Chapter - 2

Leather straps were used - the loops on Nadia's wrists tightened when a pop sounded from above.

The madman confused the roof of the Lada with a trampoline in an amusement park. The second jump, through the upholstery of the roof inside the cabin, Grisha saw the first dents. His hand was reaching for the horn, when suddenly the stranger hit his head on the windshield with all his might.

The first layer of glass cracked. The glass was sprinkled with the blood of a madman whose head resembled a tomato pickled with stuffing. A solid red mess. From the flat blow, the man broke his nose, cut his forehead and knocked out his front teeth. Grisha recoiled on the seat. With a blood clot, teeth smeared with pus slid down the glass.

There was another bang of the head against the glass, and then another and another. When the stranger's face turned into a chop, he slid off the roof. He sat down on the hood of the Lada, stared blankly at Grisha and suddenly began to tear his face. As if he was trying to take off his mask! Bloody fragments flew onto the hood and windshield.

"What are you doing," Grisha hissed.

Where did those who took on the responsibility to keep order look? The answer was a light discharge that passed through his body. As in childhood, when you touch the "crown" with the tip of your tongue. Muscles cramped. He looked up. The madman who caused chaos on the hood of the Lada convulsed. A taser harpoon was sticking out of the poor guy's neck.

A man in a once snow-white tracksuit collapsed to the floor as if knocked down. Grisha involuntarily shivered, imagining how to get a discharge of a hundred thousand volts. I saw the military running up to the car, hurried to open the blocked doors. During - the door of the Lada opened and someone's strong hand literally threw him out of the car.

A punch in the gut, a face in the asphalt, the muzzle of a machine gun in the back of the head, a heavy boot presses between the ankles, pinning to the ground.

- I'll explain, - Grisha tried to speak first, they didn't let him say.

"Put your hands on the back of your head," a military man's voice was heard.

Grisha obeyed the order. When the soldier looked at his bracelet, the machine gun rested on his head, and the boot pressed painfully on the vertebra. Then the same voice commanded.

- Get up and go to the car, keep your hands in sight.

Grisha did everything exactly as the military man said. He stood near the Lada, thoughtfully raised his hands.

One, two, three... The fourth one stands a little to the side. There are four military men. Two privates, a sergeant and... a captain. A private, like other military men, is talking to him, hiding his face behind a thick black mask with a slit for eyes and mouth. The captain and the sergeant examine the crazy bastard.

- Isn't it scary to be hanging around here at this time? With a white bracelet? It's getting dark," the private carefully studied Grisha with his eyes

Scary... Grisha shrugged his shoulders, feeling depressed and awkward

- I understand myself, it's all shit, - said the private, inspecting the parking lot.

- Sysoev! - the captain adjusted the strap of the machine gun, called the private talking to Grisha. - Load this one into the car.

- That's right!

- Find out why he is without the vaccine, - the captain turned to the sergeant. - And where did his red bracelet go.

The sergeant bent over the bound man, lifted his sleeve, shook his head.

- The vaccination is dated today. There really is no bracelet," he said.

- So why are you procrastinating? Find out all this, Sergeant! Find out!

The captain spat irritably, smeared his saliva on the asphalt. He looked around cautiously and trotted to Grisha, who was watching what was happening through a veil of fog...

- What happened? Why is a white civilian walking around after curfew? - he asked.

Grisha could not stand the captain's direct gaze, lowered his eyes. It is useless for a person in uniform to say and prove something. Now he could turn any word you said against you.

- Do you understand what this threatens? The captain asked.

There is no need to explain. "White" after curfew in the city is a synonym for an isolation ward. Hell on earth was located there... Grisha watched the scoundrel being loaded into his car by the military. Because of him, the couple did not have time to leave before dusk. Let them meet the problems that could not be solved, but these were their problems, they knew them and were beginning to get used to the idea that it would not be possible to live in a different way in the new world...

- I'm not arguing...

- What did you say? – asked the captain.

Grisha lowered his gaze. The captain decided not to waste time on an empty conversation, squinted at the "red", which had been loaded into the "UAZ". When the car doors closed, he returned his gaze to Grisha. Judging by his jet-black eyes, the network of wrinkles around them, and his voice, the captain must have been at least forty.

- What kind of woman is with you? - he asked.

"My wife," Grisha hastened to answer. - She is... she's pregnant... You don't understand if I end up in isolation...

The captain seemed to have lost interest in Grisha. His eyes narrowed, he walked up to the Kalina, looked through the window into the cabin.

- Her name is Nadia, get into the situation, please. A pregnant woman will not survive the isolation ward!

The captain nodded. He looked confused, confused, and for some reason looked down. In order not to arouse the emotions of the captain, Grisha believed that neither he nor his wife had anything to do with it.

- Isolation ward? The private's words were heard. - Since yesterday, a decree has been signed to shoot to kill. This is not the first time the situation has gotten out of control. Those who are wearing a red bracelet and because of whom we are forced to do this shit are gradually getting out of control.

- You have no idea...

- Shut up, both of you! – the captain interrupted Grisha and the private. "Private, do you have an order?" Do it!

Sullen and puzzled, the captain approached Grisha.

"Shut up, get in the car and get out of here before I change my mind." I'll take the blocks off, so get behind the wheel and step on the gas. Then in the evenings, pray that you got on my watch and don't stick your ass out after curfew.

Grisha, pale as a sheet, dived into the car. Stress, incipient panic, everything merged. The captain stood at the driver's door of the car and stared at Grisha. It was heard how the staples blocking the wheels of the car slowly hid in the asphalt. Grisha got into the car, I wanted to leave, forget myself.

The captain bent down and handed Grisha a small coupon, stamped and painted. Grisha did not immediately realize that he was holding a "pass" with which they would be allowed into the city after the curfew.

- Agree, friend, - the military nodded at Nadia, Grisha's wife tied to the seat with leather straps. After a lethal dose of the drug, she never recovered. - Hope dies last ... - the captain took a deep breath of the fresh evening air, exhaled loudly. - The last two digits on the back are the address. Basement on Nagibina Street. Good luck, you have an hour to get home.

The captain straightened up and left. Grisha turned the pass in his hands. Someone else's name is entered in the FULL name column… It's kind of weird. Probably, if he were the one whose name is indicated in the pass, they would not have any problems today.

"But my last name is different," he sighed.

The important and priceless coupon in Grisha's hands was losing all value. Just in case, the guy still threw it in the glove compartment. Alas.

The Lada pulled out of the parking lot. No one noticed that the car had a flat rear left wheel. No one, except for the strange captain.