It's still not cozy, even if it's warm. Hiding is also almost pointless, even carefully covered with tablecloths and curtains, for camouflage is absurd.
Part 2. Chapter 1.
"Hey! Why is it so dark in here?
"Hush, don't you feel that we are waiting for silence?"!
"Who are you guys?"
- Soldiery. Creatures climb where everything is clean, where the truth blows, where good people live.
"So you're attacking them?"
"Well ... Yes.
"People, they're coming!"
"You have to shoot straight to kill these creatures!"
"Godspeed, my friends!
As if it were a fighter from the song about Shchors. Everyone thought that he would suddenly be chewed or injured, and would have to be carried in a large box or left in the forest area.
However, the soldier went, regardless of any obstacles, lucky and happy, representing an immortal hero.
"Well! How do you like the charge of nicotine grenades? "get out of here!" the senior officer shouted, launching a hand-held bomb that had been torn from the ring into the air.
The mutants continued to crawl, but some of them made excuses, made false remarks, and teased the Komsomol members. Soon the first batch of charges ran out. The successful completion was beneficial. The ground was pitted with claws, scorched by the fiery pressure. Signalman Sergei Vasiliev ran to the edge of the forest as fast as he could. If you looked at his appearance, you could tell that he got to the camp quickly: his shoes were clean, some places on the soles of his shoes were dirty, his leather coat rustled with movement, and his wet hair was tangled in strands.
- Guys! Hello everybody! - Vasilyev said.
- Well... Hello... - the team replied.
- Tell. Where do you dare go without our orders? - asked Rublev.
"My Lord Commander. I recently heard an interesting story from the life of soldiers. They weren't from our battalion, of course, but I liked their reaction.
"If there are any changes in life, we'll go to Cheyenne mountain. We'll be there in a month, if we're lucky. This place is located in the United States, in the state of Colorado... - Rubtsov pointed to the spot indicated by the joystick, after a lull, he turned off the tablet.
- We are going strictly in the direction of... - private Fedorov added energy.
Somewhere far away in North America, in Alaska, there was a battle going on with natural phenomena, and it seemed that the painful obstacles could be removed after a sudden miracle. It was also difficult in Shelekhov. Although the liquids that slowly evaporated from the dead bodies did more damage than the air absorbed the droplets, the cyclone turned into a hurricane.
In the last few minutes, the soldiers were walking to the railway track leading from Taltsy station to the road to Ulan-Ude. Soon there was a station, houses, ticket offices, a gatehouse, tracks, and a train hastily covered with tarpaulins. It was as if the things were left there for important business. Pirogov, as the most curious, climbed the metal steps, opened the dusty door, and lit the wick of a lighter.
"Here is the driver's seat, and there is the first compartment..." - he said, walking away into the distance.
"Be careful... - answered Rublev.
An hour later, they were driving through a dark space that was partially illuminated by traffic lights. Raindrops pattered on the roof, and streams of water ran down the Windows, but only the passengers ' thoughts ran through their heads. They were sitting in a carriage that was empty of Luggage.
The orchestra's instruments were broken, some of them bent, and debris was scattered almost everywhere, but the sofas and bar were left untouched, as if the life that had once been there had been directed to a comfortable rest without music. Clearing away cobwebs, setting up tables and a sideboard, the soldiers went one by one into the dining car.
The soldiers drove, and Yakov Ivanovich controlled levers and wires, creating a driving thrust in the transport. Getting to the next station was far more difficult than shooting infected people.
"Vasiliev!" - He shouted. Look out the window carefully, is there anyone there? - asked Paul Rublev, holding the rifle ready to the sulfur charge.
"There is no one here, Pavel Pavlovich! - Scout replied.
"Are you sure there's no one here?" - Commander asked again.
"That's right, no enemy detected..." - Subordinate repeated.
As soon as he said more words to his companions, there were additional sounds from above: light footsteps, as if something was trying to open an escape hatch, but with difficulty getting to the lid.
"And you said that there was no one there..." the soldiers heard a resentful voice in the darkness.
Everyone prepared for the attack, the bolts and silencers on the machine guns clicked quickly, everyone already knew where to stand to carefully go to the surface. The suspicious object almost slashed the iron with its claws. Vasily Fyodorov opened the doors of the car, shot at the ceiling, Sergei Nikiforovich climbed the stairs, grabbed the creature, threw it inside the train. There, in the light of flashlights, it turned out that this was not a mutated person at all, but an ordinary, healthy one.
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
"My name is Vsevolod. I saw a train in the distance, and I thought I could use it to get to the rescue point.
"Probably true. We'll keep an eye on you.
And they raced along the tracks like ghosts in the night. The new assistant behaved like everyone else, calmly, unobtrusively. Streams of muddy water trickled down from his coat, forming large puddles that flowed smoothly toward the exit. However, the subject did not show his character in any way.
"If you do well, then we'll give you a pistol, I hope you can shoot..." said the Sergeant-major at the time when the railway line went to the southwest.
Part 2. Chapter 2.
Sergei Vasiliev suggested an interesting version: create toys from old fabrics, throw them all over the territory, and when the mutated animals begin to study the objects, an explosion will occur. By all accounts, the idea might only change the way the monsters thought for a while, but it was accepted for consideration.
The next day, the soldiers complied with the offer and received a positive result: the strange mutants were surprised to discover their mistakes and ran in the opposite direction to convince their relatives. Another goal was achieved.
However, until now, the trip plan seemed complicated - the Chukotka region was so far away that passengers were afraid not to get to the right stop.
Vsevolod Prokhorov was a doubtful passenger, but after successful actions he was accepted into the team: he began to make bullets, solutions, repaired devices, and did it so interestingly that they got used to him by the eighth day.
While the Communists raced at full speed to the Chukchi region, the mutants, on the contrary, were eager to return to their places to replenish their forces. So it turned out that their Manager carried out his manipulations on the minds of ordinary people, and the red army soldiers with difficulty came up with plans and new tricks to persuade their early allies and compatriots.