We walked. Underfoot it squelched, sloshed. The stench was heavy, swampy, putrid. Mosquitoes rang overhead. There were three times as many here as in the dry forest. Alina stumbled once, twice. Vera caught her every time, didn’t let her fall. I saw how hard it was for both of them, but we couldn’t slow down. Before dawn, we had to pass the marshes and get to solid ground.
By four in the morning, Alina wasn’t walking anymore. She hung on Vera, barely moving her legs. Breathing completely ragged, rasping in her chest. Bad business. We made it onto a small island in the middle of the swamp.
— Ten minutes.
Alina slumped to the ground, curled up in a ball. Vera sat beside her, placed her head on her lap.
— She’s burning up, — she said quietly. — She won’t make it, Nikolai Petrovich. She won’t make it.
I silently took out a flask, handed it to her. She took a sip, moistened Alina’s lips.
— Still about fifteen kilometers to Mikhey’s, — I said. — We’ll get there by evening.
— We won’t get there. If we slow down, they’ll catch us.
Vera was silent, then said:
— Leave us. Go alone.
I looked at her.
— What?
— You heard. We are a burden. Because of us, you will die. This way at least you get out. Tell whoever needs to know later, tell the truth. Better than three lying in a pit.
I stood up. She rose too. Slowly, heavily.
— Listen to me, Vera Sergeyevna, — I said. — Listen and remember. For twenty-two years I caught murderers. Seen all sorts of things. Blood, and dirt, and betrayal. I left because I couldn’t become a traitor. And now, when I’m almost sixty, when I finally found a place where conscience doesn’t torment me, you suggest I leave two women to die in a swamp? — She was silent. — Don’t hold your breath, — I said. — Either we make it out together, or we lie down together. There is no third option. You said so yourself.
She looked at me for a few seconds. Then for the first time, I saw a tear roll down her cheek. One, quick. She immediately brushed it away.
— Stubborn devil, — she said. — Where do you people come from?
— From the forest, — I answered. — Up. Let’s go.
We walked. Dawn caught us at the edge of the swamp. The sky turned grey, then pink. Fog crept over the quagmire, thick, milky. And then I saw smoke. Far away, beyond the swamp, in the direction of Rotten Lake, where my lodge remained. A black pillar rose into the sky, spread out, melted. A big fire. Very big.
— What is that? — asked Vera.
I didn’t answer. I knew what it was anyway. They burned my cabin. The one where I lived for eleven years. Where I heated the stove on long winter evenings. Where I read books by the light of a kerosene lamp. Where I talked to Uglyum like a human. My home. My shelter. My last haven. Kurganov burned it. So that I knew: there is no way back. Well, he’s right.
— Let’s go, — I said. — Still a long way to Mikhey’s. The hunt has begun in earnest.
We got out of the swamp by noon. Alina was delirious by that time. Babbling some nonsense about papers, about a signature, asking forgiveness from someone invisible. The fever was such that I felt it just by placing my hand on her forehead.
— Bad business, — said Vera. — Very bad.
I nodded. It was clear without words.
We stopped in a small ravine under the cover of a dense spruce forest. An inconspicuous place, unnoticeable from the air. We needed rest. At least a couple of hours. Going further in this condition meant certain death.
I started a small fire, smokeless, as taught in the army. Dry branches, minimum flame, maximum heat. Vera laid Alina closer to the fire, wrapped her in everything we had.
— Tell me about her, — I asked while the tea was heating.
Vera was silent. Then spoke, quietly, staring into the fire.
— Alina Dmitrievna Sokolova. 22 years old. Born in the city. Only child in the family. Father — engineer, mother — teacher. Normal family, normal life. Finished school with a medal, entered the university for economics. Worked and studied at the same time. Parents weren’t rich, couldn’t help much. — She paused. — Got a job as an accountant in a firm. Called “Golden Standard.” Traded in something, construction materials I think. A respectable uncle, presentable… Alina couldn’t get enough of it. Good job, decent salary, polite boss. Didn’t realize, poor fool, that she was being prepared for slaughter from day one.
— How so?
— Just like that. Kovalchuk siphoned money out of the firm for two years. Millions. Murky schemes. And when things got hot, he dumped everything on her. Said the chief accountant stole, I have nothing to do with it. The documents all had her signature.
I spat. A familiar scheme.
— Indeed. She got slapped with five years under Article 159. Fraud on a specifically large scale. And Kovalchuk is clean as a whistle. Even listed as a victim.
— And the parents?
— Father had a stroke when he found out about the sentence. Mother is retired. Alina can’t even talk to her properly. Visits are almost never granted.
I looked at the sleeping girl. Thin face. Sunken eyes. Bitten lips. Just a child really. Life was just beginning — and broke off like this.
— In the zone, she was noticed immediately, — Vera continued. — Young, beautiful, intelligent, first-timer. I took her under my wing the very first day, otherwise she wouldn’t have survived. Because how is it in the zone? Either you belong to someone, or you are nobody’s. And nobody’s there… — She didn’t finish. Understood. — For a year and a half I protected her like my own daughter. And then Kurganov came with his safari.
Vera fell silent. I waited.
— He had been licking his lips at her for a long time. I saw that look, like at a piece of meat. But couldn’t touch while I was nearby. And then an opportunity turned up. A VIP client arrived from the capital. Special requests. Young, clean, educated. Kurganov immediately remembered Alina.
— And then you pulled her out.
— And then I pulled her out. — Vera looked at me. — I don’t regret it. Whatever happens, I don’t regret it.
I nodded silently. Words were unnecessary…
Comments are closed.