Prologue
943 Words
Winter has been brutal this year. Snow has been falling nonstop for three days now, forcing people and snow removal equipment to work almost around the clock.
A tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in winter camouflage, struggled through the snowdrifts, but wasn't at all irritated by it. He'd always loved the snow and didn't complain, even when it caused him problems.
Despite the weather having the upper hand, the small area in front of the porch of the nondescript gray building was still cleared. The man stamped his feet and brushed snow off his pea coat, glanced around briefly, then abruptly opened the door and disappeared into the dark corridor. The temperature inside the building was only slightly warmer than outside, but in the office, where an old oil-fired radiator was running, it was genuinely warm.
“Good morning,” said the man who entered, closing the door tightly behind him.
He took off his pea coat and carefully hung it on the ancient coat rack by the door. Then, out of habit, he glanced around the office. The four-by-four-meter room, covered in faded wallpaper, barely accommodated the coat rack itself, two equally ancient desks, a file cabinet, and a small safe. At one of the desks, hunched over papers, sat his old friend and colleague, Pavel Gronin.
"Hello, Vitek. You're a bit early today," Gronin replied without raising his head, glancing at his personalized wristwatch. "Actually, as always, on time. I've been working all morning."
The men were quite similar: both tall, powerfully built, with a heavy, focused gaze that seemed to bore right through their interlocutors. They both looked so that anyone who had ever dealt with them subconsciously sensed that these guys were not to be trifled with. And it was true. They had been through a school and had an experience that forever changed their outlook on life and people.
"I don't remember you having a fervent love for work in the mornings," Victor looked closely at his comrade. "Did something happen?"
Pavel looked up and narrowed his eyes slightly. He wasn't rushing to answer, so Victor took a step forward and extended his hand to his friend in greeting.
"How can I tell you?" Pavel shook his hand, then gathered up the papers, put them in a folder, and pushed it to the edge of the table. "Better see for yourself."
He leaned back in his chair and stretched nonchalantly, pretending to loosen up his stiff body, while he began to scrutinize Victor. While Victor's eyes scanned several documents, Pavel carefully noted his friend's reaction to what he had read.
"Oh, wow," Victor grunted, putting the papers he'd looked at back into the folder. "Almost fifty thousand infected and almost a thousand dead. So fast?"
He raised his finger meaningfully and added:
"And this is in Japan, where the healthcare system is up to par, not like ours. Things are pretty bad there."
Gronin, who had been distracted for a second, looked intently at his comrade again.
"There's a report further down—you probably didn't get to it. It talks about several cases we've had," he said.
- Oh yeah?
Victor reviewed the documents in the folder again, this time more carefully. He concentrated on one for a moment, then set the folder aside and thought for a moment. Pavel didn't rush him, waiting patiently for his comrade to express his opinion.
"Fifty thousand in two weeks, Pasha, that's no joke. Not a thousand, not even ten – fifty."
Pavel nodded slowly.
– Yes, our people haven’t officially responded yet, but unofficially, they’ve already started turning back those arriving from Japan in Vladivostok.
- How do you know?
– I called a friend here.
For some reason, Pavel decided to limit himself to such a vague answer, but that was enough for Victor.
“I see,” he stroked his chin with his palm and asked the next question. “What else does he say?”
"Nothing of the sort. Nobody knows anything. A person coughs, like with any acute respiratory infection, has a fever, doctors run tests and find the pathogen, but they can't kill it. And it kills."
Both fell silent for a moment, pondering the unfolding situation. They were intelligent men, possessing analytical minds, but neither understood the true scale of the problem, and so both misjudged it at that moment.
“We have two sick people... And then it could spread across the country...” Victor said thoughtfully.
"It can. It absolutely can," Pavel replied in the same tone, looking at the white shroud in the small window. "To be honest, I'm starting to get a little nervous."
Victor stared at his comrade with distrust for a few seconds, but then his face smoothed out.
"Okay, stop it, Comrade Colonel!" he commanded jokingly, smiling tensely. "Stop escalating things."
Gronin turned to him, and his expression changed to a questioning one.
"To hell with it," Victor continued. "Let's solve problems as they arise. This isn't the first time another ailment has cropped up in the east, and they've dealt with all of them—they'll deal with this one, too. Let's talk about the good stuff instead—I got two weeks off. I want to see Ira and the boys while they're in Volgograd, otherwise they'll go back to their grandparents' houses."
- Writer
