The two were sitting in a tiny room on the beds one opposite another. The evening sun's red light was shining through a little square window and dense dust, turning into several straight blinding linears piercing the entrance door.
The men were silent for about two minutes. One was slender and old-looking, had a week's bristle and disheveled black hair. He was sitting with his palms pressed against the bed and thoughtfully looking at the enlighted particles of dust hung in the air. Another one, beefy and clean shaven, wearing glasses, was slowly examining the surrounding. He made a breath with his nose, gave a grimace and said:
- Doesn't smell good here, does it?..
- Now it's fine with me, Hugh, - slender replied in a bored tone.
- Your lungs would disagree, Mark.
- Well, I'm not my lungs and I agree with myself, ok?
- Sure.
There were some twenty seconds of silence. Mark gave a quiet cough and directed his view at Hugh.
- So, it's been about three months, right?
- Or so. I didn't count.
- What is your life now?
- Still it's mostly my family's life. Still there is a glorious impossible to walk through forest nearby. Still there is your house just next to mine. There is no you there, that's the difference.
- That's it?
- Pretty much.
Mark chuckled, stood up and came up to the window. He glimpsed at the sun for a second, felt his eyes burning and reverted them fast. In a hoarse voice he murmured:
- Doesn't fell like three months, actually... Feels like a lot more. I mean, I cannot remember clearly our last ride, Hugh.
- That was far more than a ride, man, - Hugh said with a short quiet laugh.
Mark's view misted for a few seconds again. He looked down for a moment.
- Yeah... Seems so. - Mark knocked slighly on one of the window's thick half-rusted metal bars. - A place like this isn't the best for memories.
- You know, I can help you, - Hugh said a bit more lively.
With a sharp squeak Mark sat back on his bed:
- I'm ready.
- Well, as you remember, at the beginning there were just you, me, beer and your wife. Our alliance and your wife's stubborn opposition.
Although Mark didn't like anything reminding of his wife, he laughed with several nodds.
- It was just all we needed - a peaceful little paradise and beer. But we had to make our own greatest story ever told just to convince Helen how innocent and insanely important our ride was. Seemed like she saw the truth immediately... but she let us go. And we did. Oh, man, we did...
- Now I start to recall some details. - Mark's grey eyes gave a spark. - We burnt a hell ton of petrol to cover a labyrinth-like path in order to make sure we look as if there is a real give-a-hand-to-Hugh's-colleague mission! A mission including several shops with all our favorites.
- Exactly, Mark. I hope you rememner my boiling rage about our path back - to the forest. It wasn't just labyrinth-like, as there were just a few damn things we didn't have a risk to run into and leave a beer-blood spot on.
Mark burst out laughing.
- But it guaranteed our disguise, didn't it?
- By payimg such a price, oh, thank God you made that plan, Mark!
When Mark slowly stopped laughing, he lifted his eyes at Hugh:
- I can't remember again...
- I envy you, then... Well, we got there, we made it to our hot-desired green paradise. And of course, Mark, if there was anyone else, except me and you, aware of our journey - he would predict how disgustingly dead drunk we were gonna be. But there were only you and me... Alcohol suggested an alternative way back from the forest. Truth be told, Mark, your cross-the-city-path was far better: at least it was the path - I mean, it had the finish...
Mark finally fell on the bed, nickering as never before. The memories were shining in his head like hundreads bright sparks, causing a firework of emotions.
Then, without watching at Hugh, he made a gesture asking for continuation.
- We'd been walking till midnight. Well, and... - Hugh pulled a lighter and a package of cigarettes, lighted one, breathed the smoke in and let it out through nostrils.
Mark turned his head towards him in surprise:
- You gave up smoking, right?
- I did. - Hugh gave an attentive glance at him. Having made a smoke-ring, he added, - The dead do not smoke, am I wrong?
For a minute Mark was watching at Hugh without any expression, then, still misunderstanding, he examined him as if to make sure, though it seemed ridiculous, Hugh was really there. He couldn't be absent: Mark felt the smell of Hugh's cigarette smoke - and the emptiness couldn't smoke...
He asked with an unnatural chukle:
- What?
Hugh gave a cunning smile:
- Don't you pretend, Mark.
- Don't you say bullshit, Hugh. What the fuck did you say?
- There's no anything in this room that could prevent you from hearing that properly. So I repeat: don't you pretend.
- Do not pretend to be doing what? Feeling a little damn embarassed after what you've said? Sorry, man, but sincerity is not pretentious. Why the hell did you say that?
Keeping a cunning smile, Hugh said:
- All right, Mark, looks like you need help again.
- Looks like now you mixed me with youself about that.
Hugh laughed:
- You see, now I'm not the one capable of being all right, not all right, whatever. But let's get started helping you. So, we ended up in the middle of nowhere, among the trees and darkness, drunk and helpless. We were shouting and screaming, hardly not squalling - with no results. Al least, with no desirable results.
You should remember how often I used to tell you about my son's nightmares and problems with sleeping. He used to come to our bedroom, shaking and panicky, praying to let him sleep beside us "just for one night". Poor thing: what used to scare him never had a chance to be close enough to him, but it could howl loud enough.
The wolves, Mark. Somewhere deep in the forest, where the crazy would consider a madness to step, we stepped. To be accurate... I stepped. You lead.
- What do you m...
- Pretending again, huh? You lead us there. Me. Thanks to our shouts the wolves had no trouble finding us. Even that drunk we were able to hear the noise of leaves moving around and the howl. There were three of them - right in front of us.
With disbelief in his eyes, Mark discovered the memories dancing before his eyes. The horror and rage awakened in him. But he kept listenning.
- And then, Mark, you finally appeared not to be as drunk as seemed. "Goodnight, Hugh" - you said and pushed me forward with strengh. Then you turned around and ran away faster than wind - evading the stones, pits and branches. Meanwhile I... Well, I don't know. So do you. There's no me after that - except for bones and other remains. And you reached far by that moment...
Mark couldn't say a word. The memories told him everything was truth. Emotions said it was bullshit. In a raged horrified whisper he asked:
- What the hell are you?!.
- Well, I'm projection of Hugh in your mind, I'm what you think he was. But later about that. Why did you do that, Mark?
Mark started shaking and got sweaty. His eyes were moving from one corner to another rapidly. He remembered:
- You... spent a night with my wife.
- Helen. That's what you thought had happened. Do you agree now?
- Agree with what?
- That you did that.
- S-screw you!.. What... A projection? A hallucination? You exist only because of my mind. Now get the hell out!
Hugh remained where he was.
- Get out! Disappear! Get the fuck out!!!
Hugh was calmly watching at Mark losing control. His cigarette hasn't gone out yet. The smoke was moving spirally from the light-point. Mark felt its smell again. He shrieked:
- What the fuck are you?! Why don't you disappear?!. What the...
- Mark, say that.
- Shut up!!! Shut the hell up!!!
- ...just say that yourself.
- Get out of here!!!
- ...you must say that.
- No!!! Noo!!!
Mark jumped towards Hugh and smashed him on the face fiercely. Hugh fell on the floor, splashing the blood from nose and mouth. Mark grasped Hugh's collar, lifted him and hit again, and again, and again, going on screaming. Hugh's face turned into bloody mess, but he still was repeating "Say that" like a spell. Mark went crazier and started hitting harder. Then he threw Hugh on the ground and began hitting his head with foot. In a room there were only sounds of hits, splashes of blood and Mark's hysterical shrieks.
Hardly breathing, covered with sweat and his victim's blood he stopped and examined what was left of Hugh. The skull was cracked, blood and brains were slowly leaking out. There were no teeth in the mouth, the eyes were destroyed.
Powerless, Mark sat on the bed heavily. He couldn't take his eyes off Hugh.
- ...say that. - The red shapeless mixture of bones, brains and blood turned to Mark. - S-s-say...that...
The room filled up with inhuman scream. Mark imprinted into the wall behind him, desperately trying to crawl back - as far as possible from the dead. Through his shouts there could be heard:
- That was meee! That was meee! THAT WAS ME!!!
***
I was looking attentively at the screen with the signals meaning almost nothing to me. There was a machine on the right of the screen, it made quiet buzzing sounds.
- Amazing, huh? - My colleague, Steven, said in a satisfied tone. - We can get all the thoughts - either in a visual form or in a written - a text, which is easy to make out!
On the screen's left hundreds of thin wires were stretching to the round shaped glittering metal helmet. This was put on the head of Mark Taylor - a 3-months-long-crime-suspected.
- How is that possible? - I wondered.
- We switched a wire to every single brain-part of his. They stimulate these areas according to an incredily detailed plan, creating an over-realistic scene in which he thinks he acts. Mostly, that's achieved due to an extremely wide power-spectrum of the signals the wires send - that way, we can imitate even delicate smells and senses. Also we can create accurate models of all people one knows.
- Okay... So, he is suspected in...
The image on the screen went much brighter. The machine's buzz got louder as well. The noise was growing, I got worried a bit.
- Closing the theatre, - my colleague said with a smile, pushing a silver button on buzzing machine's top. - So, we can read it or watch a little movie.
Thinking of burning areas of brain on the screen, I suggested what exactly could be happening in a "movie" and replied: "No movies for today".
Steven nodded and pushed another button. From the right side of the machine several printed papers appeared. We read them with excitement.
- No suspiction anymore. - Steven put the last paper on a table. - Guilty.
- What a bastard... - I said. - His friend hadn't even done anything to him.
- Yeah, a crazy animal, - Steven replied. - But his friend actually spent a night with Mark's wife.