done. Her threats . . . her “he made me walk around naked.” The fake photograph that disoriented Whiskas . . .
“Will you speak?”
Silence. For one deranged moment Aspirin seriously considered leaving her there under a pile of leaves, forever.
“I will make you speak,” he growled, pushing the flashlight into her face. “Who are you?”
“I told you.”
“You lied!”
“No.”
“You lied!” He shook her with all his might. “Don’t pretend to be an idiot—you are plenty smart! Who sent you?”
“No one! You brought me home yourself! You, of your own accord!”
She was right. Aspirin wanted to slam the flashlight into that arrogant mug.
“And you didn’t want to give me back,” she continued. “You, yourself!”
Aspirin was mistaken—she was not calm in the least. She was shouting, and she clearly wanted to kill him too.
“Yes, I did. Because I felt sorry for you.” But he didn’t feel that way now. He pushed her against the trunk of the closest tree. “And now I feel sorry for myself! Goddamn my altruism! Am I expected to pay for that for the rest of my life?”
“Let go of me, you are hurting me, you idiot!”
He grabbed her thin throat with his left hand, and with his right he held the flashlight next to her face.
“So,” he said in a near whisper, “tell me how I can get rid of you. What am I supposed to do to make you go away? What should I do to make you disappear, you little bitch?”
“You are a coward and a traitor,” she whispered, no longer shutting her eyes against the light, staring into his eyes. “Coward and traitor. You are lying when you say you felt sorry for me. You’ve never been kind. You—”
She fell silent. Aspirin saw her pupils widen. A second later he heard the sound of snapping branches; the sound was getting closer and louder. The earth shuddered rhythmically.
He let go of the girl and pulled out his gun. His hands trembled; the shaking flashlight illuminated tree trunks on both sides of the road, the low-hanging branches . . . and a dark, indistinct shadow hurtling toward Aspirin like an express train.
He screamed and pulled the trigger. Again. Then again.
His eyes opened to absolute darkness.
He thought his right ear was missing.
He struggled to reach his head. The ear was still there, but it appeared much too big and was coated in thick, sticky goo.
The gun!
He fidgeted, slapping his hands on the ground, trying to get up; he was reminded of a beetle turned on its back.
A white circle blinded him. Aspirin squeezed his eyes shut, but the circle only changed its color to dark red, like a cooling star.
“Get up,” a thin, quivering voice said. “Get up! Now!”
The gun was nowhere to be found. In vain, Aspirin moved his hands over the wet grass.
“Get up, or I will shoot you! As you said, the hunting season started already . . . They won’t think much of it.”
The intense hatred in the girl’s voice made Aspirin shudder.
He pushed himself up on all fours. He was dizzy and nearly blind. Red spots swam in front of his eyes. He assumed the girl was standing close, pointing the flashlight into his eyes.
“You shot Mishutka.”
Groaning, Aspirin leaned on a tree trunk. His ear burned, his shoulder ached, and he had no idea whether he would be able to stand.
“Stand up!”
He remembered the shadow hurtling through the trees. It was at this point that he knew everything had been lost. No more trying to fool himself with stories of Pervomaysk and simple vacations, odd coincidences and serendipitous oddities; no more pouring brandy into the abyss that had just formed between Aspirin and the rest of the normal world. The world ruled by common sense.
That world was gone. He was in Alyona’s world now.
“Get up,” she said. “Let’s go find the car.”
He managed to stand up, holding on to the tree.
“If you take one side step, Mishutka will kill you.”
He turned and walked down the path following his own black, limping shadow. Alyona walked behind him, flashlight pointed at his back. Aspirin’s shadow stretched its neck forward, blocking the sides of the road; thickly entwined branches framed their way.
Occasionally he would turn his head to the sound of a snapping twig. He was afraid of seeing a light brown shadow gliding along the path. He never saw anything, though—the forest was empty and quiet, and only light rain rustled among the leaves. Every now and then raindrops sparkled under the flashlight like tiny