04/24/1992
Bragin woke up standing on his feet - this was quite unexpected. It was unexpected, but at the same time there was a certain feeling of calm confidence. Not only that, his legs were walking somewhere on their own, but it was also obvious to him that it was in his interests to go forward. In a good sense, not in his interests as a prisoner, but in his interests as a person preparing for an important matter. And not exactly in his interests, but in accordance with his convictions, nothing else. It was necessary to achieve victory. Fortunately, he was not alone - somewhere to the right, a man was supporting him under the elbow. It was hard to say how many days he spent in the circle of these remarkable people, but something like a week. A couple of times, when he could barely get to his feet, he was taken for a walk, out of town. Remarkable people, these new Black Hundreds. It's a shame that they don't have enough influence yet. If it were different, then 1991 would have been completely different. The communists would have been finished... Or they would have been for the communists...
Bragin, who was walking along some painted steps at the time, caught himself thinking that he was having difficulty saying anything definite here. And what difference did it make. They loved everything he liked and wanted to restore historical justice. What else was needed? They demonstrated their aesthetic preferences quite exhaustively - for this purpose they had brought a TV with a VCR to the infirmary. They showed "Seventeen Moments", and "TASS is Authorized", and many other good things of their own, domestic origin. None of this Americanism. Comrade Lieutenant Colonel once sang "God Save the Tsar". And somehow quite seriously. However, why not. The New Union will absorb everything.
The stairs led to a cramped technical room.
Then there was a dark attic, where the dust raised by careless steps seemed to crunch on the teeth. Now everything resembled the state in which you find yourself after drinking heavily, but there was no drunken weakness, no dizziness, no nausea. Everything was just a little different, not as it seemed before, in ordinary life. Minor inconveniences, however, were caused by these kind of dreams, which for some reason seemed to be seen while awake. Just now he was standing somewhere on a mountain, from where a panoramic view of a giant American airport opened up. The Boeing-Boat airliner was unable to brake and drove into a group of control towers standing nearby each other. How many thousands were there? They were playing billiards, swimming in the pools on board and here you go. These Americans are so fond of building things that later kill them. Somehow this was dreamed right on the move. It itself was almost not a dream, but the memories remained. What should I do to put my head in place? - Here, comrade captain, is your tool - a rifle appeared before his eyes, which his hand held vertically by the barrel.
- That's what I need, - his mind responded happily, - Otherwise, there are some absurd pictures in my brain.
The blued metal, as if by its very appearance, truly dispelled the absurd bacchanalia of colored delirious pictures-memories.
Logically continuing the movements that the man holding his arm seemed to hint at with his efforts, Bragin lay down on the position prepared for him, designated by the spread dark cloth. The rifle was right there. Directly ahead there was a narrow gap, enough to observe a piece of the square filled with protesters. An American flag was sticking out there. Below, under the flag, there was a tent, at the entrance to which several people were sitting, including two women. They were discussing something, and they were clearly having fun.
Bragin glanced through the sight. The two and a half times magnification revealed some new details. The company was definitely enjoying what was happening. Bragin decided to place his finger just right to try and feel the trigger mechanism, but was very disappointed to discover that he couldn't feel his right hand. He moved his elbow and redirected his gaze. To his relief, his hand was intact.
- Don't pay attention, - a voice was heard, - You have enough time. When you hear a signal in the earphone, then you can act at your discretion, you still have twelve hours before that. The hand will recover in a couple of hours. The result of the detoxification drugs. Had to give it an accelerated course. You remember.
Bragin didn't answer. For some reason, he was already absolutely sure that his comrade knew perfectly well that Bragin, in turn, remembered everything. Was it worth making unnecessary movements, even if they were just gestures?
- Only twelve hours - the thought flashed through my head, - How lucky we are with the organizers who thought everything through so well, and we won't have to wait two or even three days. Soon you will learn that a new Union is coming, our great Empire, which never existed.