Íà ðóññêîì: http://proza.ru/2005/12/16-298
So, Farhad Norovich Gulonov... it seems there are no Farhads? Flipping through the case file. Looking at the photo...
Wait, isn't this Zaur? But according to the documents, it's Farhad... What has he done? Oh, wow, he's taken out four of them... He came to me, asking to be taken to the island, well, Zaur, it's your turn for the island... Why was he turning the knife, thrusting it and twisting it? I need to ask tomorrow. So much to read... we have plenty of time tomorrow, he'll tell me everything himself...
Closing the case, I take it under my arm and head to my barrack. Our special unit No. 14360 is stationed in the Khanty-Mansi Autonomous Okrug. The internal troops and the task of our unit is to carry out the verdict. And I, thirty-two-year-old Captain Sorokin Ivan, carry out the verdict. They send unmarried men here, as no conditions are created for families whatsoever, and this is a prison. There are three barracks. In the first barrack, our headquarters are located, there are our offices and there we work, mostly with papers. The second barrack, half of it on the left side is the barracks for soldiers, and on the right side are rooms for officers, each with two bunks. The third barrack has bars and steel doors, that's where the convicts sentenced to execution sit. There are a couple more warehouses: for clothing, food, weapons, etc. There is one SUV, it's parked in the garage.
The kitchen, bathhouse, boiler room. Only the personnel wash in the bathhouse, we give wet rags to the convicts to wipe themselves. The soldiers mostly do guard duty, kitchen work, we have an electrician, and two mechanics. In the headquarters sits the head of the logistics department, responsible for all logistics: food, clothing, gasoline, spare parts, he's also a captain. My position is the head of the confidential department, all documentation for convicts, soldiers, officers, and sergeants is under my control. I send officers and soldiers on leave, discharge them, and also send convicts to the next world, that's also me.
We don't have a political officer, this mission was also assigned to me - to be responsible for the moral qualities of the collective. I'm also the executioner, I'm also the virtue. Our unit is well guarded, it stands behind a high fence with barbed wire, with watchtowers in the corners with spotlights. It's like a camp, but far from being a pioneer one. Beyond the fence, there are swamps, little lakes, so the convicts have nowhere to run, they'll drown in a couple of steps. Mostly they work on logging, heating the boiler room almost year-round, and in winter, we sit through the endless night and cold just like them, mostly in the barracks. Everyone does their job, and there's no slacking off here: no alcohol, and no women either. Neither the soldiers nor us officers have anywhere to run off to. Yes, there's the village of Khantov half a kilometer away, that's where we get mail from the outside world.
A helicopter lands right in the middle of the unit's territory. From the checkpoint, there's a wide road made of sand leading to the village and beyond, and our unit is on an island, surrounded by marshes and swamps, with these pristine little lakes of icy water even in summer. Moss, sparse tree trunks without crowns, some fallen, some standing, are scattered around. Soldiers often watch bears from the watchtowers, as they quite often come near the unit, knowing the paths, not sinking into the swamps. Beyond the unit, if you go around the fence, on the other side, there are only swampy lakes, and about five hundred meters away, there's a tiny dry island, literally a small patch, about twenty meters long and wide.
Such a small oasis, with two birch trees growing opposite each other, complete with crowns. That's the island Zaur requested, he looked me straight in the eye, knowing it wasn't his turn. Their files are neatly arranged in the cabinet, so every Sunday I take one to the island in order. I've been here for five years now, my predecessor was also a captain, and he showed me the path to the island like passing on a relay baton. He just warned me not to drink; one wrong step and you won't get out, it's all moss and slippery. In winter, I don't execute, in summer, I release the bodies in the swamp. There's no cemetery here. So my birds sit and wait for summer.
Once upon a time, I dreamed of becoming a pilot, I persuaded a classmate to join military aviation with me, he did, but I had crooked teeth, so I ended up in the secret service. Now here I am, shooting unarmed convicts in handcuffs. Who would have thought: me - the quiet one, the boy who wasn't hit until he was thirty-two, never fought back, agreed with everything and walked away, not out of cowardice, I just don't see the point in all this hustle and bustle and fighting for who knows what, proving something incomprehensible to someone and suddenly becoming an executioner. And yet, I carry out my duty philosophically and calmly, taking them to the island as if going to the store for candies: no guilt eats away at me, I don't torture myself with sleep, I don't even think about it afterwards, even though I usually familiarize myself with the case before the execution. Why...? Here it is, under my arm. I'll go to my place, rest for a bit, and then I'll go to Misha, in the boiler room, he lives and heats the stove with these affairs. These files need to be preserved, perhaps they'll be useful to the investigators in the future, because so many cases are connected to each other. Well, if that's the order..., let's burn them.
Yes, there's one Russian woman living in the village - she came to my predecessor as a wife, to live nearby, but he thought that since they weren't registered, she wasn't a wife and didn't stay long - he was whisked away by someone from his own circle. So she remained. Everyone calls her a Decembrist, but I call her Auntie, because my young lieutenant lodger, Kolya, goes to her room, she's fifteen years older than him, so now I call her Auntie. I open the door to the room, he's sitting there writing a letter, looks up at the ceiling and tries to find a rhyme for the verse:
Galochka, Galya, Galchonok, You're the best of all the girls in the light, All my thoughts are only about you... Van, help?
Wait, I'll be there by spring.
Will you give me leave in spring? You promised in autumn, Van, what's wrong with you? I've been here for a year already, it's due, I'm tired.
You're needed here in winter, you have the SUV, you'll cut us off from the world, all the equipment is on you. No.
Van, are you serious?
Yes..., Vanya, you're at home here, but behind the door is Comrade Captain, well, at least Ivan Dmitrievich. People notice. You write to Gal, but you go to Auntie?
Why do you call her Auntie? Her name's Lyuba. I lay down on the bed and tried to stretch out so that my back cracked, this sitting will bend me into a hunchback on my neck.
And I don't know what to call her. Do you know who used to go to her before you?
You... Van, I honestly didn't know, if I knew, I wouldn't have gotten involved...
Oh, go on, the young ones always have a way with us, I don't mind.
You're kind, they even call you the Black Angel among the convicts. You're bright, so why do they call you black?
Because I send them to the next world, that's why black, but why angel? I don't know, the previous one was called the Devil.
Did you bring the case again?
Tomorrow's Sunday. We're going to the island with Zaur.
The convicts respect Zaur, they say he avenged his brother, took out four.
I read about it, I know... I'll take a nap, you keep writing. I turned to the wall, but couldn't sleep, just lay with my eyes closed, then watched as Kolya struggled with his letter, trying to finish the verse.
Kolya, tidy up here, it's your turn, and it's your turn to chop wood in the boiler room.
I know..., I'll finish soon.
I stood up and, putting on my coat, headed to the door, taking Zaur's case with me.
"I'll go see Mikhail Zakharovich, burn the case, and have a chat with him."
I returned to the table, opened the case, tore out Zaur's photo, turned it over, and wrote: "Zaur, killed four, avenging his brother." I put the photo in the pocket of my coat and headed to the door. Kolya watched everything with interest.
"Van, why do you collect their photos?"
"I'll retire someday, I'll write about all of them. My memory is good, I treat it like a library, I can remember everything verbatim later."
I opened the door and stepped out onto the street. It was starting to get dark, the scent of autumn was in the air, and the mists lingered later in the mornings. The moss was dewy in the mornings, and the white night was beginning to give way to twilight, but the northern lights had not yet arrived. I approached the boiler room and pushed the door. Misha was sitting in a sweatshirt, drinking tea.
"Hey, Vanya, come on in. Another case?"
"Yeah, tomorrow's Sunday. Who are you going to stroll through the swamp with this time?"
"Zaur."
"Read about him already? What did he do?"
"He avenged his brother, took out four."
"I never had a brother, no one at all. Vanya, don't torment yourself, alright? I saw you went to the warehouse, got something, give it to me?"
"When have I ever given you anything?"
"I'll give it in a week, Prokhorov is coming back from leave, he'll bring it, I ordered. The guy from the Decembrist's woman treated me, and you're... acting weird."
"I can't."
"But you don't drink, do you? You're feeding these bastards, why? They'll report you for feeding the convicts against regulations."
"Let them report, they won't prove anything. It's my business: I drink it myself, or pour it into the swamp. I'm entitled to do what I want, where I want."
What kind of person are you? Don't drink, don't smoke, and stole the girl of some weakling?! I'd throw your lodger out of the room by his collar.
He's young, he needs it more, he'll rot here for many years.
And you... what, have you become impotent? Yeah, you still don't smoke, but I'm running out of my tobacco. You could write your own ration for me, and I'd pick it up. Tell the head of supplies that you smoked it, say it's because of this life?
You'll end up with throat or lung cancer and come beat me up with a log.
That'll never happen...
I'll write it down.
I sat down by the stove and threw the case into the fire, Misha sat down next to me on the log and handed me a glass of hot tea.
Thank you, Vanya, I owe you big time.
For the tobacco?
You're keeping me, an old major, around, not letting me go, but I've been due for retirement for two years now. Where would I go, Vanya? Nowhere, nothing, just into the void? At least here it's always warm and I have something to do.
Don't worry, Zakharich, as long as I'm here, you're here too. It's not easy to find someone to replace you. People have gotten lazy about heating the stove and the bath.
The lodger's here, it's his turn to chop wood.
Already told him.
Zaur's case didn't want to burn, so I had to use a twig to lift almost every sheet, where there were some certificates, medical examinations, heart-wrenching photos of the deceased, killed by him, photos of the knife.
Found them all, searched all over the country, finished off the last one in St. Petersburg - good job. I wish I had a brother like him.
Vanya, talking to them is making you callous, you just called Zaur a good guy, he's a murderer. Yesterday, when you were dealing with those new ones, teenagers, I thought: Lord! They're already taking kids from school and bringing them to us, straight from the classroom.
They're all over twenty, they look so young, worn out. By the time they get here, they're worn down by the courts and the pretrial detention.
What did they do?
I'll read about it before the clearing. I'll read about how I'll lead them to the clearing, their cases lie in order, and they'll go in order. Next summer, around this time, I'll lead them there. I'm going.
Go, or maybe you'll stay a bit longer?
I'm going.
Sunday, today everyone is resting, the fog has already cleared. I got my pistol from the armory and went to the convicts' barracks for Zaur. The guard opened the cell door, in the tiny room with bunk beds, four convicts were sitting playing cards, Zaur stood up. He came close to me:
Am I saying goodbye?
Say goodbye.
The guard locked the cell, and there was silence for a few minutes. Then Zaur knocked on the door. The guard opened the small window, and Zaur extended his wrists. I put the handcuffs on him, and the guard opened the door. We started walking. Zaur was around forty years old, a tall Tajik man with a noble face, the kind of face you'd expect to see teaching children in school rather than taking lives, but... he was the master of his own fate, and this was how he had chosen to live it. We exited the checkpoint and walked along the fence, skirting the edge of the compound. Alongside the fence, there was a solid path to walk on, but a few meters to the side, you could see the small lakes and marshes. Zaur walked ahead with his hands cuffed, and I followed from behind. We reached a path beyond the compound and proceeded more slowly and cautiously, watching our steps.
Zaur, I read your case.
Good for you, curious one. I asked you to bring me here at the beginning of summer, why didn't you?
It wasn't your turn.
Were you waiting for a bribe to skip the queue?
Watch your step, we might stumble. And why did you twist the knife, I still don't understand?
So they couldn't save them. You stick the knife in and twist, the wound won't close, there'll be a big hole, and they'll quickly lose blood. I always carried a knife with me, finished them all off with the same one. It was my signature. And what beauty it was! We entered the little oasis, this small piece of land amidst the marshes and bare birches. But on this small patch of land, it was dry, with flowers, mushrooms, birds, mice, various insects, and two birches, not tall, but so familiar and tender, with their light leaves.
Sit down, Zaur. We have plenty of time, there's no rush for either of us. Zaur looked around and sat down under a birch tree. I took out the bottle of vodka that was allotted to me to calm myself after carrying out a sentence. I opened it, approached Zaur, and handed it to him.
Can you at least take off the handcuffs?
Not allowed. I'll take them off later, after.
Now I understand why they call you Ivan, the Black Angel. You're a human being. We suspected that you were talking to us, leading us to the clearing, and then we heard a shot after two or three hours. You're giving us a last drink, aren't you? And then, when we fall asleep, that's when you shoot, right?
That's right.
If I knew you were going to shoot me, I wouldn't have run from the cops like a rabbit, I would have surrendered myself. You have kind eyes, Vanya. Will you have some too?
Take small sips. No, I might end up falling into the marsh on my way back.
And all of this is for me?
For you.
Is it customary according to regulations?
No, I have my own rules. Did you love your brother?
Women are loved, but a brother, that's a brother... He worked as a conductor on the Dushanbe - Moscow train, and the mafia assigned him to transport their drug cargo. But one time, the cargo disappeared, and those four were killed.
So, he was to blame himself?
Don't speak ill of Nurik, he was probably forced...
Do you have a mother?
I do, but what's the use, she's forgotten everything. My sister lives with her family in our house, and my mother is there, with some illness, she doesn't recognize her own children. It's for the best, she didn't worry about Nurik or me. Can you imagine, she eats and then goes looking for the refrigerator in the kitchen, saying she hasn't eaten anything for three days. It's a strange illness, God forbid. Did they ask you to let them go?
Yes.
And what did you do?
Take it slow with the drink, small sips, or you'll run out of the bottle, I don't have any more. I let them go. As soon as they made a move, I shot. Falling into the marsh, three steps away, why such a terrible death, suffocating? Why did you want to go, don't you want to live?
No, I need to go to Hawaii.
Hawaii?
I had a book once, I loved it, "Hawaii," and there were pictures there. Islands, the sea around, and such cute girls, dancing in grass skirts in front of tourists. I need to go there, I can't stay here anymore. Tired...
Are you a Buddhist?
I believe the soul is immortal. When I was twelve, I got jaundice, they treat you there and check your blood often, take it from your vein. They sat me down on a chair, two nurses, and couldn't find the vein, one hand they poked around, then tried the other, and everything went blurry before my eyes, and I fell. Didn't even feel the impact on the floor: I found myself up by the ceiling in the corner, body down there, and I was here. After that, it happened several times: once I was standing on the street at night, wondering what I was doing there, in the middle of the street, sleepwalking? Went to bed, but it was taken, my body was lying there, like a rag, and I wasn't in it, I stood there looking at myself. Especially when I'm tired or sick, it happens. Did you ever experience something like that?
Yes, something similar happened to me a couple of times. Do you have a family?
No, I was afraid to lose my freedom, couldn't settle down. Then I was looking for my brother's killers. Ended up with one woman, but she's not suitable for a family, she drank, had four kids from different men, left them all in the maternity ward. When she told me she was pregnant, I thought: that's it, I'm done. Took off running. I'm not afraid for the child, she'll leave again, refuse it, and kind people will adopt or foster it. And do you have anyone?
No, I don't want to talk about that, that's why I'm a secret keeper, to keep something secret.
If you don't want to, you don't have to. Zaur took small sips from the vodka bottle.
Vanya, help me roll a cigarette, there's tobacco and paper in my pocket. He leaned over, and I fetched the tobacco pouch and paper.
You're kind, could you maybe take off the handcuffs?
No, I can't.
Vanya, don't leave this position, always stay here, if the guys knew you also give out vodka... Yeah, one guy, Sorokin, asked everyone: when it's their turn, to take care of him, pointing to this lump on his chest, it's growing, but it doesn't hurt, that's cancer. So, you'll take the next one?
Why not ask for medical parole?
Why? They'll start treating him, torturing him, why torture him? They'll cure him and he'll still be gone? Don't forget Sorokin.
I won't forget, I'm Sorokin myself. I'll do it, I promise.
So you'll handle it in a family way.
Your documents say Farhad, but everyone calls you Zaur, why?
Among Turkmen, and many other peoples, they give one name on paper so no one knows, and another, like a "not real" name, for everyday use, so that evil people won't cast spells on Zaur. They'll cast it on Zaur, but I'm not really Zaur, they won't be able to do anything to me. My parents gave me Farhad, but my grandma called me Zaur.
Do you feel guilty?
Do you ask everyone that?
Yes. Zaur started to get drunk, his eyes becoming cloudy and sleepy. His tongue began to stumble, and his speech slowed down.
No, never, I avenged my brother. And the others, do they feel it?
They answer about the same, everyone here is innocent, if you believe them.
And you read their cases.
I do.
Vanya, I want to sleep, when I doze off, make sure I'm sound asleep and then bang. And then you'll burn me here?
Here.
You're so calm, like you're sitting in a cafe with a friend, not here to kill.
It's just the job.
- Stay here Vanya, for our sake, hold on, it’s hard to look into indifferent and evil eyes before death, but you have kind ones... You are an angel – Vanya, an angel.
He closed his eyes and began to speak again.
- I knew that I was next, I began to dream about myself and all in childhood. I see myself as a boy and that’s it. I was waiting for you.... I need to go to Hawaii.... Jump out of myself and to Hawaii...
He opened his eyes and suddenly began to speak excitedly:
- Van, can we run away to Hawaii together? You drown me, and stand at the edge, and get a bullet in your forehead. I'll wait for you for a couple of minutes. We'll fly there together... For the sake of order, we'll show up to God and check in there too, eh?
- Zaur, snake!
- Come on, we’ll be born twins, we’ll be brothers, we’ll play together, we’ll open our own business: we’ll take tourists on boat rides, and they’ll envy us - we live in such a paradise, huh Van?! Let's?!
- Let's...
- Of course, I will be the eldest, for a few minutes you will be the first to die?
- Let's..
- I’m finishing my drink, but don’t bother me, I’m going to sleep, I can’t be here anymore, I want to go to Hawaii... Sit quietly Vanya, don’t bother me, wait... We’ll fly away together...
He closed his eyes and sat motionless, his breathing began evenly. Zaur was sleeping, and I sat and waited for him to fall asleep soundly. I promised to wait for a sound sleep. Zaur fell lower and lower and was already completely lying on his back, leaning his head against the birch tree. I stood up, put the barrel of the gun in my chest and fired, my body shuddered and went limp. Zaur was dead. I sat down next to him and sat there for ten minutes. He took off the handcuffs and hooked him to the belt with a familiar gesture, then took him by the elbows and dragged him to the edge of the island.
He sank lower and lower into the transparent icy water, not he, his body, but his soul was probably somewhere looking at all this and waiting for me: when I would stand at the edge and shoot myself with a bullet in the forehead. He swung and threw the empty vodka bottle as far as possible and walked along the path to the unit. Suddenly a large bird flew noisily over me and touched my head with its wing. She turned her head towards me as she flew, I saw her brown eye, brown, like Zaur’s, and I shouted after her:
- Zaur, I deceived you!!!
2004