Mr. Petrov was a mumbling mess. Nobody knows what was inside his mind, 'cause it seemed lost to madness.
Kenya, who seemingly had become a sort of protector for him, was pacing around. Anxious. Andrei had been crystal clear. An hour. Problem was, the car ride was somewhat longer than that. They'd have to speed. And hope for the best. Having a police car meant nothing if he didn't have an official order to rush, and he was pretty sure the man's threats didn't count.
It also did not help that Mr. Petrov was curled into a ball, sobbing and mumbling nonsense, and wouldn't listen to reason. Or to anything, for that matter.
The young man froze as his own earpiece beeped softly. Shit, no. “Hey Kenya. Still remember our deal?” Pause. Was he waiting for an answer? Really? “Make sure you don't get in time. The latter the better.” Beep.
Kenya did not know how to react. It was obvious they wouldn't make it in time. So at least he'd be... following his orders. But... he did not want to think about what that meant. Still, he had not say not to come, so he still had to bring Mr. Petrov back from the realms of madness. He sighed. “Hey. Mr. Petrov. We're already late. Do you even hear me?” Sigh. “No. I guess you don't. Shit. You didn't even heard the last part, did you?”
He started pacing around. Glancing again and again at Mr. Petrov, who was still a broken mess. Shit. Andrei's words kept echoing inside his head. His burning chest painfully accentuating them. He realized this couldn't end well, and that legally, he was an accomplice. Not that it mattered, but he could never live with that.
Finally, Mr. Petrov's eyes shifted into focus. Realizing where he was. He stared at Kenya for a second, before trying in vain to speak. It took him about three attempts until proper, intelligible words came out. “What time is it? How... late are we?”
Kenya sighed. “Even if we go at full speed, we're already late. And that's assuming there are no speed traps. If they stop us... who knows how long will it take.”
“Why didn't you...” Mr. Petrov tried to ask.
The young man exploded. “Look, I've tried to bring you back from your mind trip for at least, what, ten minutes? Don't tell me why didn't I shit.”
Mr. Petrov sighed, getting to his feet. “Okay. Alright. We better hurry.”
He ran to his car, completely forgetting he was an old man who hadn't done proper exercise in the last 30 years. When he got there, he was out of breath, too weary to even drive, half of the muscles in his body aching from the run. He handed the car keys to Kenya.
