(c) Egor ELATOMTSEV, May 1998.
NUMBER SEVENTEEN
part two
I prepared to knock down the fleeing man with a sweep, and even a little
leaned forward. But it turned out differently. The tramp didn't care about loud noises
names, and maybe he was not just a tramp - but only
The redhead did not act at all as I expected. He rushed at me
very fast and deft movement.
We grappled and rolled across the sand. That's when I regretted it
his old body, flexible and strong. Specialists from the local branch
the Krim clan, who worked on me, made me shorter,
added layers of fat and almost completely replaced the face.
It became problematic to recognize me, which helped without any special
problems getting your feet off the Peninsula. But for such a somersault
the body in the sand was clearly not designed for.
Things quickly turned to tobacco. Under the striped T-shirt - me
I remembered they were called tel-nya-shki, trained
muscles. I quickly began to choke, missed a good poke
knee in the lower abdomen, and several weighty blows to the face and
head A roll, another roll, and the sailor ended up on top. Taste
blood on lips...
There was no need to rely on a cannon, and only suicides
They shoot from a paller at point blank range. Besides, I wasn'tI'm sure I can
remove it from the chest holster in a tight hug.
Another thing is a syringe made of unbreakable plastic in the right pocket...
The redhead grabbed my hand. And then he began to push slowly
the point from yourself to me, to my neck. Short, thick fingers
covered with golden hairs. Simple tattoo
anchor on the nameless... At the tip of the needle fluttered
a simple, cloudy blue drop. I felt like I couldn't
resist pressure for a long time. The tramp began to bare his teeth - what rubbish
he has teeth, and tick-tock wouldn’t hurt him... He didn’t erase his smile
even an elbow strike. The needle moved, centimeter by centimeter...
b-bitch... a few more seconds, and the cold metal will touch my
skin. This will be the last thing I feel... No!
There was nowhere to go, and I hoarsely screamed into the smiling face,
retreating deep into oneself, falling through, giving up power over the body:
- Beast, come out! Zve-e-e-er!!!
That I'm not the only owner of a piece of meat is wrong
the form in which I had to live, I knew for a long time - so much,
for as long as I could remember. Something was dormant in me, occasionally waking up and
looking around the world through my eyes. The strange neighbor did not deliver any
inconvenience and did not make itself felt at all... for the time being
time. When was the first time? We need to go down into the depths,
pink swirling depths of childhood memory, so thatremember
exactly... Three years and a penny? Or is it already at four? Nursery-garden, on
territory of the then People's Central Asian Republic,
queue for hardening. A blond boy, a head taller,
pushes me so hard that I almost fall. Then... short
flash, and I realize that I pushed him back, watching him
rolls on the cold tiles, sweeping away baths and pots. C
I look at my plump children's hands in surprise...
I remember the next times better... there weren't many of them,
six to seven. Sometimes it was enough for the Beast to simply manifest itself in
my pupils, rise a little... and a
emptiness, the conflict was dissolving, possible rivals were retreating,
trying to save face. I remember the gym locker room
technical school, where four people broke in... strange, then I was
It's almost sixteen, but I can't remember the faces. Beast
reacted faster than me, breaking bones, throwing out screaming,
bodies waving their arms at the open door down the stairs.
And of course - the army. Sergeant Shkebin beat me in front of the line, and I
He knew that he was to blame, it was his own fault, he did not welcome him. Beats
poured out as if from a cornucopia, and covering my head with my hands, I
I fought with the Beast rushing to freedom, feeling that I couldn’t hold it
its long. "Enough!" - shouted into the pockmarked face... “Hva-a-atit?” - and
blow, another blow, in the sun, ingroin... The pain was so hellish that
I lost control... and all the colors became shades of red,
sergeant - a light doll stuffed with rags, and a bayonet-knife pierced
it's as light as a sheet of cardboard...
Then there was a blinding, infuriating light in the face, and
viscous, boring questions. "No way, Herr Captain. I
stood with his back turned, and when he turned around, the sergeant was no longer alive.
The guys said it looked like he slipped and fell on a knife? Nothing
I haven’t seen it again... You ask the guys?” I don't know what they said
the rest, but one day a voice from the darkness behind the lamp suggested to me
choice - a tribunal for a sergeant or a volunteer in a special unit for
north. I knew what the parts were. “Will you turn off the lamp?” - asked
I... and there was a northern massacre, the permissiveness of the victors, drunken
neighing, drowning out the screams... Then people came in beautiful
multi-colored uniforms, who know how to fight as well as we do. They were silent until
the latter during interrogations, but even a fool would recognize the natives
Peninsulas. And then there were too many of them, too many, now
they wore their blue and white berets without hiding, and things went well
quite bad. I became a platoon leader when the platoon leader was blinded
laser installation, and two days later - by the company commander, when the company commander
went crazy, cried and called everyone to give up. The radio was spitting out
idiotic, impossible orders, and I smashed her into the exhaust
motorcycle pipe. Builtpeople and said that we will
break through. Where - hell knows. But to break through.
That son of a bitch who shot me in the back, I still
got it, crawled under the bullets, got close - and cut it
squares - but the others continued to fire at me.
Ungrateful brutes... I don’t remember the next two months well.
Jerky black and white movie, running, running, hot beating machine gun in
hands, sleep amid the smell of burning... The beast gave me his body only in
on those rare occasions when it was necessary to talk, ask or
to deceive - he did not know how to speak. He only knew how to kill
growling inarticulately at the same time, and something else, as I managed
make sure - but this something could not help now, it became
useless, and again - overnight, dash, overnight, skirmish,
search bodies, ammunition, food, night, sleep...
I found myself in a tavern of the People's Republic - another one, not ours.
For a while he killed for money, then he carried suitcases with white
powder. He killed those who came for the powder, took money and
sold the powder to others. They tried to kill me a couple of times too, but
The beast came to the rescue. Cities, cities, cities...
Western Federation. Quiet, calm life. Here
memories of extreme pleasure experienced more than once
with small, helpless prisoners and captives, returned with
new strength. I couldn't resist, and the memories were refreshed.I had experience
there weren't many more, and bodies were being found. Fourteen year old princess
with curly, waist-length hair was the last in the series - on me
came out, and the Beast pulled me out again. Three hundred kilometers burned
forest, with two bullets in the body, and the salt water of the strait... I don’t
I would have swum and drowned for sure, but providence extended its hand to me
assistance in the form of a coast guard boat. The legend of a refugee from the Syrian Arab Republic
was received with sympathy, and the pebbles sewn into the lining
helped me settle into a new place.
Tough guys in blue uniforms were still finishing off my
fellow soldiers in the northern provinces, and their offspring have already become
pay for the sins of the fathers. On the Peninsula it is very
cute... and very trusting children. Still - wonderful
climate, good gene pool, advanced medicine, active
"green" and just a carefree life. Just some kind of nature reserve
angels - when I remember, I want to purr. "What are you doing with me?
are you doing?" Hehe...
But all good things come to an end. In a richly fruitful garden there is always
vigilant watchmen and angry dogs. And one day when I was flying along
track under your favorite one hundred and fifty, with your elbow out of the door
airmobile, the bracelet jingled briefly on his wrist. I accepted the challenge.
- Valentin Karpsatov? - an unfamiliar voice inquired.
“He’s the one,” I answered restrainedly, “and with whom do I have the honor?”
“Call me Donald,” he chuckled.voice, - or yours
conscience...
- What do you need, Donald? And how do you know my code?
“I, in general, am the same Donald as you are Valentin,” said
bracelet, and the car swerved. I had to take both hands on the wheel.
hands and strain:
- Continue.
“Now that’s better,” they said, clearly having fun.
end, and the voice suddenly hurried:
- Listen here, quickly. Don't go home, there's an ambush there. They know
your name, face and very soon they will know everything else. Roll away
fishing rods Train station and airport are closed, monorail station
will be closed in about five minutes. You can still go along the roundabout,
hurry up, Claude.
The real name struck a nerve. Blah!
- Who are you? - I yelled. The air car was bouncing along the road
anyhow.
“I said, Do-o-onald,” the bracelet laughed, “well,
Until then, if you survive, we'll see you again.
There really was an ambush at the house, which I discovered on
second hour of looking at my mansion through binoculars. Besides
time it turned out that both the roundabout and all the country roads were closed
paths, and the combing of the city began. Survival turned out to be very
not easy. Patrols, patrols, patrols. Tenacious glances from underneath
cap visors. Heavy pallers with short butts,
hanging from the hips. A chain of total checks crossed the city,
slowly moving towards the station, and I retreated in front of her.
The only chance was into slip into already
filtered part of the city, but this was also well understood
those who performed the operation. The noose tightened around my throat... and
when I had completely decided on a beautiful and hopeless breakthrough
firing from both hands in Macedonian, the bracelet came to life again:
- A-forty-seven, three, door with the inscription "Caution, high
tension". They will be waiting for you for half an hour... - he said briefly,
who called himself Donald and passed out before I could
say something.
This could be a trap. But the choice, as always, was limited.
The named address turned out to be a cargo pneumatic mail station,
to which, without further ado, two nondescript people sent me to
uniform of civil servants. The destination station turned out to be an underground
hospital of the Krim clan, where, after pumping out after
uncomfortable journey in a high-speed coffin, above me
cosmetic surgeons and bioplastics worked... Shabby,
greasy, but very similar to real documents lay in
pocket Forty minutes drive, two or three turns. Taking off my
eye patch in the city center - already another city, driver,
a thin, green-eyed boy of about seventeen said:
- The one who paid for the operation and delivery asked to transfer
you, so that from the Peninsula you do your legs for two days. Not
If you do this, you will have problems, fatal ones. ANDno
shares before departure.
- Who is he? - I asked innocently.
A shrug and an eloquent grimace - well, what questions do you have?
ask, uncle. I moved towards him and saw the black dot of the muzzle.
“Get out of the car,” the young sucker looked calm and
ready for anything. Even my grin did not throw him off balance.
“Relax, buddy,” I said as I got out of the car. "Here
If only I had come across you four years ago... or five" -
I thought casually, and I smiled at my thoughts.
Leaving this piece of paradise, I still could not resist and left
a farewell gift to the hospitable hosts in the well
heating mains. Unused, unfortunately - lack of time,
gentlemen. I hope Donald is not mad at me for this.
After that I was thrown around the white world for another year...
I had a chance to visit the Polar Factory for the second time and hang out in the working
shelters on the moon - slack and completely corrupt service
maintaining order, it was not always necessary to kill. But also kids
to match - they are complete punks, at least they don’t walk around without a feather...
The only place where I had to leave on my own
desire, and not to escape pursuit.
I never found out who my savior was, what post he
occupied Interpol or wherever he worked, but his infrequent
The calls were always very on time. It could even be called
friendship... verystrange, but friendship.
This is the wind that carried me to the Eastern Federation.
I vomited, vomited vulgarly and uncontrollably, along with vomit
dumping pieces of cartilage stuck in the teeth en masse onto the sand and
scraps of skin. From the thick smell of someone else's fresh blood, still warm and
sticky, which thickly smeared the face, clothes and especially
my arms were up to my elbows, I felt sick, like the worst hangover.
All fours are not the most comfortable position, but no amount of strength will
would make me change it while there's at least something else
remained in the stomach. Only a few minutes later, exhausted, I
sitting with his back against the wall.
Share your thoughts about the article