Chunk 16

turned slightly up and to the side, as if she sees something beyond our reality. Elza approached the door, stood on tiptoe, stretched her thin little hand to the button panel and entered the combination that unlocked the lock.

I ran out after her almost immediately, but as happens in a dream, I moved slowly, as if through water. And Elza, when I crossed the threshold, was already far away. She sat in a crouch and dug the earth with abrupt dog-like movements. Her little shoulders twitched rhythmically, and in time with this rhythm clumps of earth flew in all directions.

But we were no longer in the camp, but far beyond the Perimeter. I stood behind Elza, and quite nearby rose, pouring out the intoxicating smell of strawberry, a huge purple flower.

"Elza, sweetheart..." I slowly reach out my hand to her shoulder.

And then she turned around herself—suddenly and sharply, as if wanting to bite my fingers, and I jerked back, convulsively filling my lungs with strawberry aroma. This is no longer Elza!

A creepy creature with my daughter's body and a predatorily opened purple flower instead of a head was looking at me. I was ready to scream from fear, but I lacked the strength to push air out of my throat, and instead of a scream came a barely audible wheeze. Then I realized this was a dream. A dream! Just a dream!

Making incredible efforts, I tried to open my eyes, but the dream and the disgusting creature in it didn't go anywhere. The creature's long tongue reached toward me like a big pink worm. I already felt my own body in bed, but every centimeter of it was as if filled with lead. I tried to move my arm—it turned out so hard that pain pierced my back and the back of my head. The arm didn't move a millimeter. Then, gathering all my strength, I tried to concentrate on my eyelids. Just open my eyes... Open my eyes and surface from the strawberry delirium... It seemed in this painful attempt I tensed every muscle of my body, but my eyelids didn't even twitch.

And then the creature jumped.

...Monotonous beeping burst into the creepy reality of the dream, blurring images and erasing details from memory. For a moment it seemed to me I was awakened by the sound of the front lock unlocking. I sat up, about to rush to chase Elza, and discovered a phone in my hand. On the display Alex's photograph shone with a blinding smile.

Finally it reached my consciousness that the disgusting beeping was coming from the phone itself.

"What a convict's soul... Alex... Hello!"

"Hey, bro. You sleeping?"

"Alex... Simple logic should tell you that not anymore."

"Thank God!" he said quite seriously. "I urgently need you here. Urgently, Gil."

"You've lost your mind... What time is it?"

"Beginning of four. Come on, move your joints, or I don't know what will happen!"

I looked attentively at Alex's photo on the display, as if this could clarify something. What the bald hell does he need?

"Alex... Can we do this by phone?"

"Can't. I have some shit here... And Irma's not answering. Besides you—I have literally no one. Don't stall there, okay? I'm disconnecting."

"Wait, Alex! Explain normally!"

"I'll explain on site, bro! Everything's very serious. Waiting for you at the warehouses in fifteen minutes."

"No..." Alex winced. "It's hacked. Entry is basically forbidden like this in the middle of the night..."

"And what were you doing here then?"

He winced again.

"Do you need to know? Business..."

Finally the remote gave in, and the heavy door of the warehouse gates moved aside.

We entered a huge room filled with containers and crates so densely that the passages between them resembled a labyrinth. Without even looking back at me, the giant quickly plunged into the depths of endless turns.

Several times I was forced to run at a trot to keep up. When Alex disappeared around the next turn, I ran again, afraid to lose him.

And, turning the corner, I almost crashed into his back.

"What the hell!" Alex stood staring at an empty wall. "Half an hour ago this thing was here!"

He turned to me and somehow almost pleadingly looked into my eyes:

"Gil! Gil, bro, I like to chat and all, but I'm not crazy! I'll tell you something now, and you have to believe me!" the expression on his face was as if he had to convince me of the existence of ghosts.

Without answering anything, I approached the wall he'd just been staring at in surprise. Traces of some sticky substance were visible on the carbon fiber coating.

"I came to the warehouse around three..." Alex began to tell, stuttering. "There was one thing... Doesn't matter... In short... Half an hour ago here, on this wall, I swear to you, Gil, I swear, by whatever you want... Right on this wall was this huge thing..."

"A cocoon," I prompted.

"How do you know?!" Alex exhaled, and in this question of his relief and surprise mixed.

"I'd prefer if you said I was wrong... Big?"

"Height—about like you. And thick... I saw it and immediately went to call you! Outside. Didn't want to stand around next to it..."

"And while you were inside, the gates were closed?"

"You mean hinting that the critter that hatched is still here?"

"If there are no other open exits..."

Alex shook his head:

"No-o-o."

"Yeah... Where does the signal from surveillance cameras go?"

"Uh..." Alex hesitated, obviously figuring out how frank he could be with me. "That's why I called you and not security... Well, you're like one of us, and we're doing shady business here... They'll immediately ask me what I was doing here... And why the cameras are turned off... Um... Temporarily."

Alex's pitiful look seemed to beg not to ask why he'd turned off the cameras. But I couldn't care less about that.

I frantically scrolled through possible developments in my head. If we tell security, they'll soon find another conquistador gone crazy like Okamura. And such a tenacious lady as Vandlik will probably first of all correlate the two cases and wonder if there was a cocoon in the corporal's room and where it went. And she'll remember the empty trash bin. Mine and Irma's lie will finally burst, and they'll accuse us of concealing evidence too, or whatever it's called. Either way, it's a tribunal.

"We're not catching it just the two of us!" I said aloud.

"Let's do it together, Gil, bro!" Alex almost begged. "It's definitely some local bug. And if it comes out what we're doing here, I'll be in such shit. Huh?"

When this giant raised his eyebrows like a roof, you could cry from emotion.

"And where could the cocoon have gone?" I asked, looking to see if there was space between the containers. But they stood tight, you couldn't push a finger through.

"How should I know! I'm telling you, it was here..."

"Here's what," a guess flashed in my head. "Where would you hide the cocoon if you wanted it not to catch the eye?"

"Me?" Alex was surprised. "What do I have to do with it!"

"Just think. Can you stuff it somewhere between containers?"

"You see, there's nowhere for a cat to hide here. So only in the dumpster. Or take it with you."

"Excellent. And where's the nearest trash bin here?"

"What for?"

"Not 'what for,' Alex, but 'where's the nearest trash bin'. Lead the way!"

We again started winding between the shelves of containers.

At some point we came out to wide gates over which three surveillance cameras hung at once.

"Wait," Alex took me by the shoulder. "Those cameras need to be avoided. I don't have access to them."

The gates were painted in black and yellow stripes, sharply contrasting with the established gray here. Above them in huge letters was written "SWEAR". We bypassed them, making a considerable detour.

"And what's so important there?"

"Some super-weapon in case of complete shit," Alex explained competently. "SWEAR is an acronym. 'Special Weapons Reserve'. Let's go, there's your dumpster."

A simple plastic bin stood by the exit from the hangar. I threw back the lid. Some packages from something, film, sealant... And that's all.

"Not it," I rubbed my chin. "And if we assume he went somewhere in the other direction... Is there such a bin on the other side of the complex?"

"Went in the other direction—who?"

"I'll explain later."

Alex frowned but didn't insist and again led me through the warehouse depths. And again I almost crashed into his back when he suddenly stood rooted to the spot.

"Shit myself in the airlock..."

I looked over his shoulder. Ahead towered piled heaps of bags from instant breakfasts, ready meals, dry rations, nutrition bars, energy cocktails, etc. I looked closer and understood that the provisions had been the contents of the nearest container, whose lid now lay below. Another container was only slightly open. From it, like guts, white painter's coveralls stuck out, stretching in a garland along the narrow passage, as if someone pulled them out with sweeping nervous movements, trying to dig something else out from under them.

"I'm not a biologist, Gil..." Alex said in a deadened voice, "but it seems to me bugs don't use screwdrivers to open a container..."

Alex pointed with his hand at the unscrewed screws lying on the floor next to the lid. The screwdriver was also lying here.

"And they also don't know how to open plastic fasteners on dry rations," Alex looked at me with some inhuman anguish.

"Questions later, remember? Let's go."

In about two minutes we stood by a solitary trash bin in another part of the warehouse. I lifted the lid and gestured for Alex to look.

"What the hell is this?"

"The cocoon you saw. Recognize it?"

I carefully extracted with two fingers light-gray pieces of cobweb-woven covering.

"Crazy!" Alex said.

"'Crazy' will be if you and I get out of all this. Take it out. We'll need to burn all this somewhere..."

Alex pulled out the garbage bag, looking at me stunned and at the same time plaintively.

"What kind of pig shit is going on here? I'm begging you, bro, tell me, do you at least understand something, because I'm about to literally blow a fuse from overload."

"I understand far from everything, friend... But in the room of our acquaintance Okamura on the day he shot a bunch of people, Irma and I found the same cocoon. And also—the whole room was littered with half-eaten food and packages."

"Shit myself... Is this like a zombie epidemic starting?"

"First of all, it's not an epidemic yet..."

"And second?"

"I don't have any second... But if the cocoon story comes out, I'll have huge problems. Understand?"

"So you're—in the same boat with me?" Alex asked.

"And our boat is leaking badly, friend. In the morning people will come here, and whoever hatched from the cocoon might attack someone. And then..."

"Listen here..." Alex suddenly perked up. "I'll set off the alarm at five thirty in the morning. Then the first ones to enter here won't be just anyone, but the security guys. They'll at least be on alert. Well, and then—they'll either immediately find the zombie, or first run into this mess, then find the zombie. Doesn't matter.

They'll take him down, and done. Another crazed soldier is, of course, a suspicious fact. But no cocoons, and most importantly—you and I weren't here."

In two minutes we were already standing by the black exit, and Alex was entering the combination on the door that locks the lock. Suddenly it hit me like an electric shock: "Listen, Dukhovko! What about your fighting ring? They'll find it!"

"What are you talking about, bro! We disassemble and hide everything. Not a trace. And Capybara's gone. Everything's hunky-dory," he extended his hand to me in farewell: "In the same boat?"

"In the same boat," and I firmly squeezed his warm palm.

I'd already taken a few steps when I decided to ask after all:

"So what kind of super-weapon is behind those gates?"

He shrugged.

"Nobody has access except command. But considering all this secrecy, there's at minimum the Spear of Destiny. Well, or whatever they killed Christ with..."

*

"She walked again? And you got scared..."

"Not just walked, Gil..." Vira shook her head.

"Meaning—'not just'?"

"I approached her and hugged her, like you told me. Hugged her and waited for her to fall asleep normally..."

Vira convulsively inhaled and burst into tears again. I took a chair and sat opposite her:

"And she?"

And she didn't fall asleep. Elza stood straight, as if she'd swallowed a poker. Vira hugged her and stroked her head, but the little one's face was turned to some distance visible only to her, and under her eyelids eyeballs darted back and forth. Then for the first time this wild feeling regarding her own child flashed through Vira—fear. With a light touch it burned her somewhere deep in her chest or even closer to the spine, and so many goosebumps came out on her shoulders as if frost had settled on them. From this Vira involuntarily released her daughter from her embrace and warily pulled back.

"Gil!" she called.

At first not loudly, afraid to frighten Elza. Then more insistently. And finally, frightened by what was happening and at the same time angry at my silence, Vira barked so that the echo of her cry responded in her ears with a high monotonous ringing: "Gilel!!!"

Elza didn't even flinch. Not for a second did her pupils stop running under her eyelids. Only then did Vira realize I wasn't home.

"Well, baby... Mama's with you..." Vira again hugged Elza. "Come to me..."

And, taking the child in her arms, she carried her to the crib. Carefully lowered her onto the sheet, took the edge of her star-painted tender-lilac blanket to cover her. But froze. This looked too strange. Too scary. Elza lay as they'd placed her: on her back, straightened like an arrow, with her face directed upward and with eyeballs dancing under her eyelids. Not like a sleeping girl at all. But rather... Rather like...

Vira couldn't say the word "corpse." She tried several times to approach it from different sides, but each time she stumbled, unable to say such a thing about her child.

Telling this, she touched her face with involuntary nervous movements that betrayed all the horror she'd tried

to overcome in the night, but obviously hadn't overcome even now.

"I started calling you..." Vira continued.

"There were no calls, Vira..."

"...And your phone is lying by the bed!"

I mechanically slapped my pockets. Damn it.

"I'm just in a panic... With Elza—a nightmare, you—disappeared somewhere... Where were you?!"

"At the warehouses."

"Where?!"

"A problem came up there..."

"And there's no one else to deal with it?! I have the feeling, Gil, that you're the only biologist on the planet!"

"Sorry, I didn't know this would... Deliberately didn't wake you..."

"I waited a bit..." Vira's gaze again drilled into emptiness. "Elza... Lies seemingly calmly... Only the eyes running... So creepy... Well, I covered her... And decided to go to sleep already. And she just... Just..."

Here Vira's shoulders shook and she burst into tears. I hugged her. She pressed against me, and I felt her tears on my neck.

"Quiet, quiet... What happened there, Vira? What 'just'?"

"Just screamed... Loudly like that... Face turned to the ceiling, eyes closed, pupils running under eyelids back and forth, and she opened her mouth and just screams... Creepy... I rushed to her. Elza, I say, sweetheart... Mama's here, Elzunya... And she screams and screams... Screams and screams..."

Vira tried to hold back tears, but it only got worse, and she sobbed hoarsely and wrenchingly aloud. I didn't stop her.

Finally she calmed down, took the napkin I extended and wiped her tears.

"I didn't know what to do... Thought maybe I should call the hospital... And then it was like she was turned off—fell silent and that's all... I cried a little. Calmed down. Elza seems to be sleeping. I think, I'll go to sleep too... I lie down, and then—I felt something. I turn around—and my heart almost jumped out! Elza is just standing behind me. I even jumped. She stands with her little eyes running... And I'm afraid to approach her. Honestly! And I think to myself, can you imagine—being afraid of your own daughter! But

still scared... Then I approached, of course... Hugged her again... And she immediately—bam and fell asleep..."

"I couldn't not go, Vira. Thought, there and back..."

"Only at your work, Gil, if something happens to you, no one will even remember you. They'll bury you with honors, like those guys... Because besides us, no one needs you. And when we need you—you're never there. You're—at work. Understand?"

She hunched on the stool, hugging her shoulders with her arms, as if frozen.

"Take her to the doctor today," I said. "Please..."

Three hours later, when Irma and I were already in the APC at a good distance from the Perimeter, another event happened that I learned about much later. Probably you can't call it anything but "creepy." It was in the cafeteria. At eight thirty in the morning there was already a full crowd there. And so into the cafeteria with an ordinary gait entered and stood in the general line none other than the killed Corporal Nobuhiko Okamura.

You can't say panic broke out or anything. Most people thought Okamura was alive anyway, though he should be lying in intensive care, and the Japanese guy didn't have a weapon. And yet no one expected to see him just like that in the cafeteria. Moreover, the corporal was wearing a white painter's coverall size "XS" stolen at the warehouse and put on his naked body, which didn't meet at his chest and rode up almost to his knees on his legs. So everyone dropped what they were doing and stared at him. Okamura, without saying a word, took a tray, loaded two plates of boiled meat and sat in his usual place—opposite Jenkins, who was just finishing his coffee. And here Jenkins screamed.

The thing is, just yesterday they'd conducted official identification—for the record. And Jenkins had been to the morgue. Okamura's body was badly mutilated, but the front part of the head was intact. And now the corporal, yesterday dead as a doornail, sat opposite Jenkins and started eating meat with his hands and growling, which is inappropriate even for representatives of such a strict army class as corporals.

A helpless scream burst from Jenkins' chest before he himself realized he was screaming, but immediately, flashing with a short echo, it broke off—Okamura with a lightning movement threw his hand forward and grabbed Jenkins by the throat. It became stunningly quiet. In this silence the gurgling of poor Jenkins seemed somehow unnaturally

resonant. No one moved to help him. Fettered by incomprehensible, insurmountable, almost superstitious horror, the few visitors watched all this with the dull attention of aquarium fish. Then they'd say they simply didn't have time to rush to help, but in reality the silent scene lasted almost half a minute. Then Okamura, who this whole time didn't stop stuffing boiled meat into his mouth with his free hand, released Jenkins. Convulsively inhaling, he with a crash fell to all fours and was seized with coughing.

Obviously someone immediately reported the corporal's appearance to security, because when Okamura had emptied both plates and brought himself a full tray of cookies, Senior Control Officer Nicole Angela Vandlik entered the cafeteria accompanied by six armed-to-the-teeth "black sleeves." Making sure it really was Okamura in front of her, she, picking up the chair Jenkins had knocked over, carefully sat opposite him. Jenkins was immediately led away somewhere by two of her fighters.

The corporal stopped chewing and growled like a cat, pulling the plate of cookies closer to himself.

"Bon appétit, Corporal," Vandlik said impassively.

"Bon appétit, Corporal," he answered, quite accurately copying her intonations.

"How are you feeling?"

"How are you feeling," the corporal answered and again continued chewing cookies, stuffing them whole into his mouth.

Vandlik stood up and drew air into her chest, obviously about to give some order to her fighters, when Okamura vomited right on the floor everything he'd managed to eat. His face became pale as wax. He looked confusedly at the undigested food on the floor, nervously wiping his lips.

"To the hospital with him," Vandlik commanded the stormtroopers, then loudly addressed everyone. "You'll have to stay and sign some documents! This incident will remain our secret!"

Five minutes later the "black sleeves" were leading Okamura through the back entrance of the hospital. He struggled so that the painter's coverall on him tore and now hung as a long rag from his hips, and the tattooed black dragons writhed on the swollen muscles of his back, as if converging in a duel. Coming toward them was a medic who when necessary also performed the functions of the local pathologist. It was he who yesterday had brought the corporal's neighbor Jenkins for identification. Probably due to his mindset, the medic was not so struck by the very fact of the deceased Japanese man's resurrection as by the unthinkable, from the point of view of mechanics, fact of his independent release from the section in the morgue—that section had from outside a simple but reliable bolt. So, seeing the corporal in the company of "black sleeves," the medic first of all headed to the morgue, located in the basement, to clarify this strange circumstance.

The bolt of the needed section was absolutely intact. Confused by this fact, our medic mechanically unlocked and locked the door again, and then, without any sense, opened it. Inside, on a pull-out metal shelf, lay Corporal Okamura's corpse, the front part of whose head remained quite recognizable, while the back was completely absent. Not relying on the death-distorted features of the face, the medic took the corporal by the shoulder and slightly raised him—on the back of the deceased two black tattooed dragons intertwined in a fanciful dance.

Irma drove the rover herself. I sat on the armor. It was around ten.

The quadrant where Okamura had set up the video traps was long left behind, and now we were driving through a relatively narrow strip of forest between a ridge of hills and a swamp. By logic, this was the only direction the corporal could have driven.

But as soon as the rover climbed a low hill, Irma hit the brakes. Ahead stood a tall wire fence.

Nickel-plated metal gleamed through the branches of some climbing plant that had braided the fence so densely it turned into a solid green barrier. Irma leaned out of the hatch. Holding the rifle, I jumped off the rover and approached the fence.

"Careful," Irma warned. "This vine is a predator."

Keeping my distance, I tried to make out at least something on the other side in the gap between branches. But I saw nothing except taiga.

"Interesting, why they put a fence here... Any ideas?"

Irma shook her head. I noticed something through the vine's leaves: two steps from me on the fence hung a bright yellow-hot sign.