by Vitaly Zykov
How else could he react to a dream in which he felt like a small insect, brought by malicious wind on the hand of some God or another almighty creature, and this creature as if for amusement, lifted him higher and higher on his palm and began to call for somebody. The lingering call caused vibrating in all his essence. He felt desire to hide from this call, to bury somewhere deep under layers of ferro-concrete where you could not be found by those who were called for. But he could do nothing, he could not even stir… The most terrible thing was understanding the fact that this was the way it should be. You are prey, prey for a hunter flying to the call and answering it with his shout. In this shout were alloyed the hatred, the arrogance, the triumph, the fury and the power. The power that Yarik felt with all fibers of his soul and to which he was simply obliged to obey.
Then the hunters were appearing. They were dissecting the air, opening their wings widely, their steel muscles were rolling under the hide which could not be damaged by human weapons, their dreadful claws were ready to cut to pieces everybody who dared to stand on their way, their eyes were blazing as drops of primeval fire and could incinerate everyone who would have temerity to rebel against their will. This knowledge appeared in his head from outside, as if whispered in his ear by vile snaky whisper in which was concealed haughty contempt of an almighty creature to humans and human pitiful forces…
At this point Yaroslav always woke up. Everybody has bosh dreams like this in their life, but no other Yaroslav's dream repeated with such an enviable regularity. Every new time it became more and more distinct. The day before yesterday this dream had happened six times, yesterday – three, today – only one, and many thanks for this, if Yarik only knew who to thank!
At last the pills were found. Yarik swallowed one pill without water, and put the package in his bag. Then he went to make his scarce breakfast – fried eggs with sausage and a cup of green tea, that's all.
He broke two eggs in a soup plate, then crumbled a finely cut sausage in, and started to stir the mass carefully, occasionally glancing at the clock.
– I am a bit late. – Yaroslav often talked aloud after he started live alone. Some emptiness had lodged in the apartment after the departure of his parents and his little sister and brother to Europe, and this emptiness pressed on his shoulders sensibly, forcing him suffer from loneliness.
«No, I should not recollect that. The day is spoiled already and there is no need to spoil it further, – for a change, Yaroslav said the last phrase mentally. – They made their choice, and so did I, and there is nothing to change here».
He fried the sausage-egg mix quickly, then swallowed it, drained in three gulps a cup of green tea, complimented himself on a successfully chosen blend, and ran to get dressed.
«It is good I was not too lazy to iron the trousers yesterday», – Yarik thought with unclear irritation. He dressed quickly and fluently looked through the bag yet again prepared yesterday – to check whether something had been forgotten. Yarik left his apartment, closed the door and approached the elevator. Some ugly creatures had smoked the button with matches again, all the other buttons had been replaced with metal ones recently, and therefore they were still in place. The elevator was not coming for a long time again, could be that somebody on the top floors of the building was blocking the elevator door, waiting for something.
«I wonder, in Switzerland, should you wait elevators for hours too?! – Yarik thought crossly.»
He spat with irritation. Well, after all, he promised himself not to think about Switzerland, and now all the same these thoughts returned…
Yaroslav's father – Klykov Vladimir Fedorovich, a professor, Doctor of Chemistry, one year ago had received an invitation from one large Swiss chemical concern. Somebody in the management of this concern was so strongly interested to get an expert of such level that he provided citizenship for Vladimir Fedorovich and his family members. Without thinking twice, the professor made his decision and said goodbye to the faculty of his native university. All members of the family were in delight, except the eldest son who considered, that the contract with a foreign company was simply amazing, but changing of citizenship was unacceptable and comparable to treachery. After several quite unpleasant quarrels with shouts and door slamming, his parents decided to leave without Yaroslav – he was adult, twenty four already, his postgraduate study would be finished soon, as a programmer he already earned quite good money. After year or two of rage, he would look at this brothel, reconsider again and join his family.
But Yaroslav was not going to reconsider. Since childhood he had a great interest in history, he painfully experienced all troubles of Russia, and simply could not imagine a possibility to leave it forever.
It was especially hard to listen to hubble-bubbles of his peers who said, they would never be such an idiot as he, that they, of course, would no doubt go and have fun in Europe, if they had an opportunity, and in general, Russia should be loved from distance, where it cannot love you back. Yaroslav's generation was the generation of those who chose Pepsi, and improvements that began in Russia, had not reached a provincial regional center like Sosnovsk, yet.
While these gloomy ideas were floating in Yaroslav's head the elevator came at last. At that moment the neighbor's door clapped. The thirty-two years old neighbor Serge, as usual, was like a whirlwind: hardly had the echo of the slammed door subsided when he was already at the elevator's door.
– Hello, Serge, – greeted Yarik. Despite the age difference, their relationship was friendly.
– How did you sleep tonight?
– Why do you ask rhetorical questions? Snapped he. – You know that the whole city sees these damned dreams. They say, the whole Commission is coming from Moscow today to check us.
– Wow, yet another, for the umpteenth time already!.. Did you look at the sky today?
– The same, but a little darker…
The question about the sky remained urgent for three months.
The changes to the native blue sky and the usual white clouds, gave rise to many rumors, speculations and fear. A whole day would not be enough to retell all ideas of the past three months. There were versions about environmental disaster, the arrival of aliens, even the end of world was mentioned. The prophets, seers, psychics, contactors and other freaks flew in Sosnovsk from all over the country and from other countries too. And the reason for that excitement was that the sky had changed its color from neutral blue to purple, and what was the strangest – there had been no change to the color spectrum itself. It just simply got a little darker, as if a red cloud was blocking the sun.
Changes in the color of the sky occurred at once – people had fallen asleep under one, and woke up with another. They said that one can see a red spot above the city from space, like the one on Jupiter, but smaller in size – half the Sosnovsk area. There were two such spots – the second was somewhere in the USA.
A month ago, there more clouds begun to appear along with frequent rainless thunderstorms and problems with the radio. The media began to spread rumors of possible evacuation of the entire city. But neither our government nor the U.S. had taken such drastic action yet. It was not a simple solution to try to move a five hundred thousand city – any amount of money would not be enough. Even for the USA it was expensive, not mention Russia. But it was possible that a two-week nightmare of the whole city, would force authorities to act. All the while there were many words, endless delegations from various institutes and academies, but very little action. And what the hell could they do if it was not clear what this natural phenomenon was (or was it?), and how to react. What about people – they lived as they had before – they went to work, slept (when possible!), did shopping, entertained themselves – nothing had changed. Just visited churches more often and the number of suicides had increased during the previous week – the nightmares began to affect.
Having descended to the ground floor and opening the front door with the broken, probably for the thousandth time intercom,
Yaroslav went outside, idly talking with Serge. Then they quickly said goodbye and went separate ways – Serge to a computer company, where he worked as a manager, and Yaroslav to the bus stop.
Five minute walk from the house to the bus stop cheered up Yaroslav a little. It was due to the spectacular sky that his spirits went up. Now it was deep red with purple patches. Cirrus clouds across the entire sky were as if highlighted by spotlight of pulsating violet rays. Streaks of lightning flashed somewhere in the sky. Crazy shadows darted across the sky, playing their strange game. The deep purple shades, furious battle of eternally hungry elements and the feel of a giant hammer raised over your head like apotheosis of superhuman power, that was no doubt what the sky in hell would look like. But it was a view from one side only, from the other – that was demonic, stunning beauty, forcing you to keep looking at delightful predatory magic of infernal colors. And that was only how you could appreciate that sky phenomenon.
– Today is something new, – reported a man standing at the bus stop and enthusiastically examining the sky. Above the left breast pocket of his shirt were the words «Glory to the tractor constructors!».
An old bus serving as a route taxi-van arrived at the bus stop. Yaroslav got on it with relief as he was in no disposition for any abstract conversations and the unknown tractor constructor remained at the bus stop.
Yaroslav paid the fare, made his way to the end of the bus and sat at the left window. The bus was surprisingly empty, as if it was not 7-30 a.m. and people were not hurrying to work. Not even all seats were occupied. Crowds of pensioners hurrying to their country houses had disappeared somewhere. Usually at that time it was hard not only to sit down, but to get into a bus. Mid-May, especially with such unusually warm weather, was full of summer residents activity. They used that route to travel to their houses, located in the countryside, just outside the Technical University, where Yaroslav studied and worked now and where a year ago his father had worked.
All the passengers looked like students or young teachers going to the first lecture at the University. The few of those who got on the bus at the next stops could also be included in that category. The most of them headed to the final stop, where in fact the University was located.
So, quietly enjoying the half-empty bus, Yaroslav was looking into the window with curiosity. The discussing was mainly about two things: the devildom in the sky as well as in the dreams. Yaroslav was not the only man bothered with that «remarkable» dreams. Every other around complained about nightmares and retold the same dreams. People continued to wander at the mystery of nature, but not as much as before. It had become boring in the past three months. There were no furious verbal battles, typical for young audience whether students or young teachers. Calm, soothing atmosphere reigned in the bus. Maybe if the bus had been going a little faster, that trip would have had different results for Yaroslav and the other passengers. But there are no what-ifs in history.
The bus was driving up slowly to the University, and people began to prepare for exit. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Yaroslav grabbed his bag and headed for the door. At that moment his attention was drawn by the driver's rude yell and hard braking. Suppressing the very bad words characterizing the mental level of the driver, Yaroslav glanced ahead of the bus. He looked and could not take his eyes away.
– Hey, what's that? – shouted a tall guy with relief muscles, visible even under his thin pullover. The guy was a kind of men ever loved by girls: strong, smart, simply a symbol of masculinity. During the trip he had chatted with two girls. Now his look expressed astonishment, as genuine as that of all the other passengers.
The sight behind the bus window was dazing. The purple darkness was curling in the sky above the road. The dark and fateful clouds were quickly forming a giant tunnel. The lightnings striking from its edges, showed that a great amount of energy was spent to create this tunnel. It was getting dark with every passing moment. In a few seconds a crater leading to unknown depths opened in the sky. It looked into the soul of each man as a black eye of demon from the dark realm of Hades. Horror and dismay fell upon the people.
«It has begun! – A terrifying thought gripped hearts and made knees tremble. – It has begun!»
But what had begun and how it could end, no one could understand. There was a deep silence for a moment: the cars, people, everything stood still in tension, some drivers ran out to the road, peering into the darkness. It looked like somebody pressed the stop button on a video player. But then a few points appeared from the crater, in that tangle of darkness. Incredibly, but Yaroslav did not even think that black color could have so much gradations. These points looked like the quintessence of darkness. They seemed to thickened from that primeval darkness, then paused for a moment, for a heartbeat and after that rushed to the people and cars, quickly growing and getting recognizable shape.
A dark wave of primitive horror washed over Yaroslav, the heaviest weakness captured his whole body, he leaned on the railing in order not to fall. But after the wave of horror, came the recognition and he became even more terrified. Although it seemed like ultimate terror already! Carefully looking around, Yaroslav understood that all the people felt the same way. The people looked like a flock of sheep when they saw a bloodthirsty wolf. This applied not only to the passengers of the bus, but also to the people on the street, in other cars they all were frozen, obediently waiting for their fate. The points turned into creatures from those nightmares which had tortured people for long nights. There were the Hunters from the nightmares.
Emitting waves of horror these terrible creatures with powerful wings and dressed in armor attacked the crowds and large cars. But even the threatening danger could not force men and women to run and save their lives. There was something unnatural about the stupor cast over them. Running away from danger – is one of the basic instincts of man, but this time it did not work for some strange reason.
It seemed that each monster had pre-selected their prey and was flying towards them now. As it was recorded in Yaroslav's brain while he was vainly trying to break the shackles of immobility, the Hunters were acting confidently and smoothly. But then the shadow of another attacking creature covered the bus, there was a sound of furiously flapping wings, and a terrible blow shook the bus. The black claws pierced the bus roof like spears, and the flapping of wings sounded again. One jerk, and Yaroslav fell in the aisle and hit his head. The last thing that flashed before his eyes, was the land moving away outside the bus.
CHAPTER 2
His awakening was awful. All his limbs were extremely numb. He had to collect all his will to merely move a finger. Yaroslav groaned weakly or rather thought that he did – he had not heard a sound. It was like a TV working in an empty room in full darkness with the sound off. Flickering screen, moving pictures, but the ears are unable to detect even the slightest rustle.
«Deaf?!» – A terrifying thought pinpricked him. – «But why? What happened?»
Then his memory obligingly presented pictures of the revived nightmare – the crater in the sky, the monsters' attack, and the flying bus.
«That's how people become crazy» – said the inner voice triumphantly.
The hearing began to return with memory. At first Yaroslav heard screeching of something very hard and sharp against metal. That sound forced him forget about his numb body. On his face appeared a grimace of irritation.
– Who's itching there? – He whispered angrily. The words hardly pushed through his thirsty lips, like a traveler wading through some thickets. With great effort, Yaroslav unstuck his eyelids and immediately closed them again. He felt dizziness, his eyes felt as if covered with some muddy fog.
Yaroslav waited for the headache to subside and tried to look around again. The second time it was much easier and more efficient – he saw a crumpled bucket of indefinite color splattered with machine oil in front of him. He was lying face down on the floor of the bus with his head under a seat.
Considering this situatio
n mismatching the high rank of Human, Yaroslav tried to get on all fours. Curiously enough but he succeeded – his limbs obeyed him much better.
– Good job – muttered Yaroslav reassuring himself.
While locating himself in the place he had missed some points about his surroundings. The situation around had changed fundamentally. The metallic rattle exhausting his soul had stopped. Now he could hear some rustling sounds – as if someone large and very heavy was walking lazily along the road strewn with fine gravel. He could hear some quiet howling interrupted by slight whining and crying somewhere nearby. These sounds seemed to be coming from different sources.
«Why is it so bright?» – came an unexpected question. Slowly raising his head, he stopped with his mouth open – the roof of the bus was completely missing. Only the ragged edges reminded one that it used to be there. The bus was opened like a tin. Yaroslav was looking at what used to be a vehicle in a completely different light now. All the seats covering had been torn, a few chairs were completely ripped out, due to which fact the bus cabin seemed very spacious. In some places, the floor and the seats were blotted with something red, very much resembling blood. Two guys were lying at the back seat in awkward position as if they had been cast there by some terrible force. Yaroslav vaguely remembered them standing behind him near the exit from the bus and discussing «…the bastard, not admitting them to the exam».
Yaroslav slowly turned his body towards the exit and crept out. For more safety he was moving on all fours… and it was not in vain. His eyes saw a terrible picture, fascinating with its cruelty. He saw a huge rocky wasteland covered with stunted bushes of unknown herbs behind the bus door which was lying on the hill. And in the middle of the wasteland was SOMETHING, as if it had descended from the pages of the Necronomicon – a fictional textbook of a fictional science. Lovecraft was a brilliant writer, but he had not even dreamed of what Yaroslav saw on the ground in front of the bus.