Сергей Жарковский – Creature of unknown kind (страница 13)

“Such as he was” – and the Father looked like from American trick, but more precisely – as in American action movie from a video salon in Sheremetyevo, where Colonel Blinchuk recently waited for the flight. “Blade Runner” came to Blinchuk’s mind. But suddenly Korostylyov distinctly muttered: “The Uryupinsk theater of the young spectator” – and instantly the grandeur and brilliance of manner and clothes of the mysterious alien in the eyes (aching, by the way, brutally rubbed) of the Colonel Blinchuk was suddenly shedding to the image of some robot Werther from our TV show.

– Ha. Ha. Ha, – the Colonel said aloud unexpectedly to himself.

– And what the evil beautiful man Seryozha is doing here? – from behind the Father's hood asked his strange daughter, or who she is to him. This time, with the voice of a fully mature, young, but mature, ripe high school girl. She looked exactly like one as well. Very small, plump, ripe round schoolgirl. In the cradle behind the monster’s back. Do not sit on the stump, do not eat the patty.

– I am in the squad, Father, – Nabis said because he was the subject of conversation. – Bad luck for you.

– Or bad luck for you, – the Sitting on the Back remarked. And accompanying gesture was made by the Father.

– We have one and the same Trouble, – Nabis countered. – And that's enough, Father. Get off me. Speak to the one with whom you came for. I'm doing my work here. Sitting and not glowing.

The Colonel suddenly realized: he, the Colonel, is sitting on a chair on the floor of “GAZ-66” body, in more than two meters above the ground. And the Father is trampling on the ground with his huge rubber boots. But his face is above the face of the Colonel… It turns out that he's two and a half meters tall! And the girl on top. A young woman.

However, the Father's face was hidden behind a helmet-mask of the insulating gas mask IP-5, new sets of which, by the way, literally filled up all the rooms of the Headquarters and pile of which collapsed right on Blinchuk not long ago when he tried to open documents' cabinet in his new office… The pipe wasn't connected to the mask, there was no respiratory bag. Flickering in the sun of the “neutral” with the PVC edges, a large hood visor blocked the masked face from above. And lower, the thick, damned leather at first glance, the blackest black coat was falling down. Fakely sparkling in different places too.

Obviously, the clothes have been hand-made. And it was less than a half of the damned leather in it. The braided wire coarsely sewed the parts of the pattern and in the most important places we could see the fasteners with self-made brackets made of thick copper wire. The cloak looked strong but homespun, not brand design. This significantly reduced the greatness of the huge figure, behind the Hollywood superman, freely walking through the world's most dangerous territory, you could see the diligent, inept Soviet man, the direct descendant of Ellie the Cannibal from that hysterical movie by Mark Zakharov271. Major Korostylyov – Blinchuk remembered him as a Lieutenant on the 16th outpost – had a sharp eye and a quick mind. He also was well-read. An intelligent officer. That is if you did not know how many people he had put in a battle. But further on, it is about the Father.

The sense of provincial dress was sustained by the kind of weapon hanging on the grand cloak like decorations hanging on the Christmas tree. Out of the dozen of guns, strapped, tied, taped and almost nailed to leather in different ways, was the only one real – a shabby KHM with a box store, hanging on the Father's chest like a “schmeisser”. All the rest were the toys. There was plastic bazooka shooting balls and the green barrel of plastic “maxim”282, and white and grey ugly with a grenade spring-loaded rocket carrier, with which Blinchuk's son once flatly refused to go into the yard to play war. Moreover, there were obviously self-made guns made of wood. Even the ignite, the size of a sawed-off shotgun from the movie about Pavka Korchagin293, was there. Knock-knock on the glass… “Who's there?” Bach!

The basis for the girl's seat was also self-made. They were a couple of bicycle frames, a basket from a baby carriage, a pile of wire and a massage attachments to the car seats. (Blinchuk could not see the girl fully: plump naked arms were hugging the shoulders of a gigantic coat, a short bare neck, a round, attentive face over a bald of the mask, several rich strands of hair flowing down the cheeks from under the ski cap. Suddenly, Blinchuk remembered that now it is the middle of November, and felt how hot he was, and realized that it was strange, that this was also a special effect…)

– In appearance, my father and I are nothing but clowns, right, comrade Colonel? – Said the lass-girl in the voice of the old witch. Father stepped from foot to foot. – Club props, folk festivals organization. Profession – a master entertainer! But do not be upset. Hello! As an old resident, I welcome you on our planet!

Blinchuk cleared his throat, removed the SKAR's304 belt from his shoulder and rose to his feet. The seat beneath him slammed, lifting. And it seemed to him that the Father grew taller at the same time as it slammed. Blinchuk was looking at him from the bottom up again.

– Good day to both of you, – he said. – May I come closer to greet you?

– Why not? – The lass asked. The girl. – You are much more radioactive than we are.

At this moment, Blinchuk jumping out of the track's body landed wrong and sprained the leg, the ankle. Kept the cursing to himself. Limping, he approached the alien couple. Somehow, while he was walking the Father suddenly diminished. Blinchuk wanted to rub his eyes, especially since it had just become a habit. Father was not two and a half meters tall, of course, not even two. He was only half a head taller than Blinchuk. An illusion, or what? And with this heat… What the hell is happening to me?!

The Father was stretching the hand to meet him. The only thing Blinchuck had time to notice was an engagement ring, deeply rooted in the thick ring finger, and a deafening handshake followed, which, incidentally, was easily met by Blinchuk, his hand was like a shovel too.

– It's nice, hello, – said the lass from above. – Here they call me the Father, and according to the passport, my name is Kalitin, Valentin Andreevich.

She also stretched a hand to Blinchuk. As a girl, palm down. Blinchuk gently squeezed the palm. The girl lowered her eyelashes, led her chin down, in a word, created an expression of a curtsy on her face.

– Hello, -she said in the same voice. – This is my daughter, Yana. She was born during the Lightning. She cannot walk on the ground, this will kill her.

During the last phrase, Blinchuk decided to play by their rules. According to the reports and the testimonies, what was happening during the Lightning was horrible, many and many refugees also needed psychiatric help. Those, who were lucky to get out of the Zone. And seems that this two stayed in. “How could I not hear that someone was not missing in the Lightning? How many more lies were in reports? We must evacuate them, of course”, he thought nevertheless.

“Now the Father will hit him with all his guns”, thought Nabis, who was listening attentively.

“Something is wrong here”, thought Korostylyov, “they are not lying and they are not crazy.”

Ensign Glyzin wasn't thinking anything, he was covering the chief, but Shultsev, who still had not decided where to put this damned mop, yes, he was thinking. And here is what he thought: “I'll throw it, say, under “shishiga”, while it's noisy and insane here. And I’ll find this poacher later.”

– Sergey Borisovich, it is a suicide to evacuate me and my daughter, – said the young lady, smiling kindly. There were dimples on her round cheeks with a curl near the nose. The word “evacuate” she denoted as a quote by intonation. – Because for you this is the abduction, and for us this is resistance and then certainly your untimely death. Why am I sure of that? Me and my daughter are not able to leave the Zone. And we will fight for our lives. – The girl hugged the Father by the neck and leaned her head on her shoulder. – The main thing is that it’s not about me and Yana. We just came to hand you an invitation. There is an opinion that you are going to be a commandant here for a long time. You will have a good nickname. I was asked to call you. So I strolled under your surveillance camera. – The Father thoughtfully nodded with the stump of the trunk on the gas mask, and the lady continued: – I was nearby, and this is not a big favor, here in the Zone we have plenty of time. On other days, even in buckets. Will you go to talk?

– With whom? – asked Blinchuk hoarsely.

– With responsible and knowledgeable people.

– Here, in the Zone?

– No-no, – said the Father through his daughter. – Sergey Borisovich, Comrade Colonel, personally you cannot go out into the Zone at all. You will perish, and your death will be very violent. You have it written on the face. Even one step into the Zone will kill you. And this will be a pity. A pity not even because of you: death is a girlfriend in the Trouble. But a pity because you seem to be the very useful man as the commandant of QZAI.