Prologue - The hour has come ...

Eh where to start the story? Well, let's do everything from the very beginning, but only briefly.

My name is George. For their own - just Geo. Born and raised in the sunny Krasnodar Territory.

My appearance is as follows: height - one meter ninety-three, dark brown, unruly hair that always stands upright, as if I had been electrocuted. Brown eyes, thick eyebrows, a neat nose and warm lips.

There was enough meat and fat on my bones. Yes, there is a tummy, but not big.

And yesterday I turned eighteen. An extremely important date in a person's life. I celebrated it accordingly.

And today, returning home with a small headache, he died.

No, I was not run over by a chan car, since I am not an idiot and always look around.

I didn't save the girl from the truck-san, because there are a lot of girls, and my mother's Georgiy is the only one.

Okay, seriously, saving the idiots is a thankless job, but risking your skin at the same time ... It is necessary to have an extremely kind and heroic nature, which is not about me.

Okay, I will not torment you with waiting. It would appear that way.

Cool breeze. The sun hid behind the clouds. Puddles around ...

In general, a standard winter in the Kuban.

I am walking, or rather, swimming towards the bus stop.

I get on the bus in front, next to the driver. The seats in the back were already taken, but there was no desire to stand.

Somewhere in the middle of the way, a loaded trailer with logs appeared in front of the bus. Just like in one movie.

Yes, at that moment I recalled the moment from the destination with these logs.

There was a feeling of foreboding, and the hair on his ass began to move.

Obviously an unkind sign, but where to go, do not jump out.

So the ride continued and I almost reached my stop, but ...

These fucking logs really fell out on the road. At that moment, my heart almost stopped.

Our driver, recalling the mother of a timber truck driver, brilliantly drove around the logs. But I didn't have time to rejoice, as an armature, about one and a half meters, fell out of the timber truck, and broke through the windshield of the bus at high speed.

Well, at the same time, along with the chair through and through me, almost touching my grandfather behind.

What did I feel at that moment? Well, there was almost no pain. Consciousness was flooded with the purest fear and horror. Fear of seeing a piece of iron sticking out of the center of my chest. And the horror of the fact that he wanted to breathe oxygen, but could not. Panic literally engulfed me, and my body was shackled.

Thoughts about what would happen after death tormented my mind. Is there a God? Satan? Or maybe reincarnation? Or I will simply fall asleep forever, and my "I" will go out like a candle.

Most of all he was afraid of the latter. I would rather be glad to be with the devils in the cauldron or the icy lake Cocytus. It doesn't matter, the main thing is that I will exist.

Consciousness was slowly, visibly spinning out of control. No matter how hard I tried to resist, it was clearly stronger than me.

The last thing I saw was the driver slapping me on the cheeks and the onlookers filming the scene of the incident on the phone.

Now I understand that if I was offered to exchange my life for the lives of others, I would agree without even thinking.

One man. Ten. A hundred. A thousand or a million.

Didn't care and it's scary.

Once I was asked. What am I most afraid of?

Fear of spiders? A snake? Heights? Maybe death?

Then I could not answer ...

But now I can responsibly declare that my biggest fear is the unknown.