“Pass me the pistols, if you would.” August asks Lay as he stares out at the snowy Soviet base.

  The cold air fills the car, and Lay feels a mix of unease and trust as she retrieves the weapons from the back seat, handing them over with slightly trembling hands.

  He takes them, checking the magazines and chambers to ensure they're ready for use. The metal is cold in his hands, a stark contrast to the chill already surrounding the both of them.

  "We should move quickly," August mutters, already scanning the surroundings for any potential threats or points of entry.

  As he steps out of the car, the cold wind cuts through his clothes like a knife. The snow crunches under his boots as he circles the vehicle, weapon in hand, eyes scanning the perimeter. Lay follows suit, her steps slightly more hesitant than August’s, her breath misting in the frigid air.

  The base is eerily silent, the only sounds the howling wind and the distant echoing crunch of his footsteps.

  “Stay in the car.” August says without looking at her, his breath visible in the frigid temperatures.

  Lay freezes mid-step, her face fshing with a mix of relief and fear. "Be careful," she says, her words nearly carried away by the wind.

  She climbs back into the car, her fingers white-knuckled as she grips the steering wheel. The engine stutters to life as August turns the ignition, the heat already beginning to pour from the vents as she waits anxiously, ready to watch his every move through the frost-covered windows.

  August reaches back into the car, extending the pistol to Lay. Her eyes widen at the weapon, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She reaches out slowly, her fingers brushing against his as she takes the gun.

  "I... I haven't shot a pistol before," she admits, her voice barely audible over the wind.

  August nods. "It's easy. Just point and shoot." He has a grim smile on his face.

  He stays silent for a moment, then lowers his voice to avoid his words being carried away by the wind. “Safety's on, always check before handling." You guide her hand to the switch on the side of the weapon, flipping it off. "Now, keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Point the gun with both hands, like this."

  Lay mimics his stance, both hands gripping the pistol with surprising firmness, her eyes fixed intently on his instruction. She listens as he guides her through the fundamentals of holding, aiming and firing, the words washing over her with an odd mixture of dread and resolve.

  August steps closer, positioning himself at her side. “Now, let’s talk about the center-axis relock technique. It’s all about keeping the weapon close to your body, which helps with stability and control.”

  He demonstrates, holding the pistol in a way that his arm is tucked in and the gun is pointed forward. “See how my elbow is bent? This keeps my arm aligned and reduces the chance of overextending. You want to keep the gun close to your center of mass.”

  Lay watches intently, nodding as he expins. “Try it,” he encourages, stepping back to give her space.

  Taking a deep breath, she adjusts her grip, tucking the pistol close to her body as he demonstrated. “Like this?” she asks, her brow furrowing in concentration.

  “Exactly. Just remember to maintain a firm grip while staying rexed. Tension will throw off your aim.” He gnces at her, ensuring she’s absorbing the information. “When you’re ready, bring your sights up to eye level.”

  Lay focuses on the distant treeline, bringing the gun up. “It feels… different,” she admits, adjusting her stance slightly. “More comfortable, I think?”

  “Good,” August replies, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Now, practice aligning the sights while keeping that close stance. This will help you shoot accurately even under pressure.”

  She follows his instructions, aligning the gun's sights with the target in her mind. “And what if I have to move?”

  “That’s the beauty of the center-axis relock,” he says. “You can pivot and adjust your stance while keeping the weapon stable. It gives you flexibility while allowing for quick adjustments.”

  Lay nods, her confidence slowly building. “So, it’s not just about standing still?”

  “Exactly. It’s about being dynamic,” he encourages, stepping back to observe her. “Now, let’s try a dry fire. Just practice pulling the trigger without a bullet in the chamber. It’ll help you get used to the feeling.”

  As she practices, Lay feels a mix of anxiety and determination. With each squeeze of the trigger, she senses her grip tightening, her focus sharpening.

  “Remember,” August adds, “the goal is to maintain control and stay calm. You’ve got this.” He moves back from the driver’s seat to put his hand on the door. “You have eight shots. Stay safe. I’ll be back.” He closes the door gently, taking care to not catch her limbs.

  “Is…is that a cat?” Lay asks August as they walk past the bloody corpse of a lynx in the snow.

  “Yeah.” August says dryly as he walks past the lynx he dragged outside the barracks, the annoyance from being bitten on his forearm still fresh in his mind. “That was the only threat inside as far as I could find.”

  August rolls his shoulders, adjusting the two duffel bags on his shoulders, walking towards the entrance to the barracks.

  As August steps back into the barracks, the cold air follows him in, swirling around the empty room. Lay hesitates at the doorway, her eyes scanning the shadows warily before she steps inside, the bookbag now secure on her back. August leads the way, his footsteps echoing through the room, the sound of his boots against the concrete floor a stark contrast to the eerie silence.

  “Close the door.” August says.

  Lay nods, her eyes darting nervously around the room as she reaches out to grab the heavy metal door. She pulls it shut with a slow, creaking groan that echoes through the empty barracks, the sound lingering in the air. She leans against the door for a moment, her breath visible in the chilly air, before turning back to face August, her grip on the pistol still tight. "What now?"

  “Now? We rest.”

  Lay's eyes widen at his words, a mix of surprise and relief fshing across her face. She looks around the empty barracks, her gaze lingering on the few mattresses stacked against the far wall. "Are you sure it's safe to stay here?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if there are more... animals, like the one outside?"

  August shakes his head, a faint smile visible beneath his wrapped disguise. "The base is secure."

  August moves to the stack of mattresses against the far wall, his footsteps echoing in the empty room. Lay watches him warily, her grip on her pistol never loosening as she follows a few steps behind.

  He grabs a few of the mattresses, the musty smell of old fabric filling his nostrils as he carries them over to a corner of the room. Lay hesitates for a moment before following, her steps soft and uncertain. She sets her bag down gently on the floor near the mattresses, her eyes darting around the room as if expecting something to jump out at any moment.

  The wind howls outside, its mournful cry a stark reminder of the harsh world beyond the barracks' walls. Once he ys down the mattresses, Lay cautiously approaches, her steps hesitant. She lowers herself onto the edge of one, her back straight and stiff, the pistol still clutched in her hand.

  She looks at August, her expression a mix of exhaustion and uncertainty. "Are you... are we really going to sleep here?" she asks, her words barely above a whisper, tinged with apprehension. "It's so cold and... creepy."

  August gestures to the mattresses, his voice low and calm. "It's not ideal, but it's better than the alternatives. We'll huddle together for warmth during the night. Keep your pistol close. This way, we'll be ready for anything."

  Lay bites her lip, considering his words, her fingers tighten around the pistol,

  her knuckles white from the grip and the cold.