“I understand your greed perfectly,” I said. “The economy’s in ruins, people aren’t getting paid… And the lust too.
After all, you still have the sexual hyperdrive of youth seething inside you. So do I, as it happens!”
Even the wounded one stopped making noise. They listened to me without saying a word-as night came on the highway had emptied and there was just one set of headlights approaching in the distance. It was an enchanting,
still night, with the sky covered in stars-a warm Crimean night, and down at the bottom of the cliff, the sea was murmuring.
“You’re both very good-looking boys,” I said. “The only trouble is, I’m not in the mood for sex now. You haven’t behaved well enough. But!” I raised one finger and they stared at it as if they were hypnotized. “We can find a way round that!”
Judging from the expressions on their faces, they were expecting the worst. But they needn’t have. I’m not a murderer, after all.
“Since there are two of you, and you’re clearly good friends,” I explained, “it won’t be any problem for you to satisfy each other. And after that we’ll go on to the camp, calmly, with no more adventures.”
“Why you!” The driver took a step toward me, but the pistol barrel aimed at his crotch had the desired effect.
“There is another possibility,” I agreed. “I could relieve you of certain unnecessary body parts. And I bet you three to one I can do it with the first shot.”
“You…” hissed the wounded one. “For us they’ll…”
“They wouldn’t give a bent kopeck for you,” I told him. “Get your trousers down and get to work.”
I didn’t have the Power that allows an Other to break a human being’s will. But my voice probably still carried the old conviction. They obeyed me. Or they tried to obey me.
We sometimes watch gay porno in our department-it’s very amusing. And the vampires and magicians often show lesbian films in the duty room. In the films the actors always set about the job with enthusiastic skill, but these two halfwits were obviously upset by this sudden turn of events, and they lacked the necessary experience. So I just basically admired the night view of the sea and kept an eye out to make sure the boys weren’t slacking.
“Never mind,” I comforted them when I thought they’d been humiliated enough. “Like the man said-the first time doesn’t count. You can practice a bit more in your free time. Get in the car!”
“What for?” the driver asked when he’d finished spitting. He probably thought I wanted to shoot them in their fancy auto and push them over the cliff into the sea.
“Well, you agreed to take me to Artek, didn’t you?” I said in an astonished voice. “And you’ve already got the money.”
We drove the rest of the way without any more adventures.
Except that halfway there the driver started howling that he couldn’t live with himself, he had nothing left to live for, and he was going to turn the wheel and drive off the cliff.
“Go on, go on!” I agreed. “With a bullet in the back of your head you won’t even feel the fall!”
That shut him up.
I kept the pistol in my hands all the way to the gates of the Artek camp.
After I opened the door, I leaned back and said, “Ah, there’s just one more thing, guys…”
They looked at me with hate in their eyes. All that Power I could have drained off if only I’d been in good shape!
“Better not even try to find me again. Or this night will seem like paradise. You understand?”
There was no answer.
“Silence signifies agreement,” I said decisively, putting the little Astra Cub back in my purse. The ideal weapon for a frail woman… although Pavel had had to carry it through customs. I walked toward the gates and the Nissan roared and set off back the way we’d come. I hoped the failed rapists and robbers would have enough sense not to attempt any kind of revenge… But then, a couple of days later I wouldn’t be concerned about local petty bandits anymore.
And so 1 arrived at the Artek camp, where I was supposed to restore my health, at two in the morning. “To sup light broth,” as Karl Lvovich had said as he signed the necessary authorizations.
Every exemplary Soviet Young Pioneer was supposed to do three things: Visit Lenin in his mausoleum, take a vacation at Artek, and tie some little Child of October’s necktie, then after that he could proceed to the next stage of his development-the Komsomol.
In the course of my brief childhood career as a Young Pioneer, I had only managed to fulfill the first point. This was my chance to make up for one of the things I’d missed.
I don’t know how it was in Soviet times, but now the exemplary children’s camp had a serious look to it. The fence around its territory was in perfect order, and there were guards at the entrance. I couldn’t actually see any weapons… not at a first glance… but the strong young guys in militia uniform looked serious enough without them. There was a kid of about fourteen or fifteen there too, looking completely out of place beside these guardians of order. Was he perhaps a hanger-on from the old days, when the bugles were sounded and the drums beaten as the neat ranks of Young Pioneers marched to the beach for their prescribed water therapy?
To be honest, I’d been expecting a lot of bureaucratic red tape. Or at least considerable surprise. But it seemed like it wasn’t the first time that Young Pioneer leaders (although now my job had the simpler title of teacher) had
arrived at Artek at two o’clock in the morning in a foreign automobile. One of the guards took a quick look at my documents-they were genuine, checked and approved in all the appropriate offices, certified with signatures and seals-and then he called over the kid.
“Makar, take Alisa to the duty camp leader.”
“Uh-huh,” the kid mumbled, looking me over keenly. He was a good kid, with no complexes. When he saw a beautiful young woman he wasn’t afraid to show he was interested. He’d go a long way…
After we left the guards’ hut, we walked past a long row of stands with lists of daily activities, announcements of various events, and children’s wall newspapers… what a long time it was since I’d seen wall newspapers! Then we set off along a badly lit path, and I found myself trying to spot the traditional Soviet plaster statues of boy buglers and girls clutching oars along the sides of it, but there weren’t any.
“Are you a new leader?” the boy asked.
“Yes.”
“Makar.” He held out his hand in a dignified manner.
“Alisa.” I shook hands with him, barely managing to restrain a smile.
The difference between our ages was about ten years, or maybe twelve. But even the names showed how everything had changed in that time. Where were all the girls named after Lewis Carroll’s Alice now? They’d gone the way of the plaster buglers, the Young Pioneer banners, the lost illusions, and the failed dreams. Marched off in tidy columns to the strains of a cheerful, rousing song… The little girl who had made every boy in the country fall in love with her when she played Alice in the old film was now quietly working as a biologist and merely smiled when she remembered her old romantic image.
There were other names now. Makar, Ivan, Egor, Masha… It was an immutable law of nature-the worse things get in a country, the more it’s trampled into the mud, the stronger the yearning for the old roots. For the old names, the old ways, the old rituals. But these Makars and Ivans were no worse. They were probably better, in fact. More serious, more single-minded, not shackled by any ideology or fake show of unity. They were much closer to us Dark Ones than all those Alisas, Seryozhas, and Slavas…
But I still felt a bit slighted somehow, maybe because we hadn’t been like that. Or maybe it was just because they were like that.
“Are you just going to be here temporarily?” the boy asked, as serious as ever.
“Yes. My friend’s fallen ill. I’m going to take her place. But I’ll try to come back again next year.”
Makar nodded. “Do, this is a good place we have here. I’m going to come next year too. I’ll be fifteen then.”
Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I saw a brief sparkle in the little imp’s eyes.
“And after you’re fifteen?”
He shook his head and replied with obvious regret. “You can only come until you’re sixteen. But anyway, at sixteen I’m going to go to Cambridge to study.”
I almost choked in surprise.
“That’s pretty expensive, Makar.”
“I know. It was all planned five years ago, don’t worry.” He had to be the son of one of those New Russians. They had everything planned in advance.
“Well, that’s doing things thoroughly. Are you going to stay there?”
“No, what for? I’ll get a decent education and come back to Russia.”
A very serious child. No doubt about it, these human beings sometimes threw up amusing types. It was a pity I couldn’t test him for Other abilities right now… we could use kids like that.
I followed my guide as he turned off the pathway and its square flagstones onto a narrow track.
“This is a shortcut,” the boy explained. “Don’t worry, I know everything round here…”
I followed him in silence-it was pretty dark, and I was relying on just my human abilities, but his white shirt was a reliable marker.
“There, you see that light?” Makar asked, turning back to look at me. “You go straight toward that. I’m off now…”
It seemed like the boy just wanted to play a trick on me… it was three hundred meters to the light through the dense growth of the park. He would have been able to boast to his friends about how he led the new teacher into the bushes and left her there…
But Makar had no sooner taken a step off to the side than he caught his foot on something and fell with a cry of surprise. I didn’t even feel like gloating-it was so funny.
“Didn’t you say you knew everything round here?” I couldn’t resist asking.
He didn’t even answer, just breathed heavily through his nose as he rubbed his bruised and bleeding knee. I squatted down beside him and looked into his eyes:
“You wanted to play a trick on me, didn’t you?”
The kid glanced at me and quickly turned his eyes away. He muttered, “I’m sorry…”
“Do you play tricks like that on everyone?” I asked.
“No…”
“So why was I accorded such an honor?”
It was a moment before he answered. “You looked like… you were very sure of yourself.”
“I should think so,” I agreed simply. “I had some adventures on my way here. I was almost killed on the way-word of honor! But I got through it. So how am I supposed to look?”
“I’m sorry…”
All his seriousness and self-assurance had completely deserted him. As I squatted beside him I said, “Show me your knee.”
He took his hand away.
Power. I know what it is. I could almost feel it, the Power pouring out of the boy: generated by the pain, the resentment, the shame-it was pure Power… I could almost take it-like any Dark Other, whose strength is people’s weakness.
Almost.
But it wasn’t what I actually needed. Makar sat there gritting his teeth and not making a sound. He wouldn’t give way, and he held the Power inside himself. It was too much for me right now…
I took a flashlight as slim as a pen out of my purse and switched it on.
“It’s nothing. Do you want me to put a Band-Aid on it?”
“No, don’t. It will be okay like that.”
“As you wish.” I stood up and shone the flashlight around. Yes, it would have been difficult trying to find my way to that lighted window in the distance… “What now, Makar. Are you going to run away? Or are you going to show me the way after all?”
He got up without saying anything and set off, and I followed him. When we were already at the building, which turned out not to be small at all-it was a two-story mansion house with columns-Makar asked, “Are you going to tell the duty teacher?”
“About what?” I laughed. “Nothing happened, did it? We just had a quiet stroll along the path…”
He stood there sniffing loudly for a second, then repeated his apology, only this time far more sincerely: “I’m sorry. That was a stupid stunt I tried to pull.”
“Take care of that knee,” I advised him. “Don’t forget to wash it and dab it with iodine.”
Chapter four
-«?»—
I COULD HEAR WATER SPLASHING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL-THE duty camp leader had excused himself and gone out to get washed after I woke him up. He’d been dozing peacefully to the hissing of a trashy Chinese tape recorder. I don’t understand how anyone can possibly sleep to the sound of Vysotsky’s songs, but I suppose that heap of junk wasn’t fit for playing anything else.
There’ll be poems and math,
Honors and debts, unequal battle…
Today all the little tin soldiers
Are lined up here on the old map.
He should have kept them back in the barracks,
But this is war, like any other war,
And warriors in both armies fall
In equal numbers on each side.
“I’m done, sorry about that…” the duty leader said as he came out of the tiny shower room, still wiping his face with a standard-issue cotton waffle-cloth towel. “I was exhausted.”
I nodded understandingly. The tape recorder carried on playing, obligingly making Vysotsky’s voice even hoarser than ever:
Perhaps it’s the gaps in their upbringing Or the weakness of their education? But neither one of the two sides Can win this long campaign. All these accursed problems of conscience: How not to do wrong in your own eyes?
Here and there, the tin soldiers on both sides, How do we decide who ought to win…
The duty leader frowned and turned the volume down so low I couldn’t make out the words any longer. He held out his hand: “Pyotr.”
“Alisa.”
His grip was as firm as if he were shaking hands with a man. It immediately gave me a sense of distance: a strictly professional relationship …
Well, that was fine. I didn’t feel particularly inspired by this short, skinny man who looked like a juvenile himself.
Naturally, I was intending to take a lover for the period of my vacation, but someone a bit younger and better looking would suit me better. Pyotr must have been at least thirty-five, and even without any Other abilities I could read him like an open book. An exemplary family man-in the sense that he was almost never unfaithful to his wife, and didn’t drink or smoke much and devoted the appropriate amount of time to his children-or rather, his only child. A responsible man who loved his work, he could be trusted with a crowd of snot-nosed kids or teenage hooligans without any concern: He would wipe away the kids’ snot, have a heart-to-heart talk with the hooligans, take away their bottle of vodka, lecture them on the harmfulness of smoking, and pile on the work, the play, and the morality.