Денис Седов – One step into Tomorrow: Reflection (страница 7)

The infirmary was located in a lower room. It used to be a workshop, then it was converted and even equipped with supplies from the local hospital. Abu Faiz was not a frequent guest here, and his appearance was unexpected. All the doctors and nurses dropped everything and stood in respectful bow.

At that moment, the door to one of the wards opened, and a pretty woman in a white coat came out.

«Who are you?» Abu asked, stopping her with a gesture.

«Doctor, Maria Sergeeva. Surgeon. I was sent to help from Livino.»

Livino paid tribute to Abu Faiz, and so far there had been no problems with them.

«You'll come to me in an hour,» he said in a tone that brooked no argument, and threw a glance at his bodyguard: «Check her out.»

The latter nodded almost imperceptibly. No longer paying attention to the pale woman, Abu entered Grishka's ward.

«So, screwed up again? Seventy men in Ozyory, twenty before that at the military's… Are you completely out of your mind?» Abu scolded him, lounging on the next cot and picking at the fruit on a plate. «Keep quiet. I've already been told everything. Why did you drag that idiot Viktor here? Why didn't you kill him right away?»

«He was with the Ryazan guys. And there were rumors they'd found some kind of channel. I didn't put pressure on him, and then I was unconscious. He came with a pistol. All his other weapons were standard, but the pistol… I'd never seen anything like it. So I wanted to find out where it came from…»

«Alright, when you're better, we'll put pressure on him together. For now, let them patch him up. Our executioner broke some things on him.»

With that, Abu left the infirmary. He was already anticipating his meeting with the woman doctor. And when, in the corridor in front of his office, he saw the bodyguard and Viktor standing nearby, he grimaced with disgust.

«Alright, live for now,» he threw contemptuously at Viktor. «You'll be moved to a better room. We'll see later.»

«You can't…» Viktor whispered through his broken lips and knocked-out teeth.

«What can't I, idiot?» the leader was beginning to lose his composure.

«You can't let the man go. I met him in the yard. Him and the old man with him. They were being taken somewhere. He's a liaison from that other world. You can't kill him…» from the strain, Viktor's blood began to flow. Fragments of teeth cut his broken and swollen lips. But he uttered this phrase to the end, despite the pain.

Then Abu Faiz remembered Grishka's words.

«Where are his things?» he growled at the bodyguard.

The pistol, delivered about five minutes later, was unmistakable. The serial number clearly showed it had been manufactured in Izhevsk, in 2012, in a large batch.

«Where did you get this?»

«Through the channel. I told you…»

At that moment, the woman doctor entered the office, pushed in by the bodyguard.

«Everyone out!» Abu Faiz yelled, grabbing his radio. «Get out!»

The radio didn't answer. The group transporting the prisoners to the mutants wasn't responding.

Later, a squad sent in pursuit would find an old bus crashed into a pole about twenty kilometers from the base. Three guards had been killed with an ordinary piece of rebar, which was still sticking out of the driver's throat.

**Chapter 8. Ozyory. The Start of the Route**

Vasya was driving the "Lynx," while Sanyok took the navigator's seat. Nastya and I settled into the wide back seat. The route had been agreed upon yesterday, and nothing foreshadowed any problems right up to the boundary beyond which Arkhip's groups hadn't ventured. Soft music was playing in the cabin, which I had started from my terminal.

I was surprised by how such things could coincide: for example, Bluetooth, automatic systems, cars. How is it possible to have such similar technologies in two completely different worlds? Sometimes entire towns here simply don't exist, and sometimes even house numbers match. It all seemed strange. I had a hypothesis, of course, but to confirm it, I needed knowledge and a foundation. For now, I put off thinking about it until a better time.

"Kostya, please don't be angry…" Nastya finally ventured. I had noticed for a while that she was ill at ease.

"You see, it hasn't even been a week since I watched guys get shot right in front of me at the sports complex in Shchurovo. Then you showed me how he died… well, you know who." She paused briefly, meeting my gaze. "Then suddenly I became an instructor, a sniper's assistant. We broke into the warehouse together. I… I became needed by someone again. You understand? Guys?"

Vasya and Sanya in the front seats grew quiet, afraid to even move.

"And suddenly you disappear. Just disappear. And all around there's shooting, explosions. War. No idea if you're coming back or not. What are we supposed to do? We're dependent on you and your decisions now. Us and our future."

She skillfully steered the conversation towards the collective, subtly involving the guys.

"I understand," I nodded. "You're right, I'm used to making quick decisions. But how about this: we'll develop an algorithm for such situations. So there won't be any more situations where the three of you are just waiting for me to come back."

"Kostya, we can't manage without you. You started this, you have to see it through," Nastya finished with a strained but warm smile.

We drove a bit further in silence.

"You're right, Nastya. We need a clear action plan for different situations. I'll say one thing. And I'm warning you right away: no objections. Not as a commander, but as a friend. You're not ready. Clearing a building – yes. Patrolling – also yes. Escorting transport – maybe, although even that needs practice. But for combat operations – no."

I looked at each of them. No one argued.

"Nastya, you shoot excellently, but that's not the main thing. You don't even know the basics. I'll do everything to teach you. I promise. And you promise me that you will only act on my command. As long as I'm in a state to command. If something happens to me, command passes to Vasily."

Everyone exchanged glances. Even Vasya's eyes widened.

I raised my hand, stopping potential questions: "Vasya is sensible, level-headed, and has experience with urban clashes. Anyone have questions?"

Silence.

"You're right, Kostya," Nastya was the first to respond. "I haven't even killed a mutant even once. I don't know how I'll behave if it comes to that."

"I'm glad you understand. I have no one closer, dearer, or more precious than the three of you. Not in this world, nor in that one. Except for Nastya," I said, pointing behind me towards Kolomna as I spoke these words.

"Stop here," I pointed to an area in front of the lake. "Ten-minute break. The view is excellent, we'll keep watch in turns, on the lookout point. That's it, disperse if you need to. I'll provide cover first."

While we were driving, I had sketched out the route of advance and now looked at it again on the tablet:

**Ozyory → Kashira → Stupino → Chekhov → Naro-Fominsk → Kubinka → Klin.**

I saved everything.

From the hill where we stopped, you could see the town starting about three kilometers away. No movement anywhere.

In about five minutes, we gathered together again. Before continuing, I showed everyone my movement plan. No one objected.

Climbing back into our "Lynx," we moved on. This time Nastya was behind the wheel, and I settled in next to her – as the navigator.

**Chapter 9. Kashira. Full Throttle**

While the road was still smooth and calm, I gave a quick briefing:

"There's nothing for us in Kashira. We fly through it at speed, without stopping. The Ozyory people said there are no mutants there, and no one controls the town itself. Various drifters poke around looking for what they need."

Next is Stupino. According to my calculations, if any organized military remain anywhere, it's there, where the reserve depots are. They don't leave facilities like that unguarded. And considering that further along the route are Chekhov, Naro-Fominsk, and Kubinka—all military hubs—that means they must have a supply chain. Chances are high everything is under their control.

As I was giving the briefing, the car had already crested another hill. The panorama of Kashira opened up before us. There were still about five to seven kilometers to the city; we hadn't entered it yet, but its outskirts were already visible. To the right stretched fields and plantings; ahead, old dachas and, possibly, abandoned farms could be made out.

Somewhere on the northern outskirts, smoke was rising, but we needed to go the other way. Scanning with binoculars revealed nothing, so we drove on. Almost until the very exit, we encountered no one, and we were starting to relax when suddenly a "loaf" van came flying around a corner. I mean *flying*, leaning dangerously to one side. It turned in the same direction we were headed and, flooring it, sped away.

"There's some kind of local action going on here," Sanya voiced.

"Turn around," I calmly told Nastya.

The girl began turning on the narrow street, trying to maneuver in the tight space. And then, from around the corner, came a sound I wouldn't mistake for anything else. That piercing howl, almost metallic, as if cutting through the air—that's the whine of an accelerating BTR's turbine.