Текст книги "Don't kill"

Автор книги: Boris Gorowoi

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Sean’s fantasy knew no bounds. He was proud of his beautiful decisions on a variety of fantastic smart drives, and enough number of beater. When, after the twilight, appeared his greenish grey hood, almost not touching the ground, then the miserable before his death had only terror.

*

Sean considered himself a perfect sniper. He raised a heavy Magnum, with both hands turned with his back, immediately turned around and fired three times into the condemned. He did not know if he had hit him, then he took off his headphones and approached the shot.

He seemed to be alive and was dozing peacefully and quietly. His face was full of spirituality. Dark salient shadows were floating along strange for him trajectories.

"It's some kind of glitch!", – Sean said to himself quietly.

He came closer, closed his eyes and shot the miserable. Opening his eyes, he was sure that he would see a bloody mess. But in that place was a peacefully looking naive old man, a playful sage, a lamb full of good. Sean turned pale.

He was taught that the world was sometimes something ordinary, which could disturb the average mainstream existence. Sean decided to shot the full clip at the miserable. There was a misfire. That crazy man was smiling and cheering inside. He infectiously laughed at the place of execution, breaking the memory of thousands victims screaming before their death.

Sean removed a cold false mask from his face. He threw out the Magnum. They began to laugh at this absurd and beautiful world.

– I have killed you – choking with joy said Sean. – But it is impossible?!

– You know, there is love. Even death is powerless in comparison with it.

*

Transformed and completely another Сolonel stopped. Sean bowed before him as before an icon. Dux was going up from the hell through tangled corridors, tunnels and mines. Sean, having drunk a flask of straight Scotch whiskey, was following him like a latter-day Sancho Panza. He wanted again very much to smoke.

Piercing with their inner eye the thickness of hundreds of concrete floors, the two were waiting for each other, Сolonel and Maher. They both knew that they would meet.

They both knew that the bunker had been surrounded.

It was a day when hundreds of airports have been completely blocked for one thousand miles. The air force of dozens of countries has been raised to the air. Hundreds of different types of missiles were aimed at a small suburb of Belgrade. The city was tightly surrounded by the army, the police, the secret services.

In light of recent events there have been created special units of military psychologists. They tested both civilians and the military. Black gloomy troops of cleaners with a chevron of the plague nib exterminated infected patients, sending them to special areas surrounded by the military equipment. However, the whole units of cleaners suddenly fell ill with the silver plague and fresh units were fiercely fighting with new patients. A heavy smell of a new universal holocaust was spreading for tens of kilometers.

There was active evacuation of people. The city was quickly becoming deserted. The curfew was enlarged. Anyone who was outdoors at an inopportune time was subjected to shooting.

Maher’s residence was surrounded by hordes of tanks, armored troop carriers, guns, guided grenade launchers, missiles and drones. The institute of human military thought struck imagination by its diversity. From the side of the Danube there came a few ill-assorted squadrons filled with various submarine instruments. There were snipers everywhere. The sappers were undermining everywhere.

For the first time in the modern history all potential opponents gathered in the face of terrible danger. In Inđija, twenty-five miles away from Belgrade, there was quartered the international General Staff. Eternal enemies faced with each other, trying to work out a common line. The representatives of the "rogue" countries were walking with stone-faced in dense groups. The representatives of Latin America were waving long frightening carbines, sometimes they touched each other discreetly, sometimes expressed emotionally everything they were thinking about. Variegated Africans were walking around the city, holding AK-47 in their hands. Singaporeans, Malaysians, Indonesians, Thais, Burmese, Cambodians patrolled in regular lines. Everybody was spick and span. Modern samurais moved forward in a special detachment. A large army of Indians marched. As always, the Chinese prevail over everybody, one of whom sometimes raised a sign with hieroglyphs.

Officers wearing sand-colored uniforms and headed by the Muslim leader in white clothes moved forward. Tired from the wars of many years, they, with the millennial wisdom, looked at the Europeans, the Americans, also the Israeli military, who seemed to smile invisibly.

*

The eternal sweet and vicious war of the peoples always differ from that one it had been born, it gives the highest triumph of victory and bitterness of defeat with the humiliation, suffering and death. Nobody could do over the whole mankind for five thousand years. It seemed that, for an instant, the whole humanity fetched up at the sinking ark. All family hardened peoples’ squabbles must have retreated to the background in the face of the common threat. Intrigues and frictions must calm down like disturbed bee hives. Coalitions must to hide behind the fig leaves of decency.

However, in any large and small isolated community, there almost immediately appears an energetic monad, which often gives atypical roles. No doubt that the monad plugs easily and quickly into the fabric of the unity of the world. Suddenly, one person has to play the role of the chief, another one has to play the traitor, the third one plays an informer, the fourth one plays the jovial fellow and the fifth one plays the hero, the savior of everybody. Like romping puppies which are now playing, now painfully biting, they continue to tie intricate beautiful knots of fates, swapping peace and war, enemies and friends.

Sometimes they replay, they have universal hatred, the lust of murders, betraying the repentance and praying for forgiveness of the fate. After the massacre, freedom often turns upside down, and then inevitably appears the army Tonton Macoutes, similar to the fighters of the organized crime groups. The war, destroying the whole richness of creation, passes like a painful fever. There are built on the corpses and ruins of crippled destinies new empires. Often, they are doomed to desolation and lose their initial supply sources of self-identification and turn into black crocodiles of greed.

In the colonial outskirts there are collapsed worlds with invisible secret cities which continue to coexist, like building blocks of the eternal time, in which there changes only eras and the scenery. Do you think that if someone once, probably long ago, had crushed another’s beautiful world, erased memory by his obstinacy, spirits and justification of mass delusion and you can live happily in the absolute amnesia? Oh, you are naive! Your previous worlds will forever catch up you. But with the naked eye, you will see something: desolation of graves, expensive houses with the smell of alcohol and drugs, pointless hunt for a beautiful elusive doe. It would seem that after the last shot aborigine there deceptively established peace and quiet? But no. A great crime, even if it is not personal, will be fully fulfilled and there will be rendered the punishment and a heavy burden will be dispersed in many generations. At the outskirts of indifference will be forever past atrocities. You will eradicate or rehabilitate yourself. Someone’s desperate pain, young stupidity will subside, the euphoria of a cook, admitted to solve the question of life and death, will be over. People’s fates will gather by rivers and brooks in huge streams. You would gladly throw away from your pockets extra unnecessary stones which pull you to the bottom, all the more, you have almost forgotten about their purpose. But they are in your heart, soul and flesh. And a great human chute loses the diversity, enters the black tunnel, takes a single form of thought, kills the last seal-monk to get fat for greasing the mechanisms. And you walk along deserted cities, breathing icy solitude, sadly realize that the lady had died forever and invent worlds which were blown away.

That’s why, the only way is to stop for a moment, to be taken up with and swim against the current. To forgive and to understand, to light the spark of the repentance and to move forward all conceivable and inconceivable black barriers. And in empty halls your soul will see, in the face of the Eternal, beautiful princesses and kings who will appear like a miracle. Constantly losing real material inhabitants in front of the entrance to the great wonderful kingdom, you can enter the kingdom of heaven through pain, suffering and penance. And, in the end, you will suddenly hear a guttural singing among the grey everyday life, and the world, which your miss, will blossom.

*

At the age of thirteen-fourteen, Maher, is walking in the foggy haze of Hudson, saw obscure outlines of his Empire.

Due to his eminent intellect he could, for a night, greedily devour thick library tomes in a big dusty aunt’s apartment, sometimes going out to a small garden to have a breath of fresh air.

During the day he committed his first acts, earned his first dollars in Harlem and laid the first cornerstones of his great future. A special feature of his method was the alignment of logical chains, unexpected illuminations, approach to the truth and tireless desire to exclude wrong well-disguised versions. He realized that the store of knowledge about the world was carefully hiding in the secret depths by someone's tireless hand, leaving a man on the surface just a pale surface version. Michael did not want to put up with that. That’s why, he generously invested a half of his rapidly growing state into that later became the Internet. Probably, he was one of the first hackers who penetrated into the iron brain of the Pentagon and thoughts of such people as Bob Taylor and Vinton Cerf. Later, he managed to become the most advanced Internet users. All over the world, thousands of hackers of his unseen corporation were separating and tracking the information by special protocols, which he created by himself, and patiently reduced white spots of the information.

His staff did not disdain the penetration into the most secret world services and collected dossiers of key figures. Maher’s employees played blindly. They got a good salary and by a reliable legend, they did an important and good work.

If someone had suspicious thoughts which exceeded all limits, there was a severe group for the secret destruction of traitors. The genius was that all employees of his secret police had been "bitten". Life of the "healthy" entirely dependent on the "bitten". Death and work of the "bitten" was managed by a personal Maher’s computer program trough the silver thread, like heroin but thousand times stronger. That’s why, Skull couldn’t communicate at all both with the "healthy" and with the "bitten".

*

One could describe Maher as a black villain, a carrier of dark forces, a devourer of infants, an old nasty man Koschey who had bothered all beings. But of course, it would be wrong.

Since his childhood, he sometimes dreamed as big B-52, F-16 fighting falcons and big large LGM-30 flew over the sky. Huge armies collided in the sky. There were thousands of flying machines. And no one wanted to die. For a teenage boy, that nightmare was absolutely odd. "Why me who had been born recently, some unknown to me and unpleasant men should send me, my parents and the whole humanity to a fiery hell? To spoil this wonderful world forever? Not to leave a stone and to destroy the last links of knowledge?

Milestones of the bloody history of mankind, which he was reading with great interest, were always a moment of truth for him: the transition from life to death, clang of the battle, shame of the vanquished, rejoicing of winners, a rapidly changing world, a gust of wind carrying thunder clouds and the world which was becoming purer from the mustiness. War is life. Nobody can reject evil, hatred, hostility either in the world or in the war. So it was, it is and it will be. As soon as the immortal soul is embodied on the earth, it gets human disease called mutual destruction. The more well-wishers are activated, the more blossoms hatred and enmity hidden under peaceful look. Enemies from all sides, twenty-four-hour, learn moving called "light of the war match". A smoldered phase is sometimes worse than the burning flame, and demons look for ingenious ways to destroy human life.

A civilization bosom, built on seizures, assaults and attacks, like the necessary evil, is nurtured on blood and tears. A civilization stirring cauldron like a reality abounds in armed conflicts, like sometimes going mad planet which gives people fires, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods and tornadoes. Confrontation of people can break out anywhere. Fierce hatred of each other can bring to the full –scale bloodshed using prohibited weapons and genocide. As a rule, neighboring nations feather their nest at the war, looking like griffins for the benefit, creating coalitions and trying to crush the weak. A chain of multiple factors, which can not be calculated, can create a random incomprehensible configuration. The axe fell, the rope broke and the match flashed out. In the twinkling of an eye, the World War becomes a reality.

Like in a nightmare, an evil genie with enthusiasm and aspiration starts thousands of nuclear weapons starts the monstrous secret programs, painstakingly grown in quiet offices and laboratories of death. Inflamed brain of geniuses-intellectuals most of them have very distorted idea of morality and virtue, give themselves real mad cruel world. Once decent people, they fall into the most powerful millstones imposed by the terrible formless powerful force. Its name is hunger, sensible intellectual massacre and death. And, as always, from time immemorial, there will be arranged a new multi-dimensional party of life. And let there will be: alone-maniac, duels, vendetta of relatives and neighbors, fights, battles between companies, battles, prison escapes, a hunt for leaders, ghetto mess, unconcealed rejection of other peoples and religious clashes, killers fighters, class conflicts, revolutionary bloody songs, fierce struggle for the power and resources. But what about the World War II?

*

That autumn, at the age of fourteen, Michael vowed to save mankind from the nuclear conflict. For two years he has been developing the most sophisticated and genius plan. It seemed to be impossible. To change radically the world. To become the first and the only secret suzerain at the club of two leaders of two hundred and fifty countries which have to become his explicit or implicit vassals. Maher was well aware that as soon as it would be the news leak or suspicion to changes in existing world balance of the power, he would get hundreds of the most powerful state institutions and private companies in the whole world, which would want to grind it with its new order quickly into dust. That’s why Skull had never broken his three golden rules. Firstly, he had never done any records and had ever discussed that issue with anyone. Secondly, he, in all ways, has been strengthening thoroughly the legend about the legality of his big business. Thirdly, he had never broken the laws of countries which he worked in. Till the X time.

*

Names of the nearest "colleagues" who were radically changing the world in the history of mankind were known to everybody. The life expectancy of those great people was often inversely proportional to their acts. Most of them couldn’t enjoy the fruits of their great deeds. It was not fair.

He will be the only ruler who, like ancient biblical patriarchs, will be able to drain the cup of divine and earthly pleasures, to realize an unthinkable thing, to see the invisible Tower of Babel of languages synthesis and complete secret signs, concentrated in one person, and to come close to the heavenly beings.

Maher planned to spend huge resources for coding all inhabitants since their birth. In his clinics, by a new way, he was realizing delay of diseases by the timeless technology he was changing diseased human organs to become an angel of life and death.

The Skull was going to pull true knowledge of the ancient Greeks out of the oblivion. His main wonderful hobby was trying to disclose a secret box of the missing fragments codes of chromosomes. In his laboratories there were first experiments on synthesis of the divine nectar, a cloud of love, coition of gods and goddesses, demigods, and first people. He was looking for rare pairs and disclosed the response forms for keys of the universe.

To keep seven billion inhabitants in subjection, for thirty years Maher has been preparing a secret share. A mystery case of super mahers had been gathering piece by piece all around the world. Some of them were born again with the development of cryonics, others suddenly disappeared and were revealed a few years later, and Skull bought some infants, at first days of their birth, at dummies. The difference of the higher caste was lack of the pedigree, memory of the past, absolute confidence in their rightness, receipt and execution of daily instructions by the Maher’s code and a very high salary. After years of hard work, he managed to create a powerful case, million of elite super mahers. They were everywhere, in all power structures of all countries. Each of them was ready to adopt in the short term other hundred ordinary mahers. It was enough to break any boundaries of the most powerful states.

But the most important Michael’s deal, his greatest feat would be principal elimination of the opportunity of the uncontrolled World War. As soon as the opportunity of the greater military conflict risk appeared, there turned on a program. Maher’s people immediately asked a man the Hamlet's question: to live, to die or to become the maher. Managing the mahers was realized due to Skull’s amazing bracelet. The war could be just a fun game of chance, like football with an unknown outcome, cheering up themselves and the inhabitants of the Mount Olympus.

*

Maher rejoiced. He waited for the assault of the citadel. Like a blind puppy, all his opponents were in his trap. Everything was ready. He was a bit boring. He was playing music. There was only one hour left. So, when that weirdo came out again of the oblivion, out of concrete multilevel hell, an unhappy sad aphid, which called itself "the Colonel", amused Michael.

– Let him go!

Having been brought through dozens of massive iron doors, he was thrown on the granite floor, almost naked, bounded hand and foot. Well-trained nurses left.

In a gloomy huge dome, in the rocks of Belgrade, at the very height of the transept, there were flowing divine sounds. For some time, the Colonel gave himself up to calm of the universe floating on islands of the strong heroic music. Dux immediately recognized the author. Having brushed a shroud of pain and sufferings away, he saw as thick hairy Maher’s fingers with numerous diverse manuals were moving incredibly quickly, and his short thick legs in black short leather boots were making incredible steps, muffled clattering the pedals. Ending a fantastic symphony, Skull created a huge live globe, attentively examined the whole situation in lines and figures, extended the globe from the floor to the dome and increased the picture with a radius of fighting in the center of the residence. Everything was going according to his plan.

He went down the side iron stairs and approached Colonel.

"A sorry sight" – thought Maher observing on Dux’ face the lashing bloody insignificance. His calm, pure, bright and placid eyes were shining in unexpected contrast. "Tabula raca!?" surprised a bit the Lord of Heaven.

– You are a pathetic fool – suddenly lisped Colonel. – All the great masters of the world came to a bad end. One was caught with the fever, another one was poisoned, the third one was shot. The exception proves the rules.

Skull, thinking in the posture of Napoleon, did not immediately understand the words of that miserable Pinocchio with an unclear diction.

– The reason is very simple. You exist in a built world, and for some reason, you do not see the whole gallery of creatures, which are your forerunners and the angels above you. Without seeing the beginning and the end, you're a blind man suffer from the slight autism, wishful thinking.

Skull was silent. He was thinking over many nations of the earth and they seemed to be funny caricature insects. They have long ago been addicted to drugs which Maher was creating and selling, earning billions of dollars. People who took the bait, he was not interested in. He rose at an incredible height.

He heard again a deranged speech of that nonentity. "How nice to have nothing common with this gloomy Russian. If I have a clown in the future, he should be always fun and easy. "

Michael for a moment imagined what he would do with a bored clown. For example, as he will be eaten by a giant spiteful locusts.

– Right next to you there is a supreme inaccessible world. If you stay in a real material world, you can not keep a thin veil of reality. It will either slip off or will be covered with rusty spots and holes. Having seen only a piece of patterned fabric, you have to see the crucible of the high society. But you are stubborn, you consciously leave just a piece of your reality iron and then cry about how quickly the metal is becoming eaten away with rust. You are another lord, to build a high tower on the piece of reality which, by the highest standards, is unknown to you. Your desire to build a magnificent building collapses during your life because it is a false building.

– And ..? – Maher, with a miserable look, was listening a primitive morality which he had read when he was sixteen. – "How disgusting that little serial murderer who has been bothering him for the last time. How could he moralize? There wasn’t any place to brand, the little man, who had broken all the Ten Commandments".

– Well?

Colonel felt like an absolute idiot, having gathered himself up, said gushingly and with the pathos.

– You are already surrounded by the invisible incomprehensible creatures. A fine heavenly tree can overhang a person if he is its continuation. Then he can reach the heaven. But if you are, initially, standing on the false foundation, be careful. A grey forest already wants to defame the only high tree!

– You know, you had the chance: to listen to me. And you would be all right. You are fool. You could do something specific for me. But you are away from here. The world is real. And it will be mine!

– If you can forget your wrong stupid plan, you have a great chance.

– What?

– Repentance and redemption.

– I thought you were smarter. You are binary. It’s a primitive.

– Do you think that there is the third force between the good and the evil?

Michael silently looked at him.

– Uh, no, – said the Colonel. – That’s why, the good always triumphs over the evil. Always.

Maher's face was impenetrable. If one may put it that way, the Skull felt relief.

That bipedal man wasn’t ice for him.

Dux saw as Maher opened the door to the armory.

At the entrance there was a combat German flamethrower Kleif , created by Fiedler, with photographs and quotations of the first fire-marker of the World War I. That hell weapon had a very powerful psychological impact. "Early morning July 30, 1915, British troops were stunned by incredible sight: huge flames burst out of German trenches suddenly, hissing and whistling moved to the British. Throwing weapons, British infantry was running in panic to the rear, without a single shot, having left their positions. "

Skull stroked lovingly German ww1, heavy Goof, French light No. 1 bis, six-liter Italian DLF, Japanese "Type100", English "Lawrence", American "M2-2", Russian Roks1,2,3, light Russian– Chinese LPO-50. Maher tried to move and aim at Colonel English super heavy flamethrowers “Surf Lievens" But Lievens did not move. "Once, there were heroes who moved mountains" – thought Maher. He shook his head and stopped at a light elegant French flame-throwers «№ 1 bis". Skull had slowly pumped with the compressor 50 air atmosphere up into the balloon of the flame-thrower.

Dux closed his eyes in fear. Somewhere, in Colonel’s memory, appeared military knowledge, which he received during the first year training: weight of the flamethrower is 23 kg, the range of the jet is 20-40 steps, a mixture of the coal tar and benzene.

"Maybe it won’t work" – imagined Dux.

But, with terrible hissing and black clouds there puffed a trial jet. Having sprinkled the top of the fire, Michael went straight to the victim. Putting forward a long tube with a jet, like a cobra's head with two pupils of death, a flame-thrower spewed a bright red fiery flame jet turning into a coal-gasoline cloud of smoke.

It smells of money. Maher with pleasure went to the sound, continuing to wave the flaming sword.

– Where are you? – he shouted loudly in black fog, playing hide and seek. As soon as he heard the frantic squealing of Dux, he exhaled victoriously "lol!".

Suddenly, in the fog, Michael ran painfully into a magnificent table with delicious dishes. It was his own lunch! And a burnt greasy hand was impudently fumbling under the table and was catching delicious fried chicken wings. Maher slowly jerked away the cloth and saw, as that man, choking, was tearing meat with his and was swallowing baked potatoes in butter. It was too much! Skull, in fury, overturned the table with all dishes, trying to incinerate everything around him. However, he heard other sounds from a distance. With the flying plates, vases, cups, spoons, vinaigrette, pears and grapes was a mad fierce bullets cannonade, smashing a dining table. Being completely shocked, continuing instinctively creating a dense smoke screen, Maher pressed a saving button on his bracelet. Under the table opened the saving hatch, where he jumped into. There also jumped Colonel. While the lid of the hatch slammed into a dozen of different-calibres bullets and a grenade, which, fortunately, did not explode fetched up into the hole.

– Who were the men in masks? – asked shocked Maher.

– Studs in a coat! – The Colonel replied.

Michael tried to break away from Dux, which caused him disgust. However, Colonel grabbed the emperor with his iron soldier grip for a service jacket.

– And what about me? – asked quietly Colonel.

Different types of Maher’s face, which the Creator was lovingly preparing from birth till death, were showed to him in a few seconds like in a fantastic theater. There was also anger, boyish resentment, deep disappointment, fierce hatred and hope to break away. However, as an experienced leader, Skull put on his usual impenetrable stone mask with not very nice false smile. Some kind of the diverse range of animal centaur.

Colonel slowly took out of his jaw a thin small plate. It was a solid secret composition, which was more solid than the diamond.

– Well, help me.

For half an hour, they both, breathing heavily, were scratching their handcuffs with the diamond. Crunches on metal were like powerful blows of pick hammers on the hatch, like the sound of the strong drill, like shots.

– Let me go – said Maher – you are dead. A schmuck! You don’t have imagination! Let me perform new amazing music which people have not heard yet.

– You know, I understand you. Maybe I'm the only one like you. I am part of you.

– Well? You are divided inside. Why has your part decided that you were right, and you had closed a new order of the world since its birth. Let me go, I pray you. Do not kill!

But Colonel was silent.

It was surprisingly, that a solid composition really did its work. And it was in time! Where they had just been, there was a powerful fire explosion. Stunned, they were running along the corridors and halls of the Maher’s Empire.

They saw different soldiers from different countries. At the same time, Maher’s fighters seemed to come out of everywhere, probably, of the walls. Both sides were united by the strong desire to kill. To kill the whole living. An indescribable battle of the trained elite fighters from the higher world-class was in full swing. It was a hell. The death with a smile rejoined with the crack of bullets, mines explosions, cries of the dying, smells of chemical toxic weapons and disastrous martial arts.

They both lay on the floor, having hidden behind some dilapidated wall, taking breath. Dux saw as Skull was continuously staring at him with a solemn grin. In a second, Colonel realized that his exhausted body was stuck by dozens of small capsules from the bracelet which than turned into something like a miniature Colt.

– You were a very good soldier, – said Michael.

– What is it?

– It is an overdose of the immortality. To tell the truth, I tried. You will surely die ten times. Goodbye!

– Thank you, – said the last quietly.

Having clicked the secret code of another secret manhole, Skull, probably, had a lot, he jumped into the saving silence. Maher was running along blue smooth tunnels. He noticed that Colonel, by inertia, also jumped there. As the Skull thought, the opponent would go slower and slower and fifteen minutes later, the parts of his body would confront and he would painfully fall apart piece by piece.

*

Michael’s heart rejoiced. The world will be at his feet. The first emperor of the Earth will be able to create an equilibrium fair world which earlier had been unexpectedly fiercely torn. It will exterminate obscure, known in the history, conspirators.

He started a great work which nobody would ever do. Great founders had the Achilles' heel. It was the time. They died at the beginning of their great deeds.