Сергей Жарковский – Creature of unknown kind (страница 11)

– What is it, comrade guide, searching for the words so you can politely tell the boss that he's a moron? – the Colonel asked suddenly and grinned.

– Between the Trouble… It's like a barrier between the Zone and the Earth, the “neutral”, a neutral band, – Nabis said, holding the tone. – As a trace strip. Here earthly works as earthly, and the Trouble's works too… But nothing kills. No dangerous gitiks. And a “kiss”… well, vomit, some things with the eyes, bleeding from different parts, – these all are normal for the first time. The Trouble looks at you in the “neutral”, who you are, where from. What you here for. And then registers you. It's like to enter the cell.

– Have you ever been jailed? – asked the Colonel, but not in a “shrewd” way, somehow normally.

– No, – answered Nabis.

(The Colonel noted the guide has a strong incomprehensible and unpleasant accent, although his Russian is correct and he himself is Matveev. In the “waiting room” of the checkpoint they had time to tell Colonel a little about him. He is the best on-duty guide of the rescue service personnel available today, said the issuing, Captain Mazin, he took over twenty tracks, has been serving on contract for a year. Local, a refugee. The village bully in the past, did not serve in the army, after the army he seemed to be a boilermaker, freelanced at the Polygon. Tall, a young boy of thin bones with a very dense mane of small curls on his head, blue-black, lambskin-like. In winter, might be, he does not even wear a hat. Small mustache. The day before yesterday – on the day of arrival – and yesterday Blintchuk saw him in the smoking room next to the Headquarters three times, and every time Nabis was reading a book. They all read here. God forbid such soldiers. Or even simple subordinates.)

– Yeah… How can it be fucking “neutral” if such a thing happens here with people? – asked the Colonel.

Nabis shrugged his shoulders.

– It is what it is, – he said. – It doesn't kill. Thanks for that.

– Who are you by nationality? – asked the Colonel.

Nabis stared at him, then realized and smiled a little.

– You think I have an accent. This is a speech defect, comrade Colonel.

– I beg your pardon, – the Colonel muttered distinctly odd words for him and turned pale, which evidently replaced his “flushed”. – Guilty… But you do not understand the aim of the mission… What isn't clear about it? To detain a person with a little child seen from the tower, withdraw from the disaster zone, interview and provide assistance.

– Comrade Colonel, this is the Father, – said Nabis quietly.

– What does it mean – “the Father”? Does it mean he is a known person?

– He is the only one who survived in the Lightning. I mean they are only two. He and his daughter.

They were sitting side by side on the ebonite armchairs with folding seats, installed on the floor of the aboard Kharon's “shishiga”251. (Kharon stole the chairs in the cinema hall of the Dog's village club, four in a row on the iron rack.) Nabis was sitting on the edge. From the Earth they left through the Second, “Volgogradsky”, checkpoint and for the “greeting” of the pioneers Kharon immediately turned to the Stand, a concrete pad where two cars quietly rusted in the endless sun, dryness and heat. Door to door, white “Volga” of the missing Chief of the Polygon and “Zaporozgets” of some, probably also missing, Ensign. Neither Dog's poachers, nor bottle-women, nor even cops from the guard towers allowed themselves to touch these cars.

In the areas of housing (“The Dog's curve”) the weather inside the “neutral” had a specific behavior. A hot June day was reigning in this part of it in the middle of a cold November of the Earth. The “time of midges”, which was terrible in the Lower Volga region. But of course there were no midges in the “neutral”, as there was no other local living creatures, including cockroaches. They say, there were not even bacteria here. The dead ground, the zero circle. It was very quiet here, there was no sound from the human side, although running red and green excavators, literally a hundred meters away, were visible beyond the Volgograd-Astrakhan highway, ragged by the Zone. Well, on the alien side there was no one to make noise.

(But stupid TV tower was not seen from the “neutral”. What to show and what not to show the “neutral” chooses by itself. “Interesting, when the Colonel notices this”, thought Nabis, “will he rush back to figure it out? They say, one million rubles was stolen during the building of this tower. It was not created by a fool, of course. There was enough to carve up.”)

Behind “zaporozgets” there was a green camouflage American bio-toilet, and also an American plastic can with a tap hung on a concrete column with holders for a barbed wire. The first thing, as soon as he stopped the engine, and the colonel had not yet yelled that his eye had burst, Kharon dragged himself out of the cab with a canister and filled the can with the water after pouring out the old one. This was a responsibility of all drivers on the Dog's curve of the “neutral”. The water on the Stand was always useful. Some need to wash their top, others need to wash their bottom. And some need both. The Colonel, whom, of course, no one dared to inform about the rituals and peculiarities of going out to the Zone (or dared not to inform, or did not have time to dare to inform), and who himself did not inquire, just saw Kharon with the canister and started to command, allegedly: keep moving driver, I do not get why we stopped, quickly go to where the man with the child is walking in the Zone… here's when the hassle with the Colonel's eye started, and the orders soured in a mid-word, being replaced by the questions, vaguely translucent through the obscenities, “what the hell is that, what is happening to me?!”. Runny shit Ensign, in general an assembled and attentive man, only asked Nabis: “Is the toilet okay, safe?” – and saw a nod, dashed from the car like into a pit, holding the stomach but not forgetting, however, as many before him, weapons. The vomiting Ensign decided not to rush from the car. He fell from the chair on the floor to the left, and boasted to the Stand of his breakfast from a mechanized hill, lying at the feet of the chief. And the Major Korostylyov, as it already had been said, withstood the “greeting” without special effects, but was very surprised and worried about the resulting discord of the rescue team. But had been bravely enduring wonderment and worrying. He only put his machine gun a bit more comfortable on the knees and adjusted the black knitted hat. “This one read the instructions and did not swap fables with instructors. Or, still, it is not the first time he is out here. From whom he is hiding, from me or from his own guys”, Nabis was thinking.

– So this is, must be, such a check, damn it, – said the Colonel, taking off his helmet (a simple combined arms helmet in case), putting it on its top at the feet and pulling out a large handkerchief from the pocket of the tactical vest. His Colonial irritation has already extinguished, only the human remained, which was not interfering with the work of the brain. A fright is necessary in the Zone. You can even pump in pants, it's not forbidden, the main thing is that the brain then starts to work.

– Most likely it's a ritual, – said Nabis. – Something took a look at you. And you rushed into the Zone in vain, comrade Colonel.

– So the old Colonel, the whole Commandment… was fucked over, that's how it turns out.

– You did not want to listen to anything… Yes you are not the first. And the circumstances.

– What circumstances? – asked Blinchuk unkindly.

Nabis was silent, looking at his stomach. Blinchuk blew his nose. Looked around.

– Ensind Glyzin! – he barked and, immediately lowering his voice, asked Nabis: – Is the screaming forbidden?

– Me! – Glyzin muffly responded from the booth. And banged something, apparently with a trunk, against the wall. – It's to blame, it's not over!

– All is allowed on the “neutral”, comrade Colonel, – answered Nabis. – For now. Only the Trouble knows what will happen in a week. But it's better not to scream. Everything should be quiet in the Zone. Hands should be bared, and ears should be opened.

– The Trouble – that is how you call it… – Blinchuk shook his head towards the housing estate “Kapustin” in particular and the Polygon in general. Towards the Zone. Nabis nodded. Blinchuk frowned and began to fold his handkerchief. The vomiting Ensign Shultsev finished etching, lay a bit in waiting, slid from the car almost to his puddle, but happily missed and, stepping unsteadily, headed for the washbasin. Blinchuk, Nabis and Korostylyov were watching as he was pottering with the tap.

– And you, comrade Nabis, are you local? Civilian under a contract? – asked Blinchuk.

– Yes, I lived in the Dog's. One street away from your tower.

Blinchuk chuckled. Hid the handkerchief.

– Where did you serve? Ah, yes…

– I worked at the Polygon, as the inspector of heating plants. And the main occupation was a poacher. Cathroughr.