“If you can’t do it, then I will kill him myself!” Mariam reached for the weapon, which no one expected.
When another shot rang and Victor realized what happened, it was already too late. He could hear a bullet shell fall on the floor sonorously in the silence that followed the shot, then he slowly turned round towards this sound, looking down and unconsciously holding one of his hands on his belly, and collapsed as well. In the doorway, just a few meters away, Alexander kept standing motionless with a stretched arm that held a gun; he was staring somewhere with a set expression on his face as if feeling nothing at all. Mariam was on the floor again, mumbling hoarsely and shutting her mouth tight with both hands, although it was absolutely unimportant because she could scarcely reproduce any sound after what she experienced.
“I saw him get inside the house through the boiler room,” Alexander explained his unexpected emergence without emotions and then lowered his weapon with a serious delay.
“Well done, my friend!” Tumenov praised his driver enthusiastically. “And now give me your gun; I have one more unfinished business here.”
Alexander handed over the weapon, silent and invariably obedient, but when Tumenov drew a bead on Mariam, who by that time managed to crawl away in a corner and kept trembling all over there, waiting to meet her fate, the driver suddenly changed his mind and froze between her and the weapon.
“What the hell are you doing?” having made a wry face with surprise, Tumenov slowly turned his head sideward as if trying to express thereby an extreme degree of his profound shock.
“I am sorry, boss, but I cannot allow you to harm her,” Alexander murmured, looking down.
“I can’t get it, are you insane or what? Get the hell out of my way right now!” Tumenov began to stammer.
By this moment he already was far beyond his habitual manner of thinking; he was not able to make right decisions, nor to meet consequences. He seemed irreversibly lost as if nothing could bring him back anymore, and even if he somehow managed to save himself from this madness, the understanding of what he had done would instantly make him distraught with grief again.
“I won’t step aside, no matter what you are going to tell me,” Alexander stated his position for the last time, ready to fall silent forever.
Having vainly attempted to push his driver away and achieved no results, Tumenov averted his face and quickly pulled the trigger twice, and when the third shot fired, followed with a short delay, Alexander came up against the wall and slowly slipped down, having fallen right next to Mariam, who by that moment could not realize anything at all.
“Can you see now what troubles you’ve led me to?” he said, being beside himself with the mix of feelings, and turned the gun on Mariam again.
When the sixth shot rang this night, Tumenov’s eyes became lackluster, he was staring at his weapon in an abnormal manner, clearly seeing that his forefinger did not even reach the trigger, and could not understand why he was dead.
Then Victor made one more shot and dropped the raised hand back on the floor again, having closed the eyes. He was still alive but pretended that it was not so. He was waiting… Soon two last victims of this night ran into the room; it seemed to them that everything was finished, but it was so only until Victor raised his hand and opened fire on his former kidnappers. He just continued to pull the trigger, although the charger was empty, snapping softly. He calmed down only when this sound remained the only one in the room. Then, he finally removed his finger from the trigger. Everything just swam before his eyes, and all the feelings he had forced him to believe that he was powerlessly swimming in a river of warm blood himself, the nasty smell of which filled up the whole room.
Somewhere in a corner, nearly gone mad with terror, Mariam was sobbing, but he could not hear her; now he could not even remember about her existence, and his own one seemed to him no more than illusive. Having rolled over his back, he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, understanding nothing at all. A seemingly intolerable pain slowly began to be felt, but in reality, it was just an aperitif preceding what expected him ahead.
He was lying on the floor, instinctively squeezing the wound on his belly that was bleeding badly. This all was so silly, so ridiculous in his eyes, he wondered why this all had happened, wondered why he was here but could not find answers. While he was lulling himself with this silent monologue, someone approached him and suddenly grabbed the gun, pulling it away from his hand. Victor seized his last enemy’s throat with his free hand, but immediately released his grip.
“Thank God, you are alive!” Mariam began crying again, having snuggled close to Victor’s chest.
“Help me to sit up, please,” he asked quietly, toughening muscles of his abdomen and attempting to get up.
Mariam hardly managed to help him to get from the floor and then automatically began to look round the room.
“Do not look there!” he quickly took her by the shoulders. “Look at me, just look into my eyes.”
He put his palms, one of which was all covered with blood, to her face, trying to make her listen to him.
“You are wounded,” Mariam uttered, frightened, her look aimlessly wandered up and down, stopping on Victor’s face at one moment and on his blood-stained clothes at another.
“We need to get out of here,” he told her without paying attention to her own words, “help me to stand up, I am afraid I can’t do it by myself.”
Staggering with exhaustion, Mariam somehow managed to find strength and rise to her feet and then by some miracle helped Victor to get up as well. Thus they slowly began to trudge towards the door, leaving frequent footprints on the red floor.
“Look at me,” being on his last legs, Victor nevertheless continued to threaten her, “Look at me!”
But there was no point in his threats, for everything in this place was blood-soaked, even his own face, not to mention the vermilion walls riddled with bullets; drops of fresh paint were slowly trickling down, continuing to draw the unfinished picture.
“Wait!” Mariam suddenly stood motionless, removed Victor’s hand from her shoulder, and leaned him against the wall near the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Victor sounded for himself with a delay, seeing the light from the ceiling lamps become alive, crawling in different directions and depriving of sight.
Having answered nothing, Mariam warily covered her mouth with one hand, lifted Victor’s gun from the floor, then thoroughly wiped it clean with a sleeve of her cardigan and put it in Alexander’s hand, trying to avoid being a witness of her own actions. Victor was waiting for her return with the last bit of strength, ready to fall down at any moment.
“We can go now,” Mariam said quietly, hiding her eyes with shame.
She approached him and took him by the hand, but he could keep going no longer whether with her help or without it. He only managed to make a couple of steps and then powerlessly slid down from her shoulder, having fallen right on the floor and hit first his back and then also the head. At this moment, one fleeting thought woke up in Mariam’s mind; she suddenly realized that Victor was dying right in front of her eyes and she could do nothing to change this situation. Because of this dreadful understanding she also grew feeble and slowly sat down right next to him, having put Victor’s head on her lap.
“You must leave,” writhing with pain, he whispered, unable to speak louder.
“Do not say anything now,” she whispered in response, stroking his hair and shedding tears.
“You know,” Victor bowed to her disobedience, “it is so frightening. I can’t feel anything. Everything seems so empty.”
“Do not say anything, please,” she slurred, pronouncing no more than a half of every word.
“I love you, Mariam,” Victor suddenly tried to smile.
“I love you, too,” she answered, hunched up with grief.
“Oh, please, do not cry,” Victor became deliriously happy, “is not it a glow of happiness we are feeling here now? Is not it wo
rth living? It is a pity that I could not see everything as clear as I do now. I would like to take you with me, to show you to my family in order to prove them that I am not a futile person that I managed to deserve love of the best woman in the whole world.”
“Please, do not die!” Mariam begged in a quavering voice, shutting her mouth.
Then Victor became silent, even ceased to breathe, but before she embraced the terror again, he regained consciousness and looked at her with a piercing look.
“You must go, can you hear me?”
“I am not leaving without you!” Mariam refused.
“I do not want you to be here, you should not be here, and you never were here this night!”
“And what is about you? What will be with you?” Mariam was crying quietly, holding her hand on his forehead.
“I will be all right,” Victor lied, hardly keeping his eyes opened, “I will tell that Tumenov hired me to watch you, this truth will be enough.”
“But I just can’t leave!”
“Do as I ask and go! Leave me and go,” Victor said in a steady voice.
However, Mariam did not want to listen to him.
“I will find you later,” he completely expended his energy for this last promise.
“Forgive me for everything,” Mariam whispered, having kissed his forehead, and rose to the feet.
Victor heard the receding footfall sound, whereupon he remained the only half-dead soul in the house. He was waiting for something again, even when there was nothing for what he could wait. For a while his head resounded with the human voices; at first they belonged to the people he knew, but then gave place to others, barely familiar, until someone addressed him in a warm voice. Victor suddenly felt someone slightly open his right eye, which helped him to see a silhouette in a snow-white attire.
“Hey there, this one seems alive,” the voice followed right after his consciousness that was rushing into the void…
Many Months Later… Spain, Cordoba.
The city seemed steeped in slumber and most likely it was so indeed, although the dazzling sunshine left no doubt that the day was in its prime. Still, there were no people in the streets and everything was very quiet and peaceful. Even the wind breathed so pacifically as if being asleep, too. And only one young lady shattered peace and quiet of this picture, sitting at a little table in a small cafe, right at the door.
“Va a pedir lo de siempre, señora?” a waitress asked her courteously.
“Si, el café y el pastel, por favor,” the only visitor answered without taking off her big sunglasses.
Having made the order, she took out of her handbag a grey, thin sheet of paper, which was folded up several times, then carefully unfolded it, and put the letter before herself. The text was written in small print, but some letters broke out of the main line as if a person that had them written could not steady his trembling hand in the process.
When the waitress brought a cup of coffee and a small cake, Mariam took off the sunglasses and, having taken the letter, began to read it for the umpteenth time…
"I cannot think of the right word to begin…
Nothing of what I could say here is able to fully express my feelings towards you. However, it is only one half of the reality that I am facing right now. And its second part seems to me as selfish as the first, even though they both are but parts of a single whole. I cannot remain silent anymore. Now, at this very moment, it seems to me that I will go out of mind if you do not appear before my eyes. I wish you to be here, Mariam, I wish it with my whole heart. I would give anything I have to bring you here, but I have nothing to pay with, nor these words will make any changes. You were the only thing that I had, but I lost also you.
First, I thought that what I had done yesterday was the most terrible mistake in my life, but this lie bothers me no longer. My entire life would have been a mistake if I had not met you. Now everything is akin to a dream, to a fairy tale that is turning into a nightmare right before my eyes.
My feelings lie to me, trying to persuade that I met you many years ago; these feelings are so insufferably false and convincing at the same time that I seem to be ready to just give up and accept them. I desperately try to deny this lie, which gets its teeth into my consciousness, but all these attempts are vain and unable to stop the corrosive realization that I lost you. I will soon forget all the thoughts and all the feelings that are somehow connected with you. It is not a presentiment I know it for sure. However, I do not even dare to think that I deserve forgiveness for such betrayal. We had to be together, despite everything, regardless of anything and anyone.
You already know that I was going to come back home to see my family; therefore, if I do not manage to find a way to talk with you at least once before it happens, this letter will be my last attempt to explain myself. This understanding is truly awful, but I am doing it all the same, silently consenting to get what I will receive. You asked me if I could kill a person for you… I did not give you my answer then, but I feel that now the time is ripe to offer one. No, I still have no clear answer for you, but I can try to find it right here with you, digging in thoughts. I doubt that I am able to kill as if on command; when you asked me, there were no doubts in your voice, and this bereft me of my thoughts. Now everything is different, now the sole thought that he touches you wants me to kill him. I would kill anyone for you, this crazy idea makes me tremble all over, and what is more important, I cannot even define the nature of this emotion. I do not even know whether it is fear or anger. I do not want to be a murderer; I do not want to lose my humaneness, which I would inevitably leave behind. Once you kill a human being voluntarily, this damnation will never leave you alone, it will remain with you forever. There is no way to properly comprehend this world after committing such crime, after taking a life that does not belong to you. No one can shoulder such burden and remain sane. Still, with all this said, yes, I would kill for you, Mariam.
I want you to know that if I had one single chance to be with you, I would not miss it. Nothing could obstruct my way if I had a chance, and I regret about one thing only. I regret having realized it too late. If this world demanded my life as a proof of my love, I would pay this price without hesitation.
It will be better if you never receive this letter because if you are reading it now, it means that we are not together, and maybe I am no longer among the living. However, none of these words matters if you have found freedom you dreamt of so long, Mariam. All my thoughts are about your being happy, Mariam, with me or without me."
She read the last line and carefully folded the letter up again, looking thoughtful.
“Victor, let’s go home now,” said Mariam and rose from the table.
“Yes, Mum,” a little boy answered immediately and took her by the hand.
“Va a pedir lo de siempre, señora? – Are you going to order the same thing, madam?”
“Si, el café y el pastel, por favor. – Yes, coffee and a cake, please.”
The Superfluous Man Page 21
