Читать книгу Rebirth - Dmitry Nazarov - Страница 5

– The plague,» I sighed sadly, staring at the nasty, poisonous green bags. – At least I have my own apartment, and no one comes by once a month to extort my last kopeck or to tell me they should send you to a shelter because you’re tearing up the wallpaper. Although you might as well get into it and not do it, Bars.

All I got in return was a look of complete incomprehension. Well, if I dared to go to the store, I can walk twenty meters across the yard to the containers. I tightened the waistband of my robe, picked up the narrow plastic straps of the bags, and dragged them into the hallway.

– Life in fear is over! – I decreed loudly, ignoring the pale and puffy face in the mirror. – From this day on, I was back to being a normal person, not a hysterical woman shaking at every sound.

The euphoria of having already won one victory over my own fears and environment filled my bloodstream, and I felt amazingly wonderful. But I slipped the knife into my robe pocket. It would not hurt, because.

In the stairwell most of my resolve evaporated instantly, and I almost turned back, but then, showering myself with all kinds of unflattering epithets, like kicks, I moved in the right direction. As I tossed the first bag into the container, a stray cat jumped out, startling me so much that I staggered to the side and, catching on something, collapsed on my side, hitting my elbow and thigh.

– Oh, for fuck’s sake! – I hissed, gritted my teeth, and got up awkwardly, but then froze when I heard a low, resounding growl somewhere nearby.

I squinted, trying to see the dog in the darkness, and straightened at the same time, trying not to provoke it with a sudden movement. I couldn’t see anything, so I decided it would do me good to back away, spitting on the remaining bags that had been thrown on the ground. Between the prospect of being a scavenging pig and being bitten by a scavenging beast, I preferred the former. But as I took a few smooth steps, the dog growled again, this time much louder and more frightening. It sounded as if it drilled into my brain and knocked out everything logical and reasonable in it, dictating that I keep calm and retreat slowly and gradually, so as not to enrage the predator that lived in every fucking dog. It was like a bomb went off in my head, sweeping away everything but one indomitable urge to run. So I ran. In a few moments I reached the brightly lit steps of the porch, somehow firmly convinced that the dog would not follow me there. A mighty tug on the collar of my robe threw me, like a rag doll, to the bushes growing in the corner of the courtyard. My consciousness noted, distantly, what kind of strength it would take to throw a man that far. The loose earth cushioned my fall, and though it hurt, nothing seemed to break, and I managed to get to my feet immediately. My eyes were blurry, though, and the next moment I was screaming in blinding pain at my collarbone, and I was barely able to see a huge, vague shadow rushing toward me. My vision was useless because of the fireworks that exploded before my eyes. The frantic blows I was throwing, screaming at the top of my lungs, were apparently unnoticed by my attacker. He continued to growl eerily, tossing me to the ground, and something sharp slashed across my chest, sending another desperate shriek from my throat. The sparks dwindled a little, and I could see something leaning toward me, flashing its eerie, wet fangs in the dim glow of the distant lantern…

– Stop your hooliganism! I called the police! – The voice of my neighbor from the third floor sounded, and the aggressor hesitated for a few seconds. It was enough for me to suddenly remember the knife and put my hand into my pocket. There was no time to pull it out, so I just shoved it indiscriminately into something right through the thin fabric. My attacker roared and jumped away from me in a flash, but came back just as quickly. My neighbor kept shouting something from upstairs and even darted the flashlight across the yard, but the bastard, whoever he was, didn’t care. I tried to roll away while simultaneously pulling the knife out of my pocket, but he caught up to me with terrifying speed and force and shook me again, this time grabbing me by the waistband of my robe. Again a session of watching multicolored exploding dots, and through the veil was a savage pain in my chest, as if I’d been cut without anesthesia. I screamed and stabbed furiously, not intending to die right now.

There was a disgusting smacking sound, like a blade going into something soft and wet, a horrible roar, and suddenly I knew I was free. I shuddered with relief and exhaustion as I caught glimpses of bright blue-red through the inexorably drooping eyelids and heard many voices. A shaking, someone asking me something, and a nasty howling sound somewhere in the periphery. A pungent chemical odor-and darkness.