Vadim woke up.
Ensign Bashkalo was lying on the ground on his back, calmly looking at Petrovich, who was hanging over him, while still smoking with his bloody mouth. Vadim froze. He missed the fight completely. The standoff in the stalls lasted, probably, for another minute.
The cigarette was finished, the argument had smoldered down to the filter. Bashkalo brought it to the blood-stained mustache, the ash fell from the filter, hissed in the blood; Bashkalo grimaced, spat to the side and crushed the filter with his fingers.
Senior Ensign Petrovich, Nikolai Nikolaevich was silent, standing over him.
– Comrade Senior Ensign!.. – said Vadim. – It seems that the bus has passed by.
– Yes, it happens here, – answered Petrovich calmly. – Sometimes they ride. Ghosts. It is damn clear. Eight thousand eight hundred and sixty-two people. Missing people. Just in the city. In one hour. Not a single body was found. Ghosts, of course. There must be a lot of them here. Eight thousand eight hundred and sixty-two ghosts, including women and children. Plus six thousand two hundred and two officers, ensigns and soldiers on active duty in the steppe. Not counting unregistered farmers and others on their places… And sometimes they're not even ghosts. It happens! Stop chattering, private. Vasily! I am speaking to you personally. Do you understand me, Vasily? Or are you refusing again to follow a combat order?
– Hey you, youngster! – said Bashkalo from the stalls in the same calm tone, and not moving. – He's gone crazy, I mean it. For a long time the rumor was spreading around the quarantine, that Kolya Petrovich has gone crazy. He goes to missions with a group and comes back alone. And, you see, he says, that they stopped imprisoning people for this. They began to believe what people say. “Died performing a rescue or reconnaissance operation in the area of a natural disaster of unknown kind.” And he is telling this now to you and me. Understand, goose? Listen, Nikolaich, I didn't believe this! – said Bashkalo to Petrovich. – I hit one in his face for these words. You know me, Nikolaich, we served in the same military unit! And this is how it turns out. It turns out this is true. Came out with a group, came back alone. Did you kill them yourself? Or had you brought them here and leave?
– Do you refuse to carry out a military order regarding a scientific investigation of this anomaly? – Petrovich asked persistently. – Talk to me straight, why are you fidgeting like a woman, you comrade Ensign of the Soviet army?
– Comrade Senior Ensign! Allow me to go! – said Vadim.
Bashkalo licked his lips.
– Call me “Nikolaich”, youngster, – said Petrovich.
– All right, Nikolaich, all right. I will go, – said Bashkalo. – Everything is fine. But I need to treat the hand with peroxide. Look how it is grazed.
– Then stand up, comrade Ensign. Prepare for the task. Personally yours.
And he turned his back to Bashkalo as if nothing had happened and came to the “procrust” boundary, which was only clear to him. The remains of the scientist were just a step away.
– I remember everything, Alex, everything… – said Petrovich to them. – Hey you, Fenimore! Listen, newbie, what was that.., Sverzhin, be attentive. This… What the fuck was it called? This gitik! According to Alex's calculations it is doubled. It stands in the shape of eight, two glasses back to back. Two zeros. Give me my stick, youngster.
