The Memories of Dead Pilot

The Memories of Dead Pilot
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Описание книги

While day-dreaming about his sexual exploits, a young pilot of a strategic bomber crashed into the icy waters of the Pacific and killed his entire crew. Fate was kind enough to give him a second chance, but nobody can change that much in a few years. Later, while flying in Vietnam, working for what was supposed to be easy money, he crashed his plane again. This time he did not survive and killed his six crew members as well three dozen local residents of the jungle. The main character once said: “I always compared human life with a back of zebra, but just recently I suddenly reached up to the deeper meaning of this banal comparison. Everyone knows about the alternation of bands on the sides of the animal, but not all extend their view the rest of zebra’s body. And if someone dares to do so, he or she was surprised to find that all these stripes on zebra ended under the tail in a big ass. And no matter what bands in life were more – white or black, in the end, we all find us there”. Despite the fact that the story is set in the late eighties, it is as relevant today as it was then and will continue to be pertinent because human essence does not change. A man, like any living being, will always need food and sex, and to meet these needs money. Because of this, the story is filled with sex, greed, malice and treachery, and is not recommended for readers under the age of eighteen.


Yuriy Sobeshchakov. The Memories of Dead Pilot


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30


Отрывок из книги

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.”


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