Текст книги "Don't kill"

Автор книги: Boris Gorowoi

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Rarely there appear great souls. You can become one of them.

*

The night was coming to an end. Colonel’s body, covered a little with dust and sand, was motionless. But his eye sockets were filled with tears and brook flowed in dark stripes on his cheeks.

*

She ran madly away from Parabel, from broken paths, roads and hid in the very storm infinity. The girl learned to nap under the snags, in the hollows of holes, trying to get warm, eat frozen berries, nuts, bark and crow eggs. She has never been able to sleep quietly, waiting for the arrest, fearing the most people, and then wild animals.

Some time later fluffy snow and crackling Siberian frosts have locked the taiga. She moved by night stars along Siberian highways to the south, hiding from a man sleights and cars in haystacks, in squatting, in bathhouses, barns and stables. The girl has been waiting for hours until some late passer-by was walking down the street, and all the dogs began avidly compete in a grand loud barking. At that moment, she tried to enter some shelter, gaining local yard dogs. Sometimes there she found short happy moments of warmth and slumber, find eggs, drank cow's milk or gnawed bones. But at cockcrow she had to leave into a deep thicket, meeting the sunset, filling with music.

Having built some "snowshoes", the girl was picking frozen red arrow wood, and at the sight of the rare hunters she ran faster than a winding fox.

In early April the girl reached her village, passing thousand kilometers and thousands of years. Her older sister, who had previously managed to get married and was saved from arrest, refused to shelter her.

– Did you? Did you? Did you run away? No I can not ...

Heaven and earth changed their places for her and came down. Bursting into tears, she has been crying for the whole night, wailing, howling and screaming bate an invisible wall of alienation. In the gloomy morning, she stood still looking at glades of melting snow and first black pools of a troubled icy spilling river.

Other older sister found her lying motionless near the pool. She was hid underground, has been rubbing with vodka and moonshine for a long time, giving infusions and chicken broth until she regained consciousness.

For many years, she has been living in a dugout in the garden, as if she did not exist.

*

Strong warm rain which rarely falls in a stony desert of Nevada, flushed Colonel’s tears. He ordered himself: "Live and get up!" Colonel moved unnaturally with lifted up leg. His leg was intact. He got up and was sick.

"It was just a severe concussion," – he realized. – "I experienced different things. Before death, I must fulfill my destiny! ".

He sat up. The battle was in full swing. Zone-51was burning with blue Hellfire huge hemisphere with burning everywhere dotted lines. Colonel sniffed. He thought that after his first injury during the fight in Angola, he learned to feel smells like bloodhounds coached.

There was a bouquet of smells in the air: a new modern amine odor of plastids from the oxtogen derivatives, native flower gasoline smell of napalm since his youth, grandfather's tops of TNT, great-grandfather’s gunpowder and stench of solid rocket natural musk fuel. Colonel got on all his fours, like a black Labrador retriever. He kept in memory suffocating sweet fragrance of “bird cherry”, remembered a strange bunch of lights of St. Elmo with the smell of sulfur and ozone, and even smelled the hard taste of half-decay of uranium. But new heavy spirit punched him to the ground. It was some terrible cocktail of instantly burning meat, covered with kerosene.

Somewhere in depth of the subconscious appeared smashing Thor’s lightning. Death rays, a patent number 1119732, which Tesla took with him to a tomb in 1943. The secret of the tele force was that it could theoretically melt aircraft engines in a radius of 250 miles and surround the country from all sides with invisible Chinese wall.

Probably, long time ago the Pentagon has modified the tele force to the sphere, thinned lightning with harbingers and closed ruling links with powerful electric generators.

"Children's Games" – thought Colonel – "In spite of it, having hidden, like the ostrich, the US government has few hours left"

In confirmation of these words, in the contours of the first glimpses of flashing dawn, he saw a lot of moving figures. They walked in silence and indifferently, rocking a little bit, forgetting the language, surrounding the Zone-51 from all sides to the horizon.

"Oh, Heaven!" – Said Colonel, hiding in a hole, listening to the clatter and creak of thousands of feet. "Don’t I have time to ..."

Then he saw a few luminescent points falling from the sky at incredible trajectories. Objects landed in the right oktogramma and the ninth hovered above the mountain. One of them was very close. Colonel looked attentively. Five hundred of soldiers, formed up like at the parade, came out of the object. Tall, selected, wearing a beautiful uniform, which he saw at Rosenbergs’ place, blue-eyed, they looked at the sky.

Grey Maher’s horde was put round with soldiers Antarctica, and the battle began. This could be only in nightmares. Mountains of broken bloodied bodies, cries for help in dozens of languages of the wounded Maherts, bursting bullets, severed heads of Zimermanns with helmets, explosions from all sides and thick brown, mixed with dust and blood on the rocks.

Dux staked: "Twenty minutes." Colonel remembered a sad police story on the pier. "Now they will stick a silver thread into the opponent's body. And the end of the war will be outcame". The battle came to its peak. Shooting was such that crumbled stones and rocks. Maherts offered stubborn resistance, surrounded the enemy, pulling it, breaking into small crumbs. But the Spartans were constantly changing picture of the moving oktogram, were making lightning raids like with pinceres and destroying countless enemies.

Colonel was the witness of the battle of twice-born, unseen under the sun. The battle between the good and the evil of the immortals on earth. Dux went up the hill and performed an unconscious ecstatic dance soldier.

– Rosenbergs did not deceive! – He cried.

The time started. Colonel ran to the east, dodging rare opponents. Bullets whistled and howled with leisured bounce. He found the station of Maher’s death, threw out immortals started the engine. The car was rushed after by Maherts and CIA agents, destroying each other. Someone ran into this terrible machine grenade "Smaw" with the caliber 80 mm and Dux escaped the fiery tornado, by miracle.

He was saved by a motorcycle. The police one the model was Electra Glide FLHTP Harley-Davidson, with six-speed and 67 horsepower. Ten seconds later, Colonel disappeared from the field of vision at a speed of 100 miles per hour, and disappeared in the country road mountain lanes and trails. Harley passed a mountain mass and twenty-five minutes later it arrived to some small private airstrip with a plate "Alamo Landing Field".

*

Sometimes it happens that you are lucky. All traffic lights flash with green color, the highway patrol didn’t stop you, you had outstripped and rush along first.

Mooney M20, a single-engine piston airplane, popular among private pilots, was at full speed. Obviously, the owner was somewhere nearby. Without hesitating, Colonel got into the car. It was obvious that the aviator loved luxury. There was a striped bag with something on the seat. Having left the police Harley for consolation, Dux rocketed into the sky.

He flew with tacks at low altitude along grey-reddish Nevada, covered with rare spiny cactuses, flew into the bottom of the Valley of Death, burning with heat, and got the north of Las Vegas. He hardly saw the Nellis Air Force Base.

A philosopher said that as soon as the war becomes a reality, every opinion starts to sound incorrectly. The brightest city in the world with an annual turnover of tens billions dollars slept peacefully after the every night flaring orgy. One could see from the aircraft that the city was in the thick of the war. There were only black smoke puffs in some places. Today’s newspaper "Las Vegas Tribune," lying near the seat, as usual scared with the next end of the world and hysterically reported that the city has been destroyed by the barbarians, the night massacre relished at the hotel-casino "Excalibur" and showed pictures of the crowd of veterans with patriotic flags.

However, the vice fastens enemies are stronger together than the cement. The war is the war, and a rest is a rest. Strange as it may seem, the capital of anti-virtues has always fed from the top of the elite and the dense carpet of crime and could not exist without each other, like two poles. That’s why Mahers vanished without a trace in their defaming flaws, forgetting about the duty and street battles.

Surprisingly, Colonel flew quietly around the Nellis Air Force Base, as if at the parade. He enjoyed the view of convertiplane V-22 "Osprey", a covey of nice F-22 and a huge modern B-1B Lancer. In the corner he saw a fantastic triangle Falcon HTV-1 and, just in case, landed away from the base.

Dux put on a funny yellow masquerade cap from McDonald’s and with a steady grand look went to the airbase, having hung his striped bag on his back. When you know exactly where you are going and ignore the guard, sometimes it passes successfully. In any case, he passed without problems, the mahert-guard with lackluster eyes and frozen gestures.

"It is unable to get any sense out of them", – he thought. Seeing the local sane man similar to the engineer, Dux said to him:

– Sir, can you help me?

The man looked at him.

– You know, um. I need to fly to Europe. Without changing a plane.

The engineer blinked, looking for a way to escape.

– That's impossible!

He quietly backed and tried to escape. But Colonel’s iron hand raised running feet and put him on his place.

– Brother! I do not empty.

Dux took out from under himself a heavy striped bag and opened it. There was a lot of money. There were several million dollars. Looking into the black bag, the engineer almost lost unconscious. Probably, he was influenced by the packs of dollars or the classic Beretta 92FS, its caliber is 9mm, which was carelessly lying on the greenbacks, anyone has no idea about it. The engineer decided to punch Colonel, but the last dodged the blow and hit the foureyes on the head with the bag of green solid briquettes.

– You know, that's the last thing I need! – Said Colonel. – Let’s drink a tea.

– But where?

– Where the pilots are. Let’s go to the hostel.

It turned out, firstly, it was impossible. Secondly, it was quite impossible. And thirdly...

However, forty minutes later, after long arguing, omissions and trades there were hold the relevant activities. Conspirators’ serious look made Dux laugh at the end. "It’s a really sinister alliance of the sword and a plough!" – He thought.

*

War mixes basic core values. The same people having lives of righteous men, sometimes going to church on Sundays, regularly pay insurance, loans and taxes, actively participate in the state festivities can suddenly turn into dangerous single people with the unknown motivation.

The codes of corporate America’s behavior have suddenly collapsed in the face of war. Someone tried to escape to Oceania, others were in past history and at the sound of bullets took their head in with fear, others gathered in groups of resistance with the motto, old as the world: "We are in victory and we will win!" And "Tyranny – no!"

The history of mankind is wars, the rise of the winners and defeat bitterness of losers. Wars are covered very deeply with the mystery. The most important question of the war "for what?" does not find a reasonable explanation. Did not most bloody battles of mankind were just for fun? What it is: a beautiful sacrifice to the gods, enjoy the fight, a beautiful shape, passion, movement, victory call, a sense of unity of the deity? Or it is demons food with the basest man’s passions, such as hatred, envy, greed, murder for capture, a plunder for self-consolation of the vice. And a man leaves behind himself piles of corpses, a desert of the left gods, spreads maimed fates and reduce with it a lot of different creatures, feeding the hungry, death and dead chaos. But the pathos of murder, glorified at the examples of aristocratic Minnesang fanaticism or a selfless samurai code of honor, had always tried to bring to the limits of decency, like a "fair" reflection of the external invasion. Since childhood, we shudder, reading books about great battles of the antiquity. We cry from bitterness of loss, betrayal, and we listen with wet eyes to the samples of inconceivable heroism, dedication and a heroic valiant exploit. We look for a perfect heroism. But the loathsome military reality of the twentieth century, a rapidly changing globalism with the newest systems of the total surveillance with the direct penetration into citizens’ skulls, destroys the sense in modern war.

Really, now a rebel with the best will in the world can move the war to any place in the world, he can methodically slaughter someone's race or even make the genocide of the nation, increasing with it the world’s entropy. Moreover, modern warrior automatically becomes an accomplice of the whole life extinction.

To be the king of the used averaged doomed dead it is an extremely sad picture. The only sensible survival vector in the modern world is the extinction slowdown, literally and figuratively.

*

Anyway, the bag with dollars has accomplished a great feat. A smaller portion of money was spent for the preparation of the aircraft B-1B Lancer with numerous relatives, wishing to escape the war to New Zealand. Several Maher’s guards also tagged after him to the Hamilton Airport. Firstly, Colonel tried to dissuade the Yankees from it, but they were inspired with love for the mahers.

"I wish they were inspired with love, for example for the civil defense," – he thought.

Finally, they prepared for Colonel a huge white knight, looking like a dragon with three heads. A tall skinny foureyes took out a large, beautiful notebook. On the cover of the notebook and on the fuselage there was in clear lines painted a symbol of the spaceship, a flying space maiden. The head of the team said brief oration in a trembling tenor.

– According to our custom, we give personal names to our waveriders.

Colonel looked through the notebook. It was too thin. The first people were a billionaire Paul Allen, one of the Microsoft founders an aircraft designer Burt Rutan, Richard Branson and other famous names.

Dux also said a few touching words, with his terrible accent so that technicians’ necks stretched, he wrote down several bold affirmative appeals and signed in a sweeping manner: "Colonel."

Instructions could delay the landing, but far there appeared figures running out of the airport to the spacecraft. Dux immediately got into the hatch, all the more, figures were spread in a chain, flashing with fire. He heard someone breathing heavily. Colonel with some relief saw the Skinny. He held the notebook in his hands.

– Did you write down yourself? – asked Dux.

The head of the flight pathetically flashed with his spectacles. Spitting upon all instructions, they both sat on chairs, put on spacesuits and the Skinny shouted to the microphone:

– Faster, faster, faster!

Colonel also joined, howling:

– Let's go, let's go, let's go!

Really, on the runway one could see people with the typical shooters poses which couldn’t be confused with anything.

A few seconds later at the roar of engines the mahers contours mixed up with the grey, concrete runway and a Three-headed White Knight of half a billion dollars flew to the space.

*

Ten minutes later, the White Knight was at a height of twelve thousand pounds and steadily continued to climb. A great dreamer who dared to create the first private spaceship and spent billions of dollars for space hearing, Paul Allen and his followers were could do their work well. Having paid about two hundred thousand dollars, the client couldn’t just enjoy the flight and see a black chasm with his own eyes, but also fly to any point of the globe. However, just in one direction. Having risen to a height of forty thousand pounds, the rider got rid of the rider, the White Knight returned to the base, and a silver rocket, having gained the first cosmic velocity, used the whole fuel and undocked to hell. The maiden with the astronauts flew to the in zero gravity, to the black and purple space at a height of 40 thousand pounds. Momentary acceleration was spared, not more than six g-force.

*

With the incredible awe the pilots stared at the windows at a shining and frightening abyss with countless stars myriads and at the near silent and solemn ridiculous moon. Having leant back in a comfortable chair, Dux was thinking about the thinnest small flat rare world of homunculi. Crept over petty passions, they are lost in occasional sparks of inspiration. They do not know about the micro world of creatures living in material and incomprehensible subtle worlds. "Whether a person is just a limited instrument, like sliding calipers with limited resources and constant bursting emotion booms or he is a micro drop of the universe, which is trifling but can feel the whole universe in drowsiness?

*

Colonel tore himself from the fascinating soaring to the stars and fell into the state of weightlessness. He was surprisingly examining his jacket, which slowly drifted past him. Some golden obtuse 9x19 mm cartridges were peacefully pattering next to his pocket. He ably caught them and, just in case, took out of another pocket the black Beretta 92 FS.

– Do you remember I need to go to Belgrade?

– To Belgrade? Well, if...?

Colonel looked into Skinny’s eyes so intently that the last immediately huddled up.

– What's your name?

– Alex.

– Are you forty?

– Forty five.

– Are you married?

– No, I’m alone.

– What do you do?

– I train.

–?

– Boxing.

The astronauts unfastened their seatbelts and came to the window.

A blue, well done, planet with a thin layer of life was every second pumping up with the lively atmosphere and tended to the west to the huge cold star. On the sinful earth there were red rivers arteries flowing into seas, blown out caterpillars of artificial reservoirs, jellyfish– housing of islands. In the Atlantic there were huge slabs of white clouds with round wearisome craters of the caverns. On the north a touch of the colored aurora borealis was stuck like an uneven line. The moon with a baby’s Skull was continuously and wonderfully looking into Colonel’s eyes. Here, with a solid Milky Way was flowing a river of the universe. Nearby, one could guess, somewhere, pieces of carefully cultivated Europe fields and lit man-made galaxy agglomeration of the twenty-first century. A single meteorite divided with a bright spark heaven and earth.

"Is not it time for me to make a wish" – thought Dux. – "Just to slow down. It's too much, for two days, to fall down twice from the sky to the ground".

– Alex. Do you have a dream?

– Yes...

*

The Virgin Galactic, having showed her teeth with many nozzles, was entering the compact layers of the atmosphere. For a moment, one smelled trouble and the astronauts felt the boys at the roller coaster attraction. A contractor Scaled Composite Burt Rutan managed to do something impossible, namely, the fall and braking were comfortable and beautiful. The Virgin having lifted up vertical tail unit, showed not only the wonders of dirigibility, but also a breakthrough in the composites history.

– Well? – asked Colonel.

– To reach big money! – Alex said pathetically.

"There”, – thought Dux.

Having reached the height of seven thousand miles, the spaceship turned into an ordinary aircraft which furrow skies. Seats of the pilots who were reclining automatically moved to a vertical working condition. Alex, who used to be a pilot, steadily negotiated with managers. Scarlet evening glow was growing dim and a few minutes later trough the dark clouds appeared brightly lit runway of the Nikola Tesla Airport.

*

"Why did I come here," – thought Сolonel. – "Why?"

His work outwardly full of adventures, stress, shooting, game, frankly false pursuit of wealth, power and passion, was empty.

A part of a man, existing in some reality, filled with many hungry crocodiles, such as greed, lust, anger, vanity, pride, power, envy, wealth, and other lie in plural, and often does not allow the swimmer opportunity to reach the other shore.

His other third was very far from reality. There were hours-long reflections, search for the perfect island, simple good manners, the lost world of heroes and knights with pure passionate love, his numerous deja vu in different cities. There was also a strange not finished poem "The sun and the stars" sensible self-restraint, to see some day with hope and faith the outlines of the discerned harbor. There existed his whole Celestial "A Gold Tower to heaven", "Another equator", "Your Star", "Eternal Purity," "The Girl in the pyramids", "God says," "The Mask is at the ball," "The Three are at the gates of Death"," Conversation with M "and" River of Belgrade". Probably, only in his childhood, he brushed his dreams aside, which seemed to him lost of time. With the first heavenly revelation, when he was a teenager, he felt in dreams the approach to the Deity under the hypnos. God’s breathing moving us over the waves of emotions and states of souls and along the edges of intermediate states.

However, just his real third part gave him sense and consciousness. It was called "love."

*

The spaceship flew to the brightly lit runway of Belgrade. Сolonel peered into city contours which he had never visited physically, but mentally had more than. In cold waters of the Sava and Danube Dux surprisingly saw the outlines of the Ainu’s runes, a turned over letter "y", with a shining outline of the Milky Way. A few minutes later the "Galactic Maiden" landed like an ordinary airplane. Alex touched Dux.

– We have arrived.

– Thank you.

Alex with some surprise saw another Сolonel. Impeded, with a wandering embarrassed look, with mad searches of the unknown, he seemed to be a pitiful and helpless reed. Alex took him through the long corridors of grey queues of refugees from the New World. Border guards asked a lot of questions. In the end, a couple of aliens was interested in by the officers in civilian clothes and painfully interrogated them in a small room. Dux either was silent or answered totally inappropriately. He had never had in his life such a difficult task, which was harder than the task of three bosons.

*

"In wine there is no truth!" – said Colonel almost aloud. – "In purity of living is truth!".

To describe the living there should be the number no less than the square angle. To visible and invisible inert worlds conform three hundred and thirty million gods. They give a lot of signals controlling alive. They are not in the material world or in the subtle worlds where there is weight. These Boolean transcendental entities run the time, energy and forms of living.

In this sense, a man is an absolutely helpless creature. Being in the subtlest layers, a man slowly drifting down then rushes up, then he is brought down by the unexpected hit from the side. He was caught napping by misfortunes, illnesses, love fever, bailiffs, unnecessary pathetic fame and a stupid unexpected death.

It is surprising, the more human institutions energetic the faster and inevitably they are crusted, destroy dissent, reduce the diversity of people and other living, to, as long as possible, bite their finest crispy cake of life off.

*

A smiling civilian from the BIA gave the screw-loose sign, showing his partner, that the guy was off balance. If not for Alex, who with incredible impromptu solved the situation, Colonel could be taken to the mental hospital. In the end, taking the undertaking of non-disclosure and not to leave the territory of Belgrade and obliging both to come for questioning on demand, they were released.

– My friend, you saved me in difficult times! – said Dux.

Alex muttered something himself under his breath. Having changed dinars, two men were walking through the airport during the natural pause of silence between arrivals and departures.

– Alex ...?

A self-confident and a bit arrogant, bespectacled stopped inquiringly.

– You know. I walk as if I don’t exist. And if I see I pretend to remember with difficulty. And what about you?

– I'm just a director – elusive hard irritation flashed in his small glasses.

Despite of the strict reproof which happens between the overachievers and poor students-alternatives, Dux mumbled hesitatingly:

– If you can by yourself... Cut and run!

Alex straightened his tie and went to the taxi with a bossy look.

Dux left through the side door. He put on a blue cap, an apron and trousers of a cleaner, having hid behind the truck. Having got to the local dining of the airport administration, he changed his clothes once more, turning into a greasy kitchen worker, put behind his cheek a little piece of cotton wool depicting flux and drew a black eye, he took two black stinking bags with slops and confidently moved to the service exit. He shouted loudly with shrieks and disgust to space:

– Pacovi, Pacovi!!!

The guards, probably, should block his way, but Dux was convincingly spraying with small drops stinking liquid from the bag and darted out to freedom in an unknown direction, jumping so artistically that rats seemed to be in the bag. Colonel ran far to the east, washed in some puddle and having seen some bus went to the center of Belgrade. There were few passengers: a severe unsmiling massive Serb, a hugging couple, some crazy man, a painted cheerful company. Rare stops, changing faces, as usual.

Having clapped on his head a big grey cap, he was furtively observing city evening streets. A feeling of a sophisticated scout told him that those men never let anybody go. The following day his photos would be surely hung around the city. We had to hurry.

He drove to a hill in the center of Singidunum. That hill for two thousand years it has been won by forty different armies and thirty-eight times it was burned to the ground. Although in the city there was not declared a state of emergency there was urgently advised not to walk in the streets after eleven pm. The city was patrolled.

*

On the spit Dux looked at dark waters of the Sava and Danube rivers. Like a lonely wanderer he was observing the river bends. Twenty years later, the borders had been effaced, there was only a vision of the city which he had never visited.

A hill with invisible underground rivers, abandoned countless peoples forgotten two hundred thousand dialects, under shining militant palaces, with the advanced of good and evil, was silent.

Dux, reeling, was walking along Pančevo bridge, dashed aside from cars, jumped over the barriers separating road from the railway. He was walking to the only bridge over the Danube. Finally, in the east, he saw what he wanted.

*

He was scared. Around its essence ran, an immeasurable and indescribable force, having begun talking and showing something unthinkable, transforming its mind. Having kneeled, he prostated himself.

“Be there! It will be your place. You are near, next to the door, where everybody comes, from the front and back doors. You will be called and they will be near". The picture of the world scattered like a dream with inconceivable touches. “Colonel stood on the narrow rickety bridge railing, feeling everywhere a powerful vibration. His eyes were filled with tears of awe.

*

Colonel heard behind a smooth voice.

– Doha ovamo. Heide!

He turned and saw the patrol. He hardly tried to brace himself and to smile, but instead of it, he just grinned. A stout officer with matt grey 9mm gun M57, and a portable radio transmitter was slowly approaching Dux.

– Do not be afraid, ali do not be afraid.

Lights showed sweat on his big face. Two soldiers were holding, for security, short-Serb tommy guns M92, with the caliber 7.62.

– You have good reaction, sir! – Colonel said in English.

"Oh, what a wonderful evening there was" – he thought.

With a sad smile on his lips Dux jumped into the abyss of Danube’s black mist. Toy soldiers and the officer shot down, just in case, and excitedly reported to the commander's office about the incident. They were running along the bridge, waving torches, and shouting something inarticulate, hoping to find a corpse. The gendarmerie duty reported to the BIA about the incident, ordered the traffic police to comb the coast and to examine bridge’s piers. A greenhorn came down the pier’s cramps, illuminating water with his torch and waving his gun. At the bottom he saw a gunman.

His face was covered with blood, and it was peaceful. Their eyes met. He was wounded. The boy being excited could not aim the tommy gun and was shooting at random. The patrol started shooting with clearly and long salvos.

Colonel was saved by the straw, a thick long bar tube in the pocket of his service jacket. In his childhood he heard about ancient warriors who spend hours hiding in swamps, lakes and rivers, exposing on the surface a straw through which they were breathing.

And Dux floated over night cold waters of the Danube. He was happy to read good books and was still alive. Shots calmed down.

Everything would be good, but he was injured. The bullet affected his left body side. He lay on his back motionless, sometimes sticking out his face, observing thousands of southern night stars.

He got used to extract with his teeth the shrapnel and splinters from the wound, to keep silent patiently during the unbearable pain, change bandages from improvised means during fights. Specificity of his job was such that all wounds he got in full swing of the task.

The hubbub of the bridge and noise of the police cars the and along the river calmed down. Colonel went out near Wisznice in the outskirts and where there was written uneven "At World's End." Dux unsuccessfully tried to warm. He felt shivery in the whole body. Having twisted around his wound, in which somewhere in depth was a bullet, reeling he moved desperately to the east. Sometimes consciousness left him. Instead of an earth dusty dirt road there appeared a moon one, sparkling with unbearable anthracite from his twenty years dream. And then, reeling, appeared his friend, clinging to Colonel and supporting him with a torn thread of the elected. Which had beginning but it did not have end.