The Superfluous Man

by Botyakov Anatoly

  “What can I say here? Sometimes we should just accept the reality. Have you ever heard the word ‘order’? The order exists to be kept. And with respect to your friends, they exist to understand and forgive. So, be so kind and, please, show me your documents, sir.”

  Victor suddenly realized that the problems that he had imagined stopped being only an overripe figment of his imagination, and were now going to materialize. He could hear the officer at one moment and lost his hearing at another, mixing his own thoughts with words of the minion of the law.

  “Are you attempting to disobey a lawful demand of an operating officer?” the first threat followed immediately.

  “No, of course, not, I was just engrossed in thoughts a little,” Victor answered honestly for the first time during this conversation.

  Then he obediently took out of his jacket pocket the passport inside of which he always kept his driving licence, although he did not take the wheel for many years.

  “Please,” he stretched the hand with the documents, which was willingly grabbed by the officer.

  “It is not all the documents that I would like to see, what is about the vehicle?”

  “What do you need those for?” Victor tried his luck.

  “Are you attempting to disobey…” the officer began as answering machine, while reading something enthusiastically.

  “Of course, not,” Victor sadly exhaled and reached for the glove compartment, although he had never put anything there; however, all his worries that nearly turned into fears vanished by themselves when he saw the documents he needed, it was counterfeit but it did not really matter at the given moment.

  “Is this all you need?” having calmed down a little, he asked.

  “The photo does not really look like you, sir, in my opinion,” the police officer doubted, squinting at Victor’s passport which was the only original document.

  “And what did you expect? I do not become younger,” Victor gave a forced smile, trying to extinguish the fire of anger that was slowly beginning to burn in his chest, “it is rather an old photo, years passed since it was taken.”

  “Oh, I understand…” the officer suddenly swung around and slowly walked back towards his car, having left Victor in front of a serious choice: to stay inactive, hoping being released before the midnight fell upon the city, or to make an attempt to become free on his own, regardless of the obvious gravity of consequences of such choice.

  While waiting for return of the lost officer, he fidgeted uneasily in his seat, unceasingly adjusting the seat back or mirror position as a racer who was tired of waiting for the start. All these attempts to eliminate the insoluble defects did not calm him at all, on the contrary, they only added fuel to the fire of his rage, making him feel the gun under his jacket, making him think that the time would never be riper to use it.

  When the police officer finally returned, having stolen from Victor about fifteen more minutes, Victor already did not even try to seem polite by reason of having obtained the clear-eyed understanding of vainness of such approach. Now he prepared himself for something different and believed he was right.

  “Your documents are fine, sir,” the inspector reported unexpectedly, having given Victor a small portion of hope again.

  “Does it mean I may go?” Victor asked, frowning.

  “I am afraid it does not, sir… At least not right now.”

  The last five words sounded as a roll of thunder, although the bad weather already ended and now tiny, faraway stars were seen through the ragged sky.

  “Unfortunately, in the neighboring area there has been a crime wave recently, car thefts being the most frequent crime, but sometimes they just take some personal things, you know, after breaking windows. Therefore I would like to examine your car and then, if everything is fine, bon voyage,” the officer kept fabricating a lie as it was nothing for him. “The only thing we need is to stop a couple of witnesses,” added the initiator of the delay, knowing there was not a single car since this conversation began.

  By this time Victor was prepared for anything, including consciously committing a crime, just to gain some time for committing another one. Panting for breath and feeding his rage, he began to stare before himself.

  “And right now I need you to get out of your car and follow me.”

  Victor remained silent in response, squeezing the wheel fast.

  “Did not you hear what I’ve just said, sir? Get out of your vehicle!”

  “I seem to have already explained you that I am late for a very important meeting!” Victor hissed and put one of his hands on the gun.

  “Who may be a reason for such rush?” the police officer grinned.

  “A certain Tumenov,” Victor answered to himself.

  “Tumenov that lives not far from here?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And how are you two related?” the officer suddenly pricked up his ears.

  “We are some sort of extremely close friends,” Victor put his whole rage in one look and raised his eyes, “what else essential details do you want me to bring up here? I also know his wife, his personal driver, and his dogs.”

  “You may go now, sir,” the officer all of a sudden said goodbye and went away, having firstly returned the driver’s documents.

  Although seemingly everything turned out all right, Victor still could not free himself from that disgusting feeling he had personally provoked. Everything was wrong and he could not help seeing it. Several second later he was driving as if nothing happened, but the reality felt the same way no longer. Five more minutes took him to get to the Tumenov’s house – the place where everything had begun and where now the story was going to come to the end.

  There was only a quarter of an hour until the midnight, and Victor could not even explain himself for what he exactly was waiting. He did not know whether Mariam already was inside the house or just on her way here, he did not know what he would have to do when he saw them together going through these iron gates, but he decided to wait until the midnight regardless of anything. And when the total darkness fell, having benighted the city, a black car with the switched-off headlights silently approached the house. Victor could not descry the face of a person who got out of the car first, but when Mariam showed up one moment later, the identity of the driver ceased being a riddle. Even from where Victor was watching them, being about fifteen meters away, he could clearly notice that Mariam was nervous; she constantly turned back to look at something what never was there, and when Dan touched her shoulder, she shuddered with fear.

  They went through the main gate, but Victor had no official invitation and hence was not able to afford following them directly. The rules of this deadly game looked unconvincing from the very beginning, and now, when one side already violated one rule by bringing someone who had no right being here, only a complete fool could hope that Tumenov would not do the same. And the only trump-card Victor possessed was the fact that no one expected him to be among the guests. Of course, there was a sole person who had to believe in him, and if Mariam lost faith in him by now, it played into their hands anyway.

  Once the guests entered the yard of the sleeping house, Victor quickly got out of the car and ran in the direction of the fence. He jumped over it and leapt down on the grass as quiet as possible, looking around with bated breath. But he could neither hear nor see anything, it was a perfect silence as if everyone around went to his eternal rest. Up to this point, everything said that Tumenov kept his word, having sent off everyone who could prevent him and Mariam from having an outspoken conversation. Victor did not manage to hear anything he expected to and warily began to slide along the house wall, looking through the windows and checking every door in search of an alternative entrance. After several failures, which quickly brought another portion of nervousness, he tried a handle of one inconspicuous door and suddenly found out that it was not locked. But before he managed to enter the house, he heard an eerie sound and quickly turned around, looking for a cre
ature that produced it. And everything was motionless again, only the small, decayed courtyard house was in front of him, where he had once talked with Alexander, when he had come here for the first time. There was no signs of light in the modest dwelling house of the driver, but the fact was not able to help Victor to feel calmer. He was ambivalent concerning his next move, and time just kept running away, indifferent to the outsider. Although he seemed superfluous here tonight, he believed that he was the one to put a dot in this story.

  Having entered inside the house, he found himself in a small bright room; the air there was dried and tainted with cigarette smoke. Right behind the door there was a plastic jar that, judging by several unfinished cigarettes, was used as an ashtray quite recently, a boiler was hissing annoyingly in one of the corners. All these seemingly insignificant facts made Victor get even more worried. He had to hurry but could not, he had to mind each step he took but was not able to afford it, either. These two contradictions, one of which thoughtlessly pushed him forward, whereas the second forced to consider each movement, literally drove him mad. Having left the boiler room behind, he saw a long corridor going in the both directions equally; the only difference between ways was that one way leaded to light and the second to darkness.

  Victor quickly made the right choice and adjourned to the drawing room after having it examined, hiding behind a corner. By this moment he could hear voices reaching him from the second floor, one of them belonged to the woman and the second, sounding much louder, was undoubtedly Tumenov’s. They were bawling at each other, bawling with such rage that it was obvious – the time of words was about to end. And the closer Victor was, going upstairs and counting one step after another, the clearer he could feel an ungovernable rage that was reigning in this house this night. Along with this rage he felt something similar to fear about what his hesitating step testified, even though he was not able to realize it completely by reason of experiencing too many different feelings simultaneously. One of them was the sense of guilt for being so weak, for having let Mariam come here; and now she needed his help as never before, maybe without even knowing it. He had to be the one to protect her. He and no one else…

  When one of his feet stepped on the second floor that consisted of five rooms, one of which was Tumenov’s office, Victor saw that the door there was partially opened, allowing him to behold at least one half of the action: Mariam was standing right in the room’s center, before the table, right next to her there was a gun glittering in a hand of a man. Victor could not see Tumenov, but most probably, he was the one at whom the weapon was being aimed.

  “I could not even imagine what sort of pleasure I would experience after finally saying it directly after so many years of silence,” Tumenov began to laugh as a madman, “I think I can say it over and over again without end! You are nobody! You may think whatever you want, but you will always be nobody, an ungrateful heap of rubbish I was once stupid enough to pick up. I created you! Everything you know, everything you have is me!”

  “Shut up!” having swung the gun, Dan threatened.

  “Do you really think that you can come to my house and threaten me like this?” Tumenov started shouting again, gasping for breath after every couple of words. “You are a dead man already, you just have not realized it yet.”

  “You are free to say whatever you wish now,” Mariam exhaled bitterly, having grown tired of senseless loud shouts, “we both perfectly know that you have always needed me alongside, me who you just called nobody. For my part, now even dread of death itself would fail to make me stay with you. I was too young and silly to leave at the beginning, and then it took me a few more years to cease feeling pity for you. You could not just let me go, although you always saw that I longed for freedom; even now, you cannot imagine your life without me because there is nothing beyond me in your miserable life. Have you ever asked yourself about what you have except money? Your soul is empty and your heart is empty, for you have never put anything there. I give you the last chance to swear right here and right now that you will never follow me. Then I will just leave and we will see each other nevermore. You must decide what is more precious for you: me or your own life!”

  At this moment, before Tumenov began to laugh, hysterically, at the ultimatum, Victor suddenly heard plodding footfalls that were approaching him from the first floor. Due to having no other choice, he carefully opened one of the doors and disappeared behind it, having found himself in a room that seemed belonging to Mariam. Once he hid there, everything turned into a nightmare, which was as unbelievably terrifying and uncontrollable as any other night terror: standing right behind the door, Victor heard at least two men quickly run upstairs, and right after it, the whole floor gave a sudden shudder against the background of Mariam’s scream, someone fell to the floor with a thud.

  Standing five meters from another crime scene, having flattened himself against the wall, having forgotten about everything, Victor could now hear only Mariam crying unceasingly. He could not vanquish his fear anymore, for there simply was no fear to control; now, having tasted the power, it grew into unspeakable horror, holding down its ‘owner’ so tight that Victor could not force to move even a finger. Everything seemed finished, stupor and cold being two proofs of the dismal ending.

  “I thought you two would never show up!” Tumenov welcomed someone in a joyful voice, walking the room.

  “Everything was under control. Do not worry!” a male voice answered, sounding painfully familiar.

  “And you shut up there!” suddenly the woman’s wail was cut by a smart stroke after which Mariam stopped crying for an instant, swallowing air the wrong way.

  “I want you to get this piece of garbage out of my sight, and I still need to have a talk with my spouse,” Tumenov ordered, having completely felt the drastic change of the shaky status.

  After his order Victor heard something heavy being dragged along the floor. He did not know what to do, all the exits seemed to him either concealed or closed, which automatically made wrong any decision he could possibly make. He desperately needed to do something but just kept standing in the dark room instead, his maddened look aimlessly wandering about it.

  “What would you love to tell me now, darling?” Tumenov asked gaily. “I’ve asked you a question! What are you going to do now? It was your whole plan; to come to me and to lay down these ridiculous conditions, threatening? Threatening to murder me?” he began to roar with laughter, then abruptly breathed out and started whispering again. “Do you really want me dead? After all what I have done for you, after all I have endured. Any woman would do anything to be in your shoes.”

  Mariam remained silent, sitting on the floor and crying bitterly. Then someone entered the room again.

  “We packed him up, do you want us to get rid of him right now?” the unknown asked in a quiet voice.

  “No, wait me outside, I will finish here soon and then you will have to take care of someone else. I will let you know when it is finished,” Tumenov promised.

  Thus they remained three: Tumenov who awakened his darkest self, Mariam who was in despair, and Victor – the third person who was standing backstage and desperately trying to fight down his stage fright.

  “Can you see how easily we exchanged roles? And do you know what is the point of the situation? Nothing changed when you came here today. Nothing will ever change no matter what you do. I have always determined limits of your freedom and that is why I have to acknowledge that the fault for your mistake partly lies with me, too; I did not look after you the way I had to do it, my lovely Mariam,” Tumenov fawned on her in a disgusting manner.

  “Take your hands away from me!” Mariam cried out in a pathetic voice.

  And when Victor heard her cry, it miraculously helped him to return to the real world, where he was constrained by nothing at all except his own doubts.

  “I am ready to forgive you if you promise to betray me never again,” Tumenov rewrote her conditions in his own way.

&n
bsp; “I’ll die first! You may kill me, but I will never spend a single day with you again,” Mariam answered proudly.

  For Victor, these words of hers became a wake-up call, he quickly grasped the gun, opened the door, and fearlessly took a step forward.

  “As you wish, my dear,” Tumenov said with pleasure, sitting near Mariam with his back to the corridor, and instantly felt the cold gunpoint touch his neck.

  “Get up!” Victor ordered severely, without taking away the weapon from its potential victim.

  Tumenov raised his hands with surprise and attempted to turn around, but got a kidney punch, which made him obediently step aside.

  “Are you all right?” Victor bent over Mariam, looking into her eyes that were red with tears.

  “They killed him, they killed,” Mariam did not seem to believe in what she saw, but even imaginary salvation was now better for her than violent death.

  “Yes, I know,” Victor confirmed.

  “Just look who’s here!” Tumenov finally turned around. “How does it feel to be a fallback plan? You had better take a closer look at that spot,” he pointed at a broad trail of red colour that stretched from a pool of blood towards the corridor, “it is your only way from here, my friend.”

  “We are about to learn whose blood will be shed today,” Victor helped Mariam to rise to her feet.

  “You must kill him,” Mariam whispered suddenly, having pressed herself to Victor’s chest, “otherwise he will never leave us alone.”

  “Right, go ahead and kill me, poor fool,” Tumenov took step forward with his arms spread wide as if being one big target.

  “You had better stand where you are!” Victor cried out, ready to take a shot. “You do not know me, so do not even try!”

  These words had a strange effect on Tumenov: at first he looked away, somewhere behind Victor’s back, then he suddenly calmed down and obediently stepped back, smiling maliciously.