Unlimited - страница 94

The man turned on relaxing music, lay near the girl and fell asleep. Victoria, being tired to look at the ceiling, closed her eyes and got to sleep.

It’s summer. It’s 1948. Moscow. She is a travelling substance. She can’t see herself, but she can hear and see everything around. She has a great ability to move fast in space like a comet or asteroid in the depth of the universe. She has no obstacles: as a bodiless spirit, she can easily go through walls, buildings, fences, big factories and whatever else.

Here she is rushing through Moscow narrow streets. The streets aren’t crowded yet. The huge pedestrial areas are empty. There are almost no cars. One maybe two… the roads are empty. It’s so good.

Victoria is flying somewhere. She doesn’t understand why and where but some power pulls her as if she was in the middle of the strongest whirlpool. She has no possibility to resist spontaneous forces that are pulling her forward.

She turns out to be at Vagankovo cemetery. There is no one on the paths but only a young girl and walking old lady. The girl is staying near a grave of a man. The hill is new-made. The black ground hardly had time to get covered with dry crust, the flowers are still alive, come out with the buds, giving beauty to the dead. I wonder if they know they’re already dead, too.

The girl is near the new-made hill and has tears in her eyes. She carefully wipes them away with her palm, a smile appears on her face for a second, full of happy memories and desperation. She asks the questions which no one hears but only the dead and her own mind. It’s not a surprise that there are tremendous scales of hopelessness.

The old woman is slowly walking along the path, at a modest pace tapping with her walking cane made from some wood. She’s mumbling words, speaking and asking someone. The old woman lifts her eyes up and sees the grieving girl. Serpentine, fast and swift moves and the old woman, seemed before to be hardly stand on her feet, turns out to be near the mourning girl. The woman touches the girl’s palm with her bony and sinewy hand. It is wet because of tears…

‘You…’

Victoria opened her eyes. There was Kharon’s face with an obvious riddle on before hers.

‘What an interesting dream,’ he whispered. ‘You seem to be coming to yourself.’

The girl carefully moved her fingers and she was so happy when her limbs responded to the call of the brain. She couldn’t help smiling.

‘Kharon’ she said in a strident voice, having understood her organism functioning again. ‘I’ve been so scared.’

‘Hush,’ he put his finger on across her whispering lips, ‘you have no need to speak now, to expend your energies to describe the thing I’ve been watching the whole day.’

Victoria looked at him in surprise. What did he mean the whole day? She thought she was sleeping for ten minutes. Victoria shifted her gaze at the clock and got surprised: it was seven pm. The picture behind the window told the same.

‘7 pm?’ Vic decided to confirm the seeing.

‘No, it’s 58 minutes and 32 seconds to 7 pm. You have to rest. Don’t speak and move.’

‘I need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Bathroom?’ Kharon asked in amaze. ‘Oh, sure. Bathroom!’

He took her in his arms and went to the bathroom.

‘I need to put on.’

‘Why? You look beautiful. When finished your business, call me. I’ll bring you back.’

Touching every inch Victoria was moving forward, holding the wall. Having done her business Vic got into the shower cubicle also by inches of the wall. The night before was too pleasant not to let any tracks which had to be washed off despite she’d like to keep them forever.