- What the hell?. - he has spoken and has tried to break this tow...
To tear off... Disgustingly, muck any, what for? But the tow has appeared is pasted and - thoroughly.
Ivan has ceased to look around and has stared at it. In its mad brilliant eyes the laughter has flown.
- Well and a video player at you, - he has spoken, tensely smiling. - would not know - for what would not learn.
- What the hell? What for? - I do not know. In my opinion, this your general absolutely sdurel for fear. It to you paramorfina
has rolled up in a dropper. I have not followed at first, and then I look...
- What for? What for, its lines poberi? It all the same has sat down - has forced itself - and has looked round through the
faintness which has risen there and then. Around there was a gloomy big chamber with a low ceiling and the diffused light
which has got here it is not known whence and it is not known how. The high, accurately laid beds-wheelchairs along a
distant wall. On one of these wheelchairs - a motionless body: the sharp, lifted up chin, naked a foot from under a blanket...
He has again tried to tear off false moustaches, and at it again it has turned out nothing - only tears from eyes have
scattered. On a dream all it was similar any more, to delirium - especially. It was similar on absurdistskuju the play what he
always would like to write. Now the door here will open, and the medieval knight in valenoks with galoshes will enter... All to
such degree was ridiculous, what even the fear somewhere has evaporated. "There is no fear for it is absurd"...
However, the fear was. He simply has not woken up yet definitively. It for the present remained there - in a barrack with
razveshannym wet linen where something has been understood more terrible, rather than absurdity of a life.
- What is the time? - Five forty two.
- Kronid should be just about.
- Not "just about", and can be, in an hour. And in general, on it it is not enough hope. Him will trap and will not pass. And will
break - will destroy...
Both spoke quickly and efficiently, understanding each other from a half-word, and he has suddenly thought that both of
them though did not arrange, but have already defined for themselves the position. Knowing nothing about it. Understanding
Nothing. Without understanding and without trying to understand at all. Instinctively. As the tired out animals. It was clear:
business - rubbish; it is necessary to be pulled out from here immediately; force; good will not let out; a faint hope - on
- What with Michael? - I do not know. There it was not possible to make the way to me. Here everywhere patrols, as on
military base. It is necessary to leave from here, Stas Zinovevich. You - as? - It is satisfactory, - he has answered, listening to
zudeniju in temples... And in the right ear... And to buhanju the reraised heart... And to a nausea rolling after each
ekstrasistoly... Then it has lowered feet from bed. The Bed-wheelchair was high, feet did not get to a floor.
It was found out there and then that on it - flannel underpants... Pants - is dirty-lilac colour. A self-swinging open fly without
buttons. A shirt with zavjazochkami at a collar. Grey. But pure. And is dirty-lilac pizhamnaja a jacket on a bed back.
- CH-fig. Where I will go in such kind? Where my belongings, you do not know? Ivan has answered - slowly as if selecting
slova: - I know, where your belongings. But there now to me not to break. They there search for me. Better to me there not to