Vadim (“Fenimore, or already Fenimore with a capital F? Huh?”, leaned out Mumbler) was listening to Petrovich as he used to listen to cosmonaut Makarov. Madness is infectious and contagious, and Senior Ensign Petrovich, Nikolai Nikolaevich, judging by his tone and appearance, was now completely out of his mind, like everyone who creates (or imagines he does) a story or a feat.
This time, the wrapper of a cigarette pack, glued on the sides with a blue electrical tape, appeared from Petrovich's wallet. Petrovich first showed it to Vadim, then handed it to him. In the wrapper Vadim saw a dry, bluish flower and the curved stalk of some plant with sharp leaves on it. He stared at Petrovich. Petrovich grinned.
– Bennettit! Did you understand, my Fenimore? An ancient flower, shortly. And even more precisely – a protoflower. That's what we took out with that “cat”. Live protoflower. I personally saw Alex drank two bottles161 like water. Two hundred million years ago… or whenever it was. The Cretaceous of the Jurassic, did you understand, son?.. In this hole is the Cretaceous! Understand?
He suddenly cut himself off, stopped smiling and lifted a finger, and said anxiously.
– Oh! Do you hear? There is a shooting somewhere.
“Somewhere” nearby the fuse had flipped.
Vadim would remember forever that after the first hit, the smile returned to the face of the Senior Ensign, and each of the next four bullets that pierced Petrovich from the back made this smile wider, more cheerful, more sincere.
– There is a time hole, did you understand, son? – said Petrovich, gurgling and dying. – I myself… oh… uh… like water…
And he died and fell on his side, as if at attention.
Bashkalo transferred the smoking pupil of the machine gun to Vadim. Vadim stepped from foot to foot. Bashkalo barked quietly:
– Freeze, sonny! He'd gone crazy. He deserved it. And got it. He's dead. That's all! And now you. A question! How should I finish you, bitch, immediately next to him or with a benefit for science? Huh, contract boy? Want to suffer a bit more? It's up to you, I'll provide that. And meanwhile, put the rifle on the ground slowly. And the twig, throw away the twig too. F-Fenimore, fucking bitch!
Darkness was looking at Vadim with no blinking, with no trembling, the smoke had faded away, Bashkalo's hands were firm, and Petrovich was not killed in hysterics; and he was ready to kill Vadim clearly and consciously. Actually, the lecture about “went out with a group, came back alone” he had read to himself, not to Petrovich. Now they don't imprison you. Vadim sneezed. “You will not die”, Mumbler told to Vadim. You cannot. You have girls. Irka and Katty. And Zhitkur did not order this.