《Puppy Story》 Chapter 1: Welcome the problem ?¨T©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¨T? Richter ?¨T©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¨T? The sun roasted as usual. The whole class was suffocating in the stuffiness of the passing summer. As if it foreshadowed its extinction, it decided to incinerate the environment. Thin green silk curtains did not help the situation. They served only as a small fan, bringing hot air from the window, causing tiresome sighs from students. In these circumstances, no one seems to have listened to what the teacher said. Although he was also busy with a more important task ¡ª waving his hat in front of a face that brought him only a second¡¯s satisfaction, spreading the suffocating smell of sweat to everyone else. To be fair, almost no one was embarrassed by such tangible inconvenience. We understood that in a room of 30 square meters for twenty-five students and one teacher it was impossible to find someone who would not lock up in the heat of 40 degrees. And we sat there until the bell that marked the end of the lesson. One smooth stream of students left the school, and I joined a couple of my friends. Unfortunately, all three of us were in different classes, but that didn¡¯t stop us from getting together after school and wandering around town. ¡ª I don¡¯t know about you guys, but I¡¯m going abroad with my parents in a week. ¡ª Like a dude, Simon pouted his cheeks eating his veggie sandwich. ¡ª Are you allowed to leave? Oh, you¡¯re younger than me and Richter! It¡¯s not fair,¡ª Harry said. ¡ª I want to go abroad too. ¡ª Don¡¯t be jealous. I¡¯ll bring you the pictures. ¡ª Said Simon with his eyes rolled. ¡ª Ha-ha-ha, ¡ª the boy said ironically. ¡ªRichter, do you believe him? Even you and I don¡¯t have passports! I stopped for a while; my friends repeated me. I gathered all the seriousness in my eyes by pointing it at Harry before my lips shook in a crooked grin. I looked up at the sky. ¡ª Well, actually, how can I say it gently... even you don¡¯t have a passport. Simon burst into laughter, pointing his finger at a boiling friend. His face became so red that his ears could steam. I ran forward with Simon, leaving the screaming Harry, who had already started chasing us, behind. I was running the fastest. In fact, Harry wasn¡¯t angry with us. It was a manifestation of his simple, boyish enthusiasm. Well, maybe a little envy. We ran straight to the central square. It was huge. The tall buildings surrounded the street, like the gate of a zoo that was a few kilometers away. Every one of them had all kinds of cafeterias, shopping centers, work offices, which means there was a crowd of unemployed people like us in the afternoon. People used to go here and there. Old people used to sit on the benches and feed pigeons. Moms used to walk little children. Teenagers like us have always occupied buffets or an obscenely wide fountain right in the middle of this teeming action. In summer it was especially popular. The constant pressure of water, which transformed into a wet cloud, was like a breath of fresh air. Nice and refreshing. Without wasting time, Harry dropped his shoes, rolled his trousers to the knees and went into the water. Simon and I sat on the side a little further away, like we didn¡¯t even know Harry, like, look, we weren¡¯t with him. ¡ª Oh, well, where are all the coins? ¡ªcomplained the boy. He was so desperate to sweep the bottom with his feet, you¡¯d think he was looking for a missing relative. ¡ª My dad said there were a lot fewer tourists this year because of the way things were going, ¡ª and Simon said the same thing. ¡ª What things? What about the coins? ¡ªpanicked Harry, looking for more money. My knowledgeable friend snorted. ¡ª You won¡¯t need them, you moron. Change-of-exchange points will stop working, too. ¨C What?! Why? Simon twisted a serious face, staring Harry straight into the soul. ¡ª Politics, dummy. ¡ª Totally sucks, ¡ª the boy almost sat on my hat. I picked it up pretty fast. ¡ª Is it really that bad? ¡ª I looked at the fountain¡¯s murky water, wondering how Harry had managed to find wealth before. Did he have a nose for bronze or whatever the coins were made of? ¡ª Yeah, when Dad broke his leg, we got the insurance money. But there¡¯s barely enough of them for the three of us, so I have to be the breadwinner for the family, ¡ª and he punched himself in the chest with a fist. I felt a slight contradiction. ¡ª But you bought chips and soda with the exchanged coins? ¡ª That¡¯s right, Harry, you¡¯re wasting it all on yourself! ¡ª Simon was in a wave of laughter again. ¡ª That¡¯s... of course I spent money to feed myself to not burden my parents with buying food for me! ¡ª The boy tried to get out of it as best as he could, sweating or from the heat or from the shame. ¡ª Yes, and then you had to eat a double bowl of spaghetti, ¡ª I couldn¡¯t stop laughing at my poor friend. As soon as Simon wanted to say the punch line about our money-hungry Harry, my father¡¯s shadow covered the sun. ¡ª How¡¯s going, boys? ¡ª He always had a wide smile on his face. ¡ª Hello, Mr. Camelford! ¡ª My friends groped in one voice. I never understood why they looked at my father with such admiration. He was not the secretary of the diplomat that Simon¡¯s father was. He did not wear elegant suits, he very rarely used perfumes, he did not go to important meetings. Just like he wasn¡¯t an office clerk like Harry¡¯s dad, making reports day and night behind these huge things they call computers. My father was a simple construction worker who slipped away from the break just to remove the top of a heavy and sweaty work overalls smeared in dust, putting his pale back to the sun. He also came to see me and rub my hair. Dad always knew that after school I was sitting by the fountain with friends. Maybe Simon and Harry wanted their fathers to come see them in the middle of the day for a few minutes, too? ¡ª Can you come in early today? ¡ª I noticed my father looking towards his workplace: a covered canvas of a tall building. Everybody says in about three years, there¡¯s going to be an entertainment center for kids and teenagers. ¡ª I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve had a lot of work lately. We can¡¯t keep up with the schedule, so this time I can¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry, kiddo. Will you kiss mom for me? I only had the strength to nod. It was bitter to realize that the storm had spoiled all his work, and he and his team had to start the three-month project again. The salary because of this incident decreased, but my dad did not work less. Only the opposite. Sometimes I wondered why mom couldn¡¯t go to work. Why would she sit at home all day listening to stupid radio? ¡ª Okay, kids, I gotta run, or the guys are gonna notice that I¡¯m missing out again. Bye-bye, ¡ª my father waved his hand as he hurried to throw his overalls on. ¡ª Goodbye, Mr. Camelford! ¡ª He was accompanied in unison by the voices of my comrades. I just mentally wished him luck for the rest of the shift. ¡ª Well, let¡¯s run to the buffet and then look at the port? ¡ª Simon jumped off the side of the fountain ready to go to the store. I also got up and reached into my pocket, where my wallet used to be, and realized one very hurtful thing. ¡ª Guys, I left the money at home. ¡ª Oh, my God, again? It takes thirty minutes to get to your house. ¡ª Harry put wet feet in his socks with a sour face. ¡ª Oh. ¡ª It sounded from Simon. He wasn¡¯t so happy to go to the port. ¡ª I forgot to buy bread. ¡ª You¡¯ve got to be kidding me. ¡ª Harry took a hard breath, clearly tormented by some dilemma. ¡ª I so wanted to see the bridge... all right you two, go get your bread, and I¡¯m gonna go home. It¡¯s gonna be a long time to wait for you. ¡ª Traitor. ¡ª Simon said in a tawdry way. We said goodbye to Harry and ran towards my house. Simon was on his way with me, because the bakery was only a few streets from my house. ?*???????????????????*? ¡ª I¡¯ll wait for you at the entrance of the bakery. I nodded to Simon and rushed to my house. It was a seven-floor building, what was commonly called an anthill. Old, not repairable for a long time, but so cozy that you will not notice the strewn walls, and faulty light bulbs on the staircases. I literally took off to my fourth floor, in front of the entrance to the apartment slightly slowing down. In the entrance there was an echo, so anyone could hear me. I realized I was in danger of never leaving the house again if my mother smelled my presence. First, she¡¯d put me to eat, then leave me to watch my sister, maybe let me go to the store, but then straight back! There were days when I didn¡¯t even come home to drink ¡ª so much I didn¡¯t want to be interrupted by playing outside. Oh, that were some great days. I wiped my feet on the mat, I grabbed the doorknob and¡ª ¡ª Closed? I have estimated all possible options for the closed door. Mom went to the store? Went to the neighbors for tea? Just forgot that I still have to come back? But not one of them was very suitable. I looked around, my eyes caught on the bedside table in the corridor where the Ficus stood. I slapped my palm on my forehead. Of course! Mom is in the backyard with my sister. When they go out for a walk, Sally always rips off a few leaves. No one could get her out of it. We came to the conclusion that it was her special ritual and left her alone. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. I went down to the first floor again, wrapped up to the door that was near the black exit. It led first to a long corridor that was already exiting the playground inside the backyard. Because of the structure of the houses nearby, they formed the letter "§±", fencing off the site with their own walls. The fourth side was isolated off by a simple metallic fence that was facing the street. It was not very convenient, but this way, mothers, without breaking from the cooking, could without fear let the children out. Well, I did not like to play so. The high walls and the windows with a couple hundred eyes from the apartments were pressing too much. So, I stopped at the door when I heard two women¡¯s voices. My dad always said that my hearing was very sharp, so the distance of five meters from the bench on which the interlocutors sat, and the noise of the street was not a barrier for me. ¡ª ... killed, ¡ª said Victoria, mom¡¯s neighbor. Through a click, I saw her sitting half a turn, facing the door. She didn¡¯t see me in the dark of the hallway. My mother gasped. ¡ª Killed?! ¡ª This phrase shocked me too. The fingertips became cold, and the back shivered. Killed, but who? At the same moment, my mom turned on my sister, who was playing with another girl in the sandbox. The kids were so busy playing fake cakes that they didn¡¯t pay any attention to the grown-up conversation. But for me it was interesting. My mother never liked to tell me any news. My father, too, was always silent about what was happening in the world. And I hated it. Why keep me in the ignorance? I wasn¡¯t even allowed to turn on the radio myself! My teeth creaked. Yeah, I got distracted again. ¡ª ... I was told that in her town it¡¯s been two weeks... ...tations, ¡ª continued Victoria. It was hard for me to hear everything, so I had to gently open the door. I was lucky it didn¡¯t squeak like the last time. Oh, what I got for eavesdropping. They got my ears twisted. My mom was sitting her back to me, and I wasn¡¯t afraid she¡¯d notice. ¡ª And in the newspapers, not a word about it.... Usually, this is always said. Something is wrong here, ¡ª mom sighed hard, obviously worried about something. ¡ª You think? They just don¡¯t want to panic, that¡¯s all. ¡ª But if everyone says the Minister was murdered, isn¡¯t that a cause for public discontent? ¡ª I don¡¯t know. For me his last speech was a little radical. "Freedom for the people, truncheon for the top" calls for direct violence! Without a parlament, everyone will go to anarchy." ¡ª I¡¯ve heard stories that in other countries, some people are actually being oppressed. ¡ª Things can¡¯t be that bad! Well, how can you be oppressed if you have a roof over your head, bread and work? About fifty years ago, these people lived in shacks. They don¡¯t appreciate gestures of goodwill at all. This phrase was cut in the ears of both of us. Sometimes Victoria did not watch her language. ¡ª ... ¡ª I¡¯m sorry, Lorena, I forgot... um... you know, next week¡ª I decided it would be the best time to show up. If I had stayed a few more minutes, they might have noticed something. Lorena, aka mom, turned around. At that hour, a smile shone on her face like dad¡¯s, and she opened her arms for a hug. ¡ª Richter, honey, good afternoon, ¡ª she squeezed me to a grunt, as usual, and then she took off my hat and pulled my hair. ¡ª Ow-ow! You''ll tear it off. ¡ª It¡¯s time for you to get to the hairdresser, ¡ª laughing, my mother lightly pushed me away. ¡ª Hello, Mrs. Victoria. ¡ª I said in welcoming voice. ¡ª Hi, Richter. You grow up every day! God see, soon you¡¯ll be helping dad at work. ¡ª Sure, right now, ¡ª mom said, very unsatisfied. ¡ª I¡¯m not gonna let him rip his back off like Patrick does. ¡ª I¡¯m kidding! I heard the cadet academies are gaining popularity. Have you ever thought about going there after school? ¡ª My mom¡¯s friend ran her fingers in her hair, scattering them a little. I was always wondering how can she walk around with all this hair down in such a heat? One day, dad mentioned that Victoria had lost her husband while she was pregnant, and that perhaps by dressing up in her best clothes and using her strongest perfumes, she was trying to draw attention to herself. Even now, her cherry red jumpsuit attracted a lot of men¡¯s views from the street. ¡ª No. I was told by elders there was a lot of fighting to do. Mom threw a laugh. ¡ª You¡¯re a man, you shouldn¡¯t be afraid of fighting or blood! How will you defend your wife? I shrugged my shoulders a little. ¡ª I¡¯ll buy us a house in the lonely woods. This phrase caused a loud laughter from both women. I was a little annoyed. All grown-ups have always tried to bring violence to the defense of their loved ones, but is there no other way to protect them? ¡ª Ma, give me the keys to the apartment, I want to run to the buffet, ¡ª I waved my hand at Sally. She noticed me and did the same, but she didn¡¯t run up as usual. Sand cooking must have required all the concentration. ¡ª Oh, buy more bread for dinner. There are a couple of quarters in the nightstand. And don¡¯t linger! Come home before dark. ?*???????????????????*? ¡ª You took a lot of time, ¡ª Simon tossed his coins in the air, elegantly catching them. I only snorted, going to the bakery of Aunt Pan. From the bakery always smelled of butter, sugar, poppy and, of course, bread itself. This place was my favorite among other bakeries. Maybe because Grandma Pan lived in our house, or maybe because she was the most pleasant. ¡ª Hello-hello boys, ¡ª Pan came by. She was a good old lady. Collecting gray hair in a bundle, putting thick glasses on her humpbacked nose, putting poisonous red lipstick on her lips, she hurried to work. Even with the cane she was tapping on the floor now, this woman was able to outrun me on the stairs. ¡ª Hi, Grandma Pan, I want to buy bread and this bun, ¡ª Simon leaned on his tiptoes, as usual, in his businesslike manner, pointing his finger at the furriest and largest bun filled with the most disgusting raisins. ¡ª Well, well, one loaf and one pain aux raisins for the white-haired prince. What are you willing to buy, a black-haired monsieur? ¡ª I¡¯ll have two baguettes and a hotdog, please. ¡ª I saw a woman rushing to wrap our order in a paper bag, singing on the way. According to the other neighbors, she was always on her mind, happy-go-lucky I would say. How she managed to inherit the bakery among the other four children in her family was always a mystery. There were rumors that Pan just poisoned everyone and bewitched her father. But it was nonsense. In those days, children often died of fever, and joyless parents tried to keep afloat. At least, so told my mother. She still has a small scar near her left eyebrow when she had a fever as a child. ¡ª Eat boys, eat well. ¡ª Grandma said when we paid her off and said goodbye. Simon and I spent the rest of the day very simply. We walked the streets near our houses. We looked at the buildings, discussed their appearance. Playing the "What if..." game, trying to come up with some scary story about this or that apartment building. ¡ª ... and then they built walls on their bones! ¡ª It makes no sense. How can ghosts keep tools if they¡¯re transparent? ¡ª It wouldn¡¯t be the first time Simon tried to intimidate me with fictional horror stories that would only make my eyes roll. ¡ª Well, they could have possessed the tools and built it like that! ¡ª The friend would finish off the bread, drinking the soda he bought on the way. He could buy lemonade and sodas every week and brag in front of us when I could afford those drinks every two weeks and Harry could never dream of such regularity. ¡ª Anyway, it would take a long time. How many ghosts must be there, a hundred? How would they be there? ¡ª You¡¯re just a bore. You keep asking all sorts of questions, and you¡¯re annoying everyone. ¡ª Resentful, he muttered something else under his nose, but I didn¡¯t hear. The lonely cat next to the dumpster caught my attention. ¡ª Look. ¡ª I pulled my friend¡¯s sleeve. ¡ª Cat? ¡ª He followed me with no interest. I just snorted. Simon didn¡¯t know much. He always had a chance to pet his cat Ginger, but I never had a pet. Parents were terribly allergic to cats, and it was expensive to keep another hungry, ungrateful mouth! The animal licked its coated wool in some places, completely unaffected by my cautious approach. I crouched and reached out to him to pet his ear. The skin was suddenly burnt. The cat hissed and ran away, and I took my arm off. The stars were visible before my eyes ¡ª the pain was so sharp. I felt my nose start to drink and my eyes start to pinch. I had to pull my head to take my mind off things. ¡ª It looks bad, ¡ª Simon groped, looking at three red scratches on my forearm. I was trying to breathe calmly. ¡ª No, it¡¯s... it¡¯s fine. It¡¯ll heal soon. I just have to rinse it with water. ¡ª If you catch an infection and die, I¡¯ll tell everyone of what stupid reason. ¡ª Even here, he took the opportunity to mock. ¡ª I can¡¯t die of an infection, ¡ª I was burrowing, straightening my back. ¡ªCome on, we¡¯ve lost a lot of time! ?*???????????????????*? In addition to looking at the port after school by three, two of us would sometimes meet on rooftops. Because everyone in the neighborhood knew me and Simon, there was no problem asking some old lady to open the door for us. Then we would climb up to the very last floor, sit almost at the edge, hang our legs and watch life on the streets. But I didn¡¯t really look at people. I was interested in buildings. As I noticed, most houses had flat roofs that didn¡¯t have chimneys. Most pensioners referred to such houses as collective coffins, as they were heated either by gas or fuel oil, for which they had to pay monthly. And if you didn¡¯t pay - it is your problems. You''ll sit cold in the middle of winter. And the water was the same. At every step, you were dependent on an imaginary crane driven by a third person. ¡ª You know, sometimes I wondered, what if I lived in the woods? ¡ª I leaned on my arms, looking at pigeons on the next roof. ¡ª You mean, on vacation? ¡ª Simon was staring at people on the street, chewing on a crust of bread around the edges. ¡ª No, just like that. You know, chop wood, light a fire, hunt. Interesting, right? ¡ª I don¡¯t know. The idea of open space scares me. And loneliness. Won¡¯t you be lonely living alone in the woods? Without light or newspapers, for example? ¡ª No. You can make candles, get cows there, I don¡¯t know, make a vegetable garden. I can always chop wood and make a fire. And you can talk to pets. ¡ª You¡¯re crazy. How are you gonna make a fire without matches, dummy? ¡ª Hmm-hmm, magnifying glass? I¡¯ve heard it works. And if there¡¯s no sun, then... I guess a couple of days can be done without fire. ¡ª Oh, that¡¯s definitely not my way of life. ¡ª Simon waved his hand, putting the bread back in the bag. ¡ª I¡¯m too lazy to do all this. Besides, why go live in the woods when you have so much goods of civilisation? ¡ª Big cities are stuffy. And they stink. ¡ª Ha-ha, well, that¡¯s true. Have you lived in nature before? ¡ª Kind of. Our town wasn¡¯t so concrete, I¡¯d say. It had lots of trees and... farms. It always smelled like poop. ¡ª Oh, my God, ugh, how can you live in a place that smells like poo? ¡ª There was a coniferous forest nearby. I tell you, behind the pine trees you couldn''t feel the smell! ¡ª Of course, I believe you, ¡ª Simon leaned back to do a burp. ¡ª How disgusting. ¡ª Like you don¡¯t do it yourself? ¡ª He snorted, turning from one side to the other ¡ª he probably overate. ¡ª Oh... by the way, you never told me why you moved to such a big city if you don¡¯t like living here? ¡ª I don¡¯t like it. It was my parents who moved and why ¡ª they never spoke. ¡ª I took a hard breath, putting my hand in my hair. I should have wet my head by the fountain. ¡ª That sucks. I¡¯ll move out when I grow up. I don¡¯t want to be on my parents'' necks. Imagine, I can do what I want! I wish I didn¡¯t have to work... ¡ª Oh, yes, I agree... I also decided to lie down after Simon. The roof was dusty, but dry and warm. The sun was not so hot anymore. On the contrary, it warmed the skin pleasantly, like maternal touches. It made me drowsy, lulled. The eyelids themselves became heavy, and I didn¡¯t want to open them at all. Simon didn¡¯t move, too. We both dozed off like two cats in March. The roar of thunder woke me. I jumped to my feet and the world shook before my eyes. I sniffed: the rain did not smell at all; it was not wet. The sky was clear. But why the thunder? ¡ª Simon. Simon. ¡ª I pulled my friend¡¯s shoulder. My hands were cold, and I think my knees were shaking too. ¡ª Simon, get up! Simon breathed sharply, his eyes open. He had red cheeks from the heat, and saliva was smeared all over his face. His hair was sweating and sticking. He was waving hands in misunderstanding. ¡ª Wh-what, what... what happened? ¡ª There¡¯s thunder, thunder everywhere. I don¡¯t understand. Sky. Clouds. Loud. ¡ª My tongue didn¡¯t listen to me. My lips were numb, and I could not move. I was only able to grab my friend¡¯s clothes. He said nothing. Staggering, he got to his feet and came to the edge of the roof. Simon gasped in horror. ¡ª Richter, there are the soldiers on the streets. ¡ª What? I shook my head. My legs didn¡¯t want to go. What were the military doing here? ¡ª No way, ¡ª I made my foot move. ¡ª Why did they come? With caution I bent over the chasm between the houses. My heart missed the blow, and the air was suddenly missing. I leaned back. ¡ª Lots of cars. They¡¯re so loud... ¡ª Simon stared like a charm. I didn¡¯t notice how quickly we got used to the roar of car engines. ¡ª Step away from the edge. You will be seen. ¡ª Richter, it''s literally a crowd! They¡¯re going into houses. ¡ª A friend turned to me. ¡ª Richter! I woke up from a hypnotic noise and my thoughts. ¡ª Simon. We have to go, ¡ª my voice shook treacherously. ¡ª My mom is alone. Chapter 2: The Interrogation ?¨T©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¨T? Lorena ?¨T©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¨T? ?We mourn Julian Lyers, who died under unclear circumstances a month ago. For us, he was everything, but unfortunately, his promising projects will not be able to see the world. So far, we have been left alone with this grief. A moment of silence for his rest... ? ¡ª Lorena held her breath, exhaling slowly. She must calm down. Otherwise, the knife in the hands will be stuck in the table. ¡ª ?From other news... We can not operate with names, but the military convoy moves to a number of cities for unknown reasons. Stay calm. Watch the situation, and protect yourself and your family. See you in the next podcast.? After that, the music on the radio continued to play. She sliced the carrot viciously. The clock merged in unison with calm pop hits about everyday life and love. ?Gosh, this shouldn''t have happened so early. Now, if Patrick is late, I really have to do everything on my own. Convoy... this convoy will finally mess up all the plans if it appears here.? Lorena sighed and threw the carrots into the boiling soup. It began to smell, and other vegetables gradually painted the water yellowish. Then, this substance should be crushed with a mixer, and dinner will be ready. She involuntarily grimaced at the presentation of the mashed vegetables. The stomach pulled a painful cramp. Most likely, in the evening, she will eat a simple salad, like the last time. And once before... and like a week ago... She hated the food here. The dishes were strange, but she had to cook them. ¡ª Calm down. Inhale and exhale. ¡ª After rinsing her hands and face in the washbasin, Lorena rushed to check on Sally. The girl always slept quietly after the walk. Silently turning from side to side, she constantly threw her blanket away. Each time Lorena had to lift the blanket off the floor and re-cover it. Everyone told her that Sally was too addicted to afternoon naps and that someone should limit her. Sally''s sleep never got in the way, so Lorena never understood why others were trying to advise. ?Maybe it was part of their culture to constantly get into other people''s business?? She smiled at these rebellious thoughts, catching the blanket again after the fall. In a moment, she was sad again, getting out of bed. ?No. I shouldn''t pay attention to them. My goal is not to please them. I have to be focused.? After kissing her daughter''s forehead, she left the room. When Lorena had free time from cooking or looking after her daughter, she picked up a newspaper, which she bought for a few kopecks at the bazaar, and read on the sofa in the guest room. Every week, although the letters on the paper changed, the meaning almost never crumbled. Reporters have always discussed inflation, global conflicts, and recent movies, just like algorithms. ?The value of the coin fell by 1.5% last year?; ?Ken Maisley''s blockbuster collected three million views in cinemas? ¡ª it was always in the headlines. Taking one shoe off her leg, the woman shook it, singing and turning one page after another. ?The death of the prime minister exacerbated the inter-country conflict. Tension in mixed cities is gradually increasing... Can we call his death an accident?? ¡ª One of the journalists quoted. There was no word on protests at the event. But it was already something. She took a red marker from a coffee table nearby and circled the name of the publisher of the article and the name of the journalist. She quickly ran through the paragraphs in an attempt to find at least some more mention of Julian''s death. Eyebrows tense, eyes concentrated, as if she was the secret spy. At the very end, the minister was again given no more than a line. ?He was a recognized extremist for the rights of savages.? ¡ª She circled these words with a yellow marker, as she circled publisher. After some time, the newspaper went to the basket with the weekly newspapers that had passed, which always stood behind the sofa. Soon, Lorena flopped, like that newspaper, on the pillows, sighing heavily. The heat was just killing ¡ª in the stuffy kitchen, it was a hundred times more noticeable, so you could hide only in the guest room. She was able to throw one leg on the back of the sofa thanks to the pants, finally dropping uncomfortable shoes. With her bare hand, the woman covered her face, wiping the sweat on her forehead and waving the other in front of her face, parodying something like a fan. Would be her will, the leaves of monstera would be a real fan. But the plant only stood in the corner of the room with torn leaves from the Sally¡¯s games. She didn''t have to lie upside down for long. There was a white noise coming from the kitchen ¡ª this sometimes happened if the technique failed. Lorena breathed out and looked at the ceiling as if she could somehow help. Gathering all her strength into a fist, a woman rose from the sofa in one breath and trudged to the kitchen. ¡ª Well, of course. ¡ª Irritated, she patted the side of the radio ¡ª it continued to make annoying sounds. From time to time, someone''s voices tried to break through the wall of obstacles, but nothing complete could be pronounced. A few more light blows on either side, and she finally surrendered. Screwing the sound to the minimum, not to wake the child, Lorena went to check the soup. As soon as she managed to return to the most comfortable sofa, somebody knocked on the door. Lorena sighed noisily. She got up again and headed across the corridor again to open the door to Richter. Son almost never took the keys with him. In the corridor, Lorena caught a glance at the dusty pedestal. ?Oh, gonna clean that after.? ¡ª Dear, You should look... ¡ª She started to say as her breath went away. ¡ª Nobody called me dear before, ¡ª said the man''s voice. ¡ª Good evening, m¡¯lady. He touched his kepi with a few fingers, nodding his head slightly. ¡ª My name is Lieutenant McGuire. All dressed up in army stuff: the expensive duffle, good pair of tactical boots, dark combat trousers, like he was ready to go straight into battle. ?How did I not hear the arrival of the military?!? Lorena holded her breath. She looked back at the room where Sally was. The lieutenant only put his hand on the frame of the door and bowed his head to one side. With a very bored look, he waited. ?Calm, keep calm. He shouldn''t hurt me. Almost all the neighbors are at home. They''ll hear if I scream. First, you need to understand his intentions.? ¡ª She clenched her fists. ¡ª Evening, ¡ª her voice was trembling. ¡ª Lieutenant. ¡ª Don''t you mind if I come in? ¡ª The man leaned even lower to her, in a master way, putting his foot inside the apartment. He glanced at her and then began to wander his eyes down the hall. Her lips tightened. She unknowingly began to examine his coat when she noticed a gun on the left side inside the clothes. The heart missed the beat, and the cold passed on the back. Instinctively, her legs began to move back. For a few seconds, he was confused by this change in behavior, but then he laughed sincerely, covering the weapon with clothing. On his unstraight face again, this sticky smile appeared. ¡ª Sorry for that. There were a few cases where I was attacked. Promise, I won''t use it on such a beautiful lady. So, you let me into the appartement? ¡ª It no longer sounded like a question ¡ª more like an order, for the failure to fulfill which the consequences would catch up faster than a panther. Lorena was too focused on his gun when she felt a slight push in her stomach. She stepped gently aside, but her knees were shaking. With his chin up, he wanted to look into the room. As if burned by boiling water, Lorena jumped in front of him, forbidding passage. ¡ª Kitchen. The kitchen is right there. ¡ª Forgive me, ¡ª he glanced at the door and then headed towards the kitchen. In boots. On the carpets. ¡ª Didn''t mean to offend. She closed the room to a clique, following the lieutenant. Bitter saliva gathered under the tongue. ¡ª Feel like at home. McGuire snorted and began to look around the kitchen. With folded hands behind his back, he appreciated the interior, looked at the soup, at the garbage bucket, at the radio, at the windows... It seemed that nothing could hide from his eyes that were a little hidden under his hat. ¡ª Few months ago, we undercovered a huge hideout of partisans, can you imagine? They were pretending to be builders. ¡ª He turned to her, gazing not in the eyes but in the soul with such a concentrated look of his. ¡ª And what did you do to them? ¡ª We put them in the cell until the tribunal. But if I were the judge, I would hang them up in the center. He catched the woman''s concerned face. ¡ª Don''t you find it inhuman? ¡ª That''s the mercy for rats who are hiding in the canalisations. Rats bring illness to the city, and my duty is to clean the city from the disease. ¡ª You''re doing the right thing. ¡ª As always, ¡ª he coughed a few times, ¡ª but don''t you worry, from now on, I will protect your area from this moment. As you could hear from the streets, there''s a danger of occurring terrorism. So I''ll just do the standard check, nothing more. Lorena struggled to resist the need to hug her shoulders and bend her back so that she would not be seen. She felt naked in front of him. But instead, she said: ¡ª Be my guest. ¡ª I didn''t want to distract you from cooking, too, ¡ª McGuire pulled out a small notebook and pencil from under the coat. ¡ª I won''t take too much time. ¡ª You''re not distracting me. ¡ª She tried to squeeze out the most pleasant smile. He only laughed at it. ¡ª I understand no one likes it, ¡ª graciously uttering every word, he crouched at the table. ¡ª Please, sit down. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. He pointed to the chair beside him. Lorena''s stomach began to twist into a knot. She sat down opposite, as far as possible. The lieutenant only crept his teeth, pinning his eyes to the paper. ¡ª What is your name, m¡¯lady? ¡ª Lorena Kamelford. ¡ª A beautiful name... You are a housewife, Lorena. You don''t work at all? ¡ª The lieutenant looked at her from under his forehead. ¡ª No. All day at home. ¡ª She looked away. ¡ª So only a man works... as it should be, ¡ª he muttered under his nose. ¡ª He works as a..? ¡ª Builder. ¡ª For a second, he stopped making tiny notes in a notebook but then nonchalantly continued. ¡ª A good apartment for a builder... Do you have kids? Lorena compressed the fabric of her pants. ¡ª Of course. She sleeps in the room. ¡ª How old? ¡ª Six. ¡ª Only one child? She nodded, clutching her toes. ¡ª It''s hard for a builder to provide more. Suddenly, he shook his head. ¡ª I saw two different men''s pairs of shoes when I walked in. Did you know, m''lady, that lying is bad? She bit her tongue. So he is the observant one. ¡ª Your husband knows how to manage finances if he knows how to provide at least two children in such times. Bravo. ¡ª He sounded extremely ironic. All the muscles in Lorena''s body began to strain. She didn''t like the ?conversation? dynamic. ¡ª Want some tea? ¡ª She jumped up, looking the lieutenant directly in the eyes, challenging him. ¡ª Black without sugar. ¡ª He leaned back in his chair, lifting his crooked chin to the top, as if he was waiting for that question. He looked at her again from head to toe. Saliva accumulated under the tongue, so much Lorena wanted to spit in his face. Instead, she headed for the stove. Lit a match, opened the gas ¡ª and the blue-and-orange flame showed itself. She poured water into a saucepan, put it on the stove, prepared mugs... And all this time, she did not leave the sticky feeling of looking behind. It made its way to the bones. She wanted to get out of the skin, just to not feel this annoying feeling of anxiety next to him. After a while, the rustling of the radio stopped, and quiet music began to play again. Lorena''s fingers went cold. ¡ª Interesting music, is it 60th? ¡ª Man propped up his chin with a free hand. By chance, the spoon jumped out of Lorena''s hands and rolled to the floor with a characteristic bell. ?Shit.? ¡ª Are you bothered? I can turn it off. ¡ª She quickly picked up the spoon and went to the refrigerator on which the radio stood. She just had a few inches to reach the switch... The lieutenant put his palm forward. ¡ª Don''t. Let it play... You have good taste. She stopped and returned to the table with a wry smile. Her throat was starting to dry out. ¡ª Parents often listened to this. Thanks to them that I know such golden songs.¡ª She turned on McGuire and caught his cold, predatory look. You could say he was blank, like he was glancing through Lorena. Very quietly, he asked: ¡ª And where are they now? Chest responded with a painful drop. ¡ª What are these questions? ¡ª The smile disappeared from her face. She remained quiet. ¡ª Ah, I understand, a difficult topic. Mine, too, have been gone for ten years. Those were tough times. ¡ª I''m sorry. Then it truly was¡ª She was interrupted by a very noisy rustling of the radio, which also happened literally fifteen minutes ago. When the sound interference was over, the male voice at that end coughed. ?Cobras entered the territory of birds. Birds should stay quiet when cobras are around. Birds need to behave calmly when cobras enter their nests...? ¡ª radio said. Lorena''s eyes darkened in a moment; she began to stagger. Heart was pounding somewhere in the ears. At one point, the boredom in the eyes of the lieutenant disappeared. He straightened his back, at the moment rising to his feet. She almost rushed to him but only quietly pinched her hand. ?Calm down. Otherwise, he''ll understand for sure. ? ¡ª What kind of program is this? ¡ª He looked around cunningly. ¡ª It''s... ¡ª Lorena tapped her fingers nervously on the table, wandering her eyes around the kitchen. The eyes caught on the portrait of the cuckoo, which hung directly on the dining table. ¡ª Transmission about birds. My favorite. She turned back to the tea, pouring boiling water over the mugs. ¡ª I hate birds. ¡ª The lieutenant clattered his tongue contemptuously. He viciously turned off the radio, even the plastic button crackled. ¡ªThey carry all sorts of infections, just like rats do. Before returning to the place, lieutenant ran his finger over the surface of the refrigerator. Lorena just breathed a sigh of relief. ?Touch whatever you want but me.? ¡ª echoed in her head. ¡ª Your tea. McGuire did not react to the tea. He smiled for unknown reasons, looking somewhere in the void. ¡ª Too much dust on your furniture, ¡ª Looking down on his finger covered with a huge layer of dust, he put one leg over another. ¡ª Such a lazy wife? Lorena tried to relax her shoulders. ¡ª There''s not always the power to clean up. ¡ª She smiled involuntarily. And again, silence. Lorena remained standing at the table, looking at the cup, then at McGuire. ¡ª So, what''s the next question? ¡ª You have embossed arms like you do for a woman. Like lifting heavy things? McGuire reached out to her. Lorena walked away, outraged. But she said nothing. A nasty lump came up to her throat. She wanted to spit it out. ¡ª I forgot your last question. ¡ª Her voice was demanded, but mostly, it sounded annoyed. ¡ª Please sit down, ¡ª again, he pointed to the chair beside him. ¡ª I can''t feel like a gentleman being served by such a beautiful lady. She sat down slowly opposite the lieutenant, staring into him. ¡ª Still don''t trust me. I was hoping that my appearance would attract. ¡ª He smoothed his hair. Probably from a crooked nose, asymmetrical eyebrows and eyes and thin lacquered hair were the most attractive in his appearance. ?Self-confident dude.? ¡ª She admitted to herself. Lorena bit her cheek. ¡ª You come only for the small interrogation? McGuire sighed irritably. He drank tea slowly, then smiled very lightly. ¡ª Remember the blood test you had to take with your family between March and April? ¡ª Yes... why do you need it? ¡ª I just want to check the result and put a few seals. Lorena rose silently, quickly going to the pedestal in the corridor. Her heart was pounding in her ears. He was playing all this time just for this one thing. Too early ¡ª only this sentence was playing in her head. What to do now? She opened the first box, which usually consisted of letters and all sorts of small documents that were received a little time ago. Her hands trembled. Clutching papers with the hospital emblem, Lorena took a deep breath and exhaled. The lieutenant looked at the documents from different angles for a long time, sometimes looking at her. She was standing in the middle of the door. ¡ª As I thought, ¡ª like a final sentence, said the man with disappointment. ¡ª Give me your passport, the passports of the children, and the passport of your husband. Something inside her stirred. Something nasty and annoying. Lorena silently returned to the pedestal, starting to get passports in brown covers from under other letters. She stopped for a second. From the kitchen, you could not see this pedestal because of the spellbinding in the corridor. ?If only he hadn''t heard...? ¡ª Taking three passports in the right palm, with her left, she hid the fourth under the sheets. ¡ª Why it take you so long? ¡ª Sounded right at the ear. She jumped and shouted, almost hitting the lieutenant''s nose with her back. He dodged in time, retreating on one step. Without saying anything more, he meticulously put his rough palm forward. She held out the passports. The lieutenant did not return to the kitchen. On the contrary, he again pushed Lorena to the side and laid out all the documents in a row on the pedestal before wiping the surface with a jacket sleeve in disgust. He took a small seal from the pocket of the jacket, opened each of the documents, and began to mark. A minute later, he grunted, half a turn looking at her. ¡ª There were four medical reports, and there were only three passports. Where''s the last one? ¡ª There was no friendliness in McGuire''s voice anymore. He began to get very annoyed. ¡ª I think my son took his passport with him. ¡ª She looked him straight in the eyes. ¡ª Really? Why? ¡ª He bowed his head to one side, twitching his eyebrow. ¡ª He had to pick up one package at the post office. ¡ª What kind of package? The man straightened up, starting to approach her. The air was too little. Like a large rock, he seemed to block out all the light. Lorena began to back up. ¡ª If you''re lying to me and this time, Ms. Lorena, ¡ª The sharp whisper seemed to strike in the ears. He swiftly approached, grabbing her hand and clutching it. She howled involuntarily. ¡ª The consequences will overtake you sooner than I leave the area. Lying to the military is the highest degree of crime! His voice sounded like thunder. Lorena closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She pulled out her arm by herself, gaining air in her chest to scream¡ª ¡ª Mom! ¡ª Richter burst into the apartment all red and out of breath, leaning on the door frame, ready for battle just like his mother. ¡ª Here comes the prodigal son. ¡ª Once losing interest in Lorena, the lieutenant congratulated Richter. She reached out to her son, calling to herself. He obeyed, hiding behind her back. ¡ª We were just talking to your mother. Yes, m¡¯lady? Lorena swallowed the saliva heavily, trying to control her breathing. However, McGuire snorted and turned to her son. ¡ª Where is your passport, young gentleman? Mother said you had it. Richter was silent, clutching her blouse. According to the face of lieutenant, it was clear that such a game did not suit him. He straightened himself and fixed his hat. ¡ª Mothers are always protecting their puppies. ¡ª With these words, he eagerly opened the pedestal to the crunch of wood in the openings, mixing and tossing all the documents there. They could only watch. Lorena observed it, trying not to jump on uninvited guests and not to start to hit him. With a contented face, he took out Richter''s passport, twisting it in his hands, just like piece of meat after the hunt, before finally putting the seal on the first page. With his nasty smile, McGuire saluted Lorena. She gifted him with a hated look. ¡ª Well, the procedure is over, and I took enough time from you. M¡¯lady, forced to leave you. The soldier had almost left the apartment when suddenly he stopped. ¡ª And you, young gentleman, protect your mommy at all costs. Richter squeezed his mother''s hand. She put her hand on his back. ¡ª You never know who''s going to come into the apartment next time.¡ª He corrected his hat again, finally leaving the apartment. ¡ª Dumb bastards. ¡ª Very quietly came to their ears. ¡ª Who was it? ¡ª Coming from behind, asked a worried Richter. ¡ª I don''t know. ¡ª Her breathing was ragged, restless. Her breasts were rising in spasm. Her head was only full of thoughts about passports. The first steps to the pedestal were difficult: the legs were filled with lead, and like Lorena did not try, she barely tore her toes off the floor. Moreover, Richter came first, now looking at the red rectangle in the lower left corner of the passports. ¡ª What does that mean? She didn''t know what to say to it. ?*???????????????????*? Already in the blink of night, someone almost tore the door off its hinges. Out of fear, Laurena, armed with a roller, hurried to the corridor, opening the door at her own peril. ¡ª Oh, a nightmare. ¡ª The roller fell out of her hands in the terrible sense of whom she was going to hit. Patrick jumped into the apartment in a second, throwing his bag on the floor, almost immediately picking up his wife in an embrace. ¡ª Sh-sh-sh, everything is fine, everything is fine, ¡ª He pressed her to his chest. His heart pounded in a frantic rhythm; Lorena could hear it. ¡ª I''m so sorry I couldn''t be around before. The boss did not let to go. Are you okay? Richter¡¯s at home? Sally? ¡ª Yes. They are already sleeping. The man ate quickly, even more greedily than he had never eaten before ¡ª they always had plenty of provisions. He only wanted to finish as soon as possible so that Lorena could tell him about the meeting with the lieutenant in every detail. ¡ª The lieutenant himself... Why didn''t he send his minions? The radio, you say, stopped working, the moment military arrived? ¡ª Patrick was confused. ¡ª They could do this on purpose so that we would not know too much. The connection should be silenced so that no one sends a message. ¡ª At one point, I thought he figured out. ¡ª Lorena drank hot tea ¡ª she still was freezing after that encounter. ¡ª I don''t think he''s going to report on little things like that. ¡ª No, from your description, he is too pompous for that. Okay, I''ll talk to the boss. Maybe I can alternate with someone so you''re not constantly alone. ¡ª I just forgot to close the door on the key. ¡ª She confessed guilty, lowering her eyes. ¡ª No. ¡ª He said, determined. ¡ª We don''t know how much they''re here and if he¡¯s going to bring someone else next time. Patrick was right. If the military entered the city, then this is not for a day or two. The military in the city did not bring anything good at all. And from now on, the door is best kept closed at all times. ¡ª You know what, ¡ª he got up and turned on the radio, choosing the program. ¡ª Let''s dance, I find it better. ¡ª And he began to dance to the cheerful rhythm of music. Lorena giggled as she accepted her husband''s hand and started dancing with her feet. ¡ª You remain optimistic as always. ¡ª She spun around his arm. ¡ª I haven''t even stopped being a gentleman since our meeting. ¡ª And you always were choosing the dance in such situations. ¡ª Duties, vows, conflicts... they always distract from my joy of life ¡ª you. The husband put the other palm on his wife''s waist, starting a cheerful and, moreover, active dance. They both laughed and smiled. ¡ª What else happened today? ¡ª Asked Patrick when Lorena turned her back to him again, resting her head on his shoulder. Their pace was now softer and slower. ¡ª As always, I went to the store, walked Sally, sent Richter to the bakery... Nothing new or interesting. Oh yes, Richter was scratched by a cat. ¡ª Did the cat bite his hand off? ¡ª No. ¡ª It''s not scary then. He will be a man, and some scratches will be the least he will have to see. ¡ª Patrick went around her, and now their position was more like a waltz. ¡ªThey seemed quite deep to me. He was so crooked when I processed them ¡ª ubelievable! ¡ª Ha, I have no doubt they''ll be gone before dawn. Chapter 3: In honor of Simon ?¨T©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¨T? Richter ?¨T©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤¨T? The lieutenant hasn¡¯t been in their apartment since. It seemed to Richter that everything was left behind just like before: Mom was at home with Sally, Dad went to work, and he studied himself. Nevertheless, now there is a military in the city. They filled the street like confetti in a cracker ¨C in sight, everywhere he went, there were always two or three people. In the evenings, the military would gather in groups twice as many to drink and scream a few songs. In the cafeterias, there were always two tables reserved for them, although those who were just sitting on wooden boxes on the street were many more. During the day, they always helped the elders to cross the road, carried heavy bags instead of women, stroked the children on the head, and every time they proudly walked, smiling at each other. Richter had to forget about the meetings at the fountain because in the heat, he was covered with sweaty men in uniforms who also wanted to freshen up. Nobody was indignant because they protected them from danger from outside. Many old people on the benches said that in other cities, persecutions are taking place, and in others, civil war has already started. Some said it was all fiction and the military was eating them up, others believed they were fighting for the right thing. Richter thought the arrival of the military was a little inconvenient ¡ª there were too many people everywhere. Simon was bragging about going abroad and bringing them souvenirs. As the date drew near, he became increasingly sad but did not answer Harry or Richter¡¯s questions. The last few days before he left, he even cried and ran away from the company. Richter thought that his father had forbidden him to do something, so he decided to wait until his friend returned. ¡ª What are you doing here? ¡ª Baffled by Simon, said Richter the next day when they crossed paths at the bakery. ¡ª We were not allowed to pass, ¡ª the blond one sniffed. ¡ª They said the borders were closed to everyone. It¡¯s not fair! I¡¯m telling you, they thought we wanted to escape, but we just wanted to go on vacation! He didn¡¯t know what to say, so he listened. ¡ª We had to go to the sea, the real one, not this in the port. It¡¯s not even the sea here, just the river. Dad told me that the sea is salty, you know? I¡¯d give you and Harry a bottle filled with sand and water, so you can try. Oh, I''d bring some shells, too. A friend so fervently waved his arms, articulated with such refined artistry... ¡ª Don¡¯t get upset, ¡ª Richter said with a note of sorrow. ¡ª I¡¯m sure you still have time to travel. After all, can tickets be returned and bought new? ¡ª Not really... these tickets were given to dad, well... at work, like a business trip. So, if we¡¯re even a little late, we literally can burn them. My chance is gone! Simon punched the wall. ¡ª Hey, calm down, ¡ª Richter raised his hands. ¡ª When you grow up, you will earn new tickets. ¡ª You dummy, ¡ª the blond bruised his forehead. ¡ª Because of inflation, not everything is that simple. Sometimes, he would leave his friend on his long monologs, stuffed with complex language and business terms, probably overheard by his father. Half of those words were beyond Richter¡¯s comprehension, and he did not ask for an explanation. In such situations, it was easier to let Simon go home and grieve. Time dragged on. Richter had no activities outside of school, so he and Simon, if he stayed, often just walked around the city. ¡ª Are you sure we won¡¯t be seen? ¡ª He looked around while Simon was chugging on his shoulders ¨C he was fidgeting and kneeling on his collarbone, a pretty painful sensation. ¡ª I¡¯ve done it a hundred times. ¡ª The blonde one grabbed the roof of the garage; his face was like a tomato, and Richter had to give him a mainstay with his hands. When his friend rose proudly above him, Richter cowered. ¡ª Do not be afraid. If anything happens, we will leave immediately. ¡ª He stretched out his hand. Richter took a hard breath, jumped, and... almost pulled Simon off the garage while grabbing his hand. ¡ª You''re such a boar! Rrrrrr, we eat the same! ¡ª The blond one grabbed his hair and his shirt, so Richter could climb up, cringing in pain from pulled out hair. ¡ª You are just skinny, ¡ª he tried to excuse himself, shaking off the dust. ¡ª I grew up in nature, and you grew up in town. ¡ª Of course, of course. ¡ª The friend swept away. ¡ª Look at this! He got closer and gasped. Garages formed a circle, which was divided into a external ring, the garages themselves, and the inner ring - junk with a bunch of bottles, drawers, rags, in general, everything that owners of garages wished to throw away, but for some reason could not. ¡ª So whoever beats more bottles wins, ¡ª Simon put a bunch of small stones in the Richter''s hand. ?The loser will have to fulfill the wish of the winner. ¡ª I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s a good idea. ¡ª Richter looked around. The houses were quiet, and the lights were almost never on. They weren¡¯t supposed to be seen, right? Simon pushed him in the shoulder. ¡ª Auch! ¡ª Richter started to actively massage the place of injury with a sour face. ¡ª Look. ¡ª And Simon threw out the first stone. It flew with a whistle and hit the bottle. The bottle cracked and fell, crashing. Blonde raised his arms upwards, like an activist, and turned slowly, looking up at the windows. Everything was quiet. ¡ª Nobody heard. One-zero. Now it¡¯s your turn. With a heavy sigh, Richter took one stone. He looked around again. Then he put his hand behind his back and exhaled, closed his eyes, and shot. The next moment, a friend fell to his knees, holding onto his stomach in a fit of laughter ¨C the stone appears to have flown over without hitting any bottles. ¡ª Not everyone can be masters of stone throwing, ¡ª Simon wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, ¡ª but here I am, the professional. ¡ª He took a rock and threw it ¨C another bottle broke. Richter snorted loudly. ¡ª Harry would have shown you what real professionalism is. ¡ª He is gone for quite some time, isn¡¯t he? ¡ª Simon turned away from Richter, looking somewhere behind the garage, and then quietly added: ?What if he was taken away?? But he heard. ¡ª What do you mean? ¡ª No, nothing. Let¡¯s keep playing. They continued playing stone throwing. In the end, Richter was completely exhausted ¨C all his stones flew too far, no matter how hard or weak he threw. Simon pranced around him on tiptoe, shouting: ¡°Three-zero! Three-zero!? He wanted to punch him as hard as he could. ¡ª And now my wish. ¡ª Simon scratched his imaginary beard thoughtfully. ¡ª Let me think... ¡ª Hey, what are you doing there? Get off right away! ¡ª A man with a badge on his chest was shouting, waving a baton. ¡ª I¡¯m going to beat you up once I get to you! ¡ª Oh-hey, let¡¯s run! The two boys took off, jumping into the inner ring of the garages, towards the trash. They had to jump over broken glass while the unknown man tried to climb onto the roofs. They urged each other on with words, flying to the rhythm of a frantic heartbeat. This time, Richter climbed onto the roof first by jumping from the trash mountain, pulling skinny Simon up in one jerk. ¡ª To that alley, come quickly! Somehow, the boys broke away from the ?chase?, all red and sweaty, as they grabbed their stinging sides. Sitting against the cool wall, Richter and Simon chuckled. ¡ª You''re running well, fool. I was just giving in to you.¡ª In fact, the blond one nearly spat out his own lungs, trying to run at Richter''s pace. Even now, he was breathing intermittently. ¡ª Next time I¡¯ll choose the game. ¡ª Richter tossed his dark hair, which was stuck to his neck. ¡ª But first, you must fulfill my wish.¡ª Simon corrected him carefully. Richter just rolled his eyes. ¡ª Go ahead. The blond one paused for a moment, shaking his head. The smile left his face. ¡ª I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve seen all the posters, ¡ª he began from afar. ¡ª Are you talking about strange slogans about birds and snakes? I only saw them twice, but then they were taken down. ¡ª I¡¯ve seen people putting up these posters being taken away by the military. ¡ª Simon looked around furtively. ¡ª I''m afraid they''ll take you too. ¡ª Why? I don¡¯t hang up posters. ¡ª What if they see your passport and want to interrogate you? But Richter didn¡¯t tell anyone about his passport or about that nasty meeting with the lieutenant. Parents forbade him to tell. Remembering that conversation immediately gives his skin goosebumps. ¡ª How did you find out about the passport? ¡ª I didn''t. You just undercovered yourself, you fool! And also I overheard my parents. They said that the military had marked some of people here and that now they would... well, be treated differently. They said that soon it would be impossible to speak with those marked. And I don¡¯t want to stop speaking with someone because of a stupid mark. ¡ª The label doesn''t matter as long as you treat others well. And if I don¡¯t do evil, then the military won¡¯t take me away. ¡ª I sure hope so, ¡ª Simon picked his ear. ¡ª You¡¯re cool, and cool people don¡¯t get taken away. And if they dare, then I will free you. ¡ª You? ¡ª Richter laughed openly. ¡ª Then you will need to eat twice as much. ¡ª Fuck you. ¡ª The blonde rose to his feet, offering his hand to Richter. ¡ª Just promise that you will save me if they take me away! That''s my wish. Richter''s stomach would burst from laughter. ¡ª I promise. Somehow Simon¡¯s fears turned out to be justified. Sometimes, while going out to buy bread after school, Richter saw shadows in the alleys. They did something and then quickly ran away ¨C and in the places of the shadows, posters appeared with strange allegories, calls for freedom and equality. There were also drawings or graffiti, all painfully different, but the content never changed: ¡°Free yourself from oppression,¡± ¡°Say ¡°No!¡±,¡± ¡°Turn 50 years of domination into 50 years of freedom!¡± The military and police did their best to block others from contemplating the slogans. Very often, the walls were painted over with white paint, and the posters were torn down and burned. Neighbors whispered in the hallways, foreshadowing dark times. Everyone walked on tiptoe, not lingering in the corridors for long ¨C you never know what anyone might think. Although things didn''t stop painting the houses. In those places where Richter often walked with Simon, now he had to watch his step. Glass from broken windows was constantly found until it was removed. ¡ª Why didn¡¯t they hit all the shops on the street then? ¡ª Richter asked in innocent bewilderment. ¡ª These are protests ¨C they deliberately choose. ¡ª Simon rolled his eyes. Other complications appeared a little later. Richter saw the military, cursing, hanging posters with rules, while agitators on pallets shouted: ?Attention to all residents! You are required to carry your passports with you and report suspicious activity! In such difficult times, impostors infiltrated the ranks of local residents. Obey the military and remain calm.? As it turned out, only those who had marked passports were classified as suspects. A couple of times a day, the police stopped Richter, checked his passport with incredulous squinting, and then began, like a memorized song: ¡ª Have you noticed any suspicious activity, young man? ¡ª No. ¡ª Your neighbors didn¡¯t see anything? ¡ª No. ¡ª Are your parents always at work? ¡ª Yes. Finding nothing suspicious, they returned his passport and wished him a good day. And the boy himself did not attach much importance to this. ?They''re here to protect us. They want what''s best.? ¡ª Richter always told himself. He consoled himself with this idea even when, at the last bell at school, Richter was separated from his friends. It was unclear why they decided to build them this way for general photography. The teachers answered questions that this was necessary. When Simon printed the photographs for exorbitant amounts of money, Richter saw that he was almost obscured by those children who were placed in front. ¡ª It just happened that way, ¡ª Simon justified. ¡ª I don''t think they did it on purpose. ?Everything is for the greater good.? ¡ª He continued to repeat until he gritted his teeth. His parents were unhappy with this situation, but they still did not say anything. ¡ª Where are you going? ¡ª Richter asked as Father pulled his hat on his head, and Mother put on her shoes. ¡ª I¡¯ll take a walk with your mother, otherwise she¡¯s sitting at home all the time. ¡ª As always, dad answered cheerfully. ¡ª What if they take you away? ¡ª They won¡¯t take us. ¡ª Father snapped with firm confidence. ¡ª What if they hurt you? ¡ª We are going together for this. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll be back in a couple of hours. It felt like they returned only at midnight, when Richter woke up from the rustling of clothes in the corridor. Time passed, and gradually, everyone got tired of this way of life. The news was no longer neutral; every evening, the announcers called on people to keep their eyes open and lay down traitors to the regime. People on the streets discussed rallies in other cities, blocked roads, military convoys going east and those returning to the west; they talked about killed people in the alleys ¨C after all, all this was not shown on the news. Sometimes, at night, Richter woke up from loud bangs somewhere on the outskirts. Mother and Father did not say what was happening, but he eavesdropped on their conversations through the wall ¡ª he had excellent hearing. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡ª The coup will break out. It¡¯s only a matter of time. Then blood will run through the streets. ¡ª I don''t want them to see this. ¡ª We have no options left. Every time opponents of the occupation were shown in the news. There were televisions in the cafeterias, and everyone could see the full details of the criminals. Women, men, even teenagers. They were not connected by blood ties or strong friendship; the only thing they had in common was that they were ¡°different.¡± Richter always remembers how his stomach turned into a knot, and a current ran through his fingers when he saw the evil faces of the people around him. ¡ª They hate them. They can hate us, too. ¡ª He expressed his concerns to his mother and father, who looked at each other heavily. ¡ª They have nothing to hate us for, ¡ª Father squeezed his Mother¡¯s hand. ¡ª We did not harm them. ¡ª But what if they start to harass us? ¡ª You have to fight back. He never liked the idea of ??using violence to protect himself. It felt so dirty, so wrong. But sometimes, there was no choice. Classmates with whom he used to sit at the same desk made fun of him on the street. Quiet chuckles, contemptuous glances. It got to the point of public name-calling, pushing, and hair-pulling. One day, his hat was stolen, and Richter became so angry that he chased after them, shouting threats. And when he finally grabbed the villain by the clothes, he swung his fist while he squealed and begged for mercy... and was unable to hit. He let him go, returning home without his hat. Once upon a time, he happened to go to Aunt Pan''s bakery for bread, as always. But at the sight of him, the old woman actively waved her hands and drove him away. ¡ª Sorry, little one, but you better not come here again. Then, a lump stuck in his throat, and he did not know how to answer and what to say, how to justify himself. ?I¡¯m not like them? ¡ª was on the tongue while the lower lip trembled, and the legs carried him home. This happened with other stores as well. As soon as he stepped on the threshold, they checked his passport and, apologizing, asked him to come in the evening - so that, apparently, no one would see. When Richter forgot his passport, without a twinge of conscience, the sellers immediately drove him away with brooms. Soon, he returned home empty-handed, and only Victoria helped ¡ª she ran to the store for two while Richter watched her child. Everyone he knew from the entrance and neighboring houses openly stared at him. They were afraid. He felt on his back every burning glance, full of condemnation or regret. He didn¡¯t make eye contact with any of them, fixed his head on the floor, and quickly walked past. Every time his knees shook. It seemed that they would now surround him, point a finger, and say: ¡°Guilty.¡± Guilty, but of what? He was unable to understand. Those who broke shop windows and painted walls are the real enemies. It''s not him. He is kind, good, takes care of his sister and helps his mother, and does not offend anyone. Was it his fault that he was born with different blood? At night, he often had nightmares. He dreamed that he was falling into the abyss of hands. They were grabbing his arms, his legs, his hair, shouting ?Guilty! Guilty!? They would pull him down while the boots of the police and military men were helping to push him to the very bottom until the moment where he sees neither light nor sky; to the point where he couldn''t breathe. Richter jumped up at night, covered in cold sweat, trembling cowardly, begging not to do this, and then he would just lay in the bed until the morning, looking at the ceiling. ¡ª Wow, you have big bags under your eyes! ¡ª Simon screamed at their next meeting. ¡ª I can¡¯t sleep,¡ª he commented dryly, rubbing his eyes. ¡ª I have an idea on how to cheer you up, ¡ª the blond raised his finger in the air. ¡ª I was just going somewhere. Richter followed Simon resignedly, only noticing his appearance after a while. Of course, his clothes were somewhat better than other boys, but today, he looked simply excellent. Ironed shirt, nice brown trousers, polished shoes, slicked hair, he even wore a tie! Although, to be honest, Simon looked a little funny. You could say he''s a smaller copy of his father. Not like him: his shirt is wrinkled, his pants are covered in dust here and there, and there¡¯s nothing to cover his dirty head with. Although, he could easily pass for a builder. Simon led him for a long time, through all sorts of nooks and crannies between the houses, until they came to an internal area, like the one that Richter had in the complex. It was more difficult to get here from the street, and Simon obviously didn¡¯t live nearby. A man let them inside the house, and through the internal doors, they found themselves on the landing. There were a lot of people, and everyone was pushing and indignant, so the blond unceremoniously pushed everyone away with his elbows while Richter nodded his head and apologized. He was brought right under the stage, which had clearly been put together hastily, and Simon asked him to wait and then disappeared. A few minutes later, Simon and his father, Frederick, it seems, came on stage ¡ª oh, impossible. They were dressed identically, completely businesslike. Clearing his throat, Frederick walked forward, waving his hand to the side. ¡ª People, thank you for coming to this humble meeting, ¡ª the man began deliberately. ¡ª You have given me the honor of bringing these truthful words to the masses. Simon winked at Richter. He looked happier than ever, trying to hold back a quiet chuckle and a growing smile. Richter just stared with his mouth open. ¡ª Since childhood, we have been told that everyone is born equal. Everyone was born naked and vulnerable.¡ª The man spoke loudly and confidently that he didn¡¯t even need a microphone. The crowd buzzed quietly but listened carefully to the words. ¡ª I drew new flyers. We will put them in the mailboxes. ¡ª It came from somewhere behind. ¡ª We grow up and acquire clothes and skills, but we still remain equal... ¡ª The speaker continued. Simon looked at his father with such fascination. ¡ª But man is a complex creature, and it is inherent in him to distort the true meaning. Some in the crowd became excited. ¡ª Clad in one flesh, but separated by prejudices. Another race, they say! One person decided that you can determine by your blood whether you are worthy of a better life or not! Everyone around began to warm up. Like a flock of bees, people hummed and trembled. ¡ª But what is this blood if the skin from which everyone is made sweats the same? ¡ª Simon stepped forward next to his father, raising his hands to the sky. ¡ª If the bones from which they are all made break in the same way? If the hearts that are all made of beat the same? And he put one hand on his heart. His voice, thin as a fly compared to his father¡¯s, scattered in all directions, and the crowd greedily grabbed, swaying. Richter had to move with them, but it didn''t matter. He listened, spellbound, with his eyes wide open. ¡ª Listen! Look around and tell me, are there monsters near you, or the same people?! ¡ª The blond stood up on his toes, leaning forward. People began to quite assent. ¡ª Some people choose to dominate other people, depriving others of the opportunity to flourish for the sake of their own enrichment. ¡ª Frederick picks up. ¡ª Enought with governement! ¡ª Someone from the crowd shouted, but his voice was weaker than an orator¡¯s. ¡ª For two and a half generations, some people lived in the dirt, while others flourished on feather beds, thinking that this was how it was supposed to be! But where is justice? If everyone is equal at birth, why in their youth is honey waiting for some, and tar for others? The man punched himself in the chest, and Simon repeated after him. Some listeners began to raise their fists in the air, while others were already taking out pre-prepared posters. ¡ª Stop bowing your heads and turning a blind eye to crimes against humanity! ¡ª Simon baptized from the stage, as his voice was already beginning to be lost in the roar of people. ¡ª Are you willing to do justice with your hands? ¡ª Frederick shouted. A hundred voices thundered their ¡°Yes,¡± and the seething living stream began to stir. Simon and his father jumped off the stage ¨C the man hurried to lead the procession, and the boy was reunited with Richter. ¡ª Simon, this is incredible! ¡ª He was choking on his own words. ¡ª I know, right? My dad was preparing from the very beginning. Well, come on, now it¡¯ll be really cool! The crowd began to move out into the courtyard, and Richter didn¡¯t even need to move much. It felt like people picked him up with their living mass, like a river current, and carried him where he needed to go. He didn''t mind and smiled like a fool the whole time. They went out into the street, and the protesting crowd carried their slogans: for freedom, equality, and justice. Simon picked up dozens of voices, and Richter repeated after him. There was something inexplicable about this that awakened in him the desire to no longer obey. The protesters walked several more streets ¨C people looked from the windows with fear or boredom, while the military threw irritated glances at them. When changing course, people often mixed up, and Richter had the opportunity to visit a half-blind old man who, it seems, did not even hear what they were shouting but simply made similar sounds. Then he found himself with a young girl who had painted her face and was spitting saliva in all directions. He was screaming so hard. Then Richter met with Simon again - the tie had slipped from his neck, and his shirt was wrinkled from often jumping in one place and cheering the crowd, but even in this form the crazy sparkle did not leave his eyes. Even later, he got mixed up again, found himself at the very edge of the procession, when suddenly a pop sounded in the air. It was so loud and clear that even it began to ring in the ears. The crowd suddenly stopped, a scream was heard somewhere in front, and panic began. Everything happened so quickly. People ran away in all directions, and a crush began. Richter was elbowed several times and pushed so hard that he risked falling to the ground and being trampled. He would have been trampled if someone had not torn him out of this mess. ¡ª What are you doing here? ¡ª An old man shouted irritably, shaking him by the shoulders. ¡ª I was with a friend, ¡ª he answered slurringly. ¡ª He performed so well that I... ¡ª You will never do this again, do you understand? You could have been trampled! Already at home, he was split up about where he was and what he was doing, and a detailed lecture from his mother and father awaited him. Then everybody twisted his ears for this foolishness: both his parents, Victoria, and even Sally, although she did not fully understand why he was scolded. But he understood the message like a clear day ¨C he was now not allowed to attend such events. At least he was not forbidden to see Simon, although everyone doubted the usefulness of this friendship. Richter did not listen since Simon remained almost his only friend. As the blond recounted later, the police came to his father several times and constantly checked him, sometimes even taking him to the police station. ¡ª But he is not afraid. He said that he would fight for their rights until his last breath! ¡ª Simon spoke enthusiastically, articulating with his hands. He also said that he himself was taken to the police station but was not detained for long ¨C after all, he was not yet sixteen. And he told everything with such an air as if this way of life inspired him. Around this incident with the rally, another wave of discontent swept through the city. Some had the courage to join the march, while others, on the contrary, left due to persecution by the police or military. As Richter understood, they did not like the opposition at all. What he heard from the windows of the house or from the yard were exclamations at first, then several claps, as it turned out later, there were shots, screams, and after that silence. Everyone went home and gave up this activity for several days until they had the courage to perform again. And so it was repeated. Richter saw Simon less and less, or perhaps not at all. And if they did see each other, it was not for long. ¡ª I need to be home early, ¡ª he kept trying to get out of it, turning around. ¡ª Otherwise dad will worry. Although Simon tried to make amends by bringing all sorts of delicious buns whenever possible. The boys could not sit by the fountain, so they wandered through the streets and ate a tartlet between them, most often in silence, since every week there were fewer and fewer topics for conversation. Simon was involved in his father''s business, Richter helped his mother more: she had such bags under her eyes that it became scary. The blond man did not talk about the successes of his speeches on the street; he kept looking around all the time, and Richter could not talk all day long about washing dishes and playing in the sand. Further, such meetings simply burdened. One day, Richter forgot to give Simon money for all the cakes he brought. Having reached the house, he slapped himself on the forehead and ran back, hoping to catch up with his friend before sunset, and he almost succeeded. Simon stood with his back to him, rummaging in his pockets in front of the door. The boy was only about fifty meters away from his friend. Six men appeared out of nowhere, all of them dressed in black, with their faces covered with masks. One of them ran into Simon from behind and pushed him as hard as he could against the wall.