In fact, they were "thrown in" ten or fifteen kilograms a day, and then honorably pulled out in front of the plagues, writing down the "plus" in a notebook. But no matter how much they wrote down in a day, they gave us almost no food, so that in case of rescue it was not difficult to get it at all. Skin and bones alone; the ribs were so prominent that the skin covering them was folded between them; the hands were almost immobile for a couple of days afterwards, the disease was called "Life Syndrome", because the patient did not quite realize that he was alive, it was as if he were born again; the face protruded forward with the cheekbones and especially in the chin because of the almost exhausted muscles. But there was always one factor that never faded to death: the eyes. They glittered with a fiery luster, and no one could understand whether it was from joy or from the grief of not being able to die.
Those eyes were glittering now, but with that fire that arises so abruptly and wants so much, and when not getting it quickly fades away, taking with it the one who carried it. This is the Fire of Freedom.
"Commander, you won't believe this…" – Nikolai looked up with his mouth open. Dust flew inward, but it didn't seem to matter.
Gora noticed something he had only seen in those who were not alive now, who had already died, "Since you think so, I won't argue…"
"Commander, this is…" "Uh-huh."
"What I found–"
"Oh, what have you found," Gabriel was already enjoying the drudgery. "Guns."
"What?"
"Weapons. Commander, there are tons of weapons here… It's just, I don't even know how to say it…"
"Okay. Throw something on the hoist, I'll get it up," the commander was ready to see anything; the people in this pit were going crazy by the dozens.
Something rattled below, whereupon Gabriel began to spin the winch.
Half a minute later the rope rose to the right level: an AK-74 was lying on the hoist. Gabriel looked around: there were no plagues.
"And you have a lot of that?" – he asked in a low voice.
"I don't know myself… But it looks like a whole warehouse," came the reply of a somewhat thoughtful man – apparently he really didn't know.
"Hold on, I won't be long," Mountain tossed down and, putting the machine gun aside in the shadows, went to the purification room.