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UNDERGROUND 115
- ... hey you, do you hear, I'm talking to you ... - a voice squeaked.- To me? Viktor froze in the middle of the room.- Are you dumb? - squeaked a voice. Who else is here besides us?The voice seemed to come from the kitchen. Victor walked past the wall where a window would have been located in a real Khrushchev, and here there was only a picture with a painted window, and ended up in the kitchen. The very same, familiar to everyone - a tiny five-meter kitchen, with a typical folding table, a crap stove and a Saratov refrigerator with ancient stickers and magnets on a stained surface.But there was no one in the kitchen.“Listen, little one. Where are you? Victor asked.- I am here! Here! - A voice squealed from somewhere on the side of the stove.Victor was sure it was a child. Judging by the voice, some kind of pi..duke about eight or nine years old.- I can not see you.- Yes, it's for the best. - squeaked a voice. Do you live in a wall?- What? Victor didn't understand.- You ca
UNDERGROUND 116
- Well, if security, then yes. May he pass the test! The guy is not a spy. Not a spy, are you? Hehe. We already need workers, and here is a guy with experience and technical education. Automation is on our agenda. And the man took care of it.- He is a student.“Malyok, so all the staff will run away from us,” Palych gently scolded his subordinate and, addressing Victor directly, asked:– Do you understand that this is a restricted facility?- Access Control System?Palych waved:- Not only. The identifying module is secret. But, okay, this is my headache.- But the controller is the same.- The control unit is common, but the proxy and accesses are different, - Palych sighed, - there is a lot of work, but okay, the “malek” setting will be done. You will most likely be installing the system, there is your own hemorrhoids. Can you do it?- If there is equipment, we will dock.- Good.***Dasha and Katya got into the same freight elevator with two old women and some incredibly fat woman
UNDERGROUND 117
Dasha squealed, watching how the horse's face of Sister Feofaniya's face wrinkled in an attempt to outshout her, how it twisted in pain under the onslaught of the auditory cannon, and how, finally, retreating, it merges with the rest of the dullness. Dasha stopped screaming and lay down on the bed. If everyone is insane, why shouldn't she be insane too? Katya lay head to her on the next bed.“Let's stick together,” she said.“You were right,” Dasha said softly, looking at the glass wall – up there, some important people in dressing gowns walked along the thin iron bridge and looked down at them. Like a delegation on a livestock farm.- What are the rights?We died and went to hell.Dasha noticed that one of the members of the delegation - a stout, short man in a suit that looked like a dictatorial jacket or a Japanese kimono - stopped and, clutching the railing, looked straight at her through the dirty glass.Looking closer, Dasha realized that he was looking not at her, but a little
UNDERGROUND 118
- Today, no one left this floor, but in the evening my grandfather left, who settled yesterday. His room was paid for a week. Only ... - the guy smiled mysteriously, - he is unlikely to be the one you need. He is ninety-eight years old. He is a real war veteran. I saw the ID when he took out the passport.- Where is his number?Victoria took them down the corridor to the door at the very end, Boris noted that the room, and therefore the windows in it, were located on the other side.Grandfather's room looked less stocked. The large double bed was made, but the bedspread and pillow were wrinkled. Otherwise, perfect order reigned, as if no one lived in the room, and even more so "grandfather". There was only a cheap suitcase on wheels at the head of the bed. Vindman lifted it easily by the handle, threw it on the bed, and opened it.- Empty. Jacob commented.“Not really,” Boris lifted the check from the bottom of the suitcase and read, “travel suitcase, five nine hundred and ninety, bou
UNDERGROUND 119
Gargantua rang at exactly six o'clock. Boris has already calmed down, realizing that if the old man spent his efforts on a performance with a camera, then he also needs this meeting. They were sitting in a hotel room when some mournful tune played on the phone. Despite his complacency, Boris felt excited when he heard her. Grabbing the phone, he managed to notice the text "number not defined" before answering.“Listen carefully,” the clear voice of that old, long-forgotten Soviet teacher, who had sunk into oblivion during his father’s service, spoke up. The voice of a kind but strict teacher. The voice of a man capable of mercilessly, if necessary, killing the enemy, as he did in the war. Boris did not know how this was possible, but now he believed that he really was ninety-eight years old. Listening to this voice, as if from another era, from an old Soviet movie, Boris had some kind of latent respect for its owner. A person of such age, such skills, who at the same time retained his
UNDERGROUND 120
Vanyusha's station was not so far away - he traveled only forty minutes by train, although it was difficult to call it a station. More like a stopping point with one platform. In contrast to the Moscow region, the local suburban neighborhoods were distinguished by a very sparse development, consisting mainly of dilapidated wooden houses with rickety fences, standing alone in the middle of a field like Mongolian yurts, exposing the majestic immensity, but at the same time still sparsely populated Russia.On a snow-covered platform, located in the middle of the field, surrounded by small copses, Boris was all alone. After walking around the platform for several minutes, stamping his feet for warmth, and constantly looking at the phone, he felt that he was rapidly freezing.In the distance, the beam of the buffer lamp of an electric train flashed. Cutting through the night snow dust, the electric train swam up to the platform in a long arc. Vindman waited patiently, standing at the head
UNDERGROUND 121
Walked fast. The platform was already six hundred meters behind. Looking around, he now saw only its end edge, brightly lit by a lantern, and remembered that he had forgotten to look at the name.Boris was already wandering with the last of his strength, stumbling, swaying from side to side, and one day without noticing it, he headed down from the embankment into some kind of ravine and came to his senses only when he stumbled and fell. He stopped keeping track of time, on flat areas, sometimes decently moved away from the railway. Several times I stumbled over sleepers covered with snow. It seemed to him that he was sleeping, and he heard someone sigh with a wheeze, but this time he knew who was making this sound.Amidst the cacophony of the night, the monotonous signal soon began to predominate. Three tense short beeps, repeated at regular intervals of approximately one second. To Boris, this sound was like Morse code. With every second, the sound became clearer, it became clear tha
UNDERGROUND 122
“So… so…” Boris heard his own voice. He sounded muffled and as if from the outside.A questioning expression appeared on the old man's face.“Blue… so… tank,” Boris stammered.The old man slowly turned to the cartoon Cocker Spaniel painted on the wall behind him and nodded.“It used to be a kids pool,” he said in a clear voice, “then a car wash, and now a place for healing.“Is… healing?”- For healing.Boris shook his head and said, not without difficulty:“Where is the other dog?” Boston... Boston Terrier...The old man raised his eyebrows."I didn't seem to hit you hard."“Cold…” said Boris.The old man did not react to this in any way, only took a steaming mug from the table and inaudibly took a sip. Yes, this is definitely not a kind grandfather. The rich smell of cones hit my nose. He must have brewed them somehow.The old man, meanwhile, turned up the volume on the TV, and a young honey voice accompanied by an orchestra with a song about April showers and May flowers filled the