PART I. So war!
Chapter I. Start
You dream the telephone rings. No, it's not a dream. The telephone is ringing. You put your hand on the night table in search of an impatiently vibrating camera. With your eyes asleep, you look at the display: it's 5:15 in the morning. Mom's on the phone. God! What happened? Did your father's wellness get worse? You talked to them yesterday and everything was fine. You press the green earpiece and you hear your mother's shaking voice in the camera:
- Daughter, war!
- Mom, you're fighting the remnants of sleep. What happened?
- War! They're bombing Warsaw! Desant occupied the airport in Modlin – mother's voice goes into weeping.
- I'm sorry. Mom, calm down – what kind of war? – you effort to talk calmly, but you feel the cold sweat flowing down your back and your hands start shaking.
After an infinitely prolonged minute of silence, interrupted by a ringing on the phone, your parent pulls herself together and says:
- Daughter, turn on the TV. News goes on and on. The war has begun.
And at the moment, like emphasizing these terrible words, the sound of far thunder comes through the window. Kind of a distant spring storm – boom, boom, boom. But besides short and besides repetitive. You've never heard specified a storm. You run up to the window with your earpiece on. On the far horizon, somewhere on the side of the local airport, there are piles of black smoke increasing from 1 second to the next, heading into the clear sky. abruptly there are more, this time tiny and white inactive ribbons of smoke. After a twelve seconds, the sounds of another detonation are coming to your ears – boom, boom, boom (1). During this time, white balloons on the horizon change their colour to black, grow, gloat, and like the large ones next to them, they start beating intensely into the sky.
The telephone falls out of your hands, hits the windowsill and miraculously stops on it.
So it's true. WAR.
Let's halt here for a minute. Don't be afraid. You're prepared. You took the right steps. Now all you gotta do is calm down and act like a robot. I know that these are n i e z m i e r n i e n i e a d e k in a t n e words at the moment. I know, due to the fact that I've been there. Look, I made it and I'm alive. You can do it, too.
Emotions scope the ceiling. They're going to drive you to carry out your planned activities. They can't block you. Get the costly whiskey your husband keeps on peculiar occasions. No whisky? Take anything that burns (that is, it is stronger than 40% alcohol) and pour 20 grams. Easy, like a pharmacy. 20 grams. Just a small glass. Drink. You don't drink dense alcohol? It's okay. It's not drinking. It's a pill. Medicine. Drink. No, no! Don't take any regular pills. Even the ones you usually take to calm down! present you're gonna do quite a few things you haven't done before. It's just the beginning.
If you smoke, light it. You don't smoke at home? Whatever. You can smoke tonight. Sit in the chair, close your eyes. Breathe. Inhale, stop, exhale. Say that 3 times. Do you feel the alcohol heating you up inside? Great! Go to the kitchen. Start making breakfast for yourself and your loved ones. You gotta eat normally. And you yet splashed 20 grams. And at 5:00 in the morning on an empty stomach... Oh, naughty girl, naughty... But that's the point. Good girls go to heaven. Naughty – where they want. The thing is, don't get drunk here. A day ahead of you, long hours. Make breakfast, and I'll tell you 2 stories. The communicative of Tomek from Wrocław and Ani from Zahajków (postcode 22-206). They didn't read that book. They didn't have it in their hands. They're in problem now...
Chapter II. past of Ani of Zahaiks, Part I.
Annie woke up the howling like a condemnation of a mermaid from a close fire station. She looked at the watch on her phone: 4:49. “That these firefighters have no mercy...” she thought. As usual, the siren shed about a minute and quieted down. Anne fell to the another side and tried to catch any more sleep before her alarm rang at 6:00.
She barely fell asleep, something pulled her out of her sleep again. She could have sworn a chopper just flew over her head. Low and banged. Until the dishes were buzzed in the kitchen cabinets. “Damn it!” This time, Anne opened her eyes wide, sitting on the bed. A twelve seconds later, another chopper rotor tickled the glass in the kitchen and tiny items in the bedroom. “Damn it!” she repeated in Ania’s thoughts – “what happens, war or what?”. She looked at her husband sleeping next to her. He was snoring as usual.
- Stefan, get up! She's on fire! – she shook her husband's arm. No response.
- Stefan, get up! Nothing.
- Stefan, we have a fox in the henhouse again! - she leaned over her husband, emphasizing besides much each of the words spoken.
The man woke up hard, but very rapidly came to himself:
- boy of a bitch! I'll give it to him! – he mumbled and started dressing.
- Stefan, wait – Anna took – There is no fox. The siren screamed at the firehouse and only flew all 2 helicopters. Something's going on – there was any concern in her voice.
The man reached for the phone. The light from the screen brightened his face:
- I'm sorry. There is no reception – he noted.
Actually, it's nothing fresh where they lived. However, the fresh thing was that not only the cell scope was weak. There was besides no net provided home via cable. Anne reached for her cell phone. The same – neither scope nor the Internet. The letters H+ and E fought each another with the icon symbolizing the power of the signal. An effort to open any address ended with a sad message: “No Internet, we will notify you erstwhile the site is ready” decorated with a image of an equally sad, pixel-like Tyrannosaurus. At the moment, another rotor noise, this time a bit more distant, was heard outside the window. Anne and Stefan looked over each other:
- I'm sorry. Go to the firehouse, Stefan! – Anna said – and I will effort to call my parents.
But on her way to the kitchen, Anna came up with another thought erstwhile her eyes fell on a radio receiver standing on the fridge. She switched on the radio, always set for the frequency of the first program, due to the fact that – in addition to the wave on which the director's father was broadcasting – the first program always received the best. The talker in the radio, voiced carefully, though not entirely, concealing emotion, has just reported on many violations of the state border by armed groups of troops of the Russian Federation and the Republic of Belarus. He mentioned the points in which the aggressor's armed forces crossed Polish borders. Anne is pale...
- Stefan... You don't gotta go anywhere. There's a war! – her hoarse voice abruptly barely got out of her throat.
Stefan asked, going into the kitchen and pulling a grating flannel coat on his back.
- The war is... It's on the radio.
Stefan froze for a minute in motion, like a forest animal blowing a unusual odor and listening to radio messages.
- Oh, you fucking... - he whispered and stood still. But now he looked like the air had come out of him with these words, and in a flash he was added 3 years of life. A life full of dense passages.
- Stefan – she started slow weighing Anna's words – I can't call my parents... I can't scope you anywhere... Wake up the kids, we gotta get going. I'll go to my parents' and bring them here.
- I'm sorry. And the animals? – Stefan thought of respective hens, rooster, 3 ducks, a pig, 2 cats and a dog at the same time.
- I'm sorry. I don't know, Stefan... I truly don't know... I'll bring my parents and we'll think about it.
- Okay. Just be careful.
After a fewer minutes, Anna was sitting in a utilized lanos and headed to Zhukov, where her parents lived. From her home in Zahajki to her parents' home in Żuków was 11 km. 12 minutes drive whether it's summertime or winter. First the dirt road to the Kaplonos, then the asphalt road to the forest home of Siedliska, then consecutive to Zhukov. 12 minutes.
After 8 minutes, she reached the turn right at the forest house. There was a police car at the intersection. Next to him, the officer was walking in a tense step, smoking a cigarette. The police officer, seeing a Lanos coming, gave a signal to stop. Anna pointed out that he was wearing a bulletproof vest, a helmet and a long gun. any kind of rifle, like in American movies.
- I'm sorry. You can't go any further – the officer started without a second thought.
“Why?” Anna asked.
- I'm sorry. Bridges blown up.
- I'm sorry. What bridges? – Anna was surprised.
- I'm sorry. Well here – a policeman pointed out his hand ahead – and this 1 further ahead of Zukov himself – an officer with a loud hench of an inexperienced smoker released cigaret smoke.
Anna, following a policeman's finger, saw that a tiny bridge, to which she did not even pay attention, was being torn in the middle, and the torn railings point desperately bent pipes in all directions. respective soldiers loaded something into the field car, seemingly gathering for departure.
- I'm sorry. Why? – Anna was surprised.
- I'm sorry. Don't ask me. Military operation – the officer replied – Sure, so the Russians wouldn't pass. But 1 fucker – he snapped his butt off his fingers and spit on the asphalt – reportedly they got through the 82nd road to Lublin, and by midnight they go national No. 62 to Radzyń. I'm just waiting for a signal to get out of here. And I would advise you to. distant from here.
- I'm sorry. But I gotta go to Zhukov! My parents are there! Anna felt like she was panicking.
- I'm sorry. Well, if they're there, they're not going anywhere. More like... – the policeman noticed grimly.
- I'm sorry. And any detours? – Anna asked.
- I'm sorry. I don't know. Ask those bomb squads. possibly they'll know something – a police officer pointed his hand at the soldiers packing equipment.
A minute later, Anna had already spoken to the squad leader.
- I'm sorry. Dear woman – a polite 50-year-old from the territorials seemed truly afraid with her problem – we have a war. The remainder is simply a military secret.
- I'm sorry. But I gotta take my parents! – Anna insisted.
- I'm sorry. Well, what can I tell you? All I know is the bridges are already blown up here. 7 and Krasówka, too. Besides, there's a forest and mud, and without those footbridges, there's nothing to go. You can go back to Lubień and Adampol. But you realize it's a beret from Włodawa, and that's where the Russian column went. I wouldn't go there.
- I'm sorry. The Lord has no parents there – Anna replied decisively and returned to the car.
She sat in lanos for a while, reasoning about what to do. She took out her phone. No signal. Still, she tried again to dial her mother's number, then her father's. No luck. Anna hit the steering wheel with her fist. Nobody tells her what to do. He needs to get to his parents. He has to. She threw in a run and turned around at the junction towards Lubień. She accelerated rapidly. There's a light on the dashboard marking the reserve fuel.
On her way to Lubienia Anna met respective cars at the intersection. They all turned towards Lipówka-Kodenec-Parkev. Only Anna went left east on Adampol. She did not pay attention to the fact that she had not met any car from across the street on her way to Adampol – and that was over 8 kilometres. Of course, no 1 was going that way either.
While leaving the forest in Adampol, Anna was relieved to see a military truck blocking half the way. Involuntaryly added gas. respective characters in uniform appeared on the free half way. Anna's eye angle spotted an armored vehicle with a barrel pointed at her in the side, forest road. “Why are they aiming at me?” Anna thought. Before she could think about this phenomenon, 1 of the soldiers at the truck picked up the firearm and sent the series to the sky. Even through closed lanos windows, the sound of the gunshots seemed to Annie excruciatingly loud. A female machinically stopped the car respective twelve meters before the blockade. The soldier who shot in the air asked her to come closer with a large gesture. Anna slow threw in the 1 and shaking her emotions, she began to turn toward the soldiers. With each second, she was more and more aware of 1 frightening thought: IT'S ONI!
Anna kept lanos a fewer meters from the soldiers. The shooter slow approached the vehicle, basing 2 hands on a rearward-hanging machine. Under a wide helmet, on which were inactive drawn goggles covered with a dark green case, somewhat slanted eyes looked at it. The soldier's face lit up with a broad grin erstwhile Anna left the side window. The warrior rapidly illustrated the interior of the old lanos.
- I'm sorry. Nu, are you there? - Did he have fun? (2)
Anna studied Russian in advanced school years ago. I don't know why, she chose that language. possibly due to the fact that everyone told her it was easier than English. And the proximity to the border most likely mattered, too. At the moment, the soldier's words frozen it to the ground, but they besides triggered any unknown energy and memories.
“Niczewo, captain!” Anna said, “regaining control over her speech and her body shaking.” – I sobirajus nawiestit’ swaich roditielej.
- Pacany! - shouted to his soldier – Ne bawiertie, a deviant pa Russian govorit’! – and smiled even more. The soldiers standing inactive gave a commendation to the heads – vychadit’ and from the machine. Inspeccia – the face of a soldier instantly disappeared a grin – he is indignant, is he?’
Captain, I'm a Grazdan, the kakoje are indignant? Anna started shaking again.
- I'm sorry. Time to see. Vychadi’t and from the machine. Bystrjeje! – the soldier threw briefly.
Anna, bobbing all over her body, walked out of the car and faced a soldier. This 1 slow turned around, illustrated with his eyes, gloating on his power and looked inside the vehicle. Without seeing anything of note, he again faced a female and briefly threw:
- I'm sorry. Covered’ trunk!
Anna obediently opened the trunk. The soldier illustrated its contents with his eyesight and issued the next command:
- Dokumjents!
Anna feverishly went through her purse and got a plastic ID at the end.
- I'm sorry. What about a part of paper for a shithole? – amazed was the soldier – the passport in your home njet?
- I'm sorry. Eto is’ passport – explained Anna.
- I'm sorry. No crap – the soldier couldn't get out of his admiration – Pacany – turned to his colleagues again – In an etovy gayyropa he gave passports and with plastic May's... – he was answered by a crouch of camrats burning cigarettes – And any pictures were written? – a soldier wrinkled trying to read Latin letters on a plastic paper - A..., A..., kut! Kak owut’? – he asked Anna directly.
Anna Krajewska.
- A! – the slanted eyes of the soldier lit the grin again – Mrs. Ganna! Horicho's eyes. Mrs. Ganna mobile name?
- I'm sorry. Da...
- It's parochite.
Anna took out her smartphone.
- I'm sorry. I'm building a requizirovat’ – the soldier cheerfully announced, reaching out his hand for the phone.
Anna took her hand back with her smartphone.
- What's that? Soprotiwljenjej? – the face of the soldier on return became harsh.
- Nurjan, he doesn't fuck ginseng mozgiv - 1 of the soldiers standing inactive spoke – Ana and bjez etoho v usmjert’ naljakana. Let's go.
A soldier interrogating Anna waved his hand towards his comrades and turned to her:
- The photogallery of cover!
Anna opened up a photograph gallery on her smartphone without releasing the telephone from her hand. On the screen appeared a net with miniature photos. The soldier took a good look at them.
- I'm sorry. Who? Your kinders?
- I'm sorry. Da, that's my jerk, captain. – Anna touched the photograph, expanding it to the full screen.
- What's incorrect with them?
- Older 13, younger 9.
The voice of a soldier felt a note of a distant nostalgia. It's 2 tokens in the mouth. Let's do it, let's do it!
- I'm sorry. But I to the roditjele... - Anna tried to object.
- Grażdanie, if I ask you, the enemy behind us is simply a budjet.’ Ponimajeti? Tut iezepier’ cordon of Russian fjederacja – a soldier laughed – zajehat’ can be, behind the Nikik. I give you a seat: jedit’ damsel and lastvajtje s djetmi. And I'm gonna seddle the sdjejtje and fuck up the Russian passport. We're bored. And do not bespojties pro his natives - we do not varvary, svoich do not eat! Da, wankers? – he turned to his colleagues. His laughter answered.
Anna hid the phone, got in the car, started the engine and started turning around. She slow moved back. On the dashboard, there was an increasingly bright colour on the reserve control, though Anna knew well that her colour could not change. Electronic clock numbers showed 6:33. Almost an hr and a half since she left Zahaik. abruptly her telephone buzzed. A text came – 5 missed calls from Stefan. There's no scope erstwhile it wasn't. Going through the forest towards Lubienia, Anna was shaking like a donkey. From a distance, from a hard to find direction began to arrive murmurs akin to short thunderstorms: boom, boom, boom...
Footnotes:
(1) The sound travels in the air at 340 m/s at +15 st. C. The temperature affects this velocity somewhat - the higher, the faster the sound moves. At minus 10 degrees C, that's 325 meters per second. At +30 is 349 m/s. All you gotta do is remember the velocity of 300 m/s. That way, erstwhile the detonation was detected and the sound was heard 3 seconds later, the detonation occurred +/- a kilometer distant from you. Seconds you number the old Boy Scout method: you start counting with 121, 122, 123, 124, 125. In this case, it's 5 seconds. Each number is another second. 5 seconds between the minute of sighting the detonation and her sound, it's 5 miles. Get utilized to it. The distance of the detonation from you is crucial information. If you can't see anything, and yet you can hear distant explosions, you can presume that they are more than 8 km distant (there is usually a line of horizons visible from the ground level if nothing is blocking it).
(2) Here the full conversation with the Russians in Polish:
- I'm sorry. What's up? A morning ride, citizen?
- Nothing, sir! I'm going to visit my parents.
- Boys! You won't believe it, the girl speaks Russian!
- I'm sorry. Get out of the car. Search. Guns, explosives?
- I'm sorry. Sir, I'm a civilian, what weapons?
- I'm sorry. We'll see about that. Get out of the car, hurry!
- I'm sorry. Open the trunk!
- Papers!
- I'm sorry. What the fuck is this? You don't have a passport? (in Russia so far, evidence-passports are utilized in the form of a booklet, e.g. cars.)
- I'm sorry. It's a passport.
- I'm sorry. They don't fuck around, boys, they even have plastic passports in this gayeuropa.
- I'm sorry. What does it say? And... what the hell are your names?
Mrs. (H)anna. Very good. Do you have (H)anna's phone?
- Yeah.
- Let me see.
- I'm sorry. We'll be requisitioning.
- What? Are we resisting?
- Nurjan, don't make water out of a woman's brain. She's frightened to death without it. Pass or turn around.
- I'm sorry. Show me the photograph gallery.
- I'm sorry. Who's that? Your children?
- I'm sorry. Yes, these are my boys, sir.
- I'm sorry. How old are they?
- Older 13, younger 9.
- Ah, citizen, I have 2 sons, too. Turn around and go home.
- I'm sorry. But my parents...
- Citizen, if I let you through, there's no way back. Do you understand? This is the border of the Russian Federation now. You can drive in, but you can't go in. I advise you to go home and stay with the children. And get your Russian passports as shortly as possible. We request people. And don't worry about your parents - we're not barbarians, we're not eating our own, are we, boys?
