Alex Popov

  

   Fluorescence heaven

  

   Chapter 1

  

   Dancing on a cesspit

  

   The military ambulance ground to a halt near the main entrance of a psychiatric hospital. An officer jumped out of the car and strode into the building.

   I sat silently in the van and looked through the window listlessly. Two soldiers sat by my side. On our way my guards had been mute as fishes, neither uttering a word. Nothing would persuade them to look into my eyes.

   The officer came out on to the doorstep, shouted something and waved his hand.

   `Get up,' said one of the guards. `Can you walk?'

   `Yes.'

   I hauled myself out from the van and walked into the hospital. The sharp, characteristic tang of drugs burned my nose. In one of the rooms a light was burning; my guards sent me there. A young bearded doctor asked something of the officer and wrote in a medical notebook. A nurse, a very strong woman, approached me and said: `Let's go, son, into another room. I will examine you there.'

   I meandered after her. The room was starkly lit, like an interrogation area.

   `Take off your clothes,' said the nurse.

   I removed my military uniform and neatly placed it on the couch.

   `Don't be silly son, take off your underwear as well.'

   After a short pause for thought I removed my pants. The nurse looked me up and down, top to toe, wrote down some notes on a sheet of paper, took a uniform and disappeared. I remained, standing naked. Well, this is it. They've got me. Nowhere to run. After a few minutes the nurse returned with pyjamas and underwear.

   `Well, my lad, here are your clothes. Get dressed now. Someone will come to collect you. I've found five roubles in your pocket. I put them into the inventory.'

   Slowly I began to dress.

   The nurse looked like a rural woman, powerfully built, with a large and simple face. A good woman. She reminded me of my dead grandmother. Doors flapped faraway. Someone's arrived to collect me. Who can it be? Where are they going to take me? Hundreds of questions tormented and tortured my mind. Another face has entered the room.

   `Hello, Maria.'

   `Hi, Bo' sun. New recruits arrived for your barrack. Look, Victor: don't punish a boy for nothing.'

   Maria came back to me and said: `Your uniform will remain here. When you're discharged from the hospital, we'll return it. And now go with Victor.'

   I nodded and rose from the couch. Victor stood in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. A striped vest visible under his medical gown, sleeves rolled up at the elbows. On one hand, a tattoo of the sun rising over the sea: on the other, an anchor. He is around sixty years old, in good form, a strong bastard: with hands like claws, - this crab of a man. He grasped my hand in his pincers, as if I were a little fish, closed the claw, and dragged me to the entrance. We stepped out on to the porch. The guards stood near the van and smoked in silence. The Bo' sun more tightly gripped my hand.

   `I won't run away,' I said quietly.

   `I know your type.'

   It's almost dark. My guards are staring at my back. I felt the weight of their eyes. The Bo' sun tows me like a crippled yacht to the dock. I shut my eyes. We continue to zigzag among the puddles and falling leaves without difficulty. Well, he's a really good Bo' sun, this crab-man. Suddenly we've stopped. I open my eyes. The barrack is barely visible through the strange neon mist around it. The Bo' sun unlocked a door and pushed me into the darkness. A dim light illuminated a cramped room, with two benches fixed to the wall. On the adjacent wall was a small hatch, no higher than my chest.

   `Take off your clothes,' said the Bo' sun.

   `What for?'

   `What for!? What for! Because the regulations say so. Come on, hurry, boy!'

   I removed the clothes and placed them on the bench.

   `Are you ready?' asked the Bo' sun.

   I nodded. He opened the hatch, pressed my neck with his palm and pushed me into the unknown. The lock closed with a clank behind my back.

  

   A bright neon light blinded me for couple of seconds. Slowly I opened my eyes and I saw a place of horror and desperation. Where am I? Oh, my God! What a lovely place. Such faces as these I've never seen before in my life. A loony bin. Fuck me! What am I going to do? What will happen to me? Will I ever leave this place? Or is this it? This is my graveyard. Welcome to hell, pal!

   In a small hall on beds, they recline. Half-naked, sub-human, with dark vicious eyes. All of them are bold, bony and thin as animals in the zoo. In the middle of hall stood a dinner table with two benches along the side. On one bench lying down is a man in filthy underwear. On the bed near the window sat two young fellows with a big ugly bloke who had tattoos all over his body. The nearest bed to them was occupied by a man, who looked like the old cobra from the Jungle Book. He reclined on his elbow and looked at me with suspicion. Next to him sat a young medical orderly, on a chair with a small table, screwed to the wall. He was preoccupied with a newspaper. Should I approach him? I looked around and met the eyes of an ugly bloke. After looking me up and down, he beckoned me by hand. I walked towards him.

   `Are you a soldier?' asked the bloke.

   `Yes.'

   `Good, we're in the army too. Sit down, traveller. What's your name?'

   `Boris.'

   `My name's Nick.'

   I shook his paw of a hand and then introduced myself to the young fellows. One of them was called Andrew, the second one something growled to himself under his breath so that I couldn't catch his name.

   Nick sat on the bed, dressed only in boxer shorts. His entire body was covered with tattoos of different sizes and decoration. Most of all I was struck by two tattoos: from his chest, the Virgin Mary with the baby stared at me from amongst the clouds. Very good work. On his left hand - a watch tower in barbed wire, covered with old scars from repeated attempts to expose veins. There is no free space on his body, entirely dark-blue. I should give him a nickname: the Iconman.

   The noise of a clanking lock immediately interrupted my thoughts. Everyone glanced at the door near the orderly's post. The Bo' sun entered the hall, saying something to the young orderly, who got up from his char and left. The Bo' sun approached our company and said: `Andrew, explain our rules to him.'

   `All right.'

   `And you, boy, come to me later on and I'll give you your sleeping gear. All right?'

   I nodded in response.

   `Listen, Boris,' said Andrew. `The rules are simple: don't talk loudly, it's forbidden, and don't argue with gaolers.'

   `I understand.'

   `By the way. Why did you cut your veins?' Andrew asked me.

   `I didn't want to live.'

   Andrew glanced at me sceptically and grinned. I looked into his bright green eyes and realised that he didn't believe me.

   `Hey, you, don't give us this bollocks,' said the Iconman. `You tell this shit to the doctors, not to us. We don't want to be in the army either, so we're here. Understand?'

   `Yes, I understand... Where can I lie down?' I asked Andrew.

   `There are no bunks available. Sit down on mine,' said Andrew and pointed his hand towards the bed near the second window.

   I sat down on the corner of bunk and immediately fell asleep. Someone touched my head. I opened my eyes.

   `We'd better go to the loo,' said Andrew. `They going to shut it soon.'

   `Yes, let's go.'

   The Bo' sun stood near the door and rattled the large bunch of keys. The toilet was small, and it stank. Along one wall stood a long pedestal ten inches high. On the pedestal, one single toilet seat and a cesspit hole. The toilet seat was broken and covered with white binding. Everyone pisses into the hole. A metallic sink hung from the wall, a tap without the handle popped out from the wall. Andrew stood near the door and quietly spoke to the Bo' sun.

   `Do you smoke?' Andrew asked me.

   `Yes.'

   I took a cigarette-butt from Andrew and greedily smoked it to the end. When we returned to the hall, Andrew said to me: `Listen, Boris, there are no free bunks in here. But if you want to sleep on the bed, kick out this Muslim soldier, Rakhim,' Andrew motioned with his eyes to the bed opposite his. There lay a skinny youngster of Asian appearance.

   `What about Bo' sun?'

   `What do you think I was doing in the bog? I spoke to him about it. He is all right, he wouldn't mind; he doesn't like Muslims. The nurse stayed well clear in the nurse's office. Don't worry, no one will complain to the doctor.'

   `All right, I'll think about it.'

   I sat on the bed and occasionally glanced at Rakhim. He clearly felt something for, he looked with fear at each patient who passed by his bed. What should I do? Should I drive him off? Or should I let him be? I don't want to sleep on the floor. I ought to make a decision and soon, very soon. Well. If someone complains to the doctor, there might be unpleasant consequences for me. A dilemma.

   I got up from the bed and approached the Bo' sun.

   `Can I get my sleeping gear?' I asked him.

   `What? Wait, I'll call you.'

   On my way to bed I passed by Rakhim. I looked into his eyes, where fear and desperation flashed. Suddenly he shuddered and huddled into the corner of the bed. The decision is made - I will sleep on the bed. I must act quickly and suddenly. The main thing is not to give him time to yell or cry. Well, what will be - will be.

   The Bo' sun arose from his post and gave me a sign to follow him. I got up from the bed and walked into the corridor. In the corridor along the walls on beds lay ugly schizophrenics. The Bo' sun opened the hatch at the end of the corridor, took out mattresses and blankets and threw them on to the floor. I was the first in line with two lunatics behind me. Not enough beds. I got the gear and immediately returned to the hall. I strolled to Rakhim's bed, threw the mattress on the bed and said: `Get the fuck out of my bunk.'

   Rakhim started to mumble something to himself, but I had no time to hear him out. I raised my hand and he rapidly slid down to the floor. I threw his mattress after him and put my blanket on the bunk. Then I glanced at Andrew. He nodded his head in encouragement and grinned. The Iconman and the Cobra man observed my action without emotion. I glanced at Rakhim. He looked at me and started to whimper like a beaten dog. Then he took the mattress and crawled further from me. Poor boy. I felt sorry for him. I have nothing against him. But, this is life. What is done - is done. The Bo' sun returned to the hall and looked at me, then at Rakhim, with a charismatic smile on his lips.

   Thanks, Andrew for your help. I will sleep on the bed - as humans do. What lies in wait tomorrow? Hundreds of questions flew in my head and tormented me. I should ask Andrew tomorrow about everything. He seems like a good fellow, helpful. Well, I must sleep now. I've lost too much blood, strength too. I turned to the wall, stretched the blanket over my head and immediately fell asleep.

  

  

   ***

   The neon light and the metallic buzzing of lamps woke me up. It's dawn. The Bo' sun peacefully slept at his post. The air in the hall is stuffy, sticky, an acid mixture of drugs, urine and adrenaline. A slop-bucket, this place, filled with mad animals. The walls are rough, dirty, and yellowish in colour from the sweat and stains of patients. Beneath grilles, neon lamps hang from the ceiling and hum like a swarm of mad bees. All the beds are of one design, their angles rounded. The floor, tiled and warm - apparently, the heating is laid under ground, as in Turkish baths. All furniture in the hall was screwed to the floor or clamped to the wall. Welcome to a neon paradise!! I looked around. Six beds stood in the hall along the walls, four beds in the corridor. Mine stood on the path to the toilet. Three patients sleep on the floor. Something sits on one of the patients, sleeping on the floor. What is this? Hallucination or reality? I cannot believe my eyes. A goggle-eyed toad peacefully squatted on the blanket. I felt that someone was watching me. I turned my head and met with the laughing eyes of Andrew. He was raised on his elbow and looked at the toad. The toad slowly slid down from the blanket and clumsy crawled into the corner under the bed. Andrew smiled and summoned the toad like a dog by hand. Where am I? Oh, my God! What kind of hospital is this? This is a zoo! What will happen to me? I turned away and again fell into a doze stupor.

  

   I awoke to the clanking of locks and hectoring voices of orderlies. The hall began to come alive. Patients picked up mattresses from the floor. A young orderly sat at his station and was making a knot on the towel. Another orderly, rattling keys, unlocked the storeroom. Some patients continued to lie on their beds. I got up and stretched myself. I noticed some movement near the orderly's chair. The Cobra man jumped on his bed and shrieked something to me. The orderly rose from his post and looked at me.

   What's happened now? What's going on? Instinctively I knew that something is moving behind my back. I turned and covered my face with my hands. Someone has fallen on my shoulder. He scuttled down from my collarbone, gripped my arm and bit it, in the place where I had stitches already. This madman was eating my hand but I felt no pain. Who is he? Bastard!! I threw some punches with my right hand and the maniac fell to the floor. The orderlies jumped on me like panthers, pushed me onto the bed and pressed me down. Through their bodies I saw the Cobra man shouting and dancing a furious break-dance on the body of falling madman with a malignant glee. It was Muslim, Rakhim. He howled something in his own language and did not try to protect himself against the vicious attack. One of the orderlies let go of me and rushed to him.

   `Hey, Alex, enough... I said enough, go to your bunk,' shouted the orderly.

   `Enough... enough... These fucking Muslim bites hissed the Cobra, kicking Rakhim in the stomach that he collapsed onto his bed.

   Poor Rakhim continued to howl and cry. The second orderly, who still held me down, looked at me with suspicion and removed his hand from my neck. He got up from the bed and at charged at Rakhim.

   `Don't howl, mother fucker,' yelled the orderly.

   Rakhim began to bleat like a sheep. After consulting amongst themselves, the orderlies took him by the hands and dragged him into the corridor.

   I was still lying on someone else's bed. Suddenly I felt a body stir under me. I jumped up from the bed and saw the frightened face of a patient. He looked at me with fear and frustration. All this time he did not move and made no sound. I sat on my own bed. The marks from the bite remained on my hand, two droplets of blood oozed down. I wiped the blood from my hand. Should I disinfect the wound? This Muslim might be contagious - like the Komodo dragon. Well, pour Rakhim. I'm sorry. It was self-defence.

   Patients began to sit down at the dinner table. The door from the adjacent compartment opened with a crash. Two young fellows in pyjamas placed buckets of food on the table. I'm so hungry. I sat on the bench near Andrew and company.

   `So, how do you like our madhouse?' asked Andrew.

   `Shit happens.'

   `You'll be punished for that fight,' said Andrew.

   `For what?' I asked in bewilderment.

   `For fighting. They will give you an injection, sulphazin.'

   `But, he started it.'

   `First, second: no matter, you'll get the punishment for causing havoc anyway,' said the Iconman.

   Breakfast was served. One of the orderlies counted the patients, sitting at the table, and he handed out spoons. All dishes and spoons were made from aluminium, soft and flexible. Andrew and the Iconman pushed aside their basins without any attempt to try the contents. The contents were a suspiciously disgusting colour. A porridge. I tasted one spoon of it and immediately spat it back in the basin.

   `Did you like it?' asked Andrew and smiled.

   `Disgusting shit.'

   `Give it to the psychos, but keep the spoon,' said Andrew and motioned with his eyes at the opposite bench. I took out the spoon and moved the basin aside. In an instant the porridge was seized by a patient opposite, who looked like a lizard with bubble eyes.

   `Fucking scavengers,' muttered Andrew with spite.

   I took an aluminium mug with tea, bread and a portion of butter. The butter was strange, white and barely solid.

   `What is it, butter or what?' I asked Andrew.

   `Oh, yes - something, it's margarine. The kitchen lackeys give us this shit instead of butter, fucking queers. Look at them, pigs,' whispered Andrew and glanced at the fellows who had brought our breakfast.

   `What is wrong with the tea? Why it's so disgusting and milky?' I asked Andrew.

   `Tea? They pour bromide in there, afraid that we're going to fall in love and screw each other in the ass,' said Andrew, and smiled.

   The orderly disentangled from the bed a young fellow of Asian origin and gave him his porridge. I ate the bread with margarine, gulped down with red water and bromide, and decided to get up from the table.

   `Sit!' shouted the orderly above my ear. `No one gets up, until I say so.'

   `Okay, okay, I'm not deaf. Why are you shouting?'

   `Don't talk so much, boy,' growled the orderly in my ear.

   `Okay. I'm new here. I didn't know the rules,' I said quietly.

   The orderlies stood behind us and watched how we consumed these lots of shit. After breakfast, our masters collected spoons and counted them twice.

   `Why are they counting spoons?' I asked Andrew.

   `Afraid that we'll cut them for the pigs they are.'

   Around the diner table sat twelve patients. The opposite bench was occupied by six maniacs from the corridor. Others patients eat in the wards or on the beds. The Cobra man sat on his bed and drank just his tea. At last the orderlies allowed us to get up from the table.

   `Let's go to the bog,' said Andrew.

   Near the toilet stood a long queue. Andrew began to hassle patients and push them inside.

   `Hurry up, psychos!' hissed Andrew.

   Patients like mice, rapidly slipped into the toilet. Some of them mumbled something to themselves and spitefully looked at Andrew. I noticed one freak in the queue. He has a hole in the head. The hole looks like the crater of volcano. The eyes are reckless, searching for something on the floor. The stomach is huge as a five months pregnant woman. In one moment his eyes fixed and he tumbled to the floor like a frog. He caught some kind of insect and greedily pushed it into his mouth.

   `What the fuck is this?' I asked Andrew.

   `Well. This is the Terminator. He was specially raised for our barrack - the insect killer. You'll see here a lot of strange things. Have you seen the toad today?'

   `Yes.'

   `The toad lives in the crack in the corner. Surely she must be as mad as the rest of us in this neon kingdom.'

   `This neon light is killing me, Andrew.'

   `Yeah, everyone is irritated by this fucking light - it's always on. Only the nutters get used to it; they don't care. They only care about food and naps.'

   As the queue slowly ebbed away, we entered the toilet.

   `Where can I wash myself?' I asked Andrew.

   `Ask the orderly, he'll turn on the tap.'

   I turned to the medical orderly and asked him to turn on the tap for me. He reached for a bunch of keys in his pocket. I washed my face and rinsed my mouth.

   `Listen, Andrew, have you got any toothpaste?'

   `No, brother, there is nothing in here, neither brush nor paste. Do you know how animals clean themselves?'

   `Well, sure I know.'

   `Then do it, brother.'

   The Iconman, the Vampire and the Cobra man came into the toilet.

   `Are you all right, pal?' the Cobra man asked me.

   `Yes.'

   `By the way, what's your name?'

   `Boris.'

   `My name's Alex. This fucking Muslim ambushed you from behind, I haven't seen him at first, but then I saw him crawling behind your back, fucking snake!'

   Alex the Cobra was about forty years old, very thin and bony, he's definitely the shrivelled cobra, its poison drained and spent. On his shoulder, a small tattoo - a snake winding through a human skull. His eyes are bottomless and turbid, pupils small as needles. He was one who wore pyjama trousers, denoting privilege.

   Two men with tattoos entered the toilet - convicts, obviously. They lit their cigarettes and squatted under the wall. Their burning eyes and behaviour reminded me of spotted hyenas. They did not speak much, just short phrases and lightning glances around. In the toilet - a good atmosphere, with not a moron insight. Everyone spoke quietly. Water dribbled from the tap. Suddenly I heard a strange echo, a mighty footfall emanating from the corridor. Looks as if an elephant is coming to piss, I thought to myself. Everyone in the toilet smiled.

   `The Tsar is coming,' said the Iconman.

   The orderly opened the door and pushed inside a huge fat man in a long dirty shirt without shorts.

   `Well, lads, I'll close the toilet when Tsar has finished with his needs,' said the orderly.

   `I've just arrived, pal,' said Alex the Cobra maliciously.

   `You smoke too much, Alex. Are you stoned?' asked the orderly.

   `Stoned? How? Bring me some hashish or grass and I might get the chance,' said Alex the Cobra.

   `We don't have drugs down in our village.'

   `What do you have then?'

   `Flowers,' replied the orderly.

   `Then bring me poppies. I love poppies for breakfast,' giggled Alex the Cobra.

   The Tsar perched on the pedestal above the hole and witlessly looked around.

It was obvious that the orderly did not want to continue this conversation with Alex the Cobra.

   `Listen, orderly, our Tsar is also a human. Let him smoke,' appealed Alex the Cobra.

   `He's no cigarettes,' said the orderly.

   `I'll give him a cigarette,' said the Iconman.

   `All right, all right, just don't smoke too long. I have my duty to perform,' said the orderly and left the toilet.

   `What kind of duty he's talking about?' asked Alex the Cobra.

   `Hey, Tsar, do you want to smoke?' asked the Iconman.

   Tsar nodded and smiled in response.

   `Well then! Let a sing-song begin!' announced the Iconman.

   Tsar straightened himself above the hole and howled: "From Moscow to Kaluga everyone's dancing the boogie-woogie."

   The entire toilet broke into laughter.

   The Tsar reminded me some fat reckless Caesar, his long dirty shirt a toga like a Roman tunic. He was definitely not from the working class, his fingers were long, the skin on his hands sleek. His head is bald on top, but along the sides dangle scraps of hair.

   `No, Tsar, not good enough,' said the Iconman. `How about a dance? Dance the twist Tsar, everybody dance.'

   The Tsar pranced like an opera singer, and began to sing the same song. And suddenly he started to dance the twist above the hole, shuffling his feet on the pedestal and vibrating his flabby body. Caterpillar. The spectators rose to the occasion with a stormy ovation. The orderly glanced into the toilet and returned to his duties. The Iconman gave to Tsar an almost finished cigarette butt and walked out with the Vampire. The Tsar perched on the broken toilet seat like a throne, and began to smoke with relish, letting out the smoke with a whistle.

   `Well, let's go to the hall,' said Andrew.

   We left the toilet and sat on the bed. On the nearest bed sat the Iconman and the Vampire. The Iconman whispered something to the Vampire. They sidled up to us. The Vampire looked at me vacantly and asked: `What did you do before the army?'

   `I studied.'

   `Where did you study?'

   `In College.'

   `Well, what did you do in your free time?'

   `Sport.'

   `What kind of sport?" continued the Vampire.

   `Listen, why do you ask so many questions? What are you? A spy or something?'

   `Hey, mate! Don't make so much noise,' said the Iconman. `We're the "family"; we ought to know a little about you. What are you? Who are you?'

   `Well, you could ask me first. I was a yachtsman for a while and then I did Judo.'

   `Have you won anything in sport?' asked the Iconman.

   `I did sport for myself, not for medals.'

   `Fair enough,' said the Iconman with understanding.

   `Have you got a nickname?' the Vampire asked me.

   `Well, yes.'

   `What is it?'

   `Wolverine.'

   `What's that?' asked the Vampire.

   `It's a kind of animal that lives in the forest,' I said, with irritation.

   `I know this animal,' said the Iconman.

   Sure you know, you are a bear yourself - I thought to myself.

   `Who gave you this nickname?' asked Andrew.

   `My neighbour.'

   `Why?'

   `He called me that, because he could never catch me. He was a poacher and at the time I was snatching fish from his secret holes. I love fresh fish for dinner.'

   `Where do you come from, mate?' asked the Iconman.

   `From Rostov.'

   `A very well known town in the criminal world, Alex is from there, your pal,' said the Iconman, and turned away. The interrogation had finished. The Vampire asked the Iconman something about prison and the Iconman began to tell him fairy tales, about the camp romanticism, escapes and the law of honourable thieves. The Vampire listened to him with admiration and devotion in his eyes. Very well, they'd found each other. Kindred spirits, the first one through his tongue, the second with his gullible ear. And thus, I was enrolled to the "family-pack".

   `Why are they closing the loo?' I asked Andrew.

   `They want to see us in the hall. The bog is open three times a day after meals. If you're so desperate to piss, ask the orderly. He'd open it but he wouldn't allow you to smoke or stay there too long.'

   `I see. Who is this fellow stretched on the bed?'

   `Another Muslim soldier. They gave him three mils of sulphazin. He brayed and moaned like a donkey, and then bit the orderly's finger. Listen, why do the Muslims bite? Rakhim bit you too.'

   `I don't know. It might be animal instinct.'

   `Yeah, and now he is staring in one point on the ceiling, praying without stopping, pissing and shitting under himself. He's blown his top.'

   `Listen, Andrew, what is it, sulphazin?'

   `Well, it's difficult to tell. Basically it is an injection, sulphazin. You'll get it after supper. Doctors say that the sulphazin will purge our body from neurotic infection. In fact, this is the punishment for disorderly conduct.'

   `It's bollocks. What kind of infection, are they talking about?'

   `Nervous infection, madness. The logic is: you're fighting and disrupting the status quo, so it means that you've too much neurotic infection in your body. So, they will try to get rid of it with sulphazin. Understand?'

   `No, I don't understand. This is rubbish.'

   `We're guinea pigs for them. They can inject us with anything they want. Prepare yourself - the shot will be painful. You won't feel the pain tonight, but tomorrow, it will be hell. When you will wake up, don't jump down from the bunk. I'll help you to get up.'

   `So, the sulphazin is so painful that I won't be able to get up?'

   `Yeah, Boris, and the other thing: if you would feel like to crying or shouting, do so. Don't endure the pain. Let go, sometimes it helps. I came here one week before you did. And I didn't disrupt anything and still I was prescribed three mils of sulphazin and one mil of aminazin, - cocktail. It's good that they only injected it in one point, in my bum. Sometimes they'll inject in four or six points.'

   `What do you mean points?'

   `One point - inject on in the bum. Four points - inject in two sides of your bottom and two shots under the shoulder-blades. Six points - the same as four plus two shots where ever the nurse likes - along your spine; or into the muscles of your feet. If after this treatment you're disruptive again, they will experiment on you down the line; will give you some other shit. But don't be so afraid. They'll shoot you at one point. It's endurable. Alex always gets in six points, and he got used to it.'

   `What is he, a criminal or something?'

   `Well, he was a drug trafficker. When the cops surrounded him, he was shooting at them down to the last bullet. One cop was seriously wounded. You know that for such crime in our country he would get capital punishment or fifteen years hard labour in Siberia? So, Alex decided to feign insanity in order to shorten his sentence. The court placed him in the maximum security mental prison. After ten years of torture and experiments, they released him, utterly disabled and fully disruptive, a maniac.'

   `He looks like a cobra to me.'

   `Well, he is all right, but dangerous sometimes. All the orderlies are afraid of him; he has nothing to lose. He is here indefinitely, without parole. One year he was outside then they placed him here. Even the Bo' sun is afraid of him. By the way, when he is on duty, better not hassle him.'

   `What is he doing here?'

   `He served as the bo'sun in the Pacific Fleet, retired and got married to a local woman. So as not to die from boredom and obesity he became an orderly and a very reliable one, like a Kalashnikov. He is a man of duty. On his shift everything is as clean and shipshape as a frigate.'

   `Yes, when I saw him for the first time, I understood straightaway what he was.'

   `If anyone makes too much noise, the Bo' sun will deal with the trouble maker fast as a torpedo boat, quickly and efficiently. A few days ago he knocked down Nick in seconds. But the good thing about him is that he never complains to doctors.'

   `Why, Nick in the army?'

   `Why? I don't know. He is a thief. He's done four years in the camp, and then they conscripted him to the Engineers. He is married, has a son, four years old. I was doing time as well, one year for fighting.'

   The Iconman was tall, broad-shouldered, and big boned. He reminded me of a grizzly bear emerging after hibernation. Andrew was thin, yet it was obvious that he was a strong fellow. The body is supple, the forehead and the head are large, and the fists are packed with scars. He reminded me of a wild cat, who walks alone. And he has green cat eyes and a small tattoo on the left leg. A Tomcat with a bowtie on his neck.

   `How old are you?' asked Andrew.

   `Nineteen.'

   `I'll be twenty soon.'

  

   Time has flown without our noticing. Along comes dinner, borne by the kitchen lackeys. There is no clock in the hall. Time comes for free! Who needs the time here? Schizophrenics? They don't follow the time; they're in another dimension.

   `I'm off to the door. My mate from the other wing sent me some cigarettes,' said Andrew and approached the orderly.

   The lock began to clank. The kitchen lackeys dragged buckets with food and placed them on the table. The door remained open. A young fellow in pyjamas gave Andrew some cigarettes. The orderly said nothing. Andrew said something to the fellow and returned to his bunk.

   `Well, now we have some fags,' said Andrew. He gave me and the Iconman a cigarette each and asked: `Where is our blood-sucker?'

   `I don't know,' said the Iconman.

   `I always wanted to ask you Nick about him. Why do we need him? He's a scavenger!'

   `I know, Andrew, but in here: the more of us walk together - the stronger we are.'

   `He's not one of us,' said Andrew. `He's a scrounger!'

   The Vampire looked like a goblin: short .body, long hands, and short legs. His head is small, the forehead narrow. The hair on his scalp begins to sprout two centimetres from the eyebrows. The ears are large and protruding.

   Patients began to sit down at the dinner table. The kitchen lackeys slopped soup into basins. The orderly gave us spoons. The soup was edible, the second dish - mash made from rotten cabbage, mixed with cheap sausage was stinking with machine oil. I tried one spoon of this oil mash and pushed aside the basin. Andrew and the Iconman didn't touch the mash. The Vampire ate the mash and greedily looked at the table in the hope that someone would give him more of this mess. Definitely our scavenger. Dinner is over. The harvest of spoons has passed away successfully.

   `The bog will be open for a half-hour, let's go later,' said Andrew. Meanwhile, off to my bunk.'

   `I wanted to ask you about this institution. How long are they going to keep us here?'

   `Okay, I'll give you a full explanation. So, this gaol was build in1880 by the Tsar for revolutionaries and troublemakers. As you see, everything here is antique. Frames on the windows are double security, iron covered by wood. Don't try to break out. That's impossible, and there's nowhere to run.'

   `What about this door, near the orderly's post?

   `That is the one way out, but it only takes you to the other wing of the barrack. There are no doors out of here.'

   `What about the hatch?'

   `That's another way of getting you no where. There's another door beyond. They used this room for visitors and new arrivals. I also came through this hatch.'

   `Bloody awful place!'

   `Yeah. Where were we? Well, almost all the population of the village works in this madhouse. Therefore I can conclude that an entire village has been chronically sick for one hundred years. There are around twenty barracks and clinic in the institution.'

   `How many patients in the hospital in total?'

   `In every barrack, about sixty or seventy patients; so, it would be around twelve or thirteen hundred patients inside.'

   `So many? Fuck me! This is a loony factory! What about our barrack?'

   `Well, our barrack is for medical judicial review,' said Andrew. `Soldiers, jailbirds and civilians sent here for medical assessment. Not a very good place to be, but they say that there are even worse barracks in the hospital.'

   `Worse? well... How could it be worse? Why all the patients wearing underwear in here?'

   `They're afraid that we'll escape from here.'

   `Well, we can pretend that we're sportsmen on the run.'

   `Oh, what kind of sportsmen run in prison underwear?' asked Andrew, and smiled.

   `Yes, awful, bloody awful. I've seen some patients in pyjamas.'

   `Yeah, they're kitchen lackeys from the other wing. Our barrack has two wings. Our wing is the maximum security; we called it "supermax". Here lie the most dangerous reptiles in the world.'

   `So I see. How many patients do we have here?

   `Somewhere around thirty,' said Andrew.

   `And on the other wing?'

   `Fifty or sixty. I'm not sure, I've never been there. In there we've a mixed population of loonies and toadies. But the regime there is much better.'

   `Listen, Andrew, why are the schizophrenics here? What are they, criminals? Are they for assessment here as well?'

   `What schizophrenics?'

   `From the corridor.'

   `Oh, those. They're not criminals, they're psychos. I don't know why they keep them here. I came to the conclusion that they kept the nutters in here to cheer us up.'

   `How can I get there, to the other wing?'

   `You're quick off the mark! Don't fight, don't argue with the medical staff then they'll transfer you there.'

   `Yeah, in that case I could stay here forever.'

   `No, in "supermax" they keep soldiers for two or three weeks then shift them to the other wing.'

   `How long are they going to keep us in this institution, Andrew?'

   `For two or three months. Usually, it takes two months, but there are some idiots who were kept here for five months and more. In about a month's time you will face the medical assessment board. Almost all soldiers who end up in here get discharged from the army. Well, that is all for now. Let's go to the bog.'

  

   In the toilet the same brotherhood - wise guys - predators of different kinds.

   `How are you, pal?' Alex the Cobra asked me.

   `I'm all right.'

   `Good.'

   I sat on my haunches and smoked in silence. How can I get to the other wing of the barrack? This place stinks. The other wing must be better.

   `Andrew, who transfers the patients to the other wing?'

   `Your doctor.'

   `Who is my doctor?'

   `I don't know,' said Andrew. `You'll find out on Thursday. They do the rounds on Thursday.'

   `Well, Thursday it is. I'll go to bed now.'

   `All right. When you wake up, come to see me,' said Andrew.

   The convicts squatted under the wall and quietly talked to each other. Oh, you spotted hyenas. I stubbed the cigarette and left the toilet. I placed the cigarette - butt under the mattress, lie on the bed and fall asleep.

   Woke up about six in the evening. The neon light is burning, the mad bees are here. It's not a dream. This is reality. Today is Friday. What will happen tomorrow? Oh, my God. I should prepare myself...

  

   The lock of the door thundered. Supper. Andrew and the Iconman ate the porridge this time. The Vampire gorged everything in seconds and looked around with hungry eyes. The orderly gathered the spoons and allowed us to get up.

   I approached Andrew and said: `Listen, maybe I'm not going to get the sulphazin today.'

   `Yeah, don't even dream about it. Listen, they're preparing syringes. Do you hear it?'

   A metallic clattering and the noise of boiling water floated from the nurse's office.

   `In twenty minutes they'll call you. Let's go have a smoke.'

   I sat on my haunches and lit a cigarette butt. In the toilet, the same brotherhood as even.

Andrew quietly spoke to Alex the Cobra. The Iconman told the Vampire about prison life. Spotted hyenas squatted in the corner and glanced around with their lightning eyes. Someone shouted my name in the hall.

   `You see, they don't forget about you. They will never forget, everything is written in the medical diary, brother. Well, go now Boris - or they'll come for you here,' said Andrew.

   I silently left the toilet and sauntered to the nurse's office.

   `Are you Boris?' asked the nurse.

   `Yes.'

   `Lie down on the couch and pull down your shorts.'

   `What are you going to inject me with?'

   `Three mils of sulphazin and one mil of aminazin. Which side do you prefer?'

   `Left.'

   I did not feel the shots - the nurse is a professional, and shoots with an easy action.

   `We have some pills for you - three times a day you must come here and take them. Take them now,' said the nurse and gave me a small plastic cup with my name on it. On the bottom of a cup lay two coloured tablets. I pretended to swallow the pills and kept them under my tongue.

   The toilet was still open I rushed in there to spit out this shit. I spat the pills in to the hole and approached Andrew.

   `So, how was it?' asked me Andrew.

   `So-so.'

   `It's good that you don't take those pills - "wheels". Tomorrow I'll try to snatch your dose of them.'

   We left the toilet and sat on Andrew's bunk.

   `Did you get it?' asked me the Iconman.

   `Yes.'

   `Well, you'll survive. The first shot is always fucking painful, but the next ones are all right, bearable. You'll get use to it all.'

   `Okay. I'm off to bed,' said I, and walked to the bunk.

   I cannot fall asleep, as I lay waiting for the pain to come. The neon light and the buzzing of the lamps penetrate my blanket. I bury my head into a stinking mattress and fall through into darkness.

  

  

   Chapter 2

  

   A snail on a tile

  

   The sharp pain in my spine awoke me. It's dawn. The site of the injection is hard and on fiery: my left foot is numb. I want to piss. I tried to move my foot, but unsuccessfully. The pain gripped my muscles and paralyzed my body. Again I tried to move my leg and again, unsuccessfully. I felt that I wouldn't be able to get up without someone's help. All I could do was to cry soundlessly and bury my face in the stench of my mattress. The lock began to rasp. The new shift had arrived. Someone touched my head and tugged at the blanket.

   `Are you alive? Do you want to take a leak?' asked Andrew.

   I nodded in response.

   `Listen, I'll help you now, but the next time, help yourself, brother. I'm not a nurse. Understand?'

   I nodded. Andrew took my hands, lifted me from the bunk and sat on it himself.

   `Good, you see, you're sitting. When we go, don't lift your legs high. Slide on the floor like a skier. And don't move fast. Slowly and carefully does it,' said Andrew - and lifted me from the bed.

   `You see, you can stand as well. And now we will crawl, slowly like a slug. After two or three shots you'll understand how to deal with sulphazin.'

   I made the first step. The pain continued without respite. I have to move. I must endure the pain and go, move. I crawled slowly. Thank God that the toilet is only five meters from my bed. I crawled to the door. The orderly opened the door and let us in. Andrew helped me to climb on the pedestal of the latrine and said: `Hold one hand against the wall. Use the other one to do the job. Hey, orderly, can I smoke?'

   `No.'

   `Why not? Today is Saturday - all the doctors are at home.'

   `Against the regulations, mate.'

   `I know. I know, but can you make an exception? My mate got a sulphazin jab for the first time. Let him smoke.'

   `You should be in the army, you won't get the sulphazin there,' mumbled the orderly and gave Andrew a light.

   `Would you like to smoke?' asked Andrew.

   `No.'

   `Well, then, let's go.'

   Andrew helped me reach the bunk and sat me on it.

   `What can I do about the pain, Andrew? How did you take this crap?'

   `I got angry and the pain disappeared. Everyone has his own way to deal with the pain. You should find your own way, brother,' said Andrew. He covered me with blanket and left.

   Impossible to rest on the right side - it's numbed from my lying on it all night. I turned on my back and fall into the black bottomless abyss - my death-nap.

  

   `Wake up, wake up,' - said someone and tugged the blanket from my head. I opened my eyes. The smiling face of Andrew floated above me.

   `Are you all right? Do you want to piss?'

   `No.'

   `Okay, rest then. Listen, I pinched your "wheels". Don't worry about it.'

   `What "wheels"?' I whispered.

   `Tablets - tranquillizers. If the nurse asks you, say that you took them. She doesn't know you, yet.'

   `Okay.'

   The hall has come alive. Its noise and commotion penetrate my blanket. Impossible to fall asleep. Someone stood beside my bed and puffed like a locomotive. Who is it? I'll kill the bastard. I pulled the blanket. Near stood a man with sneering smile and bloated tongue - a Down's syndrome patient. He looked like a Mongol with a mop in his hands.

   `Hey, you get out of here,' I murmured through my teeth.

   The Mongol stopped mopping the floor, closed his mouth, looked at me witlessly and began to wipe once more.

   `Get the fuck out of here,' I yelled.

   The Mongol stared at me with blue-sky eyes, smiled, bared his yellow curved teeth and continued to wipe the floor. An ugly bastard. Suddenly Andrew appeared in my field of view. He kicked and slapped the brute simultaneously and the Mongol was gone.

   I was truly grateful to Andrew for his help and concern for me. I don't know - what I would do without him?

   I cannot lie any more on my back. The pain in my twisted spine tortured me. I turned to the wall and cried again. Why? Why me? Why have I chosen this way? I could have stayed in the army and obeyed the stupid orders. And now I've to suffer for it. Pain. I cannot control you, you're everywhere. I must forget about you. You're an illusion. I cannot fall asleep - it's too noisy. Someone tramps past my bed all the time, bastards. If I hadn't fought with Rakhim I wouldn't get sulphazin. Who knows? Or I might get it anyway, like Andrew. Then I would be sprawling on the bench. Well, this was my choice. It might be the biggest mistake of my life. I hate it all, the world, the pain, fate. I hate everyone, including myself. The devil crept into my mind. My head is a volcano that must explode. Eventually I drift into darkness.

  

   The clatter of aluminum dishes and clicking of locks woke me up. Supper time. The day had flown unnoticeably. A death-nap or a death-trap? Who knows?

   `Hey, traveler, are you alive?' thundered the voice of Iconman above.

   `He's alive.' said Andrew.

   I turned on my back and clutched at my blanket. Two yellowish faces looked at me. My head is heavy, shot with lead, and hot. Andrew brought a mug with boiling water.

   `Drink it, you'll feel better,' said Andrew and moved the mug close to my face. I lifted myself by the elbow and took a couple of sips. The hot water gave me some strength.

   `Better now?' asked the Iconman.

   I nodded.

   `The calm before storm, like the Bo' sun said. Your temperature will rise and sweat will flow from all over you. Be ready, mate,' said the Iconman.

   `Do you want to piss?' Andrew asked me.

   I nodded and sat on the bed. The pain immediately surged and crackled all over my body. Lightning migraines flew through my head. I rose and crawled to the hole, pissed, and crawled back like a snail over the floor tiles.

  

   I woke up at night. In the hall, all is quiet. The mental cases are asleep, occasionally snoring and moaning. The buzz of neon lamps will never stop in here, not for a second. Where am I? Am I still alive? I have to get free of this gaol. Why am I here? The sporadic sighs and moans of patients pulled me back to reality. My temperature is high. Perspiration flows from everywhere, the tears roll from my eyes. Is it tears or sweat? I do not know. My testicles swell to tennis balls, they might soon explode. I have to get up and crawl to the toilet. But with one thought that I must move, the desire immediately disappeared. I'll try to forget about it. I have to stumble in my torpor. No, no way, a crisis, I have to get up. I cannot take it any longer.

   I pulled the blanket from my head. The neon glare lacerated my eyes. The orderly sat at his station and read a newspaper. It's a long way to him and then to the toilet. I pulled myself and sat on the bed. The pain immediately began to cut into me. A storm of lights flared in my inner eye. My spine is twisted, my legs are broken. I rose, crawled towards the orderly, and said: `Can you open the toilet, please?'

   `It's open,' said the orderly with a smile.

   Bastard! Couldn't you tell me that earlier? Didn't you know why I crawled to you? Fucking jerk! I thought to myself.

   I climbed on the pedestal, rested my head against the wall and pulled my shorts. Nothing dribbles out. Why? I closed my eyes and tried again. I opened my eyes, nothing comes. After several attempts eventually something oozed from me. I crawled back to the bunk. It's impossible to fall asleep. The body burns, the muscles are clenched, the head pulsates, and the pain is all over me. Sweat rolls from my forehead into my eyes. What is it? A delirium? My lips are dried and cracked. How can I stop this? How can I conquer you, pain? Am I alive? Where am I? I drifted in the darkness like a ghost ship. A death-trap.

   I flew back to the neon paradise. It's cold. I'm lying in my puddle of sweat. I ought to forget about the pain. I must extinguish you. I cannot think about you. I hate you! I'll kill you... For long time nothing happens, my thoughts jerked and returned to the pain. The pain from my spine pierces my joints, my feet twist, the muscles on the neck wedge and clench together. Oh, God! Help me! Tell me, what to do? I can't take it any more. I must dissociate myself from this pain, forget about the pain. I must dissolve my body within my mind. I must do it. There is - no pain or joy. There is - no dark or light. There is - no emptiness or fullness. Nothing. I fall through into the dark and sailed into the void.

  

   ***

   The clanking of locks and the hectoring cries of our orderlies brought me back. I'm alive. I've survived. I want nothing, no food or drink. No, I do want one thing, no more pain, please, no more. I'm tired, racked. My body is broken, desiccated and still trembling. The pain has ceased or now, but it still hides somewhere inside my body. I cannot concentrate and think. Thoughts appeared in my head and immediately vanished. I cannot recall how I'd fallen asleep. I sat on the bunk and stared at the tiled floor.

   `How are you, brother?' Andrew asked me.

   `I'm all right,' I said quietly, and did not recognize my voice.

   `Would you like some tea?'

   I nodded. Andrew took a mug from the orderly and gave it to me. My hands are shaking. I swallowed the bromide tea.

   `So, do you know now, how to deal with sulphazin?' asked Andrew.

   `I don't know.'

   `Well, today you'll have to try again.'

   `What? Are they going to shoot me up again?'

   `Sure, two shots more.'

   `Butchers! Let me rest for a while.'

   `Today your resting day. Don't be scared. The first shot is hardest to bear; the next ones are easy-peasy. You took it well, you're a strong bastard. Some patients bray like donkeys before they lose consciousness.'

  

   The orderly opened the toilet. Andrew stood at the end of queue and began to hassle the schizophrenics in front of him.

   `Hurry up, psychos, don't make me angry.'

   Andrew caused panic and confusion amongst the patients, who clucked and looked away. When the orderly turned away, Andrew kicked and slapped some of them.

   I got up from bed and crawled to the toilet. I could move, but my left foot was partially paralyzed. I'm limping and dragging my foot behind. What kind of treatment is this? They've reduced me to a snail. Slowly I crawled to the sink. The water from the tap hardly runs. I washed my face and slunk towards the wise-guys.

   `How are you, pal?' Alex the Cobra asked me.

   `Still alive.'

   `Don't worry. No one died from sulphazin; it's nothing in compared to the special prison. In the mad-max-prison they shoot such crap in you that you never know what will happen. Even doctors don't know what's going to happen to patients. I saw lots of pals like you who killed themselves there.'

   `How did they do it in there?' inquired Andrew.

   `Simply and easily. They wrapped their necks in a wet towel before they went to sleep and never woke up. Easy death - the most important thing to fall asleep and that's it.'

   `Well, we don't have towels in our barrack, only the orderlies have,' said Andrew and passed me a cigarette. `You should move more, Boris. Gets your blood flowing and the sulphazin will go from your body. Let's stroll on our very own psychodrom. I'll introduce you to your public.'

   We left the toilet and went into the end of corridor.

   `Look, here we've the isolation ward with a TV-shaped window on the door,' said Andrew and pointed at the small window in the door. `Would you like to see a film? Have a look. Rakhim is tied to the bed. In the left corner the Tsar yanking his penis and Hitler is here as well.'

   `Yes, I see. This is a nasty piece of celluloid.'

   `Oh, a porno film.'

   We walked away from the isolation ward and began to walk along the corridor, forwards and backwards. Andrew walks fast. I'm crawling behind, dragging my leg.

   `Why are all these wards without doors?' I asked Andrew.

   `For security reasons.'

   `Who are in the wards?'

   "The first ward - for jailbirds, there are four of them. You saw two of them; the other two are completely mad. The second ward - for maniacs and psychos. The third one - for loonies and quiet tenants like the Vampire. By the way, he didn't get the sulphazin.'

   `Why?'

   `Because he is a loony. Last week one of the psychos stabbed the orderly in the eye with a spoon. It's a pity but the orderly is all right.'

   `Listen, Andrew, can I move to the ward? I cannot sleep in this hall. There's always a traffic jam of nutters.'

   `No, impossible. We're under maximum observation in the hall. The Vampire's an old patient.'

   Along the walls of corridor the beds are swamped with sub-human forms. As we passed nearby, they looked at us with fear and cringed in the far corners of their beds like reptiles.

   `Listen, have you taken the "wheels" today?' inquired Andrew.

   `No.'

   `Go and take them.'

   `Why did they prescribe this shit for me?'

   `Why? Tranquillizers will slow you down.'

   `Fucking butchers! Their injections already slowed me down.'

   `Don't make too much noise, Wolverine. Go and take them. If you refuse the pills, they'll toss in a few more,' said Andrew and gently pushed me towards the nurse's office. I entered the room and approached the table with the drugs.

   `What do you want?' asked the nurse.

   Drugs, sex and rock and roll! I thought, and politely said: `I would like to take my medicine.'

   The nurse motioned with her eyes at a table with plastic cups, turned away and continued to rummage in the glass cabinet with the drugs. I took my cup. Two pills lay on the bottom. I threw them into my mouth, gulped a mouthful of water and left the office.

   `Give me the "wheels",' said Andrew. I spat the pills into my hand and gave them to Andrew. He ran to the end of corridor and leaned over the last bunk, near the isolation cell.

   `Open your mouth, fucking python,' Andrew ordered a patient.

   The patient obediently opened his great maw without front teeth. Andrew threw in the pills and said: `This is our python. If you need to spit the "wheels" in here without them seeing, you should use his mouth. He likes pills. Hey! Python do you like pills?' asked Andrew.

   The loony nodded and smiled.

   `Okay, I don't feel well. I'm going to my bunk.'

  

   The hall is in a constant motion. The Mongol is mopping the floor under the close supervision of one of the orderlies. Psychos and maniacs gather in the corridor. Sometimes they shuffled in the hall and made a few circles around the table and disappeared in the corridor. If they stayed longer in the hall, Alex the Cobra and the Iconman began to hiss at them. This bunch of nutters looked like twins, even walking the same, a reptile family on parade.

   The Asian boy tied to the bed constantly howls and speaks to the ceiling. He began to pray very loudly: `Allah...Allah...' recited the Asian boy.

   `Shut up, Muslim,' yelled the orderly and smacked him with a wet towel.

   `Allah...Allah,' he howled more loudly.

   `Shut the fuck up, donkey-lover,' hissed Alex the Cobra, then jumped from his bunk and kicked the boy in the stomach.

   `Take it easy, Alex, don't kill the Muslim,' said the orderly, and smiled.

   The Asian boy began to weep soundlessly and pissed himself. As if from nowhere the Mongol-mop appeared and began to wipe the floor under his bed.

  

   The lock began to clatter. The kitchen lackeys brought the buckets on the table. Dinner is served - the everyday, ritual distribution of crap. I sat on the bench and ate the soup. The second dish was the same old cabbage mash, with machine oil.

   `Have you got a cigarette?' I asked Andrew.

   `No, ask Nick.'

   `Listen, Andrew, when I got here. I had some money. How can I buy cigarettes?'

   `I don't know. It's better to talk to Nick about it.'

   I approached the Iconman and asked: `Have you got a spare cigarette?'

   `Yes, let's go to the bog,' said the Iconman and took some cigarettes from under his mattress

   In the toilet the same brotherhood. After a while I heard the echo of heavy steps. An orderly opened the door and pushed the Tsar inside the toilet. He climbed on the pedestal, pissed into the hole and sat on the broken toilet seat in the expectation of someone giving him a smoke. I remembered that I hadn't taken my pills. I left the toilet and went to the nurse's office. When I returned, the Tsar was bestriding the toilet seat like a throne. In his spread fingers he held the butts of three cigarettes. He sucked each butt and let out the smoke with a whistle.

   `Hey, Boris, Andrew told me that you've got some money on you,' enquired the Iconman.

   `Yes, the nurse put it in the inventory.'

   `Good! We can buy some cigarettes.'

   `How?'

   `We've a mate on the other wing. He has the connections with one nurse. She can buy cigarettes in the village.'

   `It's settled. I had five roubles; it's enough for ten packs.'

   `Good, everything will be all right,' said the Iconman, rubbing his palm as we left the toilet. The Iconman strolled to the door to the other wing and began gesticulate through the window, a TV frame similar to the isolation cell. Eventually one of the patients rose to the bait, and the Iconman began to whisper through the slot. After a couple of minutes there appeared a young face in the window. Andrew got up from the bed and approached the door. When they returned the Iconman asked Andrew: `What is he, deaf or something?'

   `No, he's all right. It's difficult to hear through this slot,' said Andrew. The Iconman looked at me and said: `Everything will be all right, mate, don't you worry.'

   The Vampire hobbled, from his hut and flopped on Andrew's bunk.

   `What's up, mate? What is this? A public bench or a drop-in zone? Get the fuck out of here!' yelled Andrew.

   `Then, why is he allowed to sit?' said the Vampire, and pointed his stubby finger at me.

   The next time I should break his finger. I'm not having this, I thought to myself.

   `He asked me and you didn't,' said Andrew.

   The Vampire rose from the bunk and asked the Iconman: `Nick, can I sit on your bed?'

   `Go ahead.'

   `Well, Vampire, I see you don't respect me at all,' said Andrew.

   `Take it easy, Andrew,' said the Iconman. `We all make mistakes.'

   `Mistakes? No more, mother-fucker, no more. The next time you make a mistake, Vampire. I suck your eye ball out and eat it.'

   `Take it easy, Andrew, take it easy,' said the Iconman.

   A young girl in a white nurse's dress entered the hall. She approached us and said: `Hello chaps.'

   `Hello-o,' sang the Iconman. `What is your name, love?'

   `Tania.'

   `Tania! What a lovely name. My name is Nick,' said the Iconman with his best manners. `This is Boris. He wants to buy cigarettes.'

   I rose from the bed and said: `My money is in the inventory. Please, Tania, could you buy the most expensive cigarettes and a chocolate bar for yourself?'

   `No problem. I'll buy the cigarettes, but we've never had chocolate in our shop.'

   `Well, do you smoke?' I asked her.

   `Yes, occasionally.'

   `Then take a couple of packs for yourself.'

   `All right.'

   `Thank you very much, Tania.'

   `Don't mention it.'

   The Iconman accompanied her to the door, then sat on Alex the Cobra's bunk and whispered something to him. The Vampire went to his ward. Andrew looked after the Vampire and said: `Blood sucker!'

   `Andrew, why is the Tsar in the isolation cell? He's not violent.'

   `He is there indefinitely. The doctors are afraid that someone will nail him in the hall.'

   `Do you know who he is?'

   `They said that he was an engineer, that car accident made him like this. He is a vegetable, potato. His hobbies: masturbating and eating at the same time.'

   `What about Hitler?'

   `What about him?'

   `Who is he?'

   `No one knows. He is our enigma. The doctors say that he's got amnesia. The barber, an idiot, made him moustache like the Fuhrer had. After that everybody called him Hitler.'

   `Well, well, I'm off to my bunk. I'll rest for a while.'

   I felt tired. Any movement caused a dull pain in my spine. Electric migraines struck inside my head repeatedly. It's not good to sleep in the daytime, but my eyes stuck shut by themselves and I spun away into darkness.

  

   Supper. The kitchen lackeys ladled the food into our basins. The supper was edible.

   `What is the day today?' I asked Andrew.

   `Sunday. Tomorrow is Monday - a bad day. Let's go to the nurse's office.'

   We entered the nurse's office, the nurse sterilized syringes in the adjacent room.

   `Drop the "wheels" in any cup,' whispered Andrew.

   I dropped them in the cup full of coloured pills of different forms. Circular, oval and rhombic shapes like Christmas tree toys in miniature.

   Andrew began to conjure with the plastic cups, shifting the pills from other cups and putting them into one he'd selected.

   `I want to do my own experiment,' whispered Andrew. `On the python.'

   We left the office and went to the toilet.

   `Listen, Andrew, can you nick my "wheels" tomorrow?'

   `I'll try.'

   The nurse called my name loudly. I left the toilet and meandered into the nurse's office. On my way I met Rakhim. He scuttled into the Vampire's ward. The nurse twice inserted the needle in my right buttock.

   `Did you get it?' asked Andrew.

   `Yes, I need to go to the loo.'

   `We'll go later. Today, the bog will be open.'

   `Why?'

   `A good orderly at the post, Panteleich. Would you like to play dominoes?'

   `Yes, it would be nice. I can't lie still any more.'

   Andrew walked to the orderly and took some dominoes. We sat at the table to play. Alex the Cobra and the Iconman joined us. Later on appeared the Vampire, who sat near the Iconman and watched the game. Dominoes were forbidden in the barrack, as were all games. Panteleich brought the set inside at his own risk. Around ten in the evening Panteleich rose from his chair and said: `Well, lads. That's enough for today.'

   `Just as you say, Panteleich,' said Alex the Cobra and gathered up the dominoes.

   Panteleich was around forty-five years old. He looked like a simple man, clearly a normal one, without having gone cuckoo. His eyes were vital but deeply morose. Who is he? What is he doing here?

   `Let's go smoke before our nap,' hissed Alex the Cobra quietly.

   Inside the toilet it's dark and cool. Fresh air flows through the hole. Panteleich entered the toilet and said: `Lads, please, don't make a noise. Have your smoke and go to bed.'

   `All right, all right, Panteleich, we'll be silent as the grave,' said Alex the Cobra.

   Panteleich left the toilet, sat at his post and began to read a thick book. Hastily we finished smoking and walked out of the toilet.

   `Panteleich is a good man,' said Andrew.

   `Andrew, don't forget about my "wheels" tomorrow.'

   `I'll remember, don't worry. I'll wake up if something is wrong.'

   I lay on the bed, pulled the blanket and tried to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be hell. I will limp with both feet. Will I be able to dissolve away my body? First of all, I've to forget about its existence and overcome the pain in my spine. The neon light cuts into my old blanket; the buzz of demented bees fills my ears. I pulled down my blanket and glanced around. The lamp above the post of orderly changed its intonation and began to drone and crack like a rattle snake. Panteleich looked at the lamp with suspicion. He has definitely not succumbed to our madness. What is he doing here? In the corridor near the isolation cell, one lamp suddenly went out. Then the lamp lit again with a metallic crack and hysterical whine. Panteleich got up from his book, rose and walked to the isolation cell. He returned to the hall mumbling something under his breath. He looked at me, smiled, wagged his finger and glanced at the lamps. Yes... we're all crazy here; even the lamps are mad. I turned to the wall and slipped into darkness.

  

   I woke at night from a sharp pain in my right foot. The hall's asleep, occasionally moaning and sighing. The murmur of electric insects will never stop in here; the neon light will never be switched off. Neon paradise! I pulled the blanket from my head and looked around. Panteleich sat peacefully at his post, reading his book. What is he reading? I sat on the bunk. Immediately the spasms coursed throughout my body. The hammering in my head began to rebound. My teeth began to rattle Morse code. SOS.....SOS.....SOS. Panteleich looked at me with pity in his eyes. He's got such sad eyes. My hands began to shake, my body trembled, and I rose. The pain snapped throughout my broken body. I clenched my teeth and crawled to the toilet. Panteleich jumped ahead of me and politely opened the door.

   `Sulphazin?' he asked.

   I nodded and slowly climbed on the pedestal of the loo. Panteleich lit a cigarette and smoked in silence. I stood above the hole and try to piss. Nothing comes. Not again. Shit! I was desperate to piss. What is going on with me? Apparently the signal from my brain got lost somewhere. Eventually something squirted from my penis. I descended from my throne.

   `Would you like to smoke?' asked Panteleich.

   I nodded and took a cigarette from him.

   `What do you read?' I asked him.

   `Dostoevsky. "The Idiot".'

   `Well, it's the right place to read a book like that.'

   Panteleich smiled and asked: `Do you like to read?'

   `Yes, I've read Dostoevsky; but the "The Idiot" I couldn't finish.'

   `Dostoevsky is my favorite writer. I called my son Fedor because of him.'

   `I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name.'

   `My name is Michael. Panteleich is my middle name.'

   `So, your son has the same is name, Fedor Michaylovich.'

   `Yes.'

   `Do you know that Dostoevsky was sentenced to death, later he was pardoned by the Tsar? After that he became a writer.'

   `Yes, so I've heard.'

  

   ***

   The lock clattered. The new shift has arrived. The hall began to groan and moan. Someone neighed like a horse far away. How curious. Who is the thorough-bred? The sound of running water spread on the air. What now? Immediately I felt a need to go to the toilet. I rose on my elbow. Some unknown medical orderly sat at his post soaks a long towel in a basin full of water. He deftly ties the knot on the towel then slashed the Asian boy with the towel. Stupid bastard, a sadist. The boy moaned loudly and continued to recite his prayer.

   I stumbled towards the orderly, and asked him politely: `Can you open the toilet, please?'

   `Wait, just let me make another knot,' said the sadist and continued to rinse the towel in the basin. I stayed put, near him. The orderly was around thirty years old, with a brushy moustache and military hair cut. Under his medical gown was visible the stripped vest of a paratrooper. Another Reserved bastard in here. The paratrooper made his knot and opened up the toilet.

  

   Someone's shaking my arm.

   `Wake up, wake up,' said the nurse. `Why didn't you take your pills?'

   I opened my eyes. The nurse stood above me and held a plastic cup. I rose on my elbow, took the cup and slipped its contents in my mouth, pushing the pills under my tongue.

   `Drink the water,' said the nurse with suspicion.

   I took the cup with water, released the pills under my tongue and tried a short sip.

   `Open your mouth!' ordered the nurse.

   I opened my mouth; she peered in there like a dentist. Fully satisfied, she left. The pills stuck in my throat. I turned to the wall and belched them into my hand. I cannot lie on my right side any longer, it's completely numb. I turned over on my back, pulled the blanket over my head and tried to sleep. People constantly walk near my bunk. The royal road to the bog. The silhouettes of patients are visible through my blanket. The blanket probably was made in the same year this castle of torture was built. The nurse is a bitch: the orderly is a paratrooper. A splendid match. The paratrooper cannot live without a regime; he definitely missed his vocation in the Army. Sadist - paratrooper. I fall into a deep, dark dream and drifted out to nowhere.

  

   Someone pulled the blanket from my head.

   `Alive? Listen, go and take your "wheels". The nurse is the fucking prison bitch. Impossible to pinch anything,' said Andrew.

   I sat on my bed, and then I got up and crawled to the nurse's office. One nurse stood near the table and inspected each patient. I swallowed the pills and hurried to the toilet. I spat the pills into the hole and came to our "clan".

   `How are you?' asked me the Iconman.

   `So-so.'

   `Smoke?' asked me Andrew.

   `No, I'll go to bed. Andrew, wake me up before supper.'

   `Okay.'

   I lay on the bed and tried to dissolve my body away. The pain was all over me. My body is dead, dead! I whispered to myself. I feel nothing. No pain. My feet began to ooze in lava. Eventually whole my body melted and I drifted off.

  

   `Wake up! Supper,' said Andrew and tugged my blanket.

   The light struck my eyes. I'm still in here in the neon paradise. Noise, voices, commotion. The thunder of clanging locks reminds me of the sound of a Kalashnikov. The sound of aluminium basins is like the tumbling of spent cartridges. My private Cold War. The patients sat at the table waiting for the lots of shit to turn up. I sat on my bunk. The orderly gave me a mug. I swigged deeply. The bromide tea gave some energy but not for long. I began to tremble. The mug changed its shape and became a toad. The toad tried to break away from me and skip off under the bed. What the fuck is this? Hallucinations? Quickly I drank the tea and put the toad-mug on the table. Then I went to the nurse's office and took my "wheels". I crawled to the end of the corridor, spat the pills on an empty bed and made towards the isolation cell. In the TV frame the Tsar reclined on the bunk and masturbated - bastard. On the adjacent bed lies a man with a Hitler-style moustache. He gazed fixedly through the window. For a while I stood there and listlessly looked inside.

   `Hey, what are you doing here?' the paratrooper called to me. `Clear off.'

   I stepped away from the door. The paratrooper unlocked the door and carried the food inside. On his shoulder hung the towel, like a rifle. Why is he here? He should be in the army, instead of me. I returned to my den and fell into another deathly stupor.

   I woke at night in a puddle of sweat. The storm has come. My entire body burned inside, my feet are clenched, and my head pulsates and buzzes. I see no end to this torture. I have to disconnect my head. Forget about pain. Fly away from here. Like the Flying Dutchman I dissipate into the darkness.

  

   A thunder of locks brought me round. Good morning, loony bin. I'm hardly alive. I rose from my bed and sat at the table. The food disgusted me. I ate my bread and drank my bromide tea.

   `How are you?' asked Andrew.

   `OK.' I said, and realized that even speech nauseated me.

   After breakfast I lay on my bunk and stared in one point on the wall. If I don't wake up tomorrow, there will be no regrets. I'm too tired to fight and struggle. No. I shouldn't die, it would kill my mother. I should fight to the last shot. They'll not break me. I'm the wily one. Fucking executioners! I hate you all. I turned away from the wall and glanced around. In the hall is constant movement. My bed stood near the highway to the toilet. Three psychos from the corridor began to stroll on their predestinate groove around the table. Alex the Cobra started hissing at them. They disappeared into the corridor. After a while one of them strolled in the hall, made one lap of the table and disappeared in the corridor. Alex the Cobra was irritated by this. He said something to the orderly, who nodded in acquiescence. When the madman appeared in the hall again. Alex the Cobra and the Iconman leapt from their beds and attacked him. Alex the Cobra punched him in the head and he smiled. A blow from the Iconman knocked him down. Alex the Cobra began to kick him and knocked him under the table. The race is cancelled. Alex the Cobra and the Iconman lay on their beds and peered under the table.

   `Come out off there, mother fucker,' yelled the orderly and rose from his post.

   The psycho huddled under the table and peered from there like a hunted animal.

   `Come on, come on, get out of there,' yelled the orderly, and moved toward the table swinging a towel above his head. The madman looked around, hesitated, then jumped out and scuttled like an iguana to the corridor. The knotted towel fell near my bed; it's missed its aim. The iguana turned his head, smiled and ran off to his bed. A very strange place - this terrarium. Here was Asian boy, praying ceaselessly. What have they done to him this time? The Mongol-mop stood near his bed like a statue.

   After dinner Andrew gave me a cigarette and we went to the toilet.

   `Listen, Andrew, who was neighing yesterday in the barrack?'

   `The nurse from the other wing. Her nickname - "nursey-horsy." A normal person would never laugh like that.'

   `What kind of atmosphere is there on the other wing?' I asked Andrew.

   "What do you mean?'

   `Are there the same rules?'

   `There are four clans: soldiers, jailbirds, civilians and loonies. The Vampire was there, the soldiers bullied him and back he came to us.'

   `What about Nick?'

   `No, he punched an orderly and was detained here for a month.'

   `What orderly?'

   `The paratrooper.'

   `I thought so.'

   `Where were we?' asked Andrew. `Oh, yeah, the jailbirds in there are all right, but the soldiers and the civilians are bastards and narks. Loonies are slaves; they work for other families, earn some cigarettes.'

   `I see, can you go outside there?'

   `What are talking about? No. The kitchen lackeys are allowed to go out to take the food. Some civilians work outside the barrack. The jailbirds stay inside all the time. Still, its better there than here. They have a real TV there.'

   After supper I got my last shot of sulphazin and went to my den. For a long time I couldn't fall asleep. I gaped blankly at the dirty wall. The wall is riddled with small black burrows. It's rough and sticky. I choose one of the burrows and drift into the whirlpool of its black mouth.

  

   Someone pulled my arm. I opened my eyes. It's morning.

   `Get up!' an unknown voice thundered above me. `Get up, boy! Quick.'

   `I'm under sulphazin,' I said to the orderly.

   `So what? Let's get you to the washroom.'

   I slowly sat down on the bed. The door near the toilet was opened.

   `What are you, deaf? Let's go, let's go,' yelled the orderly.

   Overcoming my pain I rose and crawled to the bathroom.

   `Sit on the couch,' ordered the orderly.

   Obediently I sat on the rock-cold couch. The pain is killing me. I have to fly away. The orderly began to cut my hair, using mechanical clippers. The machine drives into my head like a bulldozer and tugs out the roots of my short hair. I inclined my head, looked at the tile floor and drifted away.

   `Are you alive?' asked the orderly and he pushed my head. `Rinse your face.'

   He roughly raised my head to get at my chin, lathered my face with a brush and began to shave me. The procedure of hair cutting and shaving took a few minutes.

   `Take off your clothes,' said the orderly.

   With great difficulty I complied and went to the shower cabin. The water brings me no joy, no refreshment. Jets of water batter my body and cause spasms and convolutions. Feebly I washed myself and crawled from the cabin. Something hit me on my head and clung to it.

   `Here's a towel for you,' said the orderly, and laughed. `Wipe your ass.'

   I pulled the towel from my head, wiped my hands and placed it on the couch. Somehow I dressed and crawled to my bunk. My teeth rap a Morse code. My whole body races in fever and trembling. Muscles are shredded, my spine is broken. Oh, God!!! Please, help me... Let me be or kill me. I can't take more of this.

  

  

   Chapter 3

  

   Doing the rounds

  

   I woke up in the small hours. Beyond the windows all was dark. I'd survived. I'd beaten the sulphazin. Please God!!! They're not going to inject me any more with this shit. What day is it today? Yesterday was my last day of torture. I'm sick and tired of this buzzing. It's always in my head. I think that somewhere inside the barrack, they have the hidden room with an operator. He's tuned the frequency of lamps and he's watching over the patients. The lamps are shining differently: some with a blue incandescence, others - with a yellowish glow. The patients began to come round on their beds. Quiet moans and sighs filled the hall. Locks began to grate. Breakfast time. I sat at the table, the food disgusted me. I only drank my bromide tea. A vigilant orderly gathered the harvest of aluminium spoons and allowed us to get up. I slowly rose and crawled to the toilet door. There, already, a queue was forming. Andrew approached me and asked: `How are you, brother?'

   `Completely fucked up.'

   `I'll ask my doctor to transfer me to the other wing.'

   `What day is it today?'

   `Thursday. They'll do the rounds. Nick and Vampire will ask for a transfer as well,' said Andrew, then he kicked one of the patients, who was leaving the toilet. The psycho spun around, bellowed, and ran away to the corridor. The queue began to move forward. We entered the toilet, and silently smoked one cigarette. Four men - convicts - walked into the toilet. They were talking loudly to each other. Two of them were unfamiliar to me.

   `A new intake arrived?' I asked Andrew quietly.

   `Yeah, jailbirds.'

   One of the new arrivals was clearly not from the hyena family. He more resembled a jackal. He was loud, frenetic and couldn't stand on one spot. One moment he bent his finger, as a dragonfly fastidiously bends its tail, and then he writhed, grimacing like a clown. In the hall everyone is whispering - no one raises his voice. It's forbidden to talk loudly in the hall. If someone breaks this rule, he must instantly attract the attention of the medical staff.

   The Iconman and the Vampire strolled into the toilet and approached us.

   `After the rounds, everyone comes to my bunk,' said the Iconman.

   `Okay. When are the rounds?' I asked Andrew.

   `Around midday. Let's go to my bunk now. I'd like to ask you something.'

   We left the toilet and squatted on the bed.

   `Yesterday I was trying to wake you up. Do you remember?' Andrew asked me.

   `No, I don't.'

   `Where did you go, yesterday?'

   `What do you mean, Andrew?'

   `I touched you and you didn't respond. I pulled the blanket and I saw that one of your eyes was open. I panicked and tried to wake you up, but you were silent. Then when I pinched you on the ear, you began to moan and you stirred.'

   `What did you expect? I was really fucked up after bath day.'

   `You're a strange man, Wolverine. You sleep under the sulphazin.'

   `I learnt to disconnect my head from my body. The main thing - it's to lie down undisturbed. And then try to dissolve your body in your mind. I don't feel the pain, but if I moved the pain would come back at once.'

   `Good, you see, you found your own way,' said Andrew, and smiled. `Tell me, how did you manage it?'

   `I've read a book about prisoners. Their punishment was a strait-jacket. The victims learned to disconnect the pain from the brain. Some of them even taunted the guards, requesting them to tie harder knots on the jacket.'

   `Who wrote it?'

   `Jack London. "Strait-jacket", it's called.'

   `Never heard of it.'

   `Andrew, who is your doctor?'

   `The squinty-eyed Rose. Tartar bitch - she's a tricky little madam. She never gets too close to a patient; she always keeps her distance, as if she scared. She thinks we're sick and contagious. The male doctors are more understanding because they're reserved military officers. Nick's doctor said to him openly that in two months time he'll be freed from here. Rose would never say that. There are four doctors in our barrack: three males and Rose.'

   Figures in white gowns began to float across the windows of the other wing of the barrack.

   `The rounds have begun. Soon they'll come here, fucking butchers,' said Andrew.

   `Good, I'll go to my bunk.'

   `After the rounds, come over to Nick's bunk.'

   I lay on the bed and imperceptibly slid into sleep. I awoke to a mighty echoing of locks.

   Three men and one woman in the white gowns entered the hall. Which one is my doctor? Almost a week has passed since I got here. At least they will not prolong the treatment. I hope; but if not: What am I going to do? I can't suffer any more. I'm strained and tortured. I creep like a snail on a tile. My appetite is lost somewhere. Well, with such food it would not come back, I'm sure.

   A female voice called my name. I raised my eyes. A small woman with squinting Tartar eyes looked at me.

   `Hello. My name is Rose Ivanovna. I'm your doctor. How do you feel in yourself? Sick?' Rose asked me.

   Sick? Well, you're sick. I'm not well; I thought to myself and said: `I feel awful. Nearly died yesterday.'

   `You'll not get any more injections. Tomorrow you'll come for your interview,' said Rose and began to walk away.

   `Rose Ivanovna, please, can you transfer me to the other wing?'

   `No, it's impossible. You'll stay in here under observation,' stated Rose.

   `I'm not violent.'

   `Well, we'll have to see,' said Rose, turning on her heel. She walked to the Andrew's bunk. After having a talk with Andrew, she left the hall alone without her colleagues. The rounds were over. I got up from the bed and walked towards the Iconman's bed.

   `What's up, mate?' asked the Iconman.

   `I'm staying here.'

   `What about the injections?'

   `No more, I hope.'

   `Who is your doctor?'

   `Rose.'

   `Oh, the Tartar bitch.'

   Andrew ran to the bed, began to dance the twist. `From Moscow to Kaluga everyone's dancing the boogie-woogie!!' he sang, revelling in the sound to the last phrase. `Tomorrow I'll be on the other wing, at last, freedom!!'

   `I'm going as well,' said the Iconman. `Where is the Vampire? Vampire! Where are you?' bawled the Iconman.

   The Vampire jumped out from his ward with a smile on his face.

   `So, Vampire is everything all right?' asked the Iconman.

   `Yes.'

   `Fine,' said the Iconman, and rubbed his palms. `Listen to me, happy wanderers! Tomorrow, three of us are going to the other wing. So, Vampire, those soldiers who beat you up, are they still there?'

   `Yes, I saw one of them yesterday, through the door.'

   `Good. We'll do him first. Would you like to get even with him, Vampire?' asked the Iconman.

   `O-o, yes!' said the Vampire, like a war-horse rearing at the bugle. .

   `We'll get him in here,' continued the Iconman. `We'll do him first. No one fucks with us. Everything should be all right, brothers!' said the Iconman in avuncular tones. `On the other wing we must find slaves to work for us,' continued the Iconman. `Vampire, you look amongst the loonies. Andrew, check out civilians and soldiers. Wolverine, you're staying here to look after the new arrivals. We'll help you with cigarettes and food. Don't lose the contact with Alex - he can help you.'

   `All right.'

   `And the other thing,' continued the Iconman. `The first day there, we will not speak to each other. Vampire! Did you hear what I said?'

   `Why?' asked the Vampire.

   `To encourage your friend, stupid. You hardly know us. Understand?'

   `Yes.'

   `He is our first target. Well, this is it, mates. I'll think out all the details and will speak to each of you separately,' said the Iconman, falling on his bed with strategic concentration written all over his face.

   We left the headquarters and squatted on Andrew's bunk. The Vampire walked away to his quarter - the adjutant. The Iconman, definitely, is a man of decision: Napoleon without his throne. Well, he'll get it soon in prison. Our "family" is a strange pack of animals: the Vampire is a scavenger, Andrew is a wild cat, and the Iconman is a bear and me, a wolverine. Predators of different kinds.

   `What are you thinking about?' Andrew asked me.

   `About our pack and our leader.'

   `Cut it out, Nick's all right.'

   `I'm not saying that he is not. I'm just thinking, that's all. Listen, where is the toad?'

   `In the crack, where it should be. What bunk will you take, when we've taken off?'

   `I like yours. It's good place.'

   `Listen, I've a hidden hole here.'

   `Where?'

   `In the crack, where the toad is, I've hidden two matches and a broken razor. Don't touch it without needing to, all right?'

   `All right.'

  

   The door lock thundered. The kitchen lackeys dragged the buckets on the dinner table. The meal proved to be edible.

   `What time are you moving tomorrow?' I asked Andrew.

   `After breakfast, I think. Let's go to smoke,' said Andrew and gave me a cigarette.

   The Jackal already was in the toilet. He strolled forwards and backwards along the lofty pedestal of the latrines. The smiling hyena squatted on haunches in the corner and listened his loud speeches. When Alex the Cobra crawled the toilet, the Jackal immediately piped down and cowered under the wall.

   `Hi, pals,' said Alex the Cobra, and lit the cigarette butt.

   He looked different today, trembling like leaf, with reckless eyes. He is without trousers, on his knees - two pentagonal stars, tattoos.

   `Alex, we're moving tomorrow,' said Andrew. `Boris will stay here.'

   `I know. Nick told me,' said Alex the Cobra threw the cigarette butt in the hole and crawled out.

   `What happened to him?' I asked Andrew.

   `Oh, you missed the coliseum show yesterday, Spartacus. Alex ran with a spoon and a basin like a gladiator to defend himself from the orderlies. They beat Alex down with wet towels and overwhelmed him in couple of minutes. Then they shot him in six points and deprived him of privileges.'

   `Why did it happen?'

   `The new jailbird said something to Alex,' said Andrew and motioned with his eyes at the Jackal.

   The Jackal came alive when Alex the Cobra left the toilet. He rose and began to saunter along the pedestal. The orderly opened the door and hustled the Tsar inside the toilet.

   `O-o, my old chap!! How are you?' yapped the Jackal. `Why are you smiling, mother fucker?'

   The Tsar stood his ground and looked up at him with smile on his face. The Jackal approached him and began to wring his hands and talk nonsense.

   `Sing your song, Tsar, dance the twist!' shrieked the Jackal.

   The Tsar climbed on the pedestal and howled: `From Moscow to Kaluga everyone's dancing boogie-woogie.'

   `Bravo!' said the Jackal. `Carry on, Tsar.'

   The Tsar was clearly overweight. His belly was enormous, as if he'd given birth to twins or triplets. When he walked out from the isolation cell, his heavy steps could be heard throughout the toilet.

   `Take it, Tsar,' I gave the Tsar my cigarette butt. The Jackal glanced at me and mumbled something. Andrew gave the Tsar his cigarette too, and we left the toilet.

   `What is he? Clown or something?' I asked Andrew.

   `Clown, cheers up the public.'

   `I see. I'm off to the nurse's office; Tania should have brought the cigarettes.'

   `All right, I'll be on my bunk.'

   I found my way to the office and asked a nurse about cigarettes. She phoned the other wing and said: `Tania brought eight packs. How many do you need?'

   `Four packs, please.'

   `All right, come to me before supper,' said the nurse.

   I left the nurse's office and sat on Andrew's bed.

   `Is everything all right?' asked me Andrew.

   `Yeah, eight packs arrived. Listen, I'll leave three packs for myself, one pack for you and four packs for the family. Is that all right?'

   `Sure, it's all right. We've no cigarettes at all. Go tell Nick.'

   I sidled up to the Iconman's bed and said that four packs were waiting for them on the other wing. He rubbed his palms and promised to send me some food from there. I came back to Andrew and squatted on his bunk.

   `Listen, Andrew, I have to see Rose tomorrow. What is this interrogation about?'

   `Yes, the interrogation. You're unlucky with your doctor, mate.'

   `I stopped believing in luck a long time ago.'

   `First of all she'll ask you, why you tried to commit suicide. Then she'll ask you standard questions: drink, drugs, fights and so on. The trickiest question: Why you do not want to be in the army? Answer that I wanted to, but I could not and then give her a reason, why?'

   `What reason?'

   `Well, say that you could not obey their stupid orders. By the way, tell me how come you slashed your veins?'

   `Oh, it's a long story.'

   `We've time here. Tell me briefly, how it happened?' said Andrew.

   `Well, in my garrison one old soldier did not like me. He always hassled me and tried to put pressure on me. He was a mechanic, always dirty, smelling of oil and petrol. Once, in the canteen, he ordered me to clean his table. I said that it wasn't my responsibility to clean after him. At night, he and his friends woke me up and dragged me to the bog. They kicked me there for half an hour. I though that my balls were smashed. Next day I tracked down this fucking mechanic alone in the garage and nailed him like a fly with a metal bar. I broke his hand and couple of ribs. Then I went to my workshop and slashed my veins.'

   `Why? Why did you do it?'

   `Why? You know, why. His mates would never forget about it. I had no choice. Either they would disable me or I would kill some of them. I didn't want to be castrated. I had three choices: prison, military prison, and madhouse.'

   `Then tell Rose that you had no choice. Do you know, I've been in prison and what I've seen in there is nothing to compete with the fucking army. In the camp people are more helpful and friendly. In the army almost all soldiers are as thick as a plank. What is your rank?'

   `Rank? Are you kidding me? I'm a private. What else could I be?'

   `What did you do in the army?'

   `Not much. I was a painter and decorator.'

   `That's nice! The cushiest profession in the army. Tell me, what happened next?'

   `Well, in a few minutes into my workshop rushed two smelly mechanics. I grabbed a big cobbler's knife, which I used to sharpen pencils, and told them that I'd nail anyone who came near me. One of them immediately ran away. In couple more minute's officers arrived and began to beg me to drop my weapon. I threw the knife down and they jumped on me from everywhere. Still, I managed to punch another mechanic in the nose.'

   `Listen, Wolverine, did you know that you'd get here?'

   `Sure, I knew. I was planning my trip. But I didn't expect that I end up in a loony bin. I thought that they were going to put me in the military hospital.'

   `Draft-dodger! What a cunning bastard you are, Wolverine.'

   `What shall I do, Andrew? I knew that in the army I'd end up a murderer, sooner or later. So as not to be a killer I choose to be insane. To be or not to be? That is the question.'

   `I didn't know that I'd be damped in a madhouse. I used to fight twice a day with soldiers. Once they cuffed me and brought here. What did you do outside?' asked Andrew and smiled. `Just don't give me the same shit that you've told the Vampire.'

   `What did I do? Not much.'

   `Have you got friends?'

   `Not really. I don't understand the meaning of this word, "friends". I had a lot of mates but I never considered them my friends. Dogs are your friends. They don't betray you.'

   `Have you got a dog?'

   `No, I don't need friends.'

   `I see, you're the lone wolverine,' said Andrew, and grinned.

   `Who knows? I might have been a wolverine in a previous life.'

   `In what sort of company, have you mixed?'

   `Oh, company? Well, I've been in different flocks and packs. I didn't like any of them. Everywhere: leaders, authorities, the hierarchy. I don't like it at all. Look, even here, in this cursed place, it's still is what happens.'

   `Yeah, but in such places, it's better to be in the "family", then be a loner, Wolverine.'

   `Yes, I know. So, what shall I tell Rose?'

   `Tell her that you couldn't obey the stupid orders. I told her that I wouldn't obey, either. That is my problem - disobedience.'

   `Okay, I'll think it over. I'll go to bed now; don't feel well.'

   I lay on the bed, pulled the blanket over my head and immediately fell asleep. I woke up before supper. In the hall the same picture - the neon paradise with rabid bees. What shall I tell Rose? If I tell her the truth, what I think about the army and our country, she'll keep me here indefinitely. I should be careful, in what I say.

   Before supper I went to the nurse's office and took two packs of Bulgarian cigarettes. You have no pockets, no possessions, and no nothing in here. If I place the packs under my mattress, they'll definitely burst or the spotted hyenas will steal them in the night. I hid two packs in my shorts and left the nurse's office.

   In the hall only Alex the Cobra has the pillow and the bed sheets. Also he's pockets in his pajama trousers. Privileges - for the permanent resident. His bed was the Aladdin's cave and a mystery for everyone, - the Cobra's nest. For four years he hid there cigarettes, matches, drugs, needles - everything that it was possible to snatch here. There were rumours that he had a screwdriver in the mattress. I decided to give Alex the Cobra one pack of cigarettes. I took three cigarettes from the pack, pushed them under the mattress and sidled to Alex the Cobra.

   `I got some fags, but I've no place to hide them. Take half of them for yourself - and can you keep mine in your safe place?' I asked him.

   `No problem, pal, it's safe as in the bank,' he said and smuggled the pack inside his pillowcase.

  

   I gave Andrew another pack. After supper our "clan" went to the toilet and smoked good quality cigarettes, with filters. A squadron of hyenas strolled into the toilet. They squatted in the corner and smoked one cigarette, for all of them. I asked Alex the Cobra to give them cigarettes from my ration. Hyenas appreciated the cigarettes; they silently nodded in acknowledgement of my generous gift. All the patients on our wing of the barrack usually smoked two types of cigarettes, neither with a filter.

   I left the toilet and settled on Andrew's bed.

   `You've lost some weight, brother,' said Andrew.

   `I can't eat this shit.'

   `I lost a lot of weight as well, after the treatment. But don't worry. In a few days you'll come round. When I get home, I go to the gym straight away. What are you going to do? Asked Andrew.

   `I don't know. I don't make plans."

   `Before my conviction I was always in the gym. And after the gym, we'd go to another district to fight with the neighbors. Did you fight a lot?'

   `Often, especially in the school and in my neighborhood. As a rule, I don't like to fight. I always tried to avoid it. I don't see the point in fighting. Older mates in my neighbourhood often tried to set up a punch-up between me and another boy. I always refused to fight for them. Occasionally they sent some boys to beat me up and I had no choice. I fought. In due time I paid them all back.'

   `You're quite the avenger,' said Andrew, and smiled.

   `No, I don't like vendettas. I paid my dues to them that are all. Most of the older mates hated me. Very often they hunted me down like an animal. I ran to my granny and hid behind her back. It made a charming picture. My grandmother looked like an Indian combat elephant; she defended me like a champion with a heavy stick. I hid behind her back and ambushed our attackers from there. I'd use my granny as a shield. She loved me very much, my granny. I was like a baby elephant hunted by mad dogs.'

   `Baby elephant,' grinned Andrew. `And how you're this cunning wolverine. Is your granny alive?'

   `No, she died, three years ago.'

   `What did you want to be when you were a boy?'

   `What? Well... I wanted to be a fighter pilot in the First World War, like the Red Baron.'

   `Who is the Red Baron?'

   `A German pilot.'

   `Why in the First World War? Why not now?' asked Andrew with smile.

   `I like the planes in the First World War. The design was good. When I told this to my teachers, they looked at me as if I were the stupidest one in the school.'

   `Good! Good, tell this to Rose, she'll be pleased to hear it,' said Andrew and guffawed. `You'll be discharged immediately without further examination,' giggled Andrew. `Red Baron the Second, deep in Russia. Listen, listen, there are some rumours that the first cosmonaut, Yuri Gagarin, is somewhere here as well.'

   `Yeah, he's definitely here, in the isolation cell with the Tsar. Look, our Hitler is Gagarin. Yes. I remember the rumours that the KGB hid Gagarin in a madhouse. All heroes must die young so as not to be disgraced.'

   `Yes, it's possible that he's alive. Who knows?' said Andrew.

   `Do you know that Gagarin is an English Knight?'

   `Really?'

   `Yes, Queen Elisabeth the Second gave him a knighthood. He climbed so high and plummeted so low. Such is life. How come I've never seen Hitler in the bog?'

   `The orderlies let him out from the cell when he wants. I think, he likes to be there. Safer than here,' said Andrew.

  

   ***

   On Friday, after breakfast, the "clan" began to move out. The orderly brought them pajamas and leather slippers.

   `Oh, such familiar slippers, made in prison,' announced the Iconman, and inspected the slippers. `And the serial number is one we know. Made in a prison in Siberia.'

   We shook each other's hand and the squadron began to leave the hall separately according to plan. Good luck to one and all - a wild bunch!!!

   I moved my sleeping gear on to Andrew's bed and lay down. The place was cosy. In the corner near the window. No more traffic with psychos - and off the beaten track. The garden and the windows of other wing are clearly visible. I can watch TV in the evening. Andrew used to stare through the window on the other wing. The TV was barely visible, but still, it's fun to watch. One of the newly arrived convicts (not the Jackal) lay on the Iconman's bed.

   The nurse bellowed my name. I entered the nurse's office and asked: `What is the matter?'

   `Let me remove your stitches,' said the nurse. I sat on the chair and gave her my hand. She rapidly clipped the threads. The wound seemed healed.

  

   After dinner the orderly gave me the uniform pajamas and slippers. I dressed and we left the hall. The other wing was enormous, and aired. Our hall had not been ventilated for hundred years or two. We passed four doors and entered the Doctor's office on the first floor of the barrack.

   `Hello. Sit down,' said Rose.

   I sat on the chair. The orderly stood behind me and folded his arms.

   `Now, we'll have a little talk,' said Rose with an expression of child like beatitude on her face. `I'll ask you questions, and you'll answer. Please, answer straight. All right.'

   `Right.'

   `Why did you want to kill yourself?'

   `I was tired.'

   `Tired? Of what? Permit me to ask you,' said Rose with an uncomprehending expression on her face.

   `I was sick and tired of the army.'

   `I see. So you don't want to do your duty for your country. Why not?' asked Rose and she stared at me.

   `No, you misunderstand. I want to be in an army with proper laws and conditions. I'll not take bullying from older soldiers. And I'll not kill people on someone else's order.'

   `Yes, I know, you've almost killed a soldier in your garrison.'

   `Well, on the previous night, he and his friends kicked me in the toilet for half an hour. They're to blame, for what happened to him and to me.'

   `Why didn't you report this accident to your superior officer?'

   `Why? I don't complain. I've always managed my problems, myself.'

   `Yes, I see. You managed him and then you tried to manage yourself.'

   `Yes.'

   `Why?'

   `It's difficult to explain. This time I had no choice.'

   `I see.'

   Rose asked me a lot of routine questions about my bad habits. At the end of interrogation she stated: `You're a troublemaker, I can see it clearly. You beat a patient on your first day.'

   `I defended myself. He bit me and I punched him, once. What could I do?'

   `Yes, I see self-defense.'

   `Of course.'

   `I'd like to warn you, self-defender. If you rock the boat in here, you'll be punished for it, on the spot. And if you would like to send a letter home, please don't seal the envelope. All correspondence is checked. Is that clear?'

   `Yes, crystal clear.'

   `Okay, now you can go,' said Rose.

  

   All was quiet on the other wing of the barrack. After dinner, a leisure hour. In our hall we're always in "happy hours". The floor is shining: the door in the garden is open: the orderly stands in the door way and smokes. I entered the dark side and immediately I felt the difference in the air. A rotten hole with rabid animals. They had never ever changed the air in here. Without question, there can be no doors out of here. All doors point inwards.

   After supper the Jackal sat on my bed without asking.

   `Hey, mate, let's swap bunks,' suggested the Jackal.

   `No, it's not mine to change.'

   `Whose is it, then?'

   `It's a hospital bunk. I'm the lodger here,' I said, and looked into his eyes.

   The Jackal was slightly bigger than me; he was around thirty years old. A man. I was a skinny nineteen year-old boy, almost disabled after my treatment. I should wrestle him and try to break his neck. For a couple of seconds we looked into each other eyes, attempting to see the fear inside.

   `Hey, boy, get the fuck out of here,' said the Jackal, and gesticulated with his fingers.

   `I'm not moving, pal. Find yourself another spot. It's my squat,' I said, and I prepared to leap.

   `Hey! You! What do you want?' bawled Alex the Cobra and emerged near us. `Who are you? Passenger!'

   The Jackal jumped from the bunk and walked away.

   `What's up, pal? What happened?' Alex the Cobra asked me.

   `He wanted to swap bunks.'

   `Ah, go swap with the Tsar,' said Alex the Cobra to the Jackal.

  

   ***

   On Saturday the door from the other wing opened wide and two orderlies pushed inside a young fellow with blood on his face. The "clan" began to function. The soldier victim was placed in the loony's ward and was given one millilitre of aminazin for sedation.

   Time is a blur in the hall. I don't feel myself well, always sleepy, sticky; my ass became a cobblestone road. An abscess. The pain hid deep inside my body, like a partisan. Any movement caused a dull ache within my spine. A noble treatment. Most of the time I lay on the bed. Drifted like a ghost ship, - from anywhere to nowhere. My appetite hasn't come back at all. I lost all my desires, even cigarettes disgusted me. On Saturday, the whole day long, I stared into the garden. An Indian summer is coming. In the garden near the fence stood an enormous maple tree. The wind tears away the leaves from its crown and takes them away far beyond the horizon. Near the porch into the other wing, these popped up from amongst the green grass the statue of a hare. A strange creature. When I saw it at the first time I thought that it was for real.

  

   On Sunday Panteleich is on duty. After dinner Andrew visited our wing. He brought two cakes and a packet of milk. I ate the cake with pleasure and washed it down with milk. Immediately in my stomach began a private revolution - a peasant's revolt of the guts. Alex the Cobra gulped down the cake and finished the milk in two swallows.

   `How is this soldier, who came yesterday?' inquired Andrew.

   `Hiding in his hut.'

   `Okay, I'd better be off, then. If you need anything, let me know,' said Andrew and left.

   `Let's go for a smoke,' said Alex the Cobra.

   The toilet is empty... Strange...

   `Andrew told me that you're from Rostov?' Alex the Cobra asked me.

   `Yes.'

   `I was born there. Later I moved to Krasnodar.'

   `Listen, Alex, what is Panteleich doing here? Who is he?'

   `Panteleich? He is all right. I respect him. He is probably the one human being amongst us. He lives in the city and works at the metallurgical plant. He needs the money that is why he works part time here. He has got a big family, two children, two grandparents and a fancy wife. He always complained about her. He works like a slave and she cheated on him with other men. Fucking life.'

   `I see. Alex, what shall I do with my cobblestone ass?'

   `Go to the nurse and ask her to suck it,' he said, and laughed.

   `No, seriously,' I said, and imagined how the nurse might suck the sulphazin from my rear.

   `Ask her to draw an iodine grid on your ass, it will help.'

   I went to the nurse's office and asked the nurse politely: `Can you draw me a grid on my buttocks? Please.'

   `Come later, after supper, all right?' said the nurse.

   After supper, she painted an iodine chessboard.

  

   On Monday after breakfast, the orderly counted the spoons and glanced at us with bewilderment. He counted them again and howled: `Fucking bastards!!! Where is the spoon?'

   `It's begun,' said Alex the Cobra and bawled more loudly, `Nutters! Who swiped the spoon?'

   The orderly began to swing a towel above his head.

   `Strip to your asses, freaks,' yelled the orderly.

   All of us kept silent and looked around. Alex the Cobra stood up from the table, pulled down his trousers, showed to the orderlies his bony ass and lay on the bed. I rose from the table, pulled down my shorts, stood a few seconds and went to the bed. Two convicts also showed to the orderlies their thin, bony asses and went to their hut. The psychos didn't want to do anything. The orderly forced them, one by one, to strip off. He looked up their holes but no spoon was there.

   `Look carefully, the spoon must be in there,' said Alex the Cobra to the orderly and loudly laughed. `Come on, you bastards, give up the spoon. I want a piss.'

   The Mongol-mop said something to the orderlies and pointed his finger at one schizophrenic, who sat at the end of bench, smiling and staring around. The orderlies grabbed him and stripped him. They checked every nook and cranny but the spoon wasn't found. How is it possible to swallow a spoon? I sidled up to Alex the Cobra and asked: `What will they do to him?'

   `They'll transfer him to the surgical department. The spoon eater.'

   The lock in the hatch began to clink. Two tall orderlies emerged from hatchway. They marched into the nurse's office. After a few seconds they dragged the spoon-eater into the hatchway to heaven. The orderly opened the toilet. I slunk inside and lit a fag.

   `What is going to happen to him?' I asked Alex the Cobra.

   `I don't know. If the spoon is there, they'll get it back.'

   `How?'

   `They'll cut into his stomach. For them it's the only way out of here.'

   `I see.'

  

   On Tuesday two convicts were taken away from the ward. They were actually very sick. I saw them couple of times in the toilet. One had chronic Parkinson's disease. Another one was clearly a schizophrenic, always smiling and talking to himself. They never sat at the dinner table, they ate in the ward.

   `What will happen to them?' I asked Alex the Cobra.

   `Guinea pigs. They're going to the special institution. From there no one comes out alive.'

   Before dinner the hatch lock began to clank. Two young fellows emerged from the hatchway. They looked ridiculous - as skinny, frightened and confused as I was when I got here. Soldiers... One of them was tall, thin, narrow-shouldered, in glasses with thick lenses, - Mummy's Boy, from his intellectual family. The second was clearly an idiot - a miscarriage that had survived: saved by doctors. He looked awful, pretty awful, like a smeared fat blob, a foetus. He had a fresh scar on his neck.

   After dinner the Mummy's Boy approached me in the toilet and said that he was sent here from another galaxy in order to take us away from here. I listened to this nonsense and asked him: `Which galaxy are you come from, nomad?'

   `I come... I come from Alpha Centauri.'

   `I see. Long way from home. By the way, I come from misty Andromeda. We're all here, illegal aliens. Do you know that Gagarin is also here, with Hitler? They share the same isolation cell.'

   `Really?' said the Mummy's Boy with incredulity, and he smiled.

   `Really, really, truly, truly! You've read too much Ray Bradbury, mate,' I said to him and looked in his eyes. He looked confused and walked out from the toilet. After a couple of minutes the Foetus sneaked into the toilet. He climbed on the pedestal and began to piss, looking from side to side. On his way out he was in such a hurry that he stepped on my foot and fled without an apology. I didn't anticipate that such accident could occur in here. Well, accidents happen. I forgave him for that.

   After supper the Foetus rushed into the toilet and again, as if on purpose, stepped on my foot. That was over the limit. I couldn't take it any more. I slapped him.

   `What's the matter?' he asked and looked at me in bewilderment.

   `What are you, fuck, and blind? Don't you see where you're going?'

   `I'm... I'm... I, `mumbled the Abortion-that-lived. `No, I'm not blind.'

   `Then why are you walking on my feet, stupid?'

   `I didn't notice you.'

   `That's the second time you didn't see me.'

   `Look, nothing happened,' he said, and smiled amiably. `I didn't do it on purpose. I swear.'

   After such an apology I gave him a great slap on his ear.

   `You, stupid baby! I'll break your legs next time. Never come near me, never,' I spat at him.

   The Foetus gripped his ear, trembled like a leaf, shed a tear from his milky eyes and jumped out of the toilet. He slunk towards the orderly and said something to him. The orderly looked at him, then at the toilet door, smiled and apparently advised him to piss off. The Foetus spun on his heel, away from the orderly and ran with tears on his face into the corridor. Fucking nark!

  

   On Wednesday I woke up early in the morning. The hall was asleep. The orderly laid his head on the table and peacefully snored. I quickly dived under the bed and looked for the hiding hole. I saw the crack in the corner. From the very top of crack projected a small piece of foil. I pulled the foil and unfolded a small pack. Two matches and one half of razor lay there. I covered the contents neatly in the foil and pushed it back. Suddenly, at the bottom of crack, I saw the toad. I touched her by my finger and the toad recoiled. Alive. I turned up on the bed and looked around. Everything all right.

   The bathing orderlies arrived after breakfast. I visited the barber and went to the shower cabin. For a couple of minutes I stood in there and enjoyed the water. I'd lost some weight, my arms and legs were like a matches, my stomach hollowed, the curves of my buttocks barely defined. The bathing orderly stood with the towel and pushed patients in the cabins. The barber is a sadist. He shaves the psychos without soap foam. When he sheared their hair, he held each maniac by the ear and rotated him. They'd come out from the barber with blood on their faces and the hair cut like a chess board.

   `What are you, dead there, boy?' yelled the orderly. I came out off the cabin and walked into the hall.

  

   With nervous impatience I wait for the doctor's rounds. The lock began to clank. People in white gowns entered into the hall. Rose immediately bolted away to the wards. At the end she approached me and said: `Hello. How do you feel yourself?'

   `Better.'

   `I've received your file from the garrison. After dinner come to my office, and we'll talk.'

   `All right. When will I be transferred to the other wing?'

   `We'll talk about it in the office. Okay?' said Rose and she walked out of the hall.

   After dinner I dressed and marched out of the hall with an orderly. We entered the office. Rose was preoccupied with her writing. I approached her and stood for couple of seconds, blankly looking at her.

   `Sit down,' said Rose and continued to write.

   I sat on the chair. Rose stopped writing, took off her glasses and asked: `From your file I see that you've been in a car accident?'

   `Yes.'

   `How did you feel after that?'

   `I don't remember. I was seven years old.'

   `Did you have headaches?'

   `Yes, I did.'

   My entire fucking life is headaches, I thought to myself.

   `I see,' said Rose. `According to your file you were always an aggressive and undisciplined young man.'

   I looked into her Tartar eyes. She began to bustle, nervously folded her arms and averted her gaze. She's clearly a sick woman. No eye contact. Still, a good doctor should be a little schizophrenic.

   `So, I've postponed your departure to the other wing of the barrack,' said Rose with irritation in her tone.

   `Why?'

   `Because with your references, you should be in prison, not in the army.'

   `Whatever you say,' I said and averted my eyes.

   `I'm afraid that you'll disrupt discipline on the other wing,' said Rose more calmly.

   `I will not. I'll give you my word for it. You can ask the medical staff about me. I'm not a violent person,' I mumbled in a tone of deep offence.

   `All right, all right. You'll stay for three days more. If everything is all right, on Monday you can move to the other wing.'

   `Thank you,' I mumbled.

   `You can go now,' said Rose.

   I rose from the chair and left the office, without having looked at Rose. She is clearly ill, neurotic Rose. Three days more! I'll putrefy in this psychotic cave. Well, there is not much I can do. I hope nothing is going to happen in three days.

   On the other wing Andrew suddenly appeared and asked: `When?'

   `Rose said on Monday.'

   `I'll come to see you off.'

  

   ***

   Time has stopped still in here. Always the same: routines and timetables. Sometimes it seems to me that I've a bedsore over my body from lying so long on a bed.

   On Friday, the whole day the door flapped and the lock rattled like a Kalashnikov. What is going on? The Mummy's Boy and the Foetus have been transferred to the other wing of the barrack. Fewer people - it's easier to breathe. On weekends, in the hall, a very calm and quiet atmosphere. No one shouts or moans. Even the Asian soldier stopped his praying. Instead, he looking at one point on the ceiling and keeping silent. Rakhim hides in his ward, avoiding any encounter with me; although I've no intention of taking revenge on him. What happened happened - there's no way back. Apparently on Friday some soldiers had their medical assessment board. Rakhim and the other Asian were taken away in pajamas. The sudden silence of the Asian boy greatly agitated Alex the Cobra. Their beds stood not far apart and Alex the Cobra was always disturbed by muttering and the prayers of this bloke. On Sunday after supper the Asian fellow entered the toilet without protection of an orderly. He climbed on the pedestal of loo and began to piss.

   `Hey, you! Muslim,' yelled Alex the Cobra. `All this time you've been fucking praying, mumbling. And after that assessment you suddenly stopped,' hissed Alex the Cobra and crawled to the boy. `You'll never come alive out of here, mother fucker,' yelled Alex the Cobra, and shoved him.

   The Asian fellow didn't finish his leak and tried to escape. But in his way stood the Jackal.

   `Oh, fucking Muslim!' yelled the Jackal, and punched him in the chest. The Asian fall on the knees, pissed his underpants, and began to pray: `Allah... Allah.'

   `What the fuck! There's no Allah in here,' yelled the Jackal. Then he gripped the Asian by the ear, lifted him from the knees and kicked him out from the toilet.

   The Asian soldiers, who fell into this place, were treated like pigs. No one liked them. The medical staff very often looked the other way and let us humiliates them. The Asians always stayed on this wing of the barrack. On the other wing they could be nailed easily.

  

   On Sunday, instead of Panteleich, on duty was the Bo' sun. Therefore, all was shipshape. After dinner the hall suddenly became very quiet. Something is wrong. Why is it so quiet? What is going on? Outside, the window was an Indian summer in its fullness. Flocks of birds gathered in the garden. As quiet as the grave. The sun light flooded into the hall like a gold river. The air was chilly, without a sound. What is going on? I looked at the ceiling. The neon lamps do not buzz any more. This is why, so quiet. Why is the Bo' sun switched off the light? Is it an order? Or his wish? The patients are resting, bathing in the gold river of the sun, preparing for tomorrow. Monday is always a very difficult day. It's good that the Bo' sun turned off the light. The constant hum in my ears had gone. I lay on the bunk and watched the silent film through the window. The maple tree burns like a fire-ball. Why did it grow up here, in this cursed place? A fine tree - healthy and beautiful. When all the leaves have fallen, I should be free from here. This is my one, my only desire. The Bo' sun apparently forgot about the light. He silently sat at his post and fixedly stared through the windows. Good. Evidently he is not on duty. In some deep meditation. Without noticing, I too slide into a strange dream.

   Dream: On the scorched steppes skips a rider on the black horse with white spots. He was dressed richly: a black leather amour, trimmed with expensive furs and golden thread. He bore a strange metallic helmet, draped with the head of some predatory animal. The harness on his horse was black. The rider and the horse merged into one solid slab. They are galloping towards the wing and leapt onto the hillside. Infinity of steppes was filled by people, horses and military paraphernalia.

   `Khan!!!' exclaimed the crowd.

   The horse shuddered, reared and neighed.

   I woke up drenched in burning sweat. What was it? A dream? I looked into the window. The fiery sunset like a Red Indian's face shone through the windows. I love the Indian summer, the most beautiful time of the year. I'd seen the same sunset in my previous dreams under the sulphazin.

   Another dream: On a dusty avenue under a shady chestnut tree, on the bench sat an elderly man. His face and head were smoothly shaved, and gleaned in the solar rays, which break through the magnificent treetops. The stranger has a broad forehead and thick black eyebrows, which lace his hazel eyes. He dressed simply: white shirt and dark summer suit. In the small urban area opposite the avenue stood the tent of a traveling circus. Near the circus run children and spray each other with water-pistols. The red sun sinks beyond the horizon. The whole town lay flooded with pure gold. The children are golden red, only the stranger sat in the shadow of tree and smiled.

   In the last dream under the sulphazin I saw the same place again. This time the stranger was I, myself. I sat in the same place and watched the sky. The bloody sun slowly coming down, the thunderstorm clouds enveloped the sky. It smells of thunderstorms. The town is dying, buried under dust. The circus is leaving, packing their tents. On a dusty avenue the breezes are gathering into the flocks and racing each other on the dust. All is muted in the expectation of the storm to come. Even the birds keep silent. After packing its tents, the circus silently left the town. The first great drops of rain fall into the summer dust and burst like a grenade. I looked at the stormy sky and sighed from the depths of my being.

   Wicked dreams. I didn't understand where it was. Who was this stranger? Why in the first dream I was observing him. In the second dream I looked through his eyes. In the Jack London book, the prisoners flew out of their bodies and travelled through time. In my case I don't know. Maybe, these dreams were some kind of journey in time? But where? Into the future? Or the past? It's difficult to tell. And this dream about the Khan, a weird one. The Bo' sun turned on the light.

  

   On Monday, the Foetus and the Mummy's Boy dragged the buckets with food on to the dinner table. New kitchen lackeys for a shameful job. Well, the Mummy's Boy is all right, but the abortion-that-lived never heard of personal hygiene. I would never ever have allowed such a person near a kitchen.

   After breakfast I approached the nurse and asked: "Do you know when I'm off to the other side?

   `I've no idea,' said the nurse. `I've no orders from above.'

   `Can you ask Rose Ivanovna about it?'

   `She is not in the barrack at the moment. She is at a meeting in the clinic.'

   `Can you ask her when she's returned?'

   `All right, come after dinner.'

   I went to the toilet and smoked in silence. How long must I stay here? Alex the Cobra crawled into the toilet and asked me: `When are you going to move?'

   `I don't know. Rose is in this meeting.'

   `Listen, pal, be careful on the other wing. I've been there for couple of times - dump place! Too many pigs and narks. So, there's always a boiling point. You can get into trouble there easily. In here everything is moribund.'

   `I'll try to keep out of the shit.'

  

   Dinner. Andrew appeared at the door and waved his hand.

   `When are you going to across?' asked Andrew.

   `I hope, after dinner.'

   `Good. I'll come to see you off.'

   After dinner I approached the nurse and asked about my transfer.

   `Go to the orderly and get clothes,' said the nurse.

   Sheer happiness soared within me at this phrase. I'm going to the other wing! I'll be free, freed from the constant buzz of lamps and the vigilant eye of orderlies. It's not freedom, but still it's better than to be here. I dressed eagerly and came to Alex the Cobra.

   `Well, I'm off.'

   `Good luck, pal,' said Alex the Cobra. `Be careful there.'

   `I'll try.'

   `Listen, if you can send me some cigarettes from there, I'd appreciate it.'

   `Okay, take my cigarettes.'

   I gave him those that remained.

   `Thanks pal,' said Alex the Cobra, and shook my hand.

   I approached the door, the orderly opened it, and I stepped into the other wing of the barrack.

  

  

   Chapter 4

  

   The other wing

  

   At the door Andrew was waiting for me.

   `Hi, Wolverine,' he called. `How are you, brother?'

   `I'm all right.'

   `We arranged a bunk for you, in our hut.'

   `Fine.'

   We crossed a big dining hall and entered in a ward with a massive wooden door. The dormitory was large and spacious. Two huge windows illuminated the room brightly. Along the walls stood ten beds in two rows. In the passages between the bunks stood lockers without doors. In the two beds on the right row slept two patients, swathing their heads with a blanket.

   `This is your bunk, near mine,' said Andrew, and pointed at the second bed from the window. There lay bed linen, a towel and a thin pillow.

   The Iconman and the Vampire rushed into the ward.

   `Hi, Wolfie!' said the Iconman. 'What kept you so long?'

   `Rose didn't want to transfer me.'

   `Fucking bitch! Andrew explained the house rules,' said the Iconman, and fell on the bed near the second window. The Vampire growled something and lay next to the Iconman. I made my bed and lay down.

   `What are the rules here?' I whispered.

   `The rules? Well, much better than in there. You can speak out loud if you want,' said Andrew. `The bog is open all the time; smoke as much as you want. The dormitory they keep closed during the day. After dinner the huts are open for two hours - leisure time.'

   `Why do they close the wards?'

   `Scared of a riot.'

   `Riots? What kind of people are in here, Andrew?'

   `The soldiers are rats and narks. Last week two more of them arrived from the other wing. Do you know them?'

   `Yes, I know them.'

   `One of them sleeps in our ward,' said Andrew. `Nick took them to our family, and fixed it for them to work on the kitchen. New kitchen lackeys!'

   `Where are the old ones?'

   `Freshly discharged.'

   `Do you know that the one in glasses is from another galaxy?'

   `Really? said Andrew and laughed. `Nice, an alien! Good for him!'

   `He is a Mummy's Boy. And the other one is the fucking nark! The Foetus!'

   `Yeah, I know, he tried to sing in here as well. Nick squeezed him like a lemon in the bog. What did you call him?'

   `The Foetus.'

   `Oh, definitely! It suits him down to the ground.'

   `Can you imagine, Andrew, he trod twice on my foot in the bog?'

   `Really?'

   Yeah.'

   `Well, forget about it. We get good food now from the kitchen. Also we've one loony in the family. He is working for us - work-therapy, you know. And one soldier, he is the local alcoholic. His mother visits him every week and brings tasty snacks.'

   `Listen, I see lockers in here. Are we allowed possessions?'

   `Yes, some toilet stuff they allow us to keep in here. Civilians have an electric shaver, if you need one. They even have a guitar in the nurse's office. Do you play?'

   `No. Have you been outside?'

   `Yeah, once. They don't like to let soldiers and convicts go out, but sometimes they do allow soldiers out to work. Jailbirds stay in the hall all the time, no exceptions. Their ward is closed all the time, as well.'

   `Why are they doing that, closing the dormitory?'

   `Why? Well, they want to see us in the hall. Afraid that we'll kill each other inside.'

   `Stupid bastards! So, all day I have to be in the hall or in the corridor?'

   `Yeah, correct!' said Andrew. `Don't worry about it, brother. We've a lovely couch in the hall.'

   `Okay. What about the kitchen lackeys, do they go out?'

   `Yes, they go out three times a day to collect our food.'

   `I see. What about civilians?'

   `Many civilians works outside, but some of them stay in the hall.'

   `What about psychos?'

   `Not so many of them around, on this wing. Here we've loonies and zombies: they're peaceful and quiet. All your maniacs are in the other wing.'

   `I see.'

   `Listen, listen,' said Andrew, and smiled. `There are rumours that one civilian killed his wife and salted her dismembered body in the barrel.'

   `Salted?'

   `Yeah, he killed her accidentally and then decided to play insanity.'

   `What a charming man, this wife-eater!'

   `Yeah, his neighbours were asking him: where is the wife? Where is she? He laughed and told them that she was in the brine.'

   `He should have tried out her pickle on the neighbours. In that case he would be definitely banged up as insane. Is he in our hut?'

   `No, no,' said Andrew. `In our hut we've three civilians, one loony and one zombie. Civilians are all right, not cannibals, they're working at the moment. The mental cases are sleeping in there,' said Andrew and gestured with his eyes to the corner of opposite row.

   Three beds in our row were empty and neatly kitted out. The Foetus strolled into the ward and lay on an empty bed in the opposite row.

   `Where is your mate, who was here earlier?' I asked Andrew.

   `He is out in the big bad world now. Last week he was discharged from the army. Nick and Vampire had the assessment board last Friday. Soon we'll know what kind of diagnosis they get.'

   `What are they asking, at the assessment board? And what kind of diagnosis?'

   `The same questions as Rose asked you. Labels are different; it depends on your illness. Vampire will probably get 1B - oligophrenia or child brain. Nick will get 7B - a psychopath. 7B the most popular label, probably you'll get it.'

   `When will I go to the assessment board?'

   `About two weeks' time. We should have our assessment at the same time.'

   `How long are they going to keep us here, Andrew?'

   `After the assessment, they'll send a letter to your garrison. In three weeks' time they'll come to collect you.'

   `Are they going to discharged us from the army?'

   `You bet your life. Don't worry about it.'

  

   After our leisure hour the orderlies threw us out of the dormitory and locked the door.

   `Let's go to our couch,' said Andrew.

   On the couch near the window lay the Iconman, looking on the ceiling.

   `Let's keep near the door,' I suggested to Andrew.

   `Okay.'

   We stood near the door into the garden. The dining hall was big and spacious. Four enormous windows looked onto the garden. Ten tables, for four persons each, stood in the dining hall. Chairs were placed upside down on the tables. Three rows of neon lights hung on the ceiling and hummed like a mighty flock of bees. Two long rectangular columns separated the dining hall from the wards. On the left wall hung an armoured box with a lock, and above the box a wall-clock. On the right wall - a feeding trough beneath the wooden hatch to the kitchen. The sounds of an aluminium jazz-symphony of spoons and basins emanated from there. Not far from the door into the other wing sat an orderly. The air in the hall was much fresher. After the rotten hole I felt myself once more, as I always did in the mountains.

   `Let's go smoke in the bog,' said Andrew.

   We crossed the dining hall and entered a corridor with a small window at the end.

   `What are those wards?' I asked Andrew.

   `Nurse's office and storerooms.'

   The Vampire and an unfamiliar fellow with unhealthy bloom on his face left the toilet and went into the hall. The toilet was a slightly bigger than on the other wing. A small window without glass, with a metallic grid looked into the garden. The same pedestal: with two holes instead of toilet sets and the same rusty hand sink hung on the wall. Andrew gave me a cigarette and said: `Now we've no problems with fags. Toad earns one pack each day on his work-therapy.'

   `What Toad?' I asked with bewilderment.

   `The loony from our hut. I told you, his nickname is Toad.'

   `In there the toad lives in the crack and in here in our hut. What the fuck is this? Hospital or terrarium?'

   `By the way, did you check the hidden hole?' asked Andrew.

   `Yeah, everything's all right, the packs in place and the toad's in deep hibernation. Why those people following us?'

   `Who?'

   `Reptiles.'

   `I don't know,' said Andrew, and smiled. `They live in the corner; our Toad has his own corner in the corridor. He stands there all the time - his burrow.'

   `How many huts in here?'

   `Four. The first hut is for jailbirds and civilian wife-eaters, the second hut is ours, the third ones for civilians and the fourth for loonies and zombies. They mixed soldiers in different huts. They wanted to put you into the civilian hut. I sorted this problem out with Horse.'

   `With who?'

   `Nursey-horsy. She is the head nurse in here,' said Andrew. `Okay, let's go for a lie-down.'

  

   On the couch near the window sat the Iconman, the Vampire and the fellow with unhealthy complexion. The Iconman twanged on the guitar and sang a sentimental prison song about an escape from Siberia.

   `Oh, railroad to Taiga and rhythm of wheels raps the way,' sang the Iconman.

   The Vampire gazed at him like a son, with the sympathy and understanding.

   `I won't forget this. Never ever in my life,' sang the Iconman on the higher notes.

   We sat on the couch. The fellow with unhealthy bloom stretched out his hand and said quietly: `My name is Alexei.'

   The Iconman stopped playing, glimpsed at Alexei and sang: `You're a Cuckoo, not Alexei. Cuckoo!!! Stupid cuckoo!!!'

   I shook Alexei's hand and said: `My name is Boris.'

   `You're the Wolfie, not Boris,' sang the Iconman, and laughed. `What a wild pack we've here,' giggled the Iconman.

   The kitchen window opened with a commotion. Supper. Patients began to arrange their chairs and sat at the tables.

   `Is there a space on your table?' I asked Andrew.

   `No, sit next to our table, there is a space there,' said Andrew, and pointed at the table. I sat in the vacant place and glanced around. Two men even didn't look at me. They looked down at the table and kept silent. The third person sitting opposite me looked at me with a smile and merry eyes. He was funny; he was blowing his cheeks and making a strange quacking sound as he released the air. The kitchen lackeys spread basins and other utensils on the tables.

   `Hey, Wolverine,' said Andrew. `Meet our Toad. Come on, Toad, croak! croak!'

   The Toad smiled and croaked, more like barking.

  

   After supper the entire pack assembled on our couch. In half an hour I got bored of the Iconman's stories about dreadful thieves. I took a cigarette from Andrew and went to the toilet. A few minutes later Alexei joined me. He approached me and asked: `Are you soldier, Boris?'

   `Sure.'

   `Me too. Why are you here?

   `I slashed my veins.'

   `I'm an alcoholic,' said Alexei with a shy smile.

   `Are you really an alkie?'

   `Yes, I'm an alcoholic from childhood.'

   `How did it happen?'

   `My parents hired a baby-sitter. She gave me a beer instead of milk. I slept well after that.'

   `What, your parents didn't notice?'

   `They were too busy with their career. When they found out it was too late. I became an alcoholic.'

   `Why did they put you in the army? You shouldn't be in the army.'

   `Yeah, yeah, well, my parents thought that the army would change me.'

   `In what way?'

   `I don't know. I even didn't take the military oath. On the second week of my duty I drank antifreeze and they brought me here.'

   `I see. Have you been on the other wing of the barrack?'

   `No, I was put straight in here, the fourth ward.'

   We finished smoking and left the toilet. The Toad stood in the corner opposite the toilet door and looked at the patients who floated in the corridor like zombies. The patients in the hall were arranging the chairs around the TV cabinet. The orderly unlocked the cabinet, opened the door, and switched on the TV. On the two tables near the orderly post, sat men playing dominoes. About nine in the evening the orderly opened our dormitory and off I went to bed.

  

  

   ***

   I woke up early in the morning. The ward is still asleep. The Iconman is snoring and smacking his lips. All night the light was switched off, only the emergency lamp above the door was on. I slept as if I were in the coffin. In the corridor and the dining hall the lights were still on. I could hear the frenzied hum of lamps. I rose quietly from the bed and went to the toilet. Two lunatics stood in the dark end of the corridor. Three zombies cruised along the walls. After toilet I went to the garden door and looked at the maple tree. The hare popped up from the grass and looked at me like wooden idol. Fewer and fewer leaves left on the tree. When they all fall, I should be free from here. This is my wish.

The sound of a flapping door interrupted my thoughts. Two women entered the hall and bustled into the corridor. For several minutes later I heard raucous laughter - a neighing. The nursey-horsy is here. Who is the other one?

   Nurses came out from the corridor, hurried hand in hand. They began to cruse the corridor, forwards and backwards. The nursey-horsy I recognized immediately. She looked like a horse, without a doubt. The second nurse resembled a duck. Her nose looked like a beak, she whispered something to the nursey-horsy and she neighed very loudly. The hall came alive. A long queue formed near the toilet.

  

   After breakfast the Iconman came towards me and said: `Listen, Wolfie, we're going out to work. You stay in here and look after the Toad. He's working for us.'

   `Can I go with you?'

   `No, your doctor wouldn't allow it.'

   `Look after the Toad, it's important. If anyone tries to nick the cigarettes, tell him that when I return I'll deal with him personally.'

   `All right. I'll watch him.'

   Andrew left me a couple of cigarettes and they left the hall. I sat on the couch and began watching Toad. He stood in his corner and smiled. His bunk neighbour, a zombie, levitated along the wall in the corridor. When he passed near the Toad, he stops for a while, whispers something, and continued his procession. Many patients are brain dead. They felt their way along the walls in the corridor or stood in the corners and paced around the floor.

   A big woman in military jacket with two leather bags in her hands entered into the hall. She sat at the table and yelled: `Come on over here, my boys!'

   The Toad approached her and received a bundle of paper sheets and a plastic flask with glue. He sat at the table and began making packets. Many other patients did the same.

   In the hall stood four identical leather couches. On the couch can sit five people at a pinch, maximum. Our couch near the window, opposite, under the column the convict's couch. Near the post of orderly the couch of loonies and zombies, opposite the civilian's couch. On it lay a big bearded man in a sports suit... Doubtless the wife-eater.

   I became bored watching this work-therapy. Everything looked in order. Convicts were preoccupied, talking to each other. I rose from my couch and went to the toilet.

   When I returned to the hall I spotted the Foetus lying on our couch. He stretched out on his back, and planted his slippers on the couch. I crept up and yelled: `Hey, you! Stupid! Get the fuck out off here!'

   He jumped as if scalded and ran into the corridor. I took off my own slippers and sat in Turkish position on the couch. Something has changed. One of the convicts, "Hyena", began his prowl. He walked around the Toad and checked how much work was left. I rose from the couch, approached the Toad and sat at the table. The jailbird looked at me and moved aside.

   `Hey, Toad, when you've finished gluing this shit, gives them to me. All right?'

   He smiled and nodded. When he finished the job I took the bundle of packets and we came forwards the Granny.

   `Who are you?' she asked me.

   `We worked together.'

   `Really? I didn't see you.'

   `You can ask him,' I said and pointed at the Toad.

   He was smiling, blowing his cheeks. The granny counted packets and gave me a pack of cigarettes. I hid the pack in my pocket. Unexpectedly the convict with burning eyes stood in my way.

   `Hey, mate, give me a cigarette,' he said.

   I looked at him and thought that it would be inappropriate to open the pack. I gave him the last cigarette from my breast pocket.

   `Can't you spare a few more?' said the convict.

   `No, I haven't got any.'

   `I saw you've got one pack from the Granny.'

   `They're not mine, they belong to Nick.'

   I turned on my heel and walked to the couch.

   The scavenge was partly unsuccessful, but he got one cigarette. On the couch sat the Mummy's Boy and the Foetus - comrades at arms, lackeys off duty. I sat in a vacant space. The Toad stalked me and stood near the couch. I opened the pack of cigarettes, and asked him: `How many do you want?'

   He looked at me, smiled, and showed me one finger.

   `Just one?'

   He nodded affably.

   `Okay, Toad, let's go to the bog to smoke.'

   In the toilet I squatted in a corner and lit a cigarette. A familiar vegetable from our hut, entered the toilet and meandered to the Toad. The Toad smiled and passed him his cigarette.

   `Hey, you: take a cigarette,' I said to the walking vegetable.

   `Thank you,' he said quietly, and helped himself.

   `Why are you so sluggish and withdrawn?' I asked him.

   `I don't know.'

   `Have you always been like this?'

   `No,' said the zombie, and hobbled into the corner.

   I returned to the "family" couch. The Mummy's Boy tried to open a conversation with me, telling me about the lunatics and their habits. I interrupted him, and advised him to fly into another galaxy and complete his story there.

  

   Before supper the "clan" returned from work. I gave the Iconman the pack of cigarettes and said nothing about what happened. At the evening all patients were in the hall. After supper the kitchen lackeys and two Down's syndrome patients, Mongol-mops, cleaned the dining hall. In the toilet there was no space to hide; we were packed like sardines in a tin. In the corridor the constant movement of zombies: every corner occupied by lunatics. Once the dining hall was cleaned all patients moved back there. I found a nice empty corner in the hall, near the garden door. Toward the evening the Iconman strolled into my corner and said: `Listen, Wolverine, don't push this kitchen jerk. We need him.'

   `Nick, this foetus was lying on the couch in his slippers, and we're the ones who sit.'

   `Stupid fuck. I've told him before not to do that.'

   `I would never push him without a reason, Nick.'

   `I know. I know, Wolfie. I'll speak to him,' said the Iconman.

   He returned to the couch and summoned the Foetus in the corner. The Foetus turned pale, and then he reddened, shuddered and began to gibber. The Iconman interrupted him and hissed angrily into his ear.

  

  

   ***

   On Tuesday, after breakfast, the orderly loudly called my name.

   `What's up,' I asked him.

   `Your mother's arrived,' said the orderly. `Come with me.'

   `Are you sure?'

   `Sure, I'm sure. Let's go, pal.'

   The orderly opened the door into the other wing. We entered the hall and marched to the hatchway. The orderly opened the hatch and said: `In five minutes I'll be back.'

   I peered into the hatchway. On the bench sat my mother. Her eyes were full of desperation, inflamed and reddish. She trembled as she rose from her bench.

   `What did they done to you?' she exclaimed, embracing me passionately, and she began to cry.

   `Mama, please, calm down. I'm alive. Everything's all right.'

   `Why you so skinny and pale? What did they inject you with?'

   `Don't cry, ma... I'm all right. They don't inject me any more.'

   `Why did you cut your veins, sonny? Why? They'll put you in prison for this.'

   `Don't cry, mama. I'd rather go to prison than to the army. Let's not talk about it. It's happened. I wouldn't be surprised if our conversation is being taped. Let's talk about the family, mama.'

   `We're all right, sonny.'

   `How did you find out that I was here?'

   `I felt that something terrible had happened to you. I called your garrison.'

   `I see. Have you seen my doctor?'

   `Yes, I saw her yesterday. She was angry with me; she told me that I brought you up like a thug.'

   `Thug? Don't listen to her. She's a sick woman.'

   `What's going to happen to you, Boris?' she said quietly. Then she lay her head on my shoulder and cried.

   `Don't cry, mama... you know me... It was my decision.'

   My mother knew my character so very well. In school I'd been a very naughty boy. Almost every Saturday my mother was summoned by our head teacher. In College I was even worse. So, my disciplinary records were terrible. I'd always been honest with my mother. I told her before conscription that I'd be back soon. She said that it was the duty of every man in our country to go to the army. I told her that it was not my duty to kill innocent people. She was flustered, my answer caught her off-guard, and she knew that it could happen. One of my school mates had been recently killed in Afghanistan.

   `You should go home, mama. Don't stay in this village too long. They're all crazy here,' I whispered.

   `I wanted to see you once more.'

   `No, mama, you must go home. I'll worry about you. And don't write here.'

   `Why?'

   `They read all your letters. I'll send you a letter instead. Don't worry about me.'

   `I'm worried, my son. I don't know what to do.'

   `Can you buy me a tooth brush, some toothpaste, soap and some cigarettes?'

   `All right, son.'

   `And can you leave some money?'

   `Yes, certainly, sonny.'

   `Please, mama, go home, and doesn't stay here.'

   `What will happen to you, Boris?' she said.

   She grasped my shoulder and sobbed.

   `Don't cry, mama. In a month I'll be home.'

   `Your doctor told me that you'll be send to a penal battalion or prison.'

   `Don't listen to her. She is mad, our Rose. In four weeks I'll be discharged. Please, don't worry.'

   `I do worry, son. I'm scared. You're my boy,' she said through her tears.

   `Don't cry, please, don't cry. Everything will be all right.'

   The lock clicked. The time had flown without our noticing.

   `Have you finished?' asked the orderly.

   `Yes,' I said. `I've got to go, mama. Please don't cry and don't forget what I said.'

   `Let me hold you, son.'

   She embraced me and cried.

   `Don't worry, mother,' said the orderly. `He'll be discharged soon.'

   She loosed her hands and let me go. The orderly searched my pajamas and opened the hatch.

   `See you, mama,' I told her, and dived into the passage-way.

   `You wait here,' said the orderly to my mama. 'I'll open the door from the other side.'

   I glanced at my mother, through the passage-way. She was silently heaving, and tears were falling from her eyes like autumn rain.

  

   Andrew sat on our couch and watched the Toad doing his work-therapy.

   `How was it?' asked Andrew.

   `My poor mother was shocked, devastated. Fucking bastards! One is not enough for them, so they tortured my mother too. Rose told her that I'm going to the military prison.'

   `Bollocks! Fucking bitch!'

   `Where's everybody?'

   `Working outside.'

   `When can I go out?'

   `Ask Rose. You need her authorizations. Listen, Wolverine, do you believe in destiny?'

   `Destiny? Well... we're all destined to die. Why did you ask?'

   `When I was in prison, my mother came to visit me. She was crying all the time and said that it was fate.'

   `What did she mean?'

   `Maybe she was thinking of my father. I've never see him. He probably rotted in prison somewhere in Siberia.'

   `My father died in hospital. We're all going to die, anyway. Fate doesn't matter, its death.'

   `Why?'

   `Because our destiny is our death. Would you like to hear a story about my relatives and fate?'

   `Go on, go on, mate,' said Andrew.

   `My distant relatives lived in Central Asia in Bukhara.'

   `Why did they live in a Muslim country?' asked Andrew, and smiled.

   `Well, Andrew, why are you so concerned about Muslims?'

   `I don't like them.'

   `Why?'

   `They're stupid.'

   `No, they're not. Anyway, my granny niece married an Uzbek man. By the way, he was a really good man. So, they'd got three children. Very often, in the area where they lived, earthquakes took place. For many years my relatives tried to get out of there, but it was impossible.'

   `Why?'

   `They had no close relatives. My aunt sent a petition to the first woman cosmonaut, Valentine Tereshkova. She was a deputy of government and minister. Eventually, after a couple of years, Tereshkova helped my relatives to move to Ukraine. After one year everything went wrong. The Uzbek was working as a combine driver. During the dinner break he decided to have a nap in a field of wheat. Whilst he was asleep, he was killed accidentally by a drunk driver, who'd been distilling hooch and was drunk as a hog... He cut a corner and drove through the field.'

   `Yeah, shit happens. What happened to the driver?'

   `Eight years of hard labour in Siberia. He was a family man as well. My aunt was devastated: three children, no relatives, and no help.'

   `Yes, he was running from death, and found it unexpectedly, in the safe place.'

   `Exactly! Sometimes, I think that we shouldn't run. We should face life as it comes.'

   `What do you mean?' asked Andrew.

   `I mean, take the army. We could end up dead here.'

   `Well, the possibility that we're going to die here is minimal. But in the army it's fifty-fifty. What about Afghanistan?'

   `Yeah... On the other hand, I think that the army is set-up by the government and politicians. So, I wouldn't consider the army as my essential duty. Screw it! '

   `Me too,' said Andrew.

   `Andrew, what are they doing to the loonies and zombies? Why are they so slow?'

   `They gave them a lot of "wheels".'

   `What kind of pills?'

   `I don't know. Many different ones look at their cups for pills. Some of them are taking fifty pills a day. Can you imagine, what's happening in their heads?'

   `Yeah. Why do they swallow this crap?'

   `I don't know, Wolfie. Some of them believe it will heal them.'

   `Kill, not heal. Oh, fucking butchers!'

   `What are you going to do when you'll get out of here?'

   `Rest and lick my wounds.'

   `What are you going to do with the rest of your life?'

   `Oh, Andrew. Don't ask me. I don't know. I'll probably get out of this country.'

   `Where?'

   `To the West.'

   `What are you going to do there?'

   `I don't know. But I'm fed up with this prison of a homeland.'

   `I'm not leaving Russia, it's my home. I'm a patriot in my heart!' said Andrew.

   `Hey! Patriot! What about your duty?!'

   `What duty?! I paid my debt to society in the camp. No more donations, no more,' exclaimed Andrew and smiled.

   `I've read an interesting book about the patriotism and duty.'

   `Oh, tell me, tell me, Wolfie. I'm so bored in here,' said Andrew, and rubbed his palm.

   `This story took place in the seventieth century in Georgia. In that time Georgia was divided between landlords and barons. One Duke, George Saakadze, wanted to unite Georgia, to make it more powerful. But the aristocracy was against it. So, they accused George of treason. He escaped from Georgia with his family, and settled in Persia. George was a natural born leader of men. Immediately he was given a high rank in Persia.'

   `Why did he go to Persia?'

   `They're neighbours, and Persia was a very powerful country at the time. Georgia changed allegiance to Persia, who was the enemies.'

   `I see. So, he became a traitor.'

   `Yeah. The Georgian people cursed him and his family. In the meantime George successfully completed many military campaigns and won the support of Shah Abass. George's son was staying in the Shah's palace. He became the close friend of the Shah's son. At the same time he was the guarantee that George will not betray the Shah. Suddenly in Georgia, there flared up an uprising against Persia. The Shah sent his army under the command of George to suppress the Georgians.'

   `Clever bastard, this Shah.'

   `Yeah, cunning fox. George had two choices: betray the motherland or his son. He knew that the Shah would kill his son if he switched sides. So, finally, George decided to betray the Shah. He escaped, united all the Georgian forces and routed the Persian army. When George was celebrating his victory, a messenger came and brought a present from some unknown person. George opened the box and found there the head of his beloved son, Paata.'

   `What a father! What a bastard! I would kill a man like that myself.'

   `Yes, he sacrificed his son for his ambitions. George became the national hero in Georgia, a king. He united the country and made it great. But to the end of his life, he was suffered pangs of guilt. Do you know that during the Second World War was made a propaganda film "George Saakandze?"

   `No, I've never seen that one.'

   `A rousing and patriotic movie. After that film the Georgian people rose up in their hearts. They compared Stalin to Saakadze. Because Stalin did not want to free his son from German captivity - another fucking hero. Big Bastard!'

   `What nationality are you, Wolverine?'

   `I'm a wolverine. Why are you so concerned about my nationality? Don't worry: I'm not Muslim or a Jew. Are you sure Andrew, that you're Russian? You might be a Viking.'

   `Sure! I'm Russian. Who could I be? I'm not a Viking.'

   `Why not? You look like them.'

   `Like who?'

   `Like Vikings: green eyes, blonde hair. The Vikings settled in Russia a long time ago. They lived on the banks of rivers Volga, Dnepr and the North Sea. So, you and I might have the Viking blood. Who knows now?'

   `How come you know all this?'

   `I like history. I read a lot of history books. I think Russian blood - it's a mixture of Slav, Vikings, Tartars, Jews, and Mongols and so on.'

   `What are you talking about? What Jewish people?'

   `Oh, Andrew, they settled in this territory long time ago, when the Russians didn't exist as a nation. They lived on the south of Russia, Khorezm, and kharzar people. They were converted to Judaism in eight century. In ninth century the Russians pillaged and conquered their country, and now their nation has disappeared from the face of the earth.'

   `What was their religion, before they were converted?' asked Andrew, and smiled inquisitively.

   `They were weird people, pagans. They had a very strange religion. It's something about sleeping.'

   `What - trances?'

   `I read that their priests were active in other people dreams. They were dream-catchers.'

   `Well... never heard about such a wicked religion. Where did you read this crap?'

   `My mother has a very good library.'

   `So, do you think that Russians - it's a mixed nationality?'

   `Yes, I think so. We're all mixed up in the Soviet Union. '

   `I'm proud that I'm Russian, not a Muslim or a Nigger.'

   `Why are we so proud, Andrew? Our history is terrible. We're killing, enslaving, and torturing each other. We're proud that we have the most advanced machine-gun in the world - every terrorist's desire. We're the first in space! It stinks!'

   `Are you proud of anything?

   `No, pride is for communists and idiots, not for me. I don't include you in those categories, because I know you're winding me up.'

   `What do you think about communists?' said Andrew.

   `Clever bastards. It's a new religion for fools and idiots. Sometimes, I think that communists are the Mongols, descendants of Chingis Khan. Look, at them! They conquered almost half of Europe. Everyone's afraid of them, and cringes at their feet. Mongols had used the same tactics. Their Khan now is Lenin, and he lay in his mausoleum like an idol of their religion.'

   `Oh, Wolverine, now you're saying that Russians are Mongols.'

   `Look, Andrew, the same strategy - pay tribute. And if you look closer at our communist leaders, you'll find striking a resemblance to the Mongols and Chinese.'

   `Who are you, Wolverine? What nationality are you?' asked Andrew and he laughed.

   `I'm a Cossack.'

   `All Cossacks are good soldiers. But you, I don't know?' said Andrew skeptically.

   `Once they were warriors, but now it's different.'

   `Why?'

   `Through military progress and the coming of our machine era. And I don't like other people's wars. I've declared my own war.'

   `What war, Wolfie?' asked Andrew.

   `Against them and their laws and duties. I started my crusade when I went to school.'

   `Were you a good student? Asked Andrew and grinned.

   `Aha, the best. I was black listed in the first year. For eight fucking years they tried to cut me down to an idiot.'

   `Did you study well?'

   `Yes, I had no problems. My discipline was always bad. After school I had such a disciplinary record that even the prison refused my application.'

   `How did you get into college?'

   `I snatched the disciplinary record from my file. They accepted my document without it. My marks were good and they thought that my conduct should fine as well. Oh, they made a big mistake.'

   `Oh, a clever bastard, you are, Wolverine.'

   `After six months they got a copy from my old school and the new war began. Four years, almost, I fought with them.'

   `Did you finish college?'

   `Yes. I was always on the brink of expulsion.'

  

   After dinner I went to the bathroom. The barber didn't touch my hair and allowed me to shave myself. After supper the bathroom was opened again for workers. Imperceptibly I slipped in there and stood for ten minutes under the shower. The Iconman, the Vampire and Alexei entered the bathroom. On the Iconman's back stood the church with four cupolas, a tattoo. Why do people get a tattoo? Such an ugly picture.

  

   ***

   On Thursday in the morning I brushed my teeth twice. My mother did everything I'd asked her to do. She even left me more money than I expected. After breakfast the orderly opened the wards. During the rounds all the patients must lie on their beds.

   On the rounds Rose bustled into the ward and came forward to my bed.

   `How do you feel yourself?' she asked.

   `Better, much better.'

   `After dinner you'll go to the clinic to see some specialists.'

   `Okay. Rose Ivanovna, when shall I be able to go out to work?'

   `All right. I'll authorise it.'

   After dinner I came to the orderly and obtained the coat and a heavy boots. When I got out from the barrack, I fell down on one knee. The orderly caught me under my elbow.

   `Are you all right, lad?' asked the orderly.

   `Yes, I'm all right. Let's stay here for a second.'

   `I'll hold you,' he said, and lit a cigarette.

   The sounds of nature spun in my head, the sun light blinded me, the fresh air made me dizzy.

   `Come on, lad,' said the orderly, and lifted me from my knees.

   We slowly walked up the hill to the clinic. The orderly gently held my hand. My feet are shaking, my head is buzzing. On the top of the hill stood the clinic, and around it barracks. From the clinic to the barracks trampled the age-old paths, like arteries to the heart of the Inquisition.

   In the clinic I passed through many specialists - and their foolish psychological tests. At the end I visited a neuro-psychiatrist.

   `We should take a puncture from your spine, young man,' said the doctor.

   `What for?'

   `We ought to know what's wrong with you.'

   `I won't consent to it.'

   `Why?'

   `I've had a puncture before. I know what can happen after it.'

   `You were punctured long time ago, young man,' said the doctor. `Now that we've new technology, you'll not feel pain.'

   `No, thank you very much.'

   You can shove your new technology up your ass, I thought to myself. The doctor began to cajole me and to talk nonsense. He even tried to fire my patriotism and told me the famous story about the disabled fighter pilot during the Second World War. His gibberish didn't bother me. I knew that I would not relent. After the crash I'd been given puncture without my mother's consent. She screamed blue murder in the hospital. My father died in that terrible crash. The taxi driver was killed instantly. By miracle I survived, I was seven years old. After two weeks in the hospital I was allowed to go out to the hospital garden. In there stood a huge cherry tree all strewn with berries like freckles. I climbed the tree, sat on the big branch, and began to eat the cherries. Suddenly, a bird took off and frightened me. I lost my balance and fell down into the thick summer dust. The sharp pain paralyzed my body for couple of seconds. I rose my head: the garden was empty. Somehow I rose to my feet and staggered to the porch. With great difficulty I climbed the porch into the hospital. I was crying, and wiping the tears away with my hand. When I entered the hospital I saw a long staircase, and a soldier who was talking with a nurse. I fainted and fell to the floor. The soldier yelled something and jumped down to me. Rays of neon light penetrated my eyes full of tears. I slowly opened my eyes. I lay on the operating table. Archangels in the white gowns and masks talked between themselves. A sharp pain pierced my spine. I closed my eyes and flew away...

   The doctor again tried to change my mind. I refused his offer, and sincerely thanked him for it.

  

   ***

   On Friday I moved to the "family" table. Alexei's mother arranged his transfer to the other barrack. The weekend in the hall was the most unbearable time, with all the lunatics inside. On Sunday, after breakfast, twenty patients sat around the television set. With impatience they looked at the armoured TV cabinet.

   `What are they waiting for? I asked Andrew.

   `Love and Aerobics. Look, look!' exclaimed Andrew.

   The orderly switched on the TV, and the eyes of patients glued themselves to the magic screen. On the screen appeared a young woman in a bikini. When she posed in the doggy position, the patients began to whoop and yell. One lunatic suddenly ran into the toilet without taking his hand out of trousers. All patients were in love with the girl. The Mongol began to wank, with a smile on his face. One inmate gave him a hard slap, and pushed him off his chair. He fell down, then sprang up and broke into a run to the toilet. The Vampire sat in the first row on the middle. He looked at the TV with glittering eyes and an open mouth. The Iconman lay on the couch and looked at the TV without interest. The Toad stood in his corner, smiled, and observed the spectators.

   `Fucking zoo! And this armoured box is the fucking brain washing machine. What are we doing here, Andrew?'

   `Resting, mate, resting' said Andrew, and laughed. `It's good that we're squatters here, not permanent residents.'

   `You're telling me, it's good.'

   `Tell me, Wolverine, have you been like this all the time?'

   `What do you mean?'

   `I mean... you don't talk much, and you're always outside the "family". A loner.'

   `Well, I'm thinking and watching.'

   `What do you think about?'

   `About life and death, about people.'

   `So, you're a philosopher,' said Andrew, and grinned. `What is your verdict?'

   `Awful, pretty awful. People are like a crop harvested by death.'

   `What do you think about death?'

   `It exists... Death is always here, around every corner. In my childhood I had encounter with HER.'

   `How did it happen?' asked Andrew.

   `Once when I was in a car accident, and again at a regatta on the Black Sea.'

   `What happened on the regatta?'

   `We capsized, I lost consciousness. When I came round I was paralysed. I flew like a rag doll straight at the harbour rocks. Death was inevitable. My coach saved me, his boat was near the harbour, and he pulled me out from the sea.'

   `What's it like - yachting?' asked Andrew.

   `It's a very fine sport, but dangerous sometimes. I like it.'

   `How did you capsize?'

   `Well, I've never seen such a mountainous sea. The weather was so bad that the race was cancelled. All yachts made it back to the harbour. And here it began. A terrible storm blew up; many yachts capsized one by one, almost eighty percent of the regatta. Terrible. Our boat was smashed like an egg shell.'

   `I don't understand,' said Andrew. `Why couldn't you stop the yacht?'

   `It's not a tractor or motorbike, Andrew. And how can you stop in the open sea?'

   `I don't know. But could you slow down a little bit?'

   `Yeah, we tried. But you see, the wind gives you the power to sail. We underestimated our speed and the power of wind. Nature is mightier than we are.'

   `Did anyone die on this regatta?'

   `No. But the yachtsmen die very often. It's an addiction.'

   `What addiction? What are you talking about?'

   `You probably wouldn't understand, Andrew. But a yacht like a horse, it needs a special care and love. The sea stretches like the infinite steppes, is which you're conquering with your yacht.'

   `Well, you're a poet, Wolverine! Anyway, I don't like to think about death. I feel awful.'

   `But SHE will come Andrew, sooner or later, and we should think how we're going to meet HER.'

   `Bollocks. I don't want to think about it, it's easier to live.'

   `Yes, you right... It's easier not to think about it.'

   `What do you think about religion?' asked Andrew.

   `I'm not religious. What about you?'

   `I'm an Orthodox Christian.'

   `Well, Christian? And Orthodox as well. It gets nicer and nicer.'

   `Cut it out, Wolverine. I was baptised. What religion are you?'

   `I'm a dream-catcher. I'm a Kharzar with Nordic blood.'

   `You told me that they were Jews.'

   `Yes, they've been converted three times: Islam, Judaism and Christianity'

   `How did they disappear? What happened? What kind of people were they?'

   `Wicked people with the strangest mentality. In capital they had a square where you could change your identity and occupation with someone else.'

   `How?'

   `You'd go to the particular square in their capital and wait until someone came to you and exchange his identity with you.'

   `Bull shit. It couldn't happen.'

   `I don't know. I read about it. I wasn't there.'

   `All right. Who destroyed them?'

   `Russians. Who else?'

   `What do you have against Russians?'

   `Nothing, I'm Russian. I was born here. I just know one thing: that all Empires will fall. Look what happened, whole nations disappeared from the face of the earth. The next lot could be Americans or Russians, you never know.'

   `Yes. You're right. But still we'll survive.'

   `Who knows, Andrew? `

  

  

   Chapter 5

  

   Cuckoo village

  

   It rained and drizzled the whole week. Days passed in a weary routine. The atmosphere in the hall became unbearable, as most of the patients stayed inside. There was not much to do in the hall. Dominoes and other entertainments were allowed after supper. Our couch was packed with members of our clan. The Iconman was constantly sitting there and telling his fairy tales about crime and punishment. The Vampire was his permanent admirer and adjutant. They were always together. The Mummy's boy and the Foetus, after their stint on the kitchen, also sat on the couch. Andrew wasn't so interested in the Iconman's stories but he preferred to sit down than to stand up. Most of the time I stayed alone in my corner and stared into the garden. During the day I walked with Andrew in the corridor. In there Andrew hassled loonies and zombies. They gathered in the corridor in dark corners like reptiles.

   After supper, when the doctors had gone home, we made an almighty brew of tea in the toilet. This procedure, with boiling water, was very complicated and dangerous. It was good that the Iconman had plenty of prison experience; he knew what to do and how to do it. He made a boiler from two razor blades and a broken electric bulb. He attached two razors to two wires from the bulb. In the toilet were two light bulbs. One of which hung right above the pedestal. A tall person would be able to reach it by hand. The Iconman could reach the lamp easily, but he preferred to use for this purpose a one particular patient. This lunatic was very tall and utterly insane. He liked his tea very much. Andrew climbed on his hands, screwed out a bulb and placed there the boiler instead. I stood in the doorway next to the switch. The Vampire wandered around the post and kept an eye on our masters. All the orderlies knew that we were boiling the water in the toilet, but they looked the other way. The loony stood on the pedestal like a statue with the glass jar overhead, wrapped up with a towel. He was always smiling, giggling and laughing. When the water boiled. I turned off the light. Andrew unscrewed the element and put the bulb back. The tea was good and very strong. To one pint of water we put fifty grams of tea leaves. After two short sips my heart began to knock like a steam hammer, euphoria. I tried not to drink the bromide tea. After it I felt dizzy and my guts clawed inside like cats.

  

   In the hall, near the orderlies' post, stood a small table for pills and medicine. Three times a day a nurse placed on it a tray with the plastic cups full of tablets. Immediately began an agitation of "predators" and junkies. Andrew each day appeared there and rummaged in the tray, snatching pills.

   One day he popped up in my corner and asked: `Would you like "cartoon wheels"?'

   `What's that?'

   `Illusion pills, I've got ten, it's enough for two of us.'

   `Well, I've never taken this crap before.'

   `Try it, you'll like it. We'll watch the cartoons without TV,' said Andrew and laughed. `They prescribe these tablets to Parkinson's disease patients.'

   `Have you tried space-cake?' I asked Andrew.

   `No. What is it? I never heard of it.'

   `It's marihuana cake.'

   `No, never heard of it.'

   `When I tried space-cake the first time I thought that I was in hell. Hallucinations started, and scary voices.'

   `Really? In my town we don't have marihuana. Just vodka and usual crap.'

   `It's a pity. I like grass. In my region its grow up everywhere in the countryside.'

   `How do you make the space-cake?' asked Andrew

   `Easy. Melt some sugar and add the grass. Then wait until it crystallises. It looks like a lollipop. Once I made a horrible cake. I used very strong grass, without knowing. I took a one soup spoon of the shit and got blown away for twenty hours.'

   `Twenty hours?'

   `Yeah.'

   `Where did you go?'

   `I don't know. In the morning I realised that I was wandering over the steppes. For a whole night I'd walked without stopping.'

   `Why?' asked Andrew.

   `I couldn't stop walking. I tried many times but as soon as I stopped the ground flowed away under my feet.'

   `Nice one! `said Andrew and smiled. `I'd like to try it, mate. I would like to be a space traveller.'

   `I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. Once I gave a one spoon of space cake to one of my mates. His mother locked him up at home for three days.'

   `What happened to him?'

   `He said that he completely lost himself.'

   `Let us lose ourselves,' said Andrew and gulped five pills. The remainder he gave to me. I swallowed them and went to the toilet to drink some water. Before supper I felt that my perception had begun to change. During supper a piece of food stuck in my throat. A panic and loathing filled my mind. I began to suffocate. With a bizarre wheeze I spat the fragment in my basin and moved it aside. The Iconman asked me something but I couldn't reply at all. I took one sip of the bromide tea to clear my throat, but the liquid begun to gurgle in my mouth as if in a liquidizer. Andrew didn't touch the food: he looked around the hall and smiled. He was stoned, his eyes were shining and his pupils became huge. I couldn't finish my meal. I collected my dishes and brought them to the kitchen window. I sat on our couch and stared at the black and white tile floor. It looked like a big chess board full of figures. The floor begun to move and bubble like a balloon. The patients began to rise from the tables and moved towards the kitchen. Walls began to breathe and moan. Sound of spoons and basins rebounded with the voices of patients and flew into my ears like a psychedelic jazz. Two Down's syndrome patients galloped near our couch on mop sticks between theirs legs. Mongols were smiling and riding on mops along the walls. I rose from the couch and rushed into the toilet. I splashed my face in there and returned to the hall. That whole evening I stood like a stone in my corner and watched the hall. Around nine in the evening the orderly opened the dormitory and off I went to bed.

  

   On the middle of the week two new soldiers arrived to the hall. They were placed in the loonies' ward. On Thursday after the rounds they began to help the kitchen lackeys clean the tables and they even deprived the Mongol-mops of their pleasure of mopping the floor. They mopped themselves and trifled with the orderlies. The Mongols wandered in the corridor without mops and with frustration on their faces. The new arrivals became very friendly with the orderlies and the kitchen lackeys. The Iconman called them narks and hissed at them everywhere. I called them toadies. A new clan was born - the toadies' family.

  

   On Friday it stopped raining. After breakfast the Iconman approached me in the toilet and said: `We're going out to work. Would you like to go with us?'

   `Yes, of course. What are we going to do?'

   `Harvest fucking beetroot. But don't worry, we won't work hard.'

   `Yes, I'll go.'

   `Okay, I'll go tell the orderly to put your name on the list,' said the Iconman, and left the toilet.

   `Are you going with us?' asked Andrew.

   `Yeah. Fresh air is good for me.'

   `The weather is still miserable,' said Andrew. `I hope it's not going to rain hard. I hate autumn.'

   The Iconman rushed into the toilet and said: `Everything is all right. Let's go, mates, let's go. Vampire is waiting for us.'

   We hastily finished our cigarettes and strolled out of the toilet. The Vampire stood with the orderly near the door out of the hall.

   `We're all here, governor,' said the Iconman to the orderly.

   `All right, let's go, lads,' said the orderly and opened the door.

   In the stairwell of the barrack, the orderly opened a small hatch under the concrete steps and said: `Choose your clothes, lads.'

   All the clothes were black and very old. I choose mine with care and put them on. The orderly collected our pyjamas, closed the hatch and opened the door out of the barrack. The fresh air struck me like lightning. I greedily inhaled the humid air through my nose and I felt stoned. A bonfire sparkled in my eyes

   `Are you all right, Wolfie?' asked Andrew.

   `I'm drunk with the air. Who are we waiting for?'

   `Civilians,' said Andrew.

   A tract around the barrack was cleaned and looked after. One of the permanent residents, a handy-man, was maintaining it. Today, he was rummaging in the vegetable garden. The handy-man was called Petrovich; he was a tramp, whose permanent home had become our barrack. In 1980, before the Moscow Olympic Games, the Soviet Authorities cleansed the capital and other cities of anti-social elements: alcoholics, prostitutes, jobless and homeless people. They all were sent far away into prisons and psychiatric hospitals. Some of them never returned. Petrovich was sent here indefinitely, without the possibility of parole.

   A group of patients gathered on the porch. After lining up into a column, we slowly marched downhill along the dirty road. The road was black, with numerous puddles, saturated with autumnal rain. Under my boots mud squelched and crawled away like a snake. We were mud-pushers.

   `Look,' said Andrew. `Cuckoo village.'

   `Yeah, I see.'

   `Would you like to smoke?' Andrew asked me.

   `No, I don't smoke when I'm walking.'

   `Why?'

   `No good for your health.'

   All houses in the village were made from wooden logs. The houses looked old, ramshackle, unfinished or ruined. In some places houses belligerently butted each other. In my mind was created an impression that the houses were brawling among themselves and must collapse on their neighbours at any second. Evil houses: windows, doors are skewed, shutters, frames and doors painted in unnatural psychedelic colours. The brightness of colours burned my eyes. The village looked as if it had died out - not a soul on the street. Even dogs didn't bark. On the roofs of the almost each house were weathercocks. They should replace them with cuckoos, I thought to myself. On one of the roofs I saw the weathercock in the form of horse. It was most likely the stable of our nursey-horse. As we passed the village we became surrounded by black collective fields. Not far ahead of us, stood a narrow strip of forest. The forest stretched across the fields and surrounded the hill like a strip of melting lava.

The contrast between the black fields and the forest was striking. The fields were black and soaked like a bog. On the soles of my boots stuck the thick mud as we came closer to the forest. Trees began to moan and wave their branches. I glanced back. On the top of the hill stood the clinic, and around it our barracks. The village stretched down beyond on the slope of the hill. We marched through the forest and stopped at the boundary of an endless collective field.

   `Stop! Left! Right!' exclaimed the Iconman. `Cuckoo land! Easy now, mates.'

   `Have you seen the forest?' I asked Andrew.

   `Yeah, but the village I liked more. Cuckoo village!! Where did they find such paints? I've never seen colours like those in the shop.'

   `Well, they probably mixed it themselves. I think this whole area is mad. The forest is insane, burning like a fire.'

   `Hey, mates!' exclaimed the Iconman. `Look! Look! The chicks are coming.'

   From the forest appeared the column of women in black uniforms. A quiet murmur arose in our column. Everybody fixed his eyes on the advancing troupe. The women stopped ten meters from us and someone shouted from there.

   `Hey, girls, look, the boys are here,' squealed the straw-haired girl, and separated from the crowd. `Oh, oh, three months without a man. Oh, I need a man! I want... I want a man!'

   The Iconman rose like a carrion vulture, fixed his eyes on the prey and began to yell compliments in her direction: `I love you, baby! I want you too! Come to me, come! My darling!'

   `Have you got a girlfriend?' Andrew asked me.

   `No.'

   `Why?'

   `I had no time for it.'

   `I had two,' said Andrew. `Listen, Wolfie, have ever been with a girl?'

   `No.'

   `Really?'

   `Yes.'

   `Well done, mate!' said Andrew and smiled. `Then you are a virgin.'

   `If I lied to you, would it make me a man?'

   `I'm joking.'

   `I could have become a man when I was teenager. But I didn't want to screw any old bitch. In my neighbourhood, we had couple of horses like the ones in that column.'

   `You're a picky bastard.'

   `Well, I didn't want commitment from a woman - on the staircase with the estate hooker.'

   `What about now?'

   `Are you kidding me, Andrew? I've no desire even to see them. It's not my aim.'

   `What is your aim?'

   `To be freed from this fucking place.'

   For an hour I rummaged in the ground like a bug. I slowly pulled out one piece of beetroot and carried it to the trailer skip. Andrew worked on one spot, creating the appearance of work. There was not much help from us. The civilian patients motored like combine harvesters. Soon they separated from us and went forwards. The Iconman and the Vampire picked a few beetroots and walked to the ruined shed.

   `It's enough for today,' said Andrew. `I hate this fucking peasant job. Let's go. Tea-break.'

   We wandered through the field in the direction to the shed. The Iconman and the Vampire lit the fire and placed a tin with water on two bricks. We squatted around the fire and silently waited for water to boil. After several minutes one of the orderlies came to us and asked: `What are you cooking here, mates?'

   `Tea,' replied the Iconman and rose. 'We have a tea-break, mate. Do you mind?'

   `No, I don't mind,' said the orderly. `It's all right, but don't run off. Okay?!'

   `We aren't completely mad, governor,' said the Iconman, clutching the orderly by the arm. `We're going to be discharged soon. Do you know that?' continued the Iconman and led the orderly away from us. He walked with the orderly and discussed something. They shook hands and the Iconman gleefully rushed back to the fire.

   `Fetch it,' yelled the Iconman and tossed a pack of tea through the air. I caught the pack with my hand.

   `Nice one,' said the Iconman, and clicked with his fingers. `Make very strong tea, Wolfie. This orderly is a good fellow. Let's drink the tea and I'll check up on these chicks.'

   The water in the tin began to bubble. I took the tin off the fire and put a quarter of the pack in. In silence we sat around the fire and warmed our bluish hands. The Iconman took the tin, made two sips and passed it around. The tea was hot, strong, and tasty, with a wood-smoked aroma.

   `Well, I'll be off, mates,' said the Iconman and strolled across the field to the women's column.

   `Where is the water?' I asked the Vampire.

   `Near the shed.'

   I brought some water and placed the tin on the bricks. After several minutes the liquid in the tin began to boil. I removed the tin from the fire, put the tea into it and covered it with my cap.

   `Why did you cover the tin?' asked the Vampire.

   `What are you, stupid, Vampire? asked Andrew. `Have you drunk tea before?'

   `I don't like tea. I like wine and beer.'

   `I see, like a real man,' said Andrew. `Why are you drinking with us?

   `To keep you company.'

   `Listen, Vampire,' said Andrew angrily. `Don't waste my tea and don't keep me company. I can live without it.'

   `Okay, I'll not drink it,' said the Vampire and rose. `I'll go to collect the firewood.'

   `Go ahead,' said Andrew and spat at the fire.

   `Stupid blood-sucker,' said Andrew when the Vampire left.

   `How did he get here?' I asked Andrew.

   `Who? Vampire?'

   `Yes.'

   `He was bullied in the army and tried to hang himself.'

   `I see.'

   On the black boundless field run dingy human-bugs, swarming over the ground like insects. The forest began to die before our eyes. It grew darker and darker.

   `You're making very good tea,' said Andrew.

   `I love tea; it's my passion and my medicine. Do you know, tea helped the Industrial revolution to survive?

   `In what way?' asked Andrew.

   `The English workers drank tea; it helped them not fall ill.'

   `Yeah, in Russia workers drink vodka instead.' said Andrew. `What do you reckon, is there paradise and hell? asked Andrew.

   `Yes, we're in hell now, Andrew. Our institution is a paradise. The forest is the fire border between hell and paradise.'

   `Well, Wolverine, you've painted very nice picture in my mind. You're the blackest person I've ever met. Do you know that?'

   `That's what being a sceptic means.'

   On the horizon suddenly appeared the Iconman. He jogged through the field like a scavenging bear turning his head side to side.

   `Well, mates, I spoke to the chick. She'll come here, soon,' said the Iconman and rubbed his palms. `I'll go check the shed,' he said and strolled to the shed.

   `The shed is perfect,' said the Iconman. `Andrew, would you like to unload your "gun"?'

   `No, my "gun" is empty,' said Andrew, laughing.

   `I want! I want!' yelled the Vampire. `Can I, Nick?'

   `Okay, I'll speak to her,' said the Iconman and glanced at me. `What about you, Wolfie?'

   `No, thanks, I'll pass.'

   `I thought so,' said the Iconman and squatted near the fire.

   In couple of minutes on the horizon appeared a woman's figure. She walked to the fire and said: `Hi, guys. My name is Lisa.'

   `My name is Nick,' yelled the Vampire unexpectedly.

   This was a surprise for me. I didn't know that his name was Nick. So we've two Nicks: Nick the First and Nick the Second.

   `There's a hole in my pocket, dear Lisa,' whispered Andrew, and smiled.

   The Iconman embraced Lisa by the waist and whispered in her ear. She laughed, glanced at us and walked with the Iconman into the shed.

  

   The tea finished, I rose and took the tin.

   `Where are you going?' asked the Vampire.

   `After some water.'

   `Nick is there.'

   `Where? He's in the shed. I'm not going there, Vampire.'

   The Vampire got up anyway and stalked me to the pump.

   `Listen, Vampire, if you're so worried that I'll jump the queue ahead of you, you can wait here, near the shed.'

   `Would you look after the fire?'

   `Sure, don't worry about it.'

   `Okay, I'll sit there,' said the Vampire and sat on the old log near the shed. I returned to the fire and placed the tin on the bricks.

   `Do you know?' said Andrew. `The forest is really looking like a river of fire between the fields.'

   `Yeah, we're in hell. As we came here on the field, our shadows appeared, very thin but shadows. In the barrack there are no shadows - the neon paradise.'

   `Why do they use the neon light in there?'

   `I read that the neon light doesn't give a shadow. Some patients are scared of shadows.'

   `Okay,' said Andrew. `Assuming that we're in hell, we're sinners. All right!'

   `Right.'

   `Then what about orderlies? Who are they?'

   `They? Well... Archangels! Yes, archangels,' I said. `They work part-time in paradise and in hell, a very dangerous species.'

   `Archangels, well, maybe?' said Andrew. `Are you religious?'

   `No. I'm not. Religion - it's opium for the people. Karl Marx said so and I agree with him. But sometimes I think that some people need a religion desperately, especially those who watch love and aerobics on the TV.'

   `Why?'

   `Those people are dreamers. They dream, fantasise about sex and money. So, it would be better for them to dream about after death and God.'

   `Do you think that religion was especially created for them?'

   `No, but it would be better for them to begin to use their brains and not their balls.'

  

   The Iconman and Lisa came out of the shed. The Iconman was smiling and flirting with Lisa. She was happy and clearly satisfied. Lisa held the Iconman's hand in her hand and whispered something to his ear. The Vampire jumped from the log and strolled towards them.

   `Not today, Vampire, `said the Iconman. `She must go.'

   The Vampire sighed deeply, lowered his shoulders and trudged to the fire. Lisa said something to the Iconman and happily skipped off through the field to the women's column.

   `Is there tea left?' asked the Iconman.

   I passed him the tin.

   `How was it, Nick?' asked Andrew and smiled.

   `Good,' said the Iconman. 'Three times I unloaded my "gun".'

   `Oho,' sighed the Vampire.

   `Don't sigh, Vampire,' said Andrew. `You'll taste blood next time, when she has her period.'

   `Let's go, mates,' said the Iconman. `It's time.'

   I extinguished the fire and we walked through the field to our column. Orderlies counted us and we rushed back to the neon paradise. The forest had changed. It grew older and darker. The psychedelic colours had gone. It looked like the dying embers. The wind had calmed. Trees stood silently, like a line like warriors. When we entered into the strip, the same trees suddenly came alive, murmuring and whispering amongst themselves. We marched silently through the forest. The column of women was hardly visible in front. The autumn twilight fell unexpectedly. A frost caught the ground. My mud-pushers slid along the freezing ground. The orderlies became agitated; they looked back and from side to side. We hastily passed the Cuckoo village. Ugly houses with an evil burning window-eyes stared in silence at us. Something is wrong with this village, I thought to myself. In every village dogs are barking but in here they aren't. Our barrack was enfolded in a luminous mist. Windows were covered with moisture and hid the mystery inside.

  

   `Another day has passed,' said the Iconman, as we entered the hall.

   `Where you going, Wolverine?' asked Andrew.

   `To the bog.'

   `I'll go with you,' said Andrew.

   In the toilet I properly cleaned and washed myself. Andrew lit a cigarette. When I finished, Andrew passed me his cigarette and begun to wash his hands.

   `We're going to the bathroom tonight,' said Andrew.

   `Really?'

   `Yeah, the orderly promised to open it up for us.'

   `Good. I like a shower.'

   Andrew soaped his hands and began to wash his face. One of the zombies meandered into the toilet and stood behind Andrew's back. Andrew's face was still in the foam; he swiftly splashed his face and spun round.

   `What are you, fuck? Stupid?! yelled Andrew and slapped the zombie. `Get the fuck out off here! Fucking jerk!'

   The zombie tried to run but Andrew gripped him by the scruff of the pyjamas and stopped him.

   `Wait a second, my dear darling,' hissed Andrew. `Wolfie, open the door, please.'

   I opened the door as wide as possible.

   `You're a ballistic missile,' said Andrew to the zombie. `Understand? Are you ready to fly?'

   The zombie attempted to escape again but unsuccessfully. Andrew rapidly turned him and pushed him out by his foot into the corridor. The zombie popped out from the toilet like a rocket. He hit the wall and slid down on his knees.

   `Fucking bastard!' said Andrew and spat.

   We left the lavatory and squatted on our couch. The Iconman was telling the Vampire, of how he was entertained by Lisa in the shed. We sat for half an hour on the couch and listened the Iconman's stories. Some of his stories were interesting, real life stories, but all too often a story ended behind the bar. The Vampire was drinking in the Iconman's stories like a son. Often he became very angry. He jumped from the couch and yelled: `Why? Why? It's not fair fate, Nick.'

   `Well, Vampire, there is no fairness in our country,' said the Iconman didactically.

   Around ten in the evening the orderly opened the bathroom especially for us. He locked us in there, and for an hour we enjoyed our shower.

  

   On Saturday, the whole day, we played cards, brewed tea and watched the TV. Weekends were the most intolerable days, with all lunatics inside the barrack. But on the other hand, no doctors, no strict rules, no harsh discipline - and the wards were open all the time. On Sunday as usual, after breakfast the patients waited for love and aerobics to appear on the screen.

   Our working week began from neighing of the nursey-horsy, a new soldier appeared in the hall. A Jewish boy with hazel eyes and a big hooked nose. He looked pitiful and weedy: thin, hollow breasted and clearly unfit for the army. With one look at him the Iconman refused his application to our pack.

   `We don't need Jews in our family,' said the Iconman.

   Why did they conscript him? What kind of soldier is he going to be? He shouldn't be in the army. Poor boy! He is not physically fit for it. I can imagine how he was treated in the army with such a Jewish face and probably a name. In my garrison was one Jewish soldier. Physically and mentally he was prepared for the army, and superficially he looked like a Russian. The problem was his surname, it was clearly Jewish and he was the first person in alphabetical order. Officers became very confused and angry when they tried to pronounce his surname. They pronounced it with derision and laughter. The soldiers bullied him twice as much as anyone else in the garrison. He became the scapegoat for everyone.

  

   On Thursday's rounds Rose told to me and Andrew that tomorrow we should have the medical assessment board.

   `Are they going to discharge us?' I asked Andrew.

   `Well, more than likely they will, but who knows?'

   `Are any soldiers sent back to army?'

   `Yeah,' said Andrew. `Do you remember the old kitchen lackeys?'

   Vaguely.'

   `One of them was here twice for drinking problems. He begged the doctors not to discharge him from the army.'

   `I see, so he wanted to be in the army.'

   `Yeah,' said Andrew. `He served twenty months. Stupid jerk!'

   `So, did they discharge him?'

   `No. Back he went to his garrison.'

   Before dinner the Vampire run to our couch and yelled: `I'm going home, brothers!! I'm free!'

   We all congratulated him and shook his hand. Before leaving, the Vampire spoke to the Iconman for half an hour. Our "family" had begun to fall apart. Soon the Iconman would leave. But the Toad got promoted by the Iconman from slave to active member. The Iconman sat him at our table and congratulated him. The kitchen lackeys, the Foetus and the Mummy's Boy, continued to entreat us from the kitchen, but most of their free time they hung around with the toadies.

   After our leisure hour I walked into the empty toilet and lit a cigarette. Several minutes later, two toadies dragged the Jew inside the toilet.

   `Hey, you! fucking Jew!' said one of them. `You will work for us. Understand?'

   I squatted in the corner and smoked in silence. Why are they doing this in front of me? The Jewish boy began to choke and he trembled. One of the toadies gripped his hands. The second one punched him in the stomach and yelled like a pig: `You will suck our dicks if we'll tell you so. Understand? Fucking Jew!'

   `Hey, you, pigs! I said, and rose. `Let him be.'

   After a couple of seconds of silence, one of them said: `What are you, another Jew?'

   `Suppose, I am. Do you have problems with this, swine?'

   The toadies looked confused and released the Jew.

   `Hey, you, get out of here,' I said to him.

   He opened the door and sled out. I looked at them and said: `Try to force me to suck you off.'

   `Leave him alone, Mike,' said one of them. `We'll do him later.'

   `Hey, you, swine! Do me now.'

   `We'll speak to you later, mate,' said Mike.

   `Your mates are pigs, fucking piglets!' I said.

   Suddenly Andrew opened the door and punched one of them. The guy screamed like a wild boar, lowered his head and rushed out of the toilet, forcing Andrew back. I made a move at Mike but he shot out of the toilet like a bullet. Andrew kicked him in his rear.

   `What's up, Wolfie?' asked Andrew. 'What's going on?

   `Well, not much. You scared them.'

   `The Jew said that they attacked you.'

   `No, no, they wouldn't dare.'

   `Let's do them, tonight,' said Andrew.

   `Leave them alone. I don't want to go back to the other wing. I had enough.'

   `We should get them, Wolfie.'

   `What's the point, Andrew? I know that, one on one; I could finish any of them. What do I have to prove?'

   `Well, you know, respect!'

   `What kind of respect can I expect from swine, Andrew?'

   `You're right, Wolfie. But sooner or later we ought to do them. The family will fall apart soon. They'll break us, brother.'

   `I know, Andrew. And another thing I know, we won't put up with their shit. So, let's wait and see.'

   `Okay,' said Andrew and smiled. `You're convinced me, Wolfie. The time will come to kill all pigs!' said Andrew and hung his hand on my shoulder. `Let's get out, brother, of this bog.'

  

   On Friday after breakfast, three of us squatted in the toilet.

   `Nick, what did they ask you at the assessment board?' asked Andrew.

   `Well, do I smoke? Do I drink? And so on. Stupid questions,' said the Iconman. `Then they asked me, why I don't want to be in the army.'

   `What did you tell them?' asked Andrew.

   `I told them that I want to go to Afghanistan,' said the Iconman. `They asked why? So, I told them that I'm dreaming to kill a few Muslims. After that they didn't ask me anything.'

   `I see,' said Andrew.

   `I wanted to tell them the truth about the fucking army,' continued the Iconman. `But there is no point in telling them. They know.'

   The orderly entered the toilet and said: `Andrew, let's go.'

   `Wish me luck, mates,' said Andrew.

   `Good luck, Andrew,' said the Iconman.

   `Take it easy,' I said.

   Andrew threw a cigarette in the hole and walked out of the toilet. We finished smoking, left the toilet and flopped on our couch. In twenty minutes Andrew returned to the hall. The orderly called my name.

   I entered into the Doctor's office. Rose and four men in white gowns sat at the long table covered with red table-cloth. On the wall behind them a portrait of Lenin-Khan. I sat on the chair in the middle of room and looked at them. On the middle of the table sat an elderly man with grey messy hair and a beard without moustache. I'd never seen him before in the hall. He was the governor here, a professor. Rose passed a file to the professor. He looked through the file then looked at me and said: `I see that you have a bad temper, young man.'

   I looked into his sober eyes and decided to be silent. The professor reminded me of an orangutan, especially his beard without the moustache. An old and clever orangutan.

   `Studied well in the college, but the disciplinary record is dreadful,' said the orangutan and passed the file to his colleague. `Tell me, young man. Why don't you want to be in the army?

   `I want to be in an army with normal laws and people.'

   `Is our army not normal?' asked professor.

   `No.'

   `Why?'

   `I don't know,' I said and looked into the professor's eyes.

   `Well, I see,' said professor orangutan gestured with his hands. He knew what was going on in the army. He stared at me for a couple of seconds

   `Have you taken drugs?' asked one of the doctors, with the chin and ears like a wrestler.

   `Well, I smoked grass couple of times.'

   One of the doctors, sitting at the end of the table, suddenly woke up and glanced at me. I knew his junky eyes. When I entered the room he even didn't look at me, he stared into space. I'd seen him on the rounds, and like a shadow he was.

   `What about alcohol?' asked the wrestler.

   `Sometimes, but not much.'

   `Why did you beat up the soldier?' continued the wrestler.

   `Well, I didn't want that to happen. The day before three of them beat me in the toilet.'

   `Why did they beat you up? asked the wrestler.

   `I refused to clean the table after them.'

   `It seems that you had injury in your childhood? asked one of the doctors with a kind, normal face.

   `Yes. I had.'

   `How did it happen? he continued.

   `I don't remember much. The car accident, my father died. I survived as you see.'

   `Alexei Victorovich, do you have questions for the patient? asked Rose the doctor-junky.

   `No. I'm fully satisfied,' he said. He glanced at me and continued to stare into the space.

   The scrutiny was over. The doctors began a mumbling conference among themselves.

   `Well, young man,' said the professor orangutan. 'You can go now.'

  

   Andrew sat on our couch and stared through the window.

   `How was it?' asked Andrew.

   `Well, I don't know. They didn't mention anything about discharging me.'

   `They will never do. We'll find out. Nick is leaving, he'll come now to say goodbye.'

   `I hope soon we'll be off from this loony bin.'

   `Yeah, we're going to be alone now,' said Andrew.

   `It's better be alone than with someone you don't know. I don't like flocks and packs. I don't know why humans have such an animal instinct to gather in herds. No, we're not lower than the angels - we're animals.'

   `What kind of animal am I? asked Andrew, grinning.

   `You are a wild cat.'

   `Yes, I love cats. I have one at home, a tom-cat,' said Andrew. `Well, what about doctors? Who are they?

   `Well, they're clever primates.'

   `Who?'

   `Primates. Have you seen the professor - orangutan, on the assessment board?'

   `Yeah,' said Andrew and laughed.

   `Have you seen a doctor-wrestler?'

   `Yeah.'

   `He's a mountain gorilla, a cop in white coat. He questioned me like I'm a killer or something.'

   `Oh, he interrogated me as well. What about Rose?

   `Rose is a chimpanzee: the nurses are macaques, the orderlies are baboons.'

   `What about the Bo' sun and nursey-horsy?' asked Andrew.

   `There are some exceptions.'

   `Baboons?' said Andrew. `What kind of primates are they?'

   `Oh, a very dangerous species, powerful and vicious. They look like a cross between a dog and monkey.'

   `If the doctors could hear our conversation, the orderly-baboons would lock us in isolation cell for forever,' said Andrew. `What about jailbirds and civilians?

   `Convicts are hyenas, jackals and so on. Most of the civilians are mammals. But they've exceptions as well, like the wife-eater. Zombies, loonies and psychos are reptiles.'

   `Well, Wolverine, now it's everything clear to me where I am,' said Andrew and laughed. `Zoo!!! Fucking zoo!'

   `Yeah, without doubt, Andrew.'

   The Iconman came from our ward and jogged to the couch.

   `Well, mates, I'll be off,' he said. `I left the boiler under my bunk.'

   `Good luck, Nick,' said Andrew and shook his hand.

   `Take care,' I said and shook his hand.

   `Take care yourselves, travellers,' said the Iconman. `I doubt that we'll meet again on this train. But on the next one, who knows?'

   The Iconman turned on his heels and strolled to the door out of the hall.

  

   `Nick is free!' said Andrew. `Soon we'll be free! Oh, I want to break free.'

   `There is no freedom, `I said. `We have a free choice between slavery and poverty. And in our case we don't have that privilege.'

   `Why?'

   `Why?! Don't you know, that we're blacklisted?'

   `Oh, Wolverine, you're a black person in your heart.'

   `I'm realistic, Andrew. No one would employ us; we're sick and dangerous animals. And in your case even worse.'

   `What do you mean?' asked Andrew.

   `Your criminal record.'

   `Well, I'll find something,' said Andrew enthusiastically. `Blacklisted, blacklisted. Listen, why did you join this black list?'

   `I'm going to leave this country.'

   `You're a cunning bastard, Wolverine! What are you going to do in the West?'

   `I don't know. But one thing I know: if I stay here I'll end up in prison or madhouse, inevitably. The Iconman will be back here soon.'

   `Who is the Iconman? asked Andrew.

   `Nick.'

   `Why call him that?'

   `His chest is like an icon. I always wanted to ask you, Andrew. What does it mean, the church on the Nick's back and other tattoos?'

   `Cupolas on the church mean how many years you stayed inside. Tattoos generally mean nothing but some of them are ritual.'

   `Ritual? What are they, Maoris?

   `Who's that, Maoris?' asked Andrew.

   `New Zealand Indians, warriors. They have ritual tattoos on faces and all over the body. What does it mean: a tattoo ring on your fingers?'

   `Well, it's complicated. Certain rings mean your rank in the joint, some your speciality in crime.'

   `What does your tattoo mean?

   `Nothing. I'm sorry I had it done.'

   `You have only a small one, it's all right.'

   `Nick was inside for four years. For three of them he was doing tattoos on himself. For one year he was locked up in the isolation cell. There he slashed his veins repeatedly.'

   `Why?'

   `The only way out from the isolation cell. Can you imagine how officers were shocked by his tattoos and scars? Nick said that forty former convicts arrived in one battalion. On the first day in the army they nailed all the soldiers. On the next morning they began with officers.'

   `I think that it would be better not to take them into the army at all. What's the point?'

   `I don't know,' said Andrew and laughed. `After three months almost all of them were sent here, or to military prisons.'

   `Stupid country.'

  

   ***

   On Sunday, after the usual entertainment - love and aerobics - the orderly opened the door into the garden and allowed the patients to go out. Andrew and I sat on a blanket of falling leaves under the maple tree.

   `What labels are they going to give us?' I asked Andrew.

   `I think 7B. Next week we'll find out,' said Andrew. `Listen, Wolfie, are you really going to flee to the West?'

   `I don't know. First of all I must get out of here, and then I'll see.'

   `Do you speak foreign languages?' asked Andrew.

   `Well, I'll learn.'

   `No,' said Andrew. `I can't imagine myself somewhere in the West. No friends, no relatives, it would be pretty difficult.'

   `Yes, it's a challenge and an act of discovery for me. I'd like to find a little bit more about their freedom. With our freedom I'm fed up.'

   `Do you reckon there's freedom?' asked Andrew.

   `Freedom in our mind, Andrew. We were born in the maximum security prison of a country. The West for me like this wing of our barrack, the rules are better, you can go outside - once in a while.

   `Then, why are you going there? asked Andrew.

   `Andrew, you were very happy in the "supermax"?'

   `No.'

   `Well, me neither.'

   `Okay, I'll go to speak to my mate,' said Andrew and rose.

   I lay on the ground and stared at the blue sky through branches. Someone approached me. I rose and sat at Turkish position. The Jewish boy looked at me sadly.

   `What's up, mate?' I said and smiled.

   `I, I,' stuttered the Jew. `I want to th-thank-kk you.'

   `Don't thank me, mate, it's all right.'

   `Are you r-r-really Jewish?'

   `I don't know. I might be? What's your name?'

   `Veniamin.'

   `My name is Boris. Listen, Venia, be careful here. Don't work for them.'

   ` I, I, ` stuttered Venia. `I c-c-can't fight.'

   `Sure you can, Venia. Use anything; fingers, head, legs, teeth. Anything you can. Fight those toadies. I couldn't do it for you.'

   `I, I'm alone here,' said Venia sadly. `No one wants me.'

   `Fuck them all, Venia. What is your ward?'

   `Third.'

   `It's good, civilians. Try to be more friendly with civilians. They'll help you.'

   `Ok---kay,' stuttered Venia. `Thanks you, B-Boris.'

   `Don't mention it.'

   Andrew appeared unexpectedly. Venia shuddered and jumped away.

   `What did the Jew want?' Andrew asked me.

   `Nothing, Andrew.'

   `Listen, Wolfie, if anyone asks you in what division you've been in the army. What would you say?'

   `I'll tell them that I've been in the Special Royal Psycho force. Why did you ask such bollocks?'

   `Well,' said Andrew. `I remembered one girl; she said that if a man wasn't in the army, he wasn't a man.'

   `Oh, Andrew, - This manhood thing. I don't know what to say. I've never paid any attention what birds say about "The Man". Why should you?'

   `I don't know, but what if someone asks me?'

   `Say nothing.'

  

   A new week began with the customary neighing of the nursey-horsy. On Monday after breakfast all patients began to clean the hall and the wards. We hid in our hut and cleaned the windows. As the Iconman left the barrack, the Foetus and the Mummy's Boy left our "family" and joined the toady's family. They didn't sit on our couch any more and stopped giving us snacks from the kitchen. The toadies occupied the loony's couch near the post of orderly. All members of their family were very friendly with the orderlies and medical staff. They obeyed any order or wish from them. Andrew became very agitated by their behaviour. On Tuesday, Tania, the nurse, told us that we had been given label 7B. We were psychopaths.

  

   The toadies gave themselves airs, like the orderlies in the hall. In the toilet and our wing of the corridor they strutted like hens under the wall. A few times convicts waylaid them in the toilet. If any of the jailbirds remained in the toilet, no toadies would come inside. Many times I saw how the toadies just entered the toilet and hastily ran back to the hall. The Mongols-mops resumed their careers but now under a close supervision of the toadies.

   On the middle of the week a new soldier arrived in the hall. He'd been transferred from the "sypermax". With him came news from Alex the Cobra that the new arrival was a nark. We'd been always in touch with Alex the Cobra. We sent him cigarettes and food: he sent us information about new arrivals. The new soldier was immediately enrolled into the toady's family. The loonies' couch became overcrowded. The toadies began to glance at our couch, where two of us were sitting.

  

   `Let's do them, Wolverine,' said Andrew. `I'm fucking sick of this shit.'

   `Where? They won't go to the bog if we're there.'

   `Let get them here, in the hall.'

   `No, we wouldn't have time. The orderlies are about.'

   `Let's do them in the corridor,' said Andrew. `Anywhere! My fists are itching.'

   `They never go to our wing of the corridor. We can catch one of them behind the column. But if he yells, the orderlies will come in ten seconds or less. It's a very short distance to the post.'

   `Well, we ought to do something.'

   `I know, Andrew. We'll just watch them this week.'

   `'Okay, I'll go to smoke with my mate,' said Andrew and rose from the couch. He strolled to the convict's couch and went to the toilet with one of the jailbirds. In couple of minutes Andrew returned and said: `Jailbirds are also stewed up by their behaviour. They're going to sort them out soon. Fucking lackeys!!' exclaimed Andrew and looked at them. `What are staring at me for?'

   The toadies looked away.

   `Take it easy, Andrew.'

   `Fucking pigs!' yelled Andrew and flopped on the couch.

   I entered the toilet and lit a cigarette. After a couple of minutes I sensed that something was wrong in the hall. I threw my cigarette down and rushed out of the toilet. One of the toadies ran towards the nurse's office with a bloody nose. Two orderlies pushed Andrew into the "supermax". I ran to the door and looked through the television window. The orderlies dragged Andrew into the nurse's office for an injection. I turned away. The toadies moved from the loonies' couch and occupied ours. Their leader, Mike, glanced at me.

   `You will be next,' he said and pointed his finger at me.

   I smiled and walked to the convict's couch.

   `What happened?' I asked Andrew's friend.

   `Not much,' said the inmate. `Andrew tried to nail this nark.'

   `Fucking toadies!'

   `Listen, mate, let's go to the bog,' said the convict and rose from the couch. We entered the toilet and lit cigarettes.

   `Andrew told me about you,' he said. `Stick around.'

   `Okay.'

   `We'll do them later. Fucking narks! Try to avoid them.'

   `All right.'

   We left the toilet. I sat on a chair near the TV. For the whole evening I sat there and stared numbly at the box. Occasionally the toadies glanced at me and whispered something. Around ten the orderly opened the wards. I went to our hut. I flopped on to Andrew's bed near the window.

Why do I follow Andrew? On the other wing I took his bed and here I did. Soon I'll follow him to the supermax. Damn place!! I don't want to go there. Please God help me!

  

  

   Chapter 6

  

   Pest-barrack

  

   Dawn. It's very quiet in the dormitory. The ward is half empty. I rose from my bed and went to the lavatory. After toilet I stood in my corner and glanced around the hall. In the morning all is quiet and peaceful in the barrack. One of the orderlies sat at his station and read a newspaper; another one sleeps in the nurse's office. On the couch near the orderly's post sat one loony who stared into space. Two zombies silently cruising along the wall in the corridor. Zombies and loonies don't sleep much at night. The orderlies allowed them to stay in the corridor and in the hall. There's no much noise or trouble from them. They're a very peaceful species. I looked into the garden. Blustering wind tears few remaining leaves from the maple tree. Winter is coming. Shit! When will I be away from this castle of mental torture and permanent depression? Doom place! Well, sooner or later I'll be out of here. But what am I going to do outside? It would be impossible to plan my life in this nonsense land. I'm a mental case, labeled a psychopath. Well, I never wanted a career anyway. I never wanted to be someone, except myself. But who am I? I don't know. Why I can't be like everybody else? Why must I always refuse their way of life and chose my own path? Well. I don't know... It's a pity that I cannot be like everybody else. I'm so tired of fighting against them alone. I'm completely alone in my duel with this silly society. Why did I choose to be insane? Could I have stayed and obeyed? No, I could not. If I could, I would do it. Any conscripts would consider my position in the army the most privileged one. But I decided not to. I spat on my future without hesitation. Why? Because, there's no future, there's no past, just a present. In present I'm here in the loony asylum. And I don't give a shit about my future in this country of bedlam. The future is unknown.

   Well, but if I stay in the hall today I can get in trouble with those toadies. Please, God, let me out of here today!

   The hall came alive and fussed. A long line of patients formed near the toilet.

   Breakfast. The Toad sat with me at the empty table. He's changed; he's not smiling any more.

   `What's up, Toad?' I asked. `Why you're not smiling?'

   He glanced sadly at me with a wry smile, and continued to eat

   `Don't worry, Toad. Everything will be all right.'

  

   After breakfast I approached the orderly and asked: `Do you need workers?'

   `Yes. What's your name?' asked the orderly.

   `Boris, I'm from second ward.'

   `Okay, go change your clothes.'

   I changed my clothes and came out of the barrack. Three patients were waiting near the entrance. I sat on the porch and lit a cigarette. In couple of minutes, two toadies appeared on the porch. They stood near me, occasionally glancing down at me and smiling.

   A truck slowly pulled to a halt near the porch. The orderly jumped into the cabin and told us to climb into the skip. Six of us climbed in there; two toadies, two civilians, me and a young fellow whom I've never seen in the hall. Who is he, civilian or soldier? Looked like civilian, in civil clothes, rounded and fresh. What is he doing here?

   All of a sudden the truck stopped near a big square building. The orderly got out of the cabin and said: `We're going to take some beds from this barrack. All right, lads?!'

   We jumped down and walked towards the barrack. The orderly knocked at the door. A man in white mask on his face opened the door and led us inside. Constant moan and scream of patients flew in my ears as the orderly opened the door inside a huge hall, twice more than ours. Instantly a tang of rotten flesh and shit burned my nose. Where am I? What is it? Oh, my God! Welcome to hell.

   One half of the hall was filled with beds like cages. Inside of them lay human-mutants with facial deformities. They looked like victims from a gas chamber: skin, bones and burning eyes. The mutants chaotically moved their limbs and moaned without respite. It seems that no one paid any attention to their cries. All of them were bound tightly with dirty towels to the bar on these cages. Many of the mutants were partly paralysed and lay down in same position in the cage: their buttocks fall into the hole on the middle of the cage. Under the hole stood a bucket for the toilet needs of these simpletons. The other half of the hall was filled with ordinarily beds. On them lay thin shadows of men, sighing.

   `What kind of barrack is this?' I asked the orderly.

   `Pest-barrack,' he said, and covered his nose with hand.

   Fuck me! This is the most dangerous and contagious place. Oh, my God!! I must get out of here, as soon as possible.

   The young fellow opened his mouth and stood speechless, with a shocked expression on his face.

   `These beds?' I asked the orderly.

   `Yes, take them out,' said the orderly and walked to the nurse's office.

   `Hey, mate, shut your mouth,' I said to the young fellow. `Let's go with me.'

   I held my breath and rushed to the beds, the boy walked behind me. We grabbed a heavy metallic bed and hurried out of the hall. As we came out on the porch I stopped and breathe out.

   `Fucking rat hole!' I said, and looked at my comrade. He glanced at me and smiled. With help of the driver we dragged the bed into the skip. The bed was very heavy and sticky. My hands became covered with yellowish substance like a cream.

   `We'll stay here,' I said to the driver. `We'll pack the beds inside.'

   `Okay,' he said and climbed into the cabin.

   I cleaned my hands and glanced at my companion. He was wiping his hands on his trousers.

   `Hey, mate,' I said. `Go up, into the skip and stay there.'

   `Okay,' he said and climbed inside.

   `Listen, if those soldiers tell you to climb down, don't listen to them and stay there. All right?'

   `Yes, but why?'

   `Never mind, why. I've no time to explain. Stay there. Okay?'

   `Okay, okay.'

   The toadies brought a bed to the truck. I grabbed it and pushed inside the skip.

   `What are you doing here?' Mike asked me.

   `We're packing the beds.'

   `Did anyone tell you to do this?'

   `Mind your own business.'

   `Hey, you!' yelled Mike to my companion. `Climb down.'

   `Stay there,' I said. `Listen, get off my back. Fuck off!'

   `Let's go, Mike,' said the other one with broken nose. `We'll tell the orderly about him.'

   `Go on, tell the orderly,' I said. `That's what you can do.'

   Civilians dropped a bed inside without our help, and ran back into the barrack like dummies. The toadies appeared from the barrack, and behind them walked the orderly. I took a bed from them and pushed it inside.

   `What are you doing here?' the orderly asked me.

   `We're packing beds. Someone has to do this anyway.'

   `Yes,' said the orderly and glimpsed at the toadies. They stood near the porch and stared at us. `Hey, you!' he yelled. `Get a move on, hurry up!'

   As they went inside I said to the orderly: `Listen, orderly, I'm really sorry that we began to pack without your command. But I won't go inside of this epidemic cave. I'm not mad enough. I'd rather get the sulphazin or go to the isolation cell.'

   `It's all right. I understand. I've never been myself inside of this barrack, horrible place. Listen, lads, our laundry needs some help. Would you like to work there?'

   `Yes, of course, we would be very grateful to you.'

   `But, please, do everything right. All right, mates?'

   `I gave you my word. Everything will be all right.'

   The orderly lit a cigarette and climbed into the cabin. We finished packing and climbed into the skip. After five minutes drive the truck pulled near a small wooden house. The orderly jumped out of the cabin and waved his hand.

   `Let's go, let's go,' he said to me.

   `Where are you going?' asked Mike.

   `None of your business,' I replied.

   We climbed down and walked into the house. The orderly introduced us to a big woman-laundress with reddish skin and went back to the truck.

   `Can we wash our hands somewhere?' I asked the laundress.

   `Sure, sons, a sink is over there and soap as well,' she said and pointed in the corner.

   `Let's go,' I said to the boy.

   `I'm not dirty.'

   `Let's go, anyway.'

   I washed my hands and face. In case of infection I even cleaned my nostrils, ears and rinsed my mouth. The boy put his finger under the water and rinsed them twice.

   `What are you, kamikaze?' I asked him. `Do you know where we went?'

   `No.'

   `It's a pest-barrack! Do you know what that is?'

   `No,' the boy said apprehensively.

   `Oh, my God! Were you born, yesterday? Plague, dysentery, tuberculosis, hepatitis, cholera and other contagious illnesses. Do you want to die?'

   `No, no, I didn't know about it.'

   `Now you know. Clean yourself properly.'

   `Okay, okay,' he said and begun wash his hands and face.

   `Where are the tools? I asked the laundress.

   `In the shed in the garden.'

   `Okay, we'll go then.'

   `If you need anything,' said the laundress. `I'm always here.'

   We began to saw the wood and packed it inside the shed. My associate started to sweat and became reddish like a tomato.

   `Are you tired? I asked.

   `Yes, a little bit.'

   `Let's rest for a while. Listen, why are you here? What are you, civilian?'

   `Yes, I'm a civilian. My name is Sasha.'

   `Are you under investigation?'

   `No, I'm not.'

   `Then, why are you here, in our barrack?'

   `There were no beds available in the hospital. Just in this barrack.'

   `Really?'

   `Yes.'

   `Who put you in here?'

   `My parents.'

   `Parents? Are they insane?'

   `No, they're not. My doctor advised them to put me in hospital for medical assessment.'

   `What's wrong with you?'

   `I can't work physically. My blood pressure jumps up and down.'

   `Well, don't work physically. Why did you go to work? You could stay in the barrack.'

   `I'd rather work than stay in there,' said Sasha.

   `Have your parents been inside our barrack?'

   `No, they left me at reception in the clinic,' said Sasha almost crying.

   `Don't cry. They probably didn't know where they put you. Fucking bastards those doctors - butchers! They shouldn't put you in here. Our barrack is for convicts only, Sasha.'

   `Are you a criminal?'

   `Yeah, some sort of criminal.'

   `What did you do?'

   `Well, I ate my sergeant alive,' I said and smiled.

   `Really?' said Sasha and looked at me.

   `No, I'm joking. How old are you?'

   `I'll be eighteen in two months.'

   `I'm amazed. You're underage. They shouldn't put you in here. Have you got a telephone at home?'

   `Yes, I have.'

   `You should call your parents from the nurse's office. Are you local?'

   `Yes, I live in the small town near here.'

   `Good, you can call and ask your parents to visit you. Don't say anything bad over the phone. Just ask them to come over.'

   `Do you think they can take me away from here?' asked Sasha.

   `Sure. I think your parent don't realise where they put you.'

   `My doctor promised my parents that I'd be shifted from this barrack as soon as possible.'

   `Oh, doctors. How long have you been here?'

   `Four days.'

   `Listen, Sasha, don't believe those bastards. They're not doctors - they're inquisitors and ego-maniacs. You don't need to be in this institution. You're not mad. If you want to became crazy? Well, it's up to you.'

   `I don't want to be here at all. But, my parents want to get rid of my illness.'

   `Well, sometimes it's impossible. Could you live with it?'

   `Sure, I've always had it.'

   `Then you don't need a treatment in here. Trust me.'

   `I'll call my parents today,' said Sasha. `I was afraid to tell them about this place.'

   `Tell your parents that Hitler and the Tsar recover in our barrack. And Yuri Gagarin's somewhere here, undercover.'

   `What Hitler?' asked Sasha and smiled.

   `Adolph Hitler, who else. Have you been on the other wing of the barrack?'

   `No.'

   `Consider yourself a lucky. Dreadful place. But this pest-barrack even worse. Where did they find so many monsters and mutants? Fucking freak collectors! Do you smoke, Sasha?'

   `No.'

   `Good for you. Can you go and ask the laundress to give us something to eat?'

   `Sure,' said Sasha and ran into the house.

   A few minutes later he emerged from the house with a mug and two pastries in his hands.

   `Pastries, home-made,' said Sasha. `The laundress is a very kind woman.'

   I ate my pastry and drank the tea.

   `Let's finished the job, Sasha.'

   When we finished I sat on the grass and lit a cigarette. The laundress came out on the porch and yelled: `Come on in, sons.'

   `I'll stay here,' I said to Sasha. `You can go if you want.'

   `I'll go,' he said and walked into the house.

   Well, today is not finish yet. It's good that I'm working without toadies. But in the evening I should be watchful in the hall. Damn place! They wouldn't leave me alone. When will it happen, today or tomorrow? Shit!! What shall I do? Wait? Wait for what? For provocation? I must nail this Mike alone. He is the head of their family. But he never alone, always with his lieutenants. Well, I might find a moment to ambush him. Soon, apparently, very soon, I'll join Andrew on the other wing of the barrack. I should visit him today, after supper. I'm so tired to imagine what can happen. It's better not think at all about it. What will be, will be! Screw you all. I won't be your slave. I'd rather die. Get ready, fucking toadies. I'll fight you to the end.

   Sasha came out from the house with two mugs of tea.

   `Here are some cookies,' said Sasha and gave me cookies.

   `Why is she feeding you? Are you hungry, Sasha?'

   `Yes, here I always feel hungry. What about you?'

   `I got used to it. Take my cookies. I don't like them.'

   `Really?'

   `Yes. Were you scared, Sasha, when you got into the barrack?'

   `I was stunned! I couldn't sleep at night. It's horrible! I'm still scared.'

   `Don't be scared, Sasha. Fear attracts predators.'

   `I've never ever seen such people in my life. I think that they're all man-eaters.'

   `Yes, we have one cannibal. He salted his wife in a barrel, like a herring. Oh, tell you parents about him.'

   `Did he really kill his wife?

   `Yeah, shit happens.'

   `Do we have murderers in our barrack?'

   `Sure, we have. We're all murderers here. Did you kill chickens or birds?'

   `Yes, I slaughtered few chickens for soup,' said Sasha.

   `So, you're the murderer.'

   `But it's a chicken.'

   `It doesn't matter. You've killed the living.'

   `Did you?' asked Sasha.

   `Yes. There is not much difference between chickens and humans, Sasha. But don't worry; no one is going to kill you. You're here by misfortune.'

   `Really? Do you think so?'

   `Of course, Sasha. Don't worry about it. Listen, I wanted to ask you something. If you were starving, would you cut off your ears and eat them?'

   `No, never,' exclaimed Sasha terrified. `Why did you ask?'

   `Don't worry. I won't eat your ears.'

   `What about you?'

   `Well, I would,' I said and smiled. `Anyway, I read an interesting book about Nomad people in Siberia. One hunter got lost in Tundra; he was so hungry and desperate that he cut off his ears and ate them.'

   `Well, no, I wouldn't do it. I can't harm myself.'

   `What about if is your life in stake?'

   `I don't know. I've never thought about it,' said Sasha.

   `This hunter survived because he ate his ears. He went deaf after that. But even deaf, he was the best hunter in his tribe. He felt animals by his sixth sense. He was around eighty years old or more, he didn't know his age, no one knew how old he was.''

   `Weird man.'

   `Yes and his tribe was also a wicked one. The chief was a woman-matriarch. She didn't allow this hunter eat too much. He scavenged bones from the table and picked them so cleanly that even dogs couldn't eat them afterwards.'

   `Why, they didn't feed him? `asked Sasha.

   `European geologists asked the matriarch the same question. She said that if they fed him well and proper, he would die soon.'

   `Why?'

   `She said that if he ate too much he'd become a lazy and overweight person, useless to the tribe. He never starved anyway; he was allowed to eat the livers of animals he hunted down. So, he was always busy hunting.'

   `Weird people,' said Sasha.

   `Don't eat too much, and you'll live longer.'

   `Why?'

   `Why? Well, you look like sweat biscuits to me. I reckon that if hunger strikes in our barrack, you'll be the first meal for our jailbirds, Sasha,' I said and smiled.

   `Do you think so?'

   `I'm joking. No one is going to eat you here. But if you were in prison during the Stalin era you'd be eaten. Do you know that prisoners eat human flesh regularly in Siberia?'

   `Really? Why?'

   `There is not much food in Siberia. In prison camps were people called "cows", ordinary people, not criminals. When criminals planned their escape they always took with them one or two "cows" ready to eat in case of starvation.'

   `Did they know that they were going to be eaten?'

   `Most of them knew, but there was a chance for them to escape. Some of the "cows" survived but some had been eaten.'

  

   The orderly came on the porch and called us. We climbed into the load basket and drove back to our barrack.

  

   ***

   After supper I came to the door into another wing and knocked.

   `What do you want?' the orderly-paratrooper asked me through the slot.

   `Let me see Andrew, please.'

   `Come later, in an hour.'

   In hour time I approached the door and knocked. The paratrooper opened the door and said: `Don't be long. Okay?

   `Sure, a couple of minutes,' I said and came inside. Andrew wasn't visible in the hall. I glanced around and met with eyes of Alex the Cobra.

   `Hi, Alex,' I said.

   `Hi, man. How are you?'

   `I'm all right. Yourself?'

   `So-so, could be better.'

   `Where is Andrew?'

   `He is on the bench,' said Alex the Cobra and pointed at the table.

   Andrew lay on the bench on his stomach, his legs and hands hung lifelessly. I walked around the table and sat on my haunches near the bench.

   `Andrew, are you all right?'

   Andrew opened his eyes and whispered: `Fucking bastards.'

   `Do you need anything?'

   `No.'

   `I leave some cigarettes with Alex. Take care, brother. See you soon.'

   Andrew closed his eyes, and the tears began to roll on his face. I rose and walked forwards Alex the Cobra.

   `Alex, here's a pack of fags for you and Andrew. Listen, if he needs anything, let me know.'

   `Don't you worry about Andrew, mate,' he said, and hid the pack into his pillow. `Take care of yourself.'

   `Okay,' I said, and left the hall.

  

   I stood near the window and stared into the dark garden. The toadies and the kitchen lackeys roasted on our couch like hens in a farm. Well, I've never needed this couch, anyway. Sasha came out of the corridor and walked towards me.

   `I called my parents,' he said. `They'll come tomorrow morning.'

   `Good, everything should be all right. Listen, Sasha, can you do me a favour if you get out of here?'

   `Sure, sure, anything you want!'

   `Will you post my letter?'

   `Of course, anything else?'

   `Yes, Sasha, never say in place like this "anything you want".'

   `But I know you!' said Sasha and smiled.

   `No. You don't know me. You don't even know my name.'

   `Yes, it's true. I'm sorry.'

   `Don't be sorry. It's all right. My name is Boris. I'm just telling you to be careful here, that's all'

   `Yes, thank you, thank you, Boris. I'll post your letter.'

   `All right. I'll give it to you tomorrow. I'm going to smoke now,' I said and walked towards the toilet.

   In the toilet two convicts making a kettle from a broken bulb and razors. The same tall loony stood near by them. The ritual had begun. The loony held a jar over his head and smiled. I glanced at him and noticed that the jar didn't wrap with a towel. I realised that in couple of minutes he would collapse. I moved closer to the door. After a while the loony started to wobble.

   `Don't move, stupid!' yelled one of the convicts.

   `I can't -t -t take it-t-t,' stuttered the loony. `It-t-t, hot.'

   `I'll bring him a towel,' said the other convict, and ran of the toilet.

   The water in the jar began to bubble. The loony couldn't take it any longer. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth very wide and moaned like a donkey. The jailbird caught the jar in the air. The loony almost dropped it on his head. The water didn't boil but the convict was in such a hurry that he put the tea in there.

   `What have you done?' asked him the other convict when he returned with a towel.

   `I put the tea in there.'

   `What are you, stupid? The water didn't boil.'

   `Oh, a big deal. We'll boil it up again.'

   `You're madman! Tea leaves in there!'

   `So, what?'

   `Did you go to school?'

   `Sure.'

   `Do you know what will happen?'

   `What?!'

   `What the fuck did you study in school, stupid? It will explode! Electricity, plus and minus. Understand?'

   `Don't call me stupid. He'll hold the jar not us,' yelled the convict and pointed at the loony. He stood in the corner and rubbed his palms.

   `You're a maniac!' said the other. `I'm not taking part in this madness,' he said, threw a towel to his mate and left the toilet.

   I walked out after him and stood in Toad's corner. It was empty. Patients sat around the TV and watched the late night entertainment, a war drama. After couple of seconds I heard an explosion and sound of broken glass from the toilet. The light went off. For a few seconds the barrack went noiseless and dark. The toilet door opened with a great crash. A black steaming mess popped out from there, smashed into the wall near me and moaned.

   `Brothers!! Kill the pigs!' someone yelled.

   Jailbirds, I thought to myself. Commotion, shouts, sound of punches, filled the hall.

   `Kill the fucking narks!!'

   It's a good time for an ambush, I thought. Should I settle Mike now? No, not enough time. The toadies are probably hiding under the couch. Where is the Toad? Why he is not in his corner?

   The light is on. Our couch is empty. A couple of patients stretched on the floor near the TV. The toadies and the kitchen lackeys gathered around the post of orderlies like ducks around a farmer.

   The loony lay on the floor not far from me. He is crying like a dog, his pyjamas are wet and steaming, tea leaves all over his head and shoulders. One of the orderlies strolled up to him and kicked him into his stomach.

   `Fucking junky!!!' yelled the orderly and kicked him again. `What you were doing in there?'

   The loony continued to cry.

   `Get up, stupid jerk!' yelled the orderly and kicked him again. `Go to the nurse's office!'

   The loony got up from the floor and crippled to the nurse's office. The orderly advanced to the TV and switched it on. The box didn't work.

   `Fucking junkies!!' bawled the orderly. `No more TV, fucking freaks!! Go to your bunks, all of you. Bastards!!'

   I came out from the corner and went to my ward.

  

   ***

   Next morning after breakfast I sat at the table with the Toad. He was doing work-therapy. I snatched one list of paper from a bundle and begun to write a letter.

  

   Hi, mama!!!

   I'm all right. I feel much better now. Every day I'm going out in the garden to breath the fresh air. The assessment board went well. Soon I'm going to be free from here. The food here is not too bad. I've regained some weight and feel much better.

   Please, don't worry about me, mama. Very soon I'll be home.

   Your son, Boris.

   PS. Do not send letters here, please.

  

   I rose from the table and stood near the window. I put the letter in the envelope and sealed it. Suddenly appeared Sasha with a big smile on his rounded face.

   `I'm leaving now!' he said. `You know, when I told my parents about our barrack, my father went to the clinic and made hell of a rumpus there.'

   `You see. I told you, Sasha.'

   `I'm really grateful to you, Boris. If it weren't for you I don't know, how long I would stay here. I don't know how to thank you.'

   `Forget about it. Please, post my letter, but not here. In the village.'

   `Sure, I'll post it in my town at the main post office.'

   `Keep it hidden,' I said and passed the letter.

   `For your mother?' asked Sasha.

   `Yes. Well, Sasha, let me give you a bit of advice for the road. Don't work too hard, don't eat too much, be a human being.'

   `Okay,' said Sasha and smiled. `Thanks a lot for your help, Boris.'

   `Don't mention it. Goodbye Sasha. Take care of yourself.'

   He smiled and walked to his ward. After an instant he jumped from the ward and strolled towards the door out of the hall. Before leaving he turned and waved his hand. I nodded, turned away to the window and stared into the garden. The first snow began to fall. Stormy wind tears three remaining leaves on the maple tree. Well, it's time. Three leaves should fall soon. When will I get out of here?

   `Hey, you!' thundered above my ear. `Clear off. I'm mopping the floor here.'

   I slowly turned back and met with Mike's face. I smiled and moved aside.

   `Listen, why are you not working? What are you, a ghost here?' asked Mike.

   `He will clean the hole in the loo now,' yelled another toady and advanced towards me.

   `Take this mop,' said Mike.

   I smiled, looked through him, and moved to the other window, far from the orderlies. Oh, it's begun. Fucking toadies! I'll kill you all. An adrenaline tremor ripped through my body and burst in my head.

   `What are you, deaf?' yelled the third one.

   Three of them came close to me and put a bucket with a mop before me. I looked at them, smiled and thought. Who's going to be my first victim? Well, it's going to be Mike. I like him most.

   `I asked you,' yelled the toadies. `Are you deaf?'

   `No, I'm mute,' I said.

   `Keep this mop,' said Mike and pushed the bucket closer to me.

   `Okay,' I said and smiled. I took the mop in my hands, stepped backwards and whacked Mike with the mop. The mop crashed on his stupid head. Mike fell down on one knee and screamed like a pig. I kicked his silly head with my knee and he flapped on the floor. Then I grabbed another one for his neck and slashed him numerous times with the broken stick. The third one vanished without trace. Somehow the stick disappeared from my hand. I grabbed the toadies with both my hands by the scruff of his pyjamas and did my favourite struggle trick from Judo.

   Someone behind was hammering my head. The toady is screaming in my hands and spitting the blood on my face.

   `Let him go, mother fucker,' someone yelled in my ear and hit my head with something heavy.

   I'm losing my consciousness, my pyjamas is cracking all over. The toady became red, his eyes bubbled and he stopped yelling. Someone behind me repeatedly pounded my head. I'm fading away.

   My hands are bound behind my back and attached to my feet. I'm a bagel-man. I slid over the floor on my breast like a scooter. Someone kicks me in my stomach. I turned my head. The third toady kicking me. Bastard.

   Orderlies dragged me into the isolation cell, lifted me from the floor and flopped me on a bed.

   `Fucking moron! Stay still!' yelled the orderly, and punched me in the head when I tried to lift my body. I lost the consciousness for a couple of seconds. A cold needle thrust into my shoulder and brought me back.

   `Fucking werewolf,' hissed the orderly and injected me in another shoulder.

   `In the quiet bog a lots of poisoned frogs,' said another orderly. `Four points?'

   `Sure, he probably needs more. I couldn't break this animal!' said the orderly and injected me in my bottom. `Hey, you!' yelled the orderly above my ears. `Do you want two more points?'

   `No, I'm all right,' I mumbled.

   `All right? You fucking predator!' yelled the orderly and slapped me.

   `Don't slap him,' said the other one. `He had enough.'

   `Rest mother fucker,' hissed the orderly and slapped me again.

   `Come on, Serge, let him be,' said the other one.

   They left the cell and locked the door. I tried to move but my limbs were bound. I slowly turned my head.

   `Hi, Hitler!' I said. `Help me, Furher. I won't bite you.'

   `Well, I don't know?' said Hitler.

   `Well, what?'

   `Well, orderly said that he'd punish me if I helped you.'

   `Punish? How? You're already punished enough.'

   `Well, I don't know. The orderlies said that you're dangerous.'

   `Come on, Hitler. Do you believe them?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `I promise you I won't harm you. Help me with one knot on my hands. Please, Hitler.'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Come on, Adolph; do me a favour, please.'

   `Well, all right, all right,' said Hitler and slid from his bed. He undid one knot on my hands. I spun my body twice and released my legs.

   `Heil, Hitler! Thank you very much indeed, my Furher.'

   `Well, you're welcome.'

   `Welcome? Oh, thank you, Adolph.'

   The isolation cell was small and stank like a brothel. No windows outside, just a small window - TV on the door. Under the walls four beds, between beds a narrow walkway. Two neon lamps hung on the ceiling like two mad wasps.

   Andrew appeared in the window frame. I rose from the bed and crawled towards the door. Immediately Andrew's face disappeared from the frame and a face of the orderly stared at me.

   `Hey, you!!' How did you get untied?' bawled the orderly and opened the door.

   I recognised his voice; he'd stopped the other orderly slapping me. I stepped back to the wall and said: `Listen, orderly, I've calmed down. I'm all right. I'm not going to do anything bad.'

   `Really?' said the orderly. `Show me your hands.'

   I stretched my hands.

   `You see. I'm all right.'

   `Yes, I see,' said the orderly, and then he collected towels and locked the cell. Instantly Andrew appeared in the frame.

   `How are you, Wolverine?'

   `As you see.'

   `What did you do there? A revolution?'

   `I nailed those toadies.'

   `Yeah, I know. One of them in the surgery now.'

   `Good. I think its Mike, fucking nark. Listen, Andrew, they shot me in four points.'

   `I know.'

   `How was it?'

   `Awful, bloody awful, brother. I couldn't move.'

   `I see.'

   `Don't worry, Wolverine, you will survive. One day of torture, it's nothing for us.'

   `Yes, I'm not scared. I don't want to stay here in this rat hole. Can you ask a nurse to transfer me to the hall?'

   `Alex already asked. She said no.'

   `Bastards!'

   `I'll be off, Wolfie. See you in the bog,' said Andrew and walked away.

   I sat on my bunk and stared into the space. Why my armpits are hurting? I lifted my arms, my armpits cut in the centre and bleeding.

   `Hail, Hitler! How are you?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Listen, why do you start any conversation with "well"?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `You're not well, my Fuhrer.'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `What do you know?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Oh, Hitler, now I understand why are you here. Do you remember how did you get here?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `No more "well" Hitler, please. Do you remember how you helped me? And no more "well".'

   `Yes, but.....'

   `No more well. You remembered. So, in that case you might remember something else. For example: who are you?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `I know who you are. You aren't Hitler, you're Gagarin. I thought about you. Do you remember your first name?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `No more well and I don't know, say yes or no.'

   `No.'

   `Your first name is Yuri. Do you remember how you flew to cosmos?'

   `No,' said Hitler and smiled.

   `Good! Do you remember the Queen Elizabeth the Second?'

   `No.'

   `Too bad. You're the first space-knight, Hitler. Listen, we have one alien in our barrack. He came from Alfa Centuri. Have you been there?'

   `Well. I don't...'

   `Enough, of well, Adolph.'

   The Tsar pulled his dirty tunic and began masturbate.

   `Hey, you!' I yelled. `Don't do that. I'll break your dirty hands.'

   I rose from my bed and approached the Tsar.

   `Never do that again, pig!' I said, and pushed his head.

   The corner where the Tsar lay was very smelly. On the wall was a big fat spot from his body. As soon as I sat on my bed, the Tsar began again.

   `What are you doing, mother fucker!' I yelled and jumped to the Tsar's bed. `I'll break your dirty hands for it.'

   I punched him in his huge stomach. My hand bounced from his stomach like rubber ball. I punched his stomach a few times like a punch bag.

   `Fuck me! What a stomach, you have Tsar. Are you pregnant? Who is the father, the Furher? Listen to me Tsar. If you'll do it again I'll beat you to the death. Understand?'

   The Tsar was silent. I grabbed him at the throat and squeezed his Adam's apple. The Tsar began to bleat like a sheep and shifted his fat body.

   `What are you bleating, fucking caterpillar? Do you understand what I'll do to you? I'll kill you.'

   The Tsar nodded and I released his throat.

   `Good, I see you understand something,' I said. `And you, Adolph, couldn't you tell him before? The cell stinks like a brothel.'

   `Well, he doesn't understand anything.'

   `Are you sure, Hitler? I think he does understand something. Look here. Hey, Tsar, do you want to die?'

   The Tsar ignored me and whispered something under his breath.

   `What are you whispering, Tsar? I asked you, do you want to die?'

   The Tsar was silent.

   `I see. You're so clever that you're ignoring me. Okay. I'll kill you tonight if you won't answer me.'

   `No-o, no, I want to live,' said the Tsar.

   `Who wants to live forever, Tsar?' I said. `You see, Hitler, he wants to live forever. Look, Tsar, if I see that again. I'll kill you. And another thing if you piss in here, I'll wipe it with your face. I promise you, Tsar. Don't fuck around with me.'

   The Tsar nodded, turned to the wall and tugged his blanket on his head.

  

   Dinner. The orderly brought inside a tray with our food. I ate the soup, the second dish I gave to the Tsar. He ate everything in couple of minutes and stared at the orderly, like a hungry dog.

   `Listen, orderly, I want to take a leak,' I said.

   `Wait a moment, I'll come back,' said the orderly and collected basins.

   After a couple minutes he returned and lead us out.

   In the toilet the same brotherhood - wise guys.

   `Welcome back!' said Alex the Cobra.

   `Thanks.'

   `Four points?' asked Alex the Cobra.

   `Yeah,' I replied. `Andrew, have you got a cigarette?'

   `Yes, Alex gave me a pack.'

   `Listen, Andrew, can you ask the nurse to pass all my cigarettes from the other wing?'

   `Sure,' said Andrew. `On the other wing something's going on.'

   `How do you mean?' I asked.

   `Doubled shift of keepers,' said Alex the Cobra. `Something is wrong.'

   `The TV broke down,' I said.

   The orderly entered opened the door and called us out.

   `Hey, let him smoke,' hissed Alex the Cobra. `He won't run from here anywhere.'

   `One minute?' I asked the orderly. `Andrew, when my cigarettes arrive, take them all from the nurse's office.'

   `Okay,' said Andrew.

   Andrew looked dreadful; he was trembling and moving like a snail.

   `Are you all right, Andrew?' I asked.

   `No, mate, I'm not,' said Andrew. `Butchers! Fucking morons, I can't lift my arms.'

   `Well, I'll be off,' I said and left the toilet with Tsar. Hitler left the toilet earlier.

   In the cell I lay on my bed and fell asleep. Supper. The orderly brought the food inside. The supper proves to be edible. After supper the orderly lead us to the toilet. I entered inside and joined the brotherhood.

   `On the other wing something's wrong,' said Andrew. `One civilian was transferred from the barrack and no one knows where or why.'

   `What do you think is going on?' I asked Alex the Cobra.

   `I don't know, but something stinks,' he said. `I've never seen so many pigs around. What did you do there, Boris?'

   `Not much.'

   `Well,' said Alex the Cobra. `Tomorrow we'll find out.'

   `My mates told me that he has stomach-ache,' said the Jackal.

   `Who has?' asked Alex the Cobra.

   `The civilian, who was transferred,' said the Jackal.

   `I see,' said Alex the Cobra. `Stomach-ache? That's interesting.'

  

   I returned to the isolation cell and lay down on my bed. Hitler sat on his bed and glanced at me.

   `My Fuhrer, let's fly together to another galaxy,' I said.

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Let's fly with me my Fuhrer to the Mars,' I sang. `On the other wing we have one loony, he promised to take us all to Alpha Centauri. Would you like to fly there?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Hey, Hitler, do you smoke?'

   `Well, no.'

   `Did you smoke before?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Not again, Hitler: please, any more of that phrase.'

   `No.'

   `Good, better now. You see, we've some progress. So you don't smoke. Of course, cosmonauts don't smoke. Listen, Hitler, how was it in space? I read somehow that in there you don't need drugs, you're stoned there all the time.'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Don't you remember? And no more of this, well, I don't know.'

   `No.'

   `No, what?'

   `Well, I don't know.'

   `Listen, Hitler, it seems to me that KGB officers inserted into your silly head just one tape. Well, I don't know. Change the tape, Adolph.'

   I turned to the wall, pulled my blanket over my head and fell asleep.

  

   I woke at night. My back was on fire. I tugged my blanket and glanced around. Hitler is asleep. The Tsar sat on the bed covered his head and body with blanket. The blanket is vibrating. Fucking wanker! I closed my eyes and drifted away.

  

   `Hey, pal! Are you alive?' very familiar voice thundered over my head. `Do you want to piss?'

   `No,' I whispered.

   I'm lying on my stomach. All of a sudden a pain awoke me, and cut me through. A massive attack of electric migraines hit me in my inner eye. The pain is all over me. The clatter of basins and a sound of champing wouldn't let me fall asleep. One of my arms is numb. I can't lie in this position any longer. I must move. I sent a signal to my arm, but it lost somewhere in my head. I rose my head and pushed my arm; it slid down from the bed and hung lifeless. The pain struck me instantly; my head began to pulsate and buzzed. Muscles on my neck are clenched I've no strength to lift my arm, and the hell with it. I ought to fly away from here. I must dissolve my body in my mind. I feel no pain or joy. I'm a ghost.

   In couple of minutes my body was gone. I didn't fell it at all. The pulse in my head ceased. I fell asleep and had a strange dream.

  

   Dream: A bloody sun coming down in the steppes. A field of the battle filled with dead bodies and military ammunition. Russians won the battle. Almost all Khazars are killed. Two dozen of Kharzars warriors surrounded by men with spears on the middle of the field. Russian archers shooting arrows at them. Kharzars covered themselves with shields and ambushed the enemy time after time. The Russian baron stood on the hill with his warlords and observed the end of the battle. .

   `Take the Khan alive,' he commanded to his bodyguards.

   Two riders galloped down the hill towards the crowd. Three Kharzars are still alive. The wounded Khan stood on dead bodies with an ugly smile on his face. The Russians are coming closer and closer. One Kharzar jumped ahead with a wild shout and hung on spears of the enemy. An arrow of death pierced the neck of the young Kharzar with flag. The Khan left alone. He hardly alive. In his right hand he held a broken sword. The crowd made a corridor for the Khan. Two riders with nets galloped through the crowd to the Khan. The Khan glanced around, whispered something. Then he took his broken sword with both hands lifted before his eyes and thrust it in his stomach. Nets fell on his breathless body.

   Suddenly I heard a clatter of dishes and familiar voices. I flew back. Is it a dinner or a breakfast? My temperature is up, sweat rolls all over me. I don't feel my body, but I do feel a fire inside of me. I'm still resting on my stomach. I'm scared to move or to open my eyes. I know that if I do so the pain will attack me from behind. I must fly away from here. I drifted in the darkness like a phantom.

   Something hit my dangling arm. The pain struck me in my inner eye. I woke and open one of my eyes. A mop sliding on the floor. Fucking Mongol-mop. I closed my eye and stumbled into my torpor.

  

   I flew back. I'd survived. I'm desperate to go to the toilet. I must get up. Fucking bastards! I don't feel my limbs. My head is buzzing. Cuts under my arms are burning and scratching. My backs like a rock; muscles stuck together. With great difficulty I sat on the bed and glanced around. Hitler turned to the wall and quietly snoring. The Tsar sat in the corner of his bed, covered with blanket. Clever bastard! I rose and crawled towards the door. I tried to raise my hand but I couldn't. The pain in my back paralysed my hands. Fucking executioners! I came closer to the door and banged with my head. No one is coming. I banged harder. Panteleich face came into view in the window frame. He opened the door and asked: `Do you want to piss?'

   `Yes.'

   In the toilet I stood for couple of minutes above the hole trying to piss. When I finished I crawled back to the isolation cell and fell asleep in my den.

  

   ***

   Monday morning. My body is broken, my head is buzzing. The orderly brought our breakfast inside. I sat on the bed and only drank my bromide tea. The Tsar glanced at me and grabbed my portion of porridge.

   `I want to go to the loo,' I said to the orderly.

   `You'll wait until I say so.'

   `I can't take it any more.'

   `Okay, okay, wait I'll come back,' said the orderly and collected dishes. In couple of minutes he returned and lead us to the toilet. The orderly came inside the toilet and closed the door. Someone tried to enter the toilet but the orderly pushed him back and said: `Back off. You'll come later.'

   What is going on? Why he doesn't allow anyone inside? I descended from the pedestal and crawled towards the door.

   `Did you shit?' the orderly asked me.

   `No.'

   `Why?'

   `I wanted to piss.'

   `All right,' said the orderly and lead us back to the cell.

  

   Andrew appeared in the window. I came closer to the door.

   `Bad news,' said Andrew.

   `What happened?'

   `You'll be transfer today into the pest-barrack.'

   `What!! Fucking hell. Are you sure?'

   `Yeah, all who went to work with you already are there - dysentery.'

   `That's why the orderly asked me about shit in the bog. Fucking life! I won't go there.'

   `Listen, Wolverine, let me check with Alex. I'll come back in few seconds.'

   I sat on my bed and stared at the floor. Well, finite la comedia. I knew that this pest-barrack is the contagious bin. I'm all right I'm sure. If I had dysentery I would be sleeping on the pedestal of the latrine. What shall I do? I must do something. I won't go to the pest-barrack. I know what could happen there. If I get out from there alive I would be contagious anyway. Fucking life!! I won't go there. I must do something. Andrew appeared in the window. I rose and crawled towards the door.

   `Yeah, they'll transfer you today,' said Andrew.

   `Fuck me! I won't go there, Andrew. Get me the razor from the hole.'

   ``Wait, Wolverine, don't rush it. On the other wing chaos.'

   `Why?'

   `Two civilians fell sick and refused to go to the pest-barrack.'

   `So, did they transfer them?'

   `Yeah, other patients fell sick as well. An epidemic began on the other wing. Orderlies inspecting every patient hole and shit.'

   `What about our wing?'

   `Thanks God, no,' said Andrew.

   `Andrew, are you sure that they'll transfer me today?'

   `Yes, I'm sure, Wolfie. I confirmed this with a nurse.'

   `Fuck them all! I won't go there. You know what could happen in the pest-barrack. I'd rather slash my veins and go to the surgery.'

   `Are you sure, Wolverine?'

   `Yes. I'm sure. Please, Andrew, bring me the razor.'

   `Okay, I'll try,' said Andrew and walked away.

   I sat on my bed and glanced at Hitler. He seems scared and confused; he definitely understood what will happen now.

   `Listen, Hitler, I see you're not so stupid like the Tsar.'

   He nodded.

   `I will need your help. When I cut my veins you must make a lot of noise and call the orderlies.'

   `Okay,' said Hitler.

   Andrew emerged in the frame.

   `Have you brought it?' I asked him.

   `Yes.'

   `Slide it under the door.'

   Andrew pushed the razor into a slot and asked: `When are you going to do it?'

   `In few minutes.'

   `Please, be careful. I'll be around here, I'll call the orderlies.'

   `Thanks, Andrew.'

   I sat on my bed, covered my body with a blanket and looked at the broken razor blade. It was cover with foam soap. I cleaned the blade with my finger and glanced around. The Tsar was stretched on his bed and talking to himself, a charming picture. Hitler sat on his bed and stared at me. I tried to lift my arm but I couldn't. Shit! Fucking doctors!

   `Don't let me down, Hitler.'

   `Okay,' he said and lowered his eyes.

   I gathered all my strengths, raised my arm and slashed my right hand. I felt no pain. A nervous tremor ran through my body. I pushed the blade under my mattress and cover the cut with my hand. The blood came through my fingers and oozed on the blanket.

   `Go on, Hitler,' I said. `Call them.'

   He jumped from his bed and banged the door.

   If I get out from this loony theatre alive I get into another theatre with silly actors and actress. Who am I? Lunatic or actor? I've never played their game. I've no role in this spectacle of life. Why did I choose this way?

   Andrew's face emerged in the window frame and instantly disappeared. Why nobody is coming? What's wrong? My hand stuck to my body and numb. Hitler continued to shout and banging the door. The Tsar stir on his bed and began to moan without respite. Andrew's face appeared again in the window and instantly vanished. What happening? Why no one is coming? Where are the orderlies? Hitler stepped aside from the door and looked at me. A face of a nurse stuck to the window.

   `Oh, my God!!!' exclaimed the nurse. `Who's got the key? Where is the orderly?'

   `On the other wing,' bawled someone.

   `Call them, quick, quickly,' yelled the nurse and disappeared.

   Why are the orderlies on the other wing? What's going on there? I have to get up. I tried to move but I couldn't.

   I don't feel my body at all, just my head. Shit! I might have gashed my arteries. A cold waive of fear rambled through my body and burst into my head. Fuck me! I've killed myself. No. Help me!

   My hand slid down and hung lifeless. My blood dribbled on the floor. I pissed into my pants. A hot spring of urine streamed onto my cold legs. I attempted to rise again. Tears fell from my eyes. I tried to get up again but I couldn't move my limbs. Hitler sat under the wall and began to weep soundlessly.

   Why is he crying? I ought to get up. I don't want to die. Where is the fucking orderly? I tried to get up once again but unsuccessfully. Tears rolled on my face. Fucking life! I hate you all! Bastards! I must stop crying. There is no point in it. If I'm going to die now I must face it without tears and fear, like a warrior. Tears burned in my eyes. I don't feel my body. I only sense a tiny cold matter in my head, becoming smaller and smaller. Fuck me! I'm dying. Please, forgive me mama. Don't kill yourself because of me. Apparently, I have no role in this spectacle. I tried not to lie to myself. I've been honest. But this stupid society wouldn't let me be myself. For many years they tried to make from me a slave, a witless and obedient killing machine. No. I'm not your slave. I'm free to choose my path. Fuck you all! Bastards! I will fly away from this world undefeated. Oh, God! If you are exists take me as I'm. I'm your son. I'm nobody slave. I smiled and closed my eyes.

   A ray of neon light woke me up. I barely open my eyes. Where am I? Paradise or hell? Neon lamps floating above me. A face in white mask came in my view and said something. Who is he? Archangel in white mask? I heard the Iconman's song about escape.

   `Oh, railroad to Taiga and rhythm of wheels raps the way.'

   Well, the way from nowhere to anywhere. This is my road to hell. Oh, my God!

   I smiled, and closed my eyes.

  

  

   Epilogue

  

   An army anecdote

  

   A young woman, a sergeant and an officer sat around a table in the sleeping compartment on a train. They are having a late tea.

   `Where are you going? The young woman asked the officer.

   `Well, it's classified, madam' said the officer and smiled. `We're transporting a dangerous cuckoo.'

   `What do you mean, cuckoo?' asked the woman.

   `Lunatic!' bawled the officer and laughed. `He's sleeping on the upper bunk.'

   `Is he really a lunatic?' she asked.

   `Yeah, yeah, yeah,' said the officer. `He used to wake up every day at midnight and cuckooed twelve times.'

   `That's unbelievable!' exclaimed the woman.

   `Oh, yes,' said the sergeant and smiled. `Let's wait until midnight, and you'll see,'

   The midnight passed without cuckooing. The officer checked his watch and rose.

   `Hey, you, cuckoo! Wake up!!' yelled the officer and pushed the soldier. The soldier turned on his back and asked: `What's up, governor?'

   `Why are you not cuckooing?' yelled the officer.

   `It's your turn now, general,' said the soldier and turned back to the wall.

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

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