I WOKE UP to a thin ray of light lancing through the gap between the solid window shutters. I glanced at the clock on the wall and jumped up in shock: already half past nine in the morning! The army traditionally woke you up at six, and you got used to it quickly. Half past nine! Hadn’t slept in so late in a long time. Oh, my head..! I moved too quickly and groaned in pain. My head was splitting, my mouth was dry, I could barely move my tongue. Guess I got pretty drunk yesterday… Where, with who? For what occasion? I didn’t remember… Although… Yesterday was supposed to be my long-awaited reunion with my girlfriend Karina after our long time apart. I took so long getting ready! Spent hours cleaning and ironing my dress uniform, bought expensive roses.
My memory started to come back, but only in fragments. I recalled standing a long time outside the window of a jeweler’s, trying to figure out whether I had enough money to buy two gold rings if everything went well on my date. Yep. I’d made my decision to propose to Karina, to make our relationship official, tried and tested as it was by long separation.
How did the date yesterday even end? And how did I get back home? I couldn’t remember a thing… And what was up with my left eye? My vision didn’t seem right somehow. I tried to touch my face and winced in pain. Rising from the bed with a groan, I walked over to the mirror. Woah! My left eye was red and swollen, encircled with a fat purple-black bruise. I noticed another huge bruise on my right shoulder, and felt other grazes and aches all over my body. Must have upset someone yesterday. Who? Maybe my headache and memory loss were somehow connected to my injuries? Must have gotten a hard hit on the head. Maybe even a concussion. My hand was pretty beat up too. I examined the wounds. Bruised, bloody fingers, a deep cut in my right palm… Did I fight back? Couldn’t remember a thing…
A mournful, whining mewl from outside the closed door interrupted my examination of my injuries. I hurried to open the door. A fluffy ginger kitten jumped spryly into the room on three legs, stretched. The little guy galloped comically over to me, raised his tail straight up, rubbed his head on my bare leg. Hungry, no doubt. I’d picked him up off the street the day before last, after seeing a car hit the poor little dumbass as he tried to cross the road. I’ve always thought of myself as a cold kind of man, but I couldn’t just walk past that. I walked up, looked at the orange fluffball whining in pain and fear, picked him up. The kitten’s back left leg hung lifelessly. Thick dark blood trickled from his nose.
He’d got it bad. I didn’t know if he’d survive. I didn’t have my own home yet, I was staying with my elder sister after coming back from the army, but I still couldn’t leave the helpless little thing to die. I took the kitten with me. Did my best at home to knock together a splint for his broken leg, put iodine on his wounds. The poor guy was in a real bad way the day before yesterday. I even lost hope that he’d pull through. But yesterday, the kitten started to come round, limping after me all over the apartment, falling down again and again as he learned to walk on three legs. I fed my foundling warm milk, cut up little pieces of sausage for him. After my date with Karina yesterday, I’d planned to buy a litter tray and some decent cat food…
Wait! The kitten… Don’t forget to bring him with you… Or else he’ll starve to death in the apartment… An avalanche of missing memories crashed down on me. Vividly, clearly, I recalled every minute of yesterday.
I arrived on time at the restaurant, ordered a meal for two, waited ages for Karina. She turned up with a surprise; her new boyfriend and his sidekick buddies were with her. What an asshole! If he wanted to talk to me man-to-man, to explain the new situation, he could have come alone. I swear I would have had enough pride and self-respect to hear out him and Karina both, and then just leave, wishing them happiness. Only my rival hadn’t come alone. He brought three thug friends with him as backup. On top of that, Karina’s new friend was arrogant and rude. He threatened me, insulted me. There was no way we were going to have a calm conversation. He didn’t even introduce himself. Just launched into threats and abuse!
All I got from his boastful rant was that he was the deputy mayor’s son and a close relative of the city attorney. Effeminate and big-headed, handed the best of everything on a silver platter from birth. Used to always getting his own way, and always having others do his dirty work for him. Just like now; my cocky opponent hoped to stand aside while his three lackeys gave me a good-old-fashioned beatdown in front of my ex-girlfriend with their chains and knives.
That greedy little rich kid could think twice this time! I saw the way things were going and decided to strike first. Swinging my arm as hard as I could, filling it with all my pent-up anger and despair, I drove my fist into his jaw hard enough to send the spoiled kid’s teeth flying across the restaurant! Then I thrashed the bastard with my hands, feet and the remains of a chair that I’d just broken over the head of one of his buddies as he jumped at me with a knife. I kept beating the grinning bastard. Wasn’t so cocky now. Eventually his three bloodied and frightened hounds dragged their master from the room as he spat blood and insults at me.
But I didn’t just remember the fight. My conversation with the mysterious stranger also floated to the forefront of my mind, from his first words to his last. Then I felt all kinds of bad. I sat down heavily on the chair.
It was too unbelievable to be true. Did I imagine it? Did the meeting really happen? I didn’t know. I sat five minutes, sifting through my thoughts, feelings, memories. Of course, I could have just imagined all this crap, or maybe my hits to the head brought it on. But how did I get home? The easiest way to find out was to call Karina and ask her. Forget that; I had no desire whatsoever to talk to my cheating girlfriend. And hell, I doubted Karina wanted to talk to me after I beat up her new peacock.
I sat a little longer, took a deep breath, made a decision; better I look the idiot for spending all my money on hiking equipment than find myself in danger and absolutely unprepared. I took out my wallet and counted my cash. Not much, to put it bluntly. But, surprisingly, I still had it all down to the last cent — I’d taken a look at my cash before the restaurant too, and I’d had the same amount of money then. So how did I pay the restaurant..? And the taxi fare home? I guess the gentleman in the old-fashioned suit helped me out. That was a serious point in favor of the reality of what happened.
I warmed up some milk a little on the stove, poured it into a dish, put it on the floor.
“Have a drink, furball. I gotta go for a while.”
I locked up the apartment, called the lift, went outside and stopped to think. What did I need to take on a hike anyway? What dangers could await me in an unknown, primeval world? I had no clue. I’d need at least a weapon, some hiking equipment, good clothes. The Hunting and Fishing store nearby was a good place to start.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Green-brown camo waterproof jumpsuit with a hood and mosquito net. Camping mat. Backpack. Cooking pot. Flask. Compact chainsaw. Axe. Folding spade. Good hunting knife. Compass. Another knife, this time multi-functional, with various blades and tools. Half the money I started with was gone just like that, and I’d only just begun.
To my great sorrow, I had to abandon thoughts of a hunting rifle — the salesman started asking to see a firearms license, medical clearance and marksmanship certificate. He hinted that all the required documents could be drawn up in twenty minutes, even gave me a price. I just shook my head mournfully — I didn’t have that kind of money.
What if I took out as many loans as I could from the banks, borrowed from old acquaintances? I pushed the thought away. Sure, it might be my last day in this world, but I still didn’t want to be remembered as a cheat and swindler. No, I could get by on the money I had, although it would be tough in a world full of danger without a firearm. With no less sorrow, I also had to forgo a tent — too expensive for my humble pocket.
What next? Survival matches? No, they’d run out quick. Better to buy a firesteel, a stick of alloy that sparks easily when hit with a stone or knife. I got a good, bright flashlight that ran on batteries, and a solar charger for them. A durable climbing rope and metal carabiners. A few spools of fishing line of various strength and thickness. A plumb bob. Fishing hooks. A couple of the cheapest floats. I didn’t buy a rod — not enough money left, and I could cut one out of any suitable branch anyway. In the army (I served in the engineering corps), my buddies and I did just that; before big drills, we had to clear areas for helicopter landing pads in thick forests and live for several days on the banks of lost taiga streams. Instead of disgusting freeze-dried rations, we ate perch and even delicious whitefish roasted on an open fire.
Alright, that was all for Hunting and Fishing. Now for the hardware store. A claw hammer. A big axe to add to my small hiking axe — both as a weapon against denizens of the forest and a time-tested way to cut down trees. A skein of steel wire. Plane. Mortise chisel, bevel-edge chisel. A few packs of nails. A small roll of thick polyethylene sheeting.
There my money ran out completely. But I wasn’t too concerned; I already had the tools I needed to survive, enough to build myself a little house. And feed myself by fishing if I found a lake or river.
* * *
All day went on packing. A little frying pan (I doubted my sister would mind). Rice. Salt. Spices. Needle and thread. A whole pack of durable plastic bags for garbage (a great way to keep things dry). Not everything fit into my backpack, I had to repack a bunch of times and ram everything down. That caused a new problem: weight. The pack was too heavy to move easily. I had to leave behind half the rice, pasta, sugar and salt, and some clothing. Tragic as it was, I had to leave behind my army dress uniform too.
At half past six I got the call I was both hoping for and fearing. It was my ex-girlfriend, Karina. Only instead of the expected excuses for her cheating and treachery, I heard entirely different words:
“I hate you, Andrei! You beat Eddie into a coma. He has a major bleed in his brain. A group of the best neurosurgeons in Moscow has been flown in. They’re operating on my fiancé’s brain right now. But I overheard the doctors telling Edward’s parents the chances of a full recovery are slim. The city attorney, and he’s Edward’s second cousin, has sworn to hit you with the maximum possible sentence. And the deputy mayor said the best option would be for you to be ‘accidentally’ shot while resisting arrest. So here’s my advice: right now, go and hand yourself over at the closest police station and confess. That might get you a lighter sentence. If you can’t do that, I’ll tell the police where you’re hiding…”
I switched off the phone, cutting off her bullshit. What the hell was Karina talking about?! Seriously? Confess?! Four of them came at me with knives and chains! It was self-defense! And I had no sympathy at all for my wounded opponent — if it weren’t for my decisive action, my skull would be split in place of his. Only I didn’t have the connections or the funds to summon a troop of the best neurosurgeons from Moscow and pay them…
Incidentally… I looked at the mid-range smartphone in my hand. Why did I need a phone in another world? I got dressed quick, hurried to the city market while it was still open. There, without even haggling, I sold my phone to a second-hand stall at the market. Didn’t get much for it, but some is better than none. I walked straight into the closest pharmacy and spent all that money on bandages, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatory and anti-histamine drugs; I might have to eat unusual and unfamiliar things, and food poisoning or allergies were worth considering.
The last minutes to the deadline of nine o’clock at night oozed by as slow as treacle. I was long ready, sat down, fully clothed, constantly checking the clock. Right before my departure, I ate my fill and fed the kitten too. No, I wasn’t planning to take the cute ginger furball with me. A primeval world full of danger was an entirely unsuitable place for a maimed and limping house cat. I’d bring the cat outside and leave him by the entrance to the apartment building, with a couple of bags of cat food. Only what happened next upset all my plans.
At ten to nine, while I was pouring some fresh hot tea into my hiking flask, a police siren called out from the street below. Blue lights lit up my walls. I took an interest, walked to the window. Two police cars with flashing lights and sirens on had pulled up right to the entrance to my building. Eight cops emerged from them, guns in hand. They asked something to a couple of old women sitting on a bench nearby, then decisively approached the entrance.
Were they after me? My heart pounded in fear. My ex-girlfriend Karina may well have been angry and spiteful enough to sic the police on me. She knew all about this apartment — we’d been here a few times when we were students together. We studied, and… found other, more fun things to do. The memory of the ‘accidental’ death option was still fresh in my mind. I wasted no time. Without waiting for the kettle to finish boiling, I switched off the stove and hurried to the apartment door. Threw on my backpack, tied the axe to my belt. I nearly forgot that kitten in my hurry, but saw him by the door and took him with me.
The lift was already coming up, about to hit the eighth floor, my floor. I didn’t even have time to lock the apartment door. With the heavy backpack on my back, I ran up the stairs. On the eleventh floor, I stopped and listened.
Just as I’d feared, the lift stopped at floor eight. Police surged out of it. Didn’t take them long to see that the apartment was unlocked. With crashes and shouts, they broke into my former abode. Only half a minute later, the assault team realized they were too late. A voice said the kettle on the stove was still hot, sent the team to cover the main exit and check all the apartments between floors one and sixteen. They also said I was an armed and possibly dangerous criminal. I didn’t feel like going down and explaining to the cops that they had it all wrong. I continued upwards, trying not to make any noise, until I hit the sixteenth floor. Worse luck. There was no stairway up to the roof on this side of the building. That was it, then. Trapped…
I rang the doorbells on all the apartments on the floor, wanting to hide inside one, but they all turned out to be empty. This was bad. Real bad! It looked like I had a couple of minutes left to live. But just as the SWAT team reached the fifteenth floor, just as I thought they’d spot me at any moment, a bright blue oval lit up on the concrete wall next to me. No way… The promised portal to another world? I looked at my watch. Exactly nine o’clock at night, down to the minute. Enough thinking. I walked right into the shining passageway, already hearing shocked shouts from the cops behind me — they’d seen me and the mysterious portal. But it didn’t matter anymore.
I was gone!