Ольга Палагина – Stories from Lyubavino. Chronicle of an extraordinary Incident (страница 4)

The men had been toiling like damned souls the entire shift, yet the lag behind schedule was atrocious. It was unanimously resolved – or, to be more precise, Vasily Sergeich resolved – that these good-for-nothings, meaning the entire crew, would have to make up for two days of slacking. He ordered them to work until full darkness. It was summer, the days were long, and even at ten in the evening it was still quite light. And if need be, they did have some lighting, however meager.

Mikhalych, not wishing to sour relations with the site foreman, reluctantly agreed. No one wanted a dressing-down or to be stripped of their bonuses. Their pay wasn’t great to begin with. And besides, at this time of year, the evenings were indeed as bright as day. It was June, the peak of the summer solstice. The fine weather was conducive, and so it was collectively decided to stay on until twilight.

With silent steps, the summer night drew near, filling the air with the many-voiced chorus of crickets and the whisper of foliage. With each passing minute, the sky grew a deeper hue, the world grew still, and the surrounding villages, as if on command, sank into slumber. But within the brigade, in defiance of the pervasive tranquility, the work did not cease for a second.

It must be noted, dear reader, that in these parts, one seldom saw light in the windows late at night. The locals had lived since time immemorial by an established principle: “Early to bed and early to rise!” Even in the district center, life gradually ground to a halt: in the freshly painted five-story buildings, the little lights winked out one after another, the streets grew empty, and only rarely did the late gleam of headlights flicker in the distance.

The “Whoo-hoo!” crew was already well on its way to the desired result when suddenly, let’s not be afraid of the word, IT arrived – that fateful moment!

From under the excavator’s bucket came a deafening “BO-BOOM!” A blinding flash erupted, the ground shuddered and for a moment gave way beneath their feet, and a dazzling pillar of light shot into the sky. Acrid smoke began to pour from the freshly dug pit, and Mikhalych only had time to catch a glimpse with one eye as his faithful eagles – Sasha, Dima, and Valera – illuminated by an infernal glow, were sent flying in different directions like rag dolls.

Sasha plummeted into the nearest bushes like a sack of potatoes; Dima, having spun gracefully in mid-air, landed in a nearby hole; and Valera, as if attempting to break the world record for the long jump, vanished beyond the visible horizon.

Casting a terrified glance toward the excavator cab where Zhenya was sitting (a dramatic image that would be seared into his memory for life), Mikhalych saw the enormous, saucer-wide, utterly deranged eyes of Zhenya the excavator operator.

The settlement with the charming name of Lyubavino and all the surrounding villages were instantly plunged into darkness. An ominous, tomb-like silence fell all around, promising nothing good.

Suddenly, this silence was torn apart by a strange sound – something between a muffled collective shriek and a drawn-out howl. It slowly spread across the land, swelling and filling everything around. The members of the “Whoo-hoo Crew,” already scared out of their wits, felt shivers running down their spines, and the hair on the back of their necks stood on end.

“Folks, is everyone alive?” Mikhalych croaked in a voice not his own, crouching down from fright.

His throat was parched from the shock, and in his chest, his heart, driven wild by terror, fluttered frantically, as if trying to leap out and make a run for it.

“Yeeeah… sort of…” came the discordant, out-of-sync replies from Sasha, Dima, and Valera. Their soot-smudged, haggard faces, with a feverish glint in their eyes, kept peeking out from the most unlikely hiding spots. Their disheveled hair and fear-contorted silhouettes looked cartoonish in the gathering dusk.

“We must’ve hit some power cables! Now we’re in a right mess!..” Mikhalych rasped out again.

“Mikhalych, are you crazy? We’re following the project plan, it’s not our fault!” Sasha and Valera started wailing in unison.

“They told us where to dig, so we dig there. How is any of this on us?” Dima chimed in.

“Oh, sure…” Mikhalych was breathing heavily, his hands planted on his knees, waiting for his heart to gradually settle down.

“Mikhalych, you should just catch your breath, look at you… you’re pale as a ghost…” Lyosha noted with concern.

“Catch my breath… for fuck’s sake…” Mikhalych gave a philosophical smirk. “To stay calm, I’d have to be gobbling down valerian! Striding across a field, tearing it up and swallowing it without even chewing… Roots and all!.. Till it’s sprouting out of my damn ears!”

The crew burst out laughing. Even in the darkest moments, when a situation felt like it was ripped from a horror film, Mikhalych maintained the serenity of a Buddhist monk. His jokes, sharp as a nail in your boot sole, served as an unmistakable signal: panic was hereby declared illegal.

“We’ve got two options, lads: we either laugh, or we panic. And our panic comes with a ‘deluxe’ package – complete with an ambulance, the big bosses, and possibly an exorcist. So laugh, boys, it’s cheaper and far better for your health!” Mikhalych was fond of saying in tough times.

“Now, just hold on, Mikhalych… They’ll figure out tomorrow where these cables came from. And as for us… we’re just the hands… the hired help,” Dima reasonably pointed out, a smile already playing on his lips.

“Only now we’re in for a world of trouble… a real earful,” Mikhalych exhaled with vexation. “And tomorrow, the inspectors will be descending on us… Damn them all…!” He clutched his chest once more. “Zhenya, you alive over there?”

“Yeah, sort of… alive,” Zhenya’s voice quivered. “The bucket was nearly torn clean off.” He wiped the sweat from his face and was surprised to find his hands shaking with a fine tremor. In fact, his whole body was shuddering slightly. He’d been through all sorts of things in his life, but this was a first.

“We’re actually lucky it didn’t turn out worse!” Dima remarked, cautiously peering into the trench. “Holy smokes! There are several cables in here!” he gasped, grabbing his head in disbelief.

“Yeeeah… we’re screwed…” Sasha muttered pensively, squatting down on his haunches and lighting a cigarette.

Mikhalych finally straightened up and with a tragic air, delivered his verdict:

“Yeah… A total clusterfuck!.. And I’ll tell you what, boys, the time has come to look this fuckup right in the eye.”

With a heavy sigh, he waved his hand and trudged off to report to the bosses on the emergency line, despite the late hour.

The following morning, the little town was abuzz like a disturbed beehive. Everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, was trying to figure out where the electricity and other customary blessings of civilization had vanished.

The more advanced pundits, those with but a superficial grasp of the issue, were foaming at the mouth, vehemently insisting: “That’s it, we’re done for! The Mayan apocalypse has arrived!”

And how could it be otherwise? The year was 2012 – the zenith of civilization, a time when humanity, having reached unprecedented heights, was awaiting with the greatest impatience… the end of the world. Surely, such a momentous year couldn’t pass in Lyubavino without a grand cosmic cataclysm!

And as you can see – they had finally gotten their wish! It had come to pass!.. Although, not quite in the form they had anticipated. But who pays any mind to such trivial details?

The local blogger, who fancied himself a sort of Raskolnikov chasing existential truth, or perhaps a Panikovsky in pursuit of the golden ratio of a sensational scoop, was dashing between administrative buildings like a fly in search of jam. He was greedily fishing for details, dreaming of crafting a bombshell report that would blow up the local social networks. The scent of a scandal was in the air! And this hero of our time was just about to rush beyond the district limits – if only to get his hands on the coveted “internet” – to immediately bestow upon humanity the blessing of his exposé.

Alas, the trail of the true culprits behind the collapse stubbornly eluded him. Instead, he found some hot-headed individuals who, threatening to relieve him of his expensive equipment (and, for good measure, a couple of his teeth), quickly explained to the promising journalist that silence is golden, while a scandal guaranteed a hole in the budget and some serious health issues.

As for the town’s mayor, he was beside himself. And not so much because of the sudden energy crisis, but rather because his personal, meticulously laid plans for the weekend had unexpectedly collapsed. Eyewitnesses claimed that the face of the city’s chief magistrate that day displayed the entire spectrum of human emotion – from righteous indignation to theatrical despair. It’s just that concern for the townsfolk seemed to have gotten lost somewhere within that spectrum.