The Memories of Dead Pilot
Yuriy Sobeshchakov. The Memories of Dead Pilot
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Everything hurts. Darkness. I don’t see anything. I open my eyes and begin to distinguish objects around me. I see the reason for the unbearable pain – the plane’s control column against my chest thrusting me back into my bulletproof seat. I feel a burning in my belly; it’s clear that I have some broken ribs and that there must be some internal bleeding. What happened with my crew? I turn my head slowly to the right.
Nothing remains of the navigator’s cabin in the nose of the plane. A direct hit against the concrete drainpipe has turned Captain Vasiliev’s work area into a maelstrom of aluminum, glass, crumpled navigational equipment and random bloodied body parts.
The party organizer fell silent for a moment, and then barked into the telephone:
“For such words, Father, you are going to have to surrender your party membership card.”