Creature of unknown kind - страница 15

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Vadim carefully obeyed. The fog vanished.

– There is no fog, but there are “risks”, right?

– Yes.

– Don't even step back, just lean back with your body.

The “risks” disappeared.

– Understood? Neither exists. Hocus-pocus. But they are there, I see them from here. This is called “to blink the fog away“. Here is what a creation of unknown kind it is, our Mother-Trouble… Hunch is a hunch, but attention and caution are the main thing. Like in a minefield. Listen, Sverzhin, – Petrovich said suddenly, – so you are married; why did you come here, you fool? Have you got kids? Come here.

Vadim was silent. Petrovich turned his head toward him, took up the visor and raised his cap so that the visor overlooked the zenith.

– I have. A daughter, – Vadim said at last. What is that about, boss? Why did you suddenly care?

Petrovich nodded a few times.

– You are after demobilization, boy. Had been serving here, at the Polygon. You are about twenty or twenty-two years old. And the kid is a year or two? No own shelter, no help, right?

– Comrade Senior Ensign…

Petrovich shook his head: be quiet, puppy!

– L-listen to me, you fool, – he spoke in a half-whisper. – Listen to what old Senior Ensign Petrovich is telling you; I'm old enough to be your father. Here's a suggestion. I have friends at the Headquarters of the quarantine, let's make an act of your mental instability, and throw your contract into the furnace, then you can run back to your daughter! People, the “troublers”, are locked up here, perhaps, forever, but you! You are not local! Run away, before you are also registered here forever. I'll give you money, five thousand! I'm serious. If we are still alive at the end – run for your life! There, on Earth, such things begin, exchanges, joint ventures, it turned out that Americans are human after all, we saw them here… You have a head on your shoulders, you have hands – you will get by, and you will have an ability to start over, with my penny! Here's the Zone, son, Mother-Trouble, death, without a choice. Or even worse, prison is around. It will be worse than a war here. It will be blood to the elbows. The Wild West and cinders above.

On his back, under the backpack, Vadim experienced a strange feeling, as if somebody had ran a finger across him with an uncut nail. The feeling was related to Bashkalo, silent behind him. Bashkalo had become strangely quiet on this little detour… Almost delicate, even.