Vadim was silent. Petrovich turned his head toward him, took up the visor and raised his cap so that the visor overlooked the zenith.

– I have. A daughter, – Vadim said at last. What is that about, boss? Why did you suddenly care?

Petrovich nodded a few times.

– You are after demobilization, boy. Had been serving here, at the Polygon. You are about twenty or twenty-two years old. And the kid is a year or two? No own shelter, no help, right?

– Comrade Senior Ensign…

Petrovich shook his head: be quiet, puppy!

– L-listen to me, you fool, – he spoke in a half-whisper. – Listen to what old Senior Ensign Petrovich is telling you; I'm old enough to be your father. Here's a suggestion. I have friends at the Headquarters of the quarantine, let's make an act of your mental instability, and throw your contract into the furnace, then you can run back to your daughter! People, the “troublers”, are locked up here, perhaps, forever, but you! You are not local! Run away, before you are also registered here forever. I'll give you money, five thousand! I'm serious. If we are still alive at the end – run for your life! There, on Earth, such things begin, exchanges, joint ventures, it turned out that Americans are human after all, we saw them here… You have a head on your shoulders, you have hands – you will get by, and you will have an ability to start over, with my penny! Here's the Zone, son, Mother-Trouble, death, without a choice. Or even worse, prison is around. It will be worse than a war here. It will be blood to the elbows. The Wild West and cinders above.

On his back, under the backpack, Vadim experienced a strange feeling, as if somebody had ran a finger across him with an uncut nail. The feeling was related to Bashkalo, silent behind him. Bashkalo had become strangely quiet on this little detour… Almost delicate, even.

– Hell will come here, – said Petrovich. – I sincerely advise you, I'm not joking. You have a wife, a child.. And you came here…

– Comrade Senior Ensign… – Vadim said again.

– Call me “Nikolaich” Do not argue! Do not argue! – Petrovich spat. – He's creasing the muzzle, you look at this. I'm talking to you seriously and you are pulling a face… In Afganistan all I did was bury guys like you, and here in the Zone all I do is bury guys like you, and soon I'll start to kill guys like you myself…

– Nikolaich, comrade Senior Ensign. Thank you. I understood. I need to be here. Do you understand? Let's go on, comrade … Nikolaich.

– Did you think I'm checking you out through dibs now, puppy? – Petrovich asked angrily.

Vadim was so amazed that he was almost offended. For some reason, he did not suspect the Soviet Ensign was joking – and just got for it being unfairly scolded. Petrovich read this on his face and slouched. Apparently, it was “I'm sorry”.

Bashkalo intruded a non-statutory awkwardness; he had finally got burst. Or got sick.

– Hey, so what are you doing?

– E-e-eh, kids! – said Petrovich, sounding very non-military. – So then fuck you. Forward, left step, to the “risks”, go around them, me on the left, you on the right. Do not step on them. And then – silence. Got it, boy? Bashkalo, from here we silently keep moving. Do you understand?

– As for me, I understand… – Bashkalo responded.

– Another one hundred meters according to the map, half a kilometer objectively. You will see how it is and what's here. He needs… – Petrovich muttered, not to Vadim, but under the breath. And to Vadim he said: – Think about it! And go ahead, come on, next to me.

They reached the destination in twenty minutes, using a dozen of “risks” and finding just as many old ones. Vadim remarked to himself that Petrovich had not ordered any pole to be driven into the ground. On the right the railway embankment also stretched on, and everything was so much the same, was so usual, the steppe, the cloudy summer sky, the embankment, but it lasted and lasted and dragged on, so you, dying of boredom, could imagine yourself inside a “combined shooting”, walking on the spot against the backdrop of a barrel with a landscape painted on it.

The destination was marked with a corpse. Or crowned, as Vadim would say, if he was a well-read guy. The corpse looked eerie. Vadim tried to comprehend in which position the person had died. A heap of broken bones in a hazmat suit. In one lump. Vadim changed his position, took a step sideways, Petrovich muttered mechanically: “Move carefully.” Vadim understood. The victim was sitting with his back to them, stretching out his legs, and these legs were smeared on the ground, like plasticine with a huge finger, for five meters, with fragments of cloth from his pants, intact woolen socks, flattened shoes. And a head in a hat made of dog's skin was torn into the torso. A bent AK-47 trunk stuck out above the hat with a rubber on the flame arrester, as rich Americans do. Hands, like a broken puppet, lay on the sides of an oblate torso, palms up, as if the dying man threw his arms up, and they broke away from the shoulders.

– Who is this? – asked Bashkalo quietly.

Petrovich did not answer straight away, and replied while preoccupied with surveying the area. Squatting down and looking at the nearest square meters of the steppe, he said after about a minute and a half:

– Please meet Candidate for Doctor of Sciences: Malyutin, Alex. From Moscow. We made a discovery with him. For the first time in the world the area of the gravitational locale of an anomalous, bitch, intensity, and this… vector of direction was located and explored. Also, bitch, abnormal. I seem to have said everything right. Well, fine, Alex the Candidate… Can you imagine, he tells me: you see, comrade Petrovich, it's all about gauze. We are, he says, not in a vacuum, the nut is initially heavier that's why, he says, the horizontal, I think, vector of anomalous gravity has time… well, to grab the gauze and to pull it, as I understood him. And the density of the air. And this can be seen with the naked eye. That's what, he says, we have to fix. Now you are going to throw and I will take pictures… Alex used to call this thing “procrustes”. There was such ancient Greek, a sadist. Together we, I mean me and Alex, were here four times. We even settled down a little… There is our fireplace… We dragged down the instruments, but in vain. These were all the measurements he made: the spring scale worked, the flares, a goose feathers and the gauze on “risks”. And some boxes with electricity – not a damn thing. And the camera. It was allowed then to use optics, it did not burn the eyes. But what killed Alex – was actually the camera… Fine. Group, stand at ease. I designate the safe limits. From here to here. A fireplace. Safety. Fifteen meters to the left – is unknown. Did you understand?

– That's right, – Vadim and Bashkalo said discordantly in chorus, and the Senior Ensign took out his pack of royal “Rodopi” and offered one to Bashkalo. Petrovich continued, while smoking:

– But however, Alex used up about ten exercise books, ninety-six pennies each. And you see, you cannot even get them now… – Petrovich coughed. – They were in his backpack… We used to stay here for two-three days. Alex would carry his folding chair with him.

Vadim noticed the chair: a folding structure of steel wire with a wet canvas seat.

– He died and I fell under investigation. I had to bring an officer from special Department here, so as not to go to jail for the murder of one of our leading scientific employees. Half a year ago still, you could have been imprisoned for the loss of a warrior in the Zone, do you know that, cub? That officer drinks now… Drinks a lot, till blackout. They say, right up to the dismissal of the officer's status by the court. And he writes the reports on the upholstery of the room. With his finger.

– Well, that's clear, Nikolaich, – said Bashkalo, who had got bored. (“Interesting, does his mustache smell of vomit?”, thought either Vadim or Mumbler. His nose was itching because of Bashkalo's presence.) – We had admired the view, – continued Bashkalo, cleaning the ash from the cigarette with his little finger. – Rest in peace, soft-boiled bones. So why did you bring us here? To frighten our goose? I heard everything, how you promised him five thousand. And filing for a madman. Makarenko¹⁵1.

– You say you heard? – Petrovich asked again. – Well, if you heard then you heard. It happens in the Zone. A whisper, like in a church. That's why being delicate is so important. You know, Vasya, like in a prison cell?

He suddenly slammed Bashkalo on the shoulder, squeezed the shoulder with his rake and pushed it towards himself, almost reached his eye with the cigarette.

– No, Vasya, we didn't come here for this, not for fear. We're going to make science, you understand? What Alex could not do, but we will. This is not about heaviness, it's about other thing. Something valuable. You will understand.

Ensign Bashkalo did not try to escape. He didn’t even seem frightened. He was smoking, lifting the cigarette to the side of his mustache and blowing the smoke away, and he did not take his eyes off the boss.

– Alex the Candidate made one calculation and explained it to me, I want to check it, finally, – said Petrovich. – If he has come up with the right thing, we will make money. Scientists will hang themselves. And you, screwy Vasya, will help me. To check.

The sound of the engine was heard. From the other side of the mound, from the concrete. Vadim gave up watching the theatrical scene “who's going to overwhelm whom” and even stood on his toes, trying to see the moving mechanism.

– Comrade Senior Ensign!.. Someone is coming!

The LiAZ bus, the passenger transport serial number 20224, had driven past them during its five-hour trip exactly three years ago, in the summer of 1987. On this bus, next to Doctor Vyatkin, was Vadim himself, sitting with his arm broken and hurting so much that he could even see the white dots. He, an ordinary scoop, was being taken to the hospital, and he did not remember now, but then it appeared to him through the pain, that three armed figures were standing behind the mound. Then the bus jolted, the figures disappeared, his arm hurt, and Vadim forgot, forgot, forgot about them…

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.

Vadim picked up the stick, handed it over. Ensign Bashkalo also approached, hanging the rifle on his shoulder, tense, attentive, very concentrated. Vadim sneezed as his approached.

The Senior Ensign was drawing on the ground with the end of a brush.

– Here's how that is. This “zero” is – the closest one. Has been founded by Alex. And here's how the second one is located by the first. I'd found it during the first mission when I walked around the heavy one. Like an “eight” on its side. They are only ten meters in diameter each and both are the same. You can bypass it on the left using the “risks”. It is safe. I did it before. Have I already said that? And here, between them, I've noticed the traction, like in a good furnace. It starts at throwing the “risk”. Pulling smoke somewhere. How much we had burned there…

He slipped the stick to Vadim, took out his wallet from one of his pockets, and from the wallet – a piece of a comb, a piece of paper and, continuing to talk, he quickly made a smoke pot.

– And Alex ascertained that where the joint and traction are between these “procrustes”, something strange is present. By appearance – it is the effect of “invisibility”, with air-to-air special effects, with oxygen, with gas. A step forward – there is something, a step back – you don't see anything. Hocus-pocus, as I showed you, Sverzhin, with the “risks” and the fog. “Risks” just disappear in the hole, but nothing thumps as it would if they fell in the heavy stuff, nothing like this. And then Alex thought of throwing “a cat” in there and pulling it back out.

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.

– Don't shoot, comrade Ensign, – Vadim said calmly.

– Or what? – Bashkalo asked oddly, lifted his chin.

– Or then no one will pull living plants out of the hole, which have been dead for two hundred million years. I can't even imagine how much they may cost. Even if paid a penny for a year.

Bashkalo snorted. Vadim sneezed.

– Cheers to you, bitch! – said Bashkalo with a twitch. He was really calm; excited, but not rabid. He was working. – Everything is possible in the Zone, you're right. Piss, not war! Five-storey buildings fly, air cuts people, equipment operates itself. You can walk a kilometer in a month, like at the airdrome, from hangar-three to meteorological booth. And why not to visit the time hole? Science fiction. But if you, Fenimore, don't put the rifle on the damp mother-earth right now, arsehole…