Шрифт:
Для подготовки обложки издания использована художественная работа автора. Обложка книги разработана автором в дизайнерской программе и является интеллектуальной собственностью Николая Лакутина.
Pit. The machinations of fate
The idea of the book was written at the wheel at a speed of 70 km/h, crossing the Central street of the city of Novosibirsk, in order not to lose the idea.
They say risk is a noble cause. Yes, not in this, of course, the case, but still nice to know that such "fucked up" guys capable of crazy things for the sake of the goal, has not yet transferred to the Russian land!!!
So, let's go…
Late Friday night. It was dark and the second day with no end pouring a wall of rain. And on the provincial Russian road between the woods and plains the old Nissan fairly tired for the sixteen years of operation goes. And the driver, man, no, rather a man of thirty-two years, without leaving behind the helm for the past thirteen hours, also doesn't look fresh and cheerful. Perhaps his depressed mood is connected not only with the tricks of the weather, but also with the fact that before leaving he had to "fight" at work, where they do not really like to let workers leave early from work on Friday.
"Fucking system, just workers for the people do not believe but as superiors on the head nastuchat, the plan will raise, and the timing will be pruned, so to us just to "please" and excuse me, please, just to help their burning Asses from the furnace is removed, but then again, we office plankton, nobody, hardworking…»
Radio waves are no longer readable, all the discs with music have already been played, and they are already tired, for a couple of years, completely lost these hackneyed tunes on the ears. And now only hear the rain fall as the tires cut through water on the cracked asphalt, and the wind whistles in the small gap of the window opening of the door.
"I often asked for something for four years of impeccable work? Took a leave of absence? Failed? I love my job, and I guess that's why I do it perfectly, but it's kind of stupid, in my opinion, only by raising the tone and using unpleasant words to keep a person if he had to leave early today. You never know what it could be the reason, I don't understand."
Workers thoughts and nervousness was interrupted in one second, suddenly appeared a yellow silhouette on the road.
"What the hell is that thing?»
The car produces a sharp braking screech from under the wheels. Blow, and slightly changing the trajectory, but holding the road, the driver stops the car.
"What was that? And what happened to the side-view mirror… damn…»
Coming out of the car and after fifteen meters back, a man sees a girl of about twenty-five in the yellow raincoat. She sits on the side of the road and because of the rain is almost not heard her quiet timid crying.
"There's a hospital nearby," she said through tears.
Twenty minutes later they were in the local hospital. The doctor on duty examined the abrasions and bruises, said that there was nothing terrible, the bruises will come down in about a week and a half, wished to be more careful in the future, and went to finish his tea. And already sitting in the car, the driver first spoke to her: – "Well, how are you?»
"Yes, as you say… crappy, in General»
"Something hurts? Did the doctor catch up?»
"No, everything exactly, take place, there is another thing. What's shorter? Dobros me over until the turn and get out," – retorted the girl.
After passing the village of puddles and mud, after the slow rotation, releasing the girl, the driver said: "You have it, sorry."
The kid is barely out of the car, but suddenly sat back, slamming the door behind him.
"Come on, let's go somewhere from here, well –" she suddenly began to whisper. The car drove off on the main road about a kilometer and stopped at the nearest parcel.
"All right, next exit to the track."
But the girl remained silent and continued to sit in place. In such a silence passed even a few minutes.
"I would like to go," continued the driver.
"Go, I'm holding you?"suddenly something like this with a twinkle and spark in her voice she said. And continued through a prolonged pause – -" and you are the original. Almost killed a poor girl, and just like that, I'm sorry."
"Somehow we are not much moved on "you". What's your name, poor girl?»
"Sveta".
"Light – star min… mrrr… Svetlana means".
"I'm now a blow job would be wit, I'm not going," and with such a sly smile and stared at the driver that he was a little confused, even a little flushed.
" .mm.. for some reason I was sure that you did not know this simple saying. My friends call me Miha."
"And friends?»
"And you, too, the original," the driver smiled now,"How I love this country."
Again silence. But in a different way.
"What are you doing on the road-middle of the night?»
The girl paused, and then, as if continuing the thought, said:
"Okay, there I live, let's go, I'll put tea, there everything and tell, and you can not hurt to rest until someone else on the hood is not rolled – – with a tired smile spoke Sveta, – only put the car away from home, over there, closer to the forest, no one will touch it."
"Well, come in, do not be shy," the hostess invited the guest, and disappeared behind the open door.
Dark unlit corridor, some steps, the smell of tarred rail sleepers, which built a shack.
"Yes, I was thrown by a hard one.Ow? Where's the door?"– stumbling and stumbling, quietly boomed overnight guest.
After a few seconds, opened the door, and she asks, grabbing his lapel of his shirt, dragged Mike into the house.
"Drop your boots here, get on the couch, sit down, lie down, whatever you like."