девятка! Devyatka! (I Want It!)

I paused momentarily, as I looked forward and saw a village. It was a stroke of sheer luck. I raced into the village and screamed at the top of my lungs, “Пожалуйста, помогите мне, я был похищен! (Please, help me, I've been kidnapped!)”

I dashed through the center and at first the town looked deserted and my hopes immediately plummeted downward, but then a woman ran out of her cottage and came over to stop me. She dragged me into her place and cut the rope from my wrists.

“Спасибо большое. (Thank you so much.)”

“Это не проблема. Что случилось? (It is no problem. What happened?)”

“Я не совсем уверен. Эти трое парней похитили меня из Челябинска, Россия. (I'm not really sure. These three guys kidnapped me from Chelyabinsk, Russia.)”

“Похищенный? (Kidnapped?)”

“Да. Они взяли меня здесь, и это один парень угрожал убить меня из-за чего-то я собирался сделать или что-то. (Yeah. They took me here and this one guy threatened to kill me because of something I was going to do or something.)”

“Так люди из будущего взял тебя? (So men from the future took you?)”

“Да. (Yes.)”

“Ну, не важно, я буду заботиться о тебе, и тогда я могу получить тебя обратно в Россию. (Well, no matter, I will care for you and then I can get you back to Russia.)”

“Хорошо. Спасибо! (Okay. Thanks!)” I gave her a sweet smile or courtesy. I was thankful to her, because she had saved me. She was wearing a headdress on, so I couldn’t see her face much, only her eyes, which were a gorgeous shade of blue.

“Что это у вас в руках там? (What is that in your hands there?)” She asked me, pointing at my weapon of hope. It was still in one piece and hadn’t broken.

“Klyushka!” I exclaimed, with a big grin on my face.

“Ваш клюшка? (Your hockey stick?)” She questioned me, cracking a smile.

“Да.”

She walked over to the couch in her house and I sat down beside her. She seemed single and young. Very young. Almost my age, maybe a few years older. But she was young. She finally took her headdress off and put it to the side. I was shocked to see that she had vibrant crimson locks. And she had fair skin. She wasn’t a true Kazak that was for sure, but who was she? I was about to find out.

“Привет, меня зовут Эвелина Chikovski. Я из России, а также, посещая семью здесь, в этом небольшом городе. Я живу в Сочи, Россия. Вы знаете, где это? (Hi, my name is Evelina Chikovski. I am from Russia as well, visiting family here in this small city. I live in Sochi, Russia. Do you know where that is?)”

“Конечно, хочу! Я был там. Город прекрасен, как и вы. (Of course I do! I've been there. The city is lovely, like yourself.)” I felt like I was making a friend.

“Вы слишком добры, господин. (You are too kind, Mister.)” She blushed and turned her head to the side briefly, as she spoke.

I reached out with my hand toward her, asserting myself and also not exactly thinking of the consequences. I grabbed her hand into mine and felt her smooth skin. It was pasty and feminine, like a Sochi inhabitants. “Меня зовут Вал. Валерий Иванович Ничушкин. (My name is Val. Valeri Nichushkin.)”

She smiled sweetly at me and giggled heartily. Her eyes sparkled from the sunlight that filtered through the open window. “Приятно познакомиться Валери. (Nice to meet you Valeri)”

“Пожалуйста, позвоните мне Вал. (Please, call me Val.)”

It was the start of a wonderful relationship. And I was thankful for it. It was what I needed. I stayed with her and her folks for the next few hours, before I left with her and we returned to Sochi, Russia. I was technically an orphan now. My mom had completely forgotten about me and disowned me. My only sister was her prized child now and she didn’t seem to care about me either.

So I remained with Evelina until she and her family finally had to let me go at age 16. I turned to living with the various parents of my teammates from the Chelyabinsk team. I didn’t see my friends from my childhood. They’d all vanished. But these new friends I made and everyone in general was super kind to me and respectful of my past and present. I didn’t mind drifting around either. But I knew I would have to find a family soon.

How soon, I didn’t know? But I focused more on my game and perfecting it. My goal was still to get into the NHL when I turned 18. I was super excited at being able to continue on and that I hadn’t been completely scarred from the “abduction.” I sort of put that incident to the back of my mind and forgot about it. I was super cautious from now on too. I didn’t relax or drop my guard and I made sure to stick to populated areas most of the time.

I wasn’t going to meet Brad again.

When I turned 18, I was able to be mature enough to live on my own...well kind of. I stayed with some older senior players, who taught me life lessons and skills. They welcomed me like a little brother. I was thankful of this time with them.

Then in the month of July, I met two men from America. It was an accidental meeting actually. I was hurrying home from practice one day and I bumped into two American tourists, who were visiting Chelyabinsk and Sochi and the cities in between. They were interested in seeing the meteor strike, which had occurred in the time, I was away. This is learned as I spoke with them.

I tried to apologize to them, but they didn’t seem to have it. They stopped me, asking me some questions in their native language that I didn’t understand. Well, I knew “hockey” and “puck”. But it was strange, they sounded just like the men who had abducted me.

And with that, I was only frightened and thinking about getting away.

“Пожалуйста, оставьте меня в покое. Я играю в хоккей сейчас. Я не хочу, чтобы вернуться в Казахстан! (Please, leave me alone. I am playing hockey now. I don't want to go back to Kazakhstan!)”

“We don’t want to hurt you. Are you a hockey player?” one of them, a longer brown haired man asked. He reached out and snatched Klyushka from my hands.

“Нет, клюшка! (No, Klyushka!)” I screamed.

He paused and looked at me with concern, as I tried to get it back. The man passed it back to me instantly, shocked and horrified. I took my hockey stick back from him, but I looked at him with interest. Why did he give me my stick back, without a tease or taunt? Maybe he was different?

His partner was eyeing me with keen interest and he appeared to be pestering the longer haired man. He was saying something like, “Don’t hurt him Jamie. He doesn’t like you touching his hockey stick!”

“Jamie?” I questioned, croaking out the name. It couldn’t be the same “Jamie” that Brad had mentioned, could it?

The man named Jamie looked at me strangely. I looked at his friend and tried, “Tyler?”

The younger looking man stopped laughing and he looked at me in shock. The two shared a look and then asked me in unison, “Do we know you?”

Notes

Poor baby Russian...
...but he made a little friend and he's safe and okay...
...and he's met Jamie and Tyler!!
Now the fun and answer session can begin!!


Next up: Bennguin adopts a baby Russian named Valeri Ivanovich Nichushkin! :P (Man, what a family: Jamie Benn, Tyler Seguin, Val Nichushkin, Marshall Seguin, and Cash Benn-Seguin)