes.
         “I saw Dasha, Elena, and Anna go by before you came out,” Alexi informed her.  “They all looked okay.”
         New tears streamed down Yuliya’s cheeks, but she smiled and nodded.  She leaned in and kissed Alexi.  “I love you.”
         The police officer stepped back up and gently escorted Yuliya away to a waiting ambulance.  The hostages would be checked over for any injuries before being taken to the police station for questioning. 
         Alexi wiped his eyes again.  It seemed like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.  Yuliya was safe, and that was all that mattered.  Cameras followed him as he walked back through the crowd, away from the club. 
              A light snow had begun to fall.  It seemed to bring a calmness, a gentleness to the situation.  With a smile, Alexi stuck the tip of his tongue out, catching a large snowflake.  He closed his eyes and thought of that day in the park with Yuliya.  She would need him in the upcoming days and weeks, and he would be there for her.  Then and forever.