Денис Седов – One step into Tomorrow: Reflection (страница 9)

The radio crackled, and a voice with a slight accent responded: "Received. Visually identified. Approach the control point via the central road, no sudden movements. You will be instructed on the procedure. Stay on channel five."

I turned around: "Alright, let's go. Nice and easy."

When about fifty meters remained, a soldier stepped forward and stopped us.

The instructions came with a slight delay, but the voice was clear: "One person exits. The rest stay in the vehicle. Weapons on safe, no sudden movements."

"Understood. Complying."

I turned to the guys. Nastya was already looking at me. I nodded at her. All calm.

"I'm getting out. Watch the perimeter. If anything, the signal is the same: two short—we come out, one long—we leave."

I got out alone. Hands visible. Moved forward slowly. Radio ready. At ten meters, they stopped me.

"Who are you?" asked one of the greeters.

"Konstantin. Former security and protection specialist. Kolomna."

"What's your purpose?"

"Heading to Kubinka. Want to check on our people. Reason to believe some might still be there."

The man in camouflage with a patch on his chest turned to his comrade; they exchanged glances.

"Alright. Drive your vehicle to sector two. Standard inspection," he pointed the direction.

"Received. Thank you."

I returned to the "Lynx."

"We're moving. They're going to check us now."

Nastya nodded. Her hands on the wheel were white from tension. She didn't ask anything, just started moving, and we drove to a small bay about twenty meters away.

The bay, like the entire checkpoint, was equipped by the book. Any vehicle entering was instantly in crossfire: directly opposite, partially dug in and covered with sandbags, stood a tank. Only the turret protruded, the barrel aimed precisely at those passing through.

To the left and right—embrasures, behind them heavy machine guns. Under the asphalt, a passage was built: a concrete tunnel allowing fighters to move underground. Above the checkpoint towered antennas, protected by makeshift shields against shrapnel and hits. Everywhere, discipline was palpable: fighters in body armor, with communication headsets, each armed to the teeth.

A soldier with a German shepherd patrolled the perimeter slowly. Most likely, the dog was trained to find explosives.

All together, it made a strong impression. This wasn't just a group of survivors. This was an army, organized and ready for serious war.

A man in a helmet and tactical vest, with a rifle slung, stepped forward. He carried himself confidently, like he was in charge. He gestured where to stop, then, waving his hand, invited me over.

"Captain Filatov, Roman," he introduced himself with a wide smile and extended his hand, having first removed his glove.

"Hello. Konstantin, Lieutenant," I replied, shaking his hand. "This is Anastasia, Alexander, and Vasily," I added, introducing the others.

Nastya smiled too, calmly, warmly.

"Hello, Anastasia," the captain said with slight irony but in a friendly way, and then, unable to contain himself, stepped towards her, hugged her tightly, and, laughing, spun her around, lifting her off the ground.

"This is my teacher, guys!" he exclaimed. "I learned to shoot from her!"

His emotions showed he was genuinely delighted. Nastya smiled sheepishly and took it all without much fuss.

"Come have some tea," Roman invited Nastya towards a nearby building. "The men can handle things themselves."

"No way, not until the inspection is over," Nastya refused softly but firmly. "But afterwards, if you invite us, we won't say no," she emphasized the last word.

"Of course, of course," the captain chuckled, as if remembering he was still on duty, and turned to me.

"Open the trunk and doors. If there's any explosives, say so now, otherwise Mukha will sniff them out, and then you won't calm her down," he nodded towards the German shepherd sitting nearby, watching us intently. He bent down and affectionately scratched behind her ears.

"No explosives as such. There are grenades, weapons, of course… Anyway, see for yourself. We have nothing to hide," I said, opening the trunk.

Roman swung the trunk doors wide and began the inspection. He moved confidently, businesslike, but without unnecessary fuss. And he kept catching Nastya's eye.

He was assisted by a silent younger guy in a black uniform and tactical vest, without insignia. His movements showed he knew what he was doing.

At some point, the guy froze, as if he had seen or suspected something dangerous. Without a word, he stepped back a couple of paces, pressed a button on his radio, and reported briefly: "Comrade Major, please come to the CP. There's something here worth looking at."

His voice was calm, but it had that particular tone after which no one asks unnecessary questions.

Roman also looked at the special officer—the one in black could be no one else—with confusion, but didn't ask questions. It was clear he felt awkward, worried about the delay.

"Wait a couple of minutes, we'll sort it out…" he said uncertainly, with a strained smile.

The guy in black continued the inspection with the same stone face, ignoring everyone around.

About twenty minutes later, a dusty Niva pulled up to the checkpoint. A tall, fit man with short hair got out; he wore the same black uniform, light body armor, and tactical vest. The grip of a pistol peeked from a tactical holster. He silently greeted everyone with a slight nod and walked straight to the one conducting the inspection.

"What do you have, David?"

"Here," David nodded towards the ORSIS rifle, carefully secured in its case. "They also have assault rifles. And not only that…" He threw a brief glance our way.

David gestured for the newly arrived major to step aside and explained something to him at length. Then, after the major asked a few questions, they headed towards us.

This major's gait, and his whole demeanor, were very familiar.

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