“So then, how are we to revive him?” the town clerk asks. “He has nearly drowned recently.”
“So what? I know that. People who are drowned should not be thrown up, but rubbed with alcohol. It is written in the calendar of wisdom. Stop doing this, and start doing what I tell you to do.”
The clerk is confused. He shrugs his shoulders and steps aside. The people throwing the old man place him on the ground and stare at the landlady with surprised looks, glancing either at her or at her manager, Anthony.
The drowned man is already lying with his eyes closed, breathing heavily.
“Hey, you drunks!” Anthony becomes angry.
“My dear sir!” The clerk, out of breath, comes closer and puts his hand to his heart in respect. “Why use this tone? Do you think we are animals, and we do not understand?”
“Men, do not throw him up. Take his clothes off. We will rub him with alcohol.”
“Men! We should rub him with alcohol, so do it!”
The drowned man is removed from his clothes, and under the guidance of Anthony they begin rubbing him. The landlady, who does not want to see the naked man, moves off to the side.
“Oh, Anthony,” she moans. “Anthony! Come here. Do you know how to do rescue breathing? You need to roll him from side to side, and then push on his chest and his stomach.”
“Hey, guys, roll him from one side to another,”says Anthony, coming back to the crowd. “Then, push him in his stomach, but not very hard!”
The town clerk, who after his previous energetic activity feels a little tired, comes closer through the crowd to the old man and begins to push his chest and rub him.
“Help me, boys,” he implores. “I need assistance!”
“Anthony,” the lady asks, “come over here. Give him some burned feathers to breathe and tickle him. Tell them to tickle him well. Do it!”
Five minutes passes, then ten. The lady looks at the crowd and watches all this activity.
All that can be heard is the sound of the busy farmers breathing heavily, and Anthony and the town clerk giving commands. The smell of burnt feathers and alcohol fills in the air.
Finally, another ten minutes later, the crowd moves to the sides and Anthony steps out, completely red and soaked with sweat. Anisim follows him.
“We should have rubbed him from the very beginning,” Anthony says. “Now we can do nothing.”
“What could we do? We started late, far too late!” Anisim agrees.
“What now?” the landlady asks. “Is he still alive?”
“No, he is dead, God bless his soul.” Anisim sighs deeply. “When we had pulled him out of the water, his eyes were open, but now his body is completely cold.”
“It is a pity.”
“This was his unlucky day. His destiny is to accept death not on firm land, but in the chilly water. Can we have some tips for our efforts, dear lady?”
Anthony jumps on the cart and looks disgustedly at the crowd that now is moving away from the corpse. The cart shudders, and begins to move away …
BAD BUSINESS
Who is out there?”
There is no reply. The security guard cannot see anything in the darkness of the cemetery; however, through the noise made by the wind and the trees, he can hear someone walking in front of him along the alley.
The foggy and cloudy March night covers the earth. It seems to the guard that the earth, the sky, and himself, together with his thoughts, are united in something huge, impossible to penetrate, and dark. Walking is only possible through taking a guess and a small step, it is so dark.
“Who is out there?” the guard repeated. He thought he could hear a whisper and subdued laughter.
“It is me, father,” the voice of an old man answers him.
“And who are you?”
“It’s me. I am just a passerby.”
“What kind of passerby are you?” shouted the guard, trying to mask his fear with his shouts. “The devil must have brought you here. You are wandering in the middle of the night in a cemetery.”
“Is it true that there is a cemetery here?”
“What do you think? This is a cemetery! Can’t you see?”
“Ooh! Holy God!” The old man makes a deep sigh in the darkness. “I cannot see anything, dear sir, in this pitch darkness, nothing at all. It is pitch dark out here, dear sir. Ooh.”
“And who are you, then?”
“I am wandering, just a traveler.”
“What the heck? Why are you wandering at midnight? A drunk and a bum, that’s who you must be,” mumbles the guard, calming down as he listens to the sighs and quiet tone of voice of the passerby. “It’s a sin. You drink alcohol all day long, and then wander at night. But somehow it seems to me that you are not alone, but you are two or three people talking.”
“I am alone, dear sir, all by myself, here I am. Ooh!”
The guard bumps into a man and stops.
“So how did you get here?” the guard asks.
“Really, I got lost, dear man. I was going to the Dimitry Mill and got lost.”
“Hey, do you think this is the road to the mill? You must be nuts. If you’re going to the mill, you have to turn left and go along the major highway, as soon as you cross the town line. You must be drunk, as you have made a long trek of about three miles. Were you drinking there, in the city?”
“Yes, dear sir, you are right and I am wrong. Truly, I have sinned, I’ve done wrong. So where should I go now?”
“That way, all the way straight, along the alley to its end. When you come to a dead end, turn left until you cross the whole cemetery, all the way to the gate at the end. Open it and go. Good luck! God blesses you on your way. But watch out; do not fall into the ditch. And then go along the field until you reach the highway.”
“Thank you so much, sir. Could you show me that way a little bit more, dear sir? Show me to the gate, please.”
“I don’t have time. Go by yourself.”
“Please, help me; I would be so grateful to you. I cannot see a thing. It’s pitch dark. Please show me to the gate, old man.”
“As I told you, I do not have time for you.”
“Please, please. I cannot see a thing. I am scared to walk through the cemetery. I am scared, scared, dear sir, I’m scared!”
“Why me?” The guard sighs deeply. “All right, I will help you out. Let’s go.”
The guard and the wanderer start walking together. They walk next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, keeping silent for a while.
The damp, piercing wind is blowing in their faces, and the trees throw drops of water at them. The whole alley is covered with big pools of mud.
“However, I cannot understand one thing.” says the guard after a long silence. “How did you get in here? The gates are closed with a lock. Did you climb over the fence or what? If you climbed the fence, it would not have been nice for an old man like you.”
“I don’t know, dear sir, I don’t know anything at all. It is a kind of obsession, a devil’s trick. And you, are you a guard down here, dear sir?”
“Yes, a security guard.”
“Is there only one for the whole cemetery?”
The wind blows so strongly that they both stopped for a moment. The guard waits until the wind abates a little, and answers, “There are usually three of us, but one has a fever, and the second one is asleep. So I am taking turns with him.”
“Yes, yes, dear sir, I see, I understand. What a loud wind, a strong wind! Probably, dead men can hear its howling. It howls like a wild animal. Ooh.”
“And where do you come from?”
“Really, I come from far from here. I am from the Volga district. I am wandering, like a pilgrim, and praying for others.”
The guard stops for a while to light his pipe. He bends behind the other man’s back and burns several matches. The matches shine light for a few moments on an alley to the right, and several tombstones and an iron fence around one grave to the left.