Chapter - 21

The question hung in my head. Robert saw people in the crowd pulling guns out of their bosoms. Before the eyes of the terrified father, pistols appeared in the hands of Viktor and Artem, other men who were in the parish held molotov cocktails in their hands. One of them, Gena, set fire to a bottle and launched it into the building of the center. The bottle broke the glass, a fire broke out. After that, several more bottles filled with a combustible mixture crashed against the walls of the building. Accurate shots killed two soldiers and one doctor on the spot. Robert saw a huge red spot spreading out on a sterile, white coat. Chaos broke out in the crowd. People, most of whom did not understand what was happening, rushed to the exit.

Men who were stronger knocked down children, women and the elderly on the move. A panic ensued and a stampede ensued. However, the workers of the rehabilitation center also came to their senses. The doctors disappeared into the building, apparently not realizing that it would turn into ruins under the influence of flames in a very short time, or hoping for fighters assigned to protect order. The people themselves, dressed in military camouflage uniforms, began to shoot back, but the advantage was clearly not on their side.

Not knowing what to do and how to act, Robert took refuge behind one of the trees, watching how the picture would unfold in the yard of the rehabilitation center further. Artyom, surprisingly famously shooting back from a fighter with a machine gun, was distracted to throw a molotov cocktail into the building. It was a fatal mistake of a man.

The bullet hit the man in the thigh and Artyom, shuddering all over, collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. Admittedly, the man kept his courage and continued to shoot back from the military.

- Robert, you have nothing to do here! – the voice of one of the parishioners was heard.

The man's name was Kirill. Kirill fired aimlessly and killed a man in a white coat who was confused at the entrance to the rehabilitation center. It remained to guess from where a faithful parishioner capable of quoting the Gospel along and across could have such an experience. But I didn't want to think about it. At least not right now. Kirill disappeared into the crowd a moment later, leaving Robert, who managed to hide behind the trunk of a massive oak, alone.

Among the people who put up such fierce resistance to the workers of the center, there were those whom the priest saw for the first time. Completely unfamiliar, well-armed people who initially did not stand out from the crowd. Now these people were an armed, dangerous detachment, acting in a coordinated and organized manner. And most likely, the military, or those who posed as such, retreating into the building of the rehabilitation center, already engulfed in flames, made such a reckless step, not by their own will.

There were people in camouflage, following the doctors, who wanted to hide from heavy fire… The rebels? Maybe the militia? Terrorists, after all? Or how could they be called those who entered against the will of the official authorities? Whatever these people called themselves, they were doing incredible things right now. Wounded soldiers, most of whom were not ready to meet such fierce resistance and did not expect that such a thing could happen at the walls of the center, fled inside the former building of the kindergarten "Topolek".

Tables with antibody capsules placed on them turned over, ampoules hitting the floor shattered into fragments and the precious vaccine was trampled by dozens of feet of people in camouflage fleeing from the massacre. But with his own eyes, Robert saw how the militia took several suitcases with vaccines for themselves. The doors of the Topolka slammed shut.

A dozen militia bullets immediately riddled the dilapidated door leaf, making it look like a sieve. However, instead of continuing the pursuit, the militia, among whom Robert saw several of his parishioners, turned the tables on the edge and propped up the doors that opened on themselves. The way back for people in uniform was cut off, the door opening from itself was blocked by a massive wooden table. As if in an oven chamber, the military were locked in the building of the rehabilitation center. Apparently only now realizing what they were doing, the military rushed back, but it was too late.

Robert could hear the screams coming from the other side of the door. Several of the most enterprising military tried to escape from carbon monoxide by squeezing through the bars on the ground floor, but they were met with an unenviable fate in the form of several accurate shots.

- Let's go! a voice came from the crowd.

- Hurry up, before they get reinforcements!

Robert looked around. People who came to the rehabilitation center for help and had nothing to do with what was happening in the yard, ran from all legs to wherever. Just like the priest himself, none of the ordinary citizens understood what was happening around them. From the whole mass of people, an impressive squad of people stood out, who staged a riot in the courtyard of a kindergarten, and now a rehabilitation center. Twenty people, armed, strong people of different ages. Among them were all those who had once been a member of Robert's impromptu parish. The men kept glancing at the burning building of the center, apparently wanting to make sure that what was started would be completed and not a single doctor or military man would leave the center building alive.

On the road, at the fence fence, there was a screech of brakes. An old GROOVE painted yellow drove up to the entrance of the center. The bus door opened reluctantly, with a delay. A middle-aged man sitting at the wheel began to call on the militia to get on the bus as quickly as possible. Robert could see that the driver was visibly nervous and kept glancing behind him and in the rearview mirror. One of the militia, the one who shouted "Let's go", a few minutes ago showed a gesture to the driver of the GROOVE, raising his thumb up. The militia hid their weapons in their bosom. Several people were holding briefcases with ampoules of the vaccine. In front of the astonished Robert, who completely lost the thread of the events taking place, the rebels began to grab the citizens, pale as a sheet and terrified to death, and shove them into the bus.

The silhouette of the wounded Artyom grew up near the priest, who could hardly stand on his feet and was pale as a sheet.

- Robert, you have to come with us!

Robert shook his head.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on here."

- We don't have time to explain something, father, - the words were given to Artyom with difficulty and he grimaced in pain. – Just take my word for it, then you just say thank you!

The man tried to take Robert by the hand and lead him to the bus, but Robert pulled his hand away. Carefully, but persistently.

- I'm not going anywhere Artem…

Artyom gave his father a look full of anxiety, there were hints of regret in the man's gaze. Artyom took out a pistol from his bosom and pointed it at Robert.

- You leave me no choice, you will get on the bus because we need you. We don't have time, I'm counting to three," the man said.

- Or what? Will you shoot? Robert asked.

- I will kill someone from the townspeople, - Artyom's voice trembled,

- I will kill someone from the townspeople, - Artyom's voice was trembling, but at the same time there was firmness in the man's words. - I ask you not to bring it to this, father, do not force me to live in sin, but I do it for your own good, - Artem whispered. He pointed the muzzle at a frightened, unsuspecting old man hiding behind a tree.

Robert shook his head. He could see the muscles in Artyom's cheekbones twitching, the sweat streaming down his forehead. A completely different person was standing in front of him. The priest could say and say for sure that this Artem, unlike the man who was an exemplary parishioner and did not miss a single meeting in the basement, Robert did not know. Maybe this man could have pulled the trigger.

- You can not count and put down the gun, I'll go myself, - said the priest.

Artyom breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the pistol, which by that moment was shaking like an excited first-grader's sight on a rifle in a shooting range.

The bus was packed to capacity. Those who did not want to get into the GROOVE voluntarily, and there were most of them, were dragged to the bus by force. There were screams, pleas and crying.

Robert, looking down at the floor, slowly moved towards the yellow bus, frozen on the road at the gate. Cats scratched at my heart. It's never been as bad as it is now, my father has never been. I had to put up with it… Maybe it was worth praying, reading "Our Father", but all the prayers that the priest knew seemed to have been erased from his head.

It was hard to believe in betrayal, but it was even harder to experience it for yourself. Father Robert had no time to think about it, when a heavy blow fell on the head of the priest. The sky above the man's head swam, and Robert fell to the ground, unconscious.