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Lorena

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«We mourn Julian Lyers, who died under unclear circumstances a month ago. For us, he was everything, but unfortunately, his promising projects will not be able to see the world. So far, we have been left alone with this grief. A moment of silence for his rest... » — Lorena held her breath, exhaling slowly. She must calm down. Otherwise, the knife in the hands will be stuck in the table. — «From other news... We can not operate with names, but the military convoy moves to a number of cities for unknown reasons. Stay calm. Watch the situation, and protect yourself and your family. See you in the next podcast.»

After that, the music on the radio continued to play. She sliced the carrot viciously. The clock merged in unison with calm pop hits about everyday life and love.

«Gosh, this shouldn't have happened so early. Now, if Patrick is late, I really have to do everything on my own. Convoy... this convoy will finally mess up all the plans if it appears here.»

Lorena sighed and threw the carrots into the boiling soup. It began to smell, and other vegetables gradually painted the water yellowish. Then, this substance should be crushed with a mixer, and dinner will be ready. She involuntarily grimaced at the presentation of the mashed vegetables. The stomach pulled a painful cramp. Most likely, in the evening, she will eat a simple salad, like the last time. And once before... and like a week ago... She hated the food here. The dishes were strange, but she had to cook them.

— Calm down. Inhale and exhale. — After rinsing her hands and face in the washbasin, Lorena rushed to check on Sally.

The girl always slept quietly after the walk. Silently turning from side to side, she constantly threw her blanket away. Each time Lorena had to lift the blanket off the floor and re-cover it. Everyone told her that Sally was too addicted to afternoon naps and that someone should limit her. Sally's sleep never got in the way, so Lorena never understood why others were trying to advise.

«Maybe it was part of their culture to constantly get into other people's business?» She smiled at these rebellious thoughts, catching the blanket again after the fall. In a moment, she was sad again, getting out of bed. «No. I shouldn't pay attention to them. My goal is not to please them. I have to be focused.» After kissing her daughter's forehead, she left the room.

When Lorena had free time from cooking or looking after her daughter, she picked up a newspaper, which she bought for a few kopecks at the bazaar, and read on the sofa in the guest room. Every week, although the letters on the paper changed, the meaning almost never crumbled. Reporters have always discussed inflation, global conflicts, and recent movies, just like algorithms. «The value of the coin fell by 1.5% last year»; «Ken Maisley's blockbuster collected three million views in cinemas» — it was always in the headlines. Taking one shoe off her leg, the woman shook it, singing and turning one page after another.

«The death of the prime minister exacerbated the inter-country conflict. Tension in mixed cities is gradually increasing... Can we call his death an accident?» — One of the journalists quoted. There was no word on protests at the event. But it was already something. She took a red marker from a coffee table nearby and circled the name of the publisher of the article and the name of the journalist.

She quickly ran through the paragraphs in an attempt to find at least some more mention of Julian's death. Eyebrows tense, eyes concentrated, as if she was the secret spy. At the very end, the minister was again given no more than a line.

«He was a recognized extremist for the rights of savages.» — She circled these words with a yellow marker, as she circled publisher.

After some time, the newspaper went to the basket with the weekly newspapers that had passed, which always stood behind the sofa. Soon, Lorena flopped, like that newspaper, on the pillows, sighing heavily. The heat was just killing — in the stuffy kitchen, it was a hundred times more noticeable, so you could hide only in the guest room. She was able to throw one leg on the back of the sofa thanks to the pants, finally dropping uncomfortable shoes. With her bare hand, the woman covered her face, wiping the sweat on her forehead and waving the other in front of her face, parodying something like a fan. Would be her will, the leaves of monstera would be a real fan. But the plant only stood in the corner of the room with torn leaves from the Sally’s games.

She didn't have to lie upside down for long. There was a white noise coming from the kitchen — this sometimes happened if the technique failed. Lorena breathed out and looked at the ceiling as if she could somehow help. Gathering all her strength into a fist, a woman rose from the sofa in one breath and trudged to the kitchen.

— Well, of course. — Irritated, she patted the side of the radio — it continued to make annoying sounds. From time to time, someone's voices tried to break through the wall of obstacles, but nothing complete could be pronounced.

A few more light blows on either side, and she finally surrendered. Screwing the sound to the minimum, not to wake the child, Lorena went to check the soup.

As soon as she managed to return to the most comfortable sofa, somebody knocked on the door. Lorena sighed noisily. She got up again and headed across the corridor again to open the door to Richter. Son almost never took the keys with him. In the corridor, Lorena caught a glance at the dusty pedestal. «Oh, gonna clean that after.»

— Dear, You should look... — She started to say as her breath went away.

— Nobody called me dear before, — said the man's voice. — Good evening, m’lady. He touched his kepi with a few fingers, nodding his head slightly. — My name is Lieutenant McGuire.

All dressed up in army stuff: the expensive duffle, good pair of tactical boots, dark combat trousers, like he was ready to go straight into battle.

«How did I not hear the arrival of the military?!»

Lorena holded her breath. She looked back at the room where Sally was. The lieutenant only put his hand on the frame of the door and bowed his head to one side. With a very bored look, he waited.

«Calm, keep calm. He shouldn't hurt me. Almost all the neighbors are at home. They'll hear if I scream. First, you need to understand his intentions.» — She clenched her fists.

— Evening, — her voice was trembling. — Lieutenant.

— Don't you mind if I come in? — The man leaned even lower to her, in a master way, putting his foot inside the apartment. He glanced at her and then began to wander his eyes down the hall.

Her lips tightened. She unknowingly began to examine his coat when she noticed a gun on the left side inside the clothes. The heart missed the beat, and the cold passed on the back. Instinctively, her legs began to move back.

For a few seconds, he was confused by this change in behavior, but then he laughed sincerely, covering the weapon with clothing. On his unstraight face again, this sticky smile appeared.

— Sorry for that. There were a few cases where I was attacked. Promise, I won't use it on such a beautiful lady. So, you let me into the appartement? — It no longer sounded like a question — more like an order, for the failure to fulfill which the consequences would catch up faster than a panther.

Lorena was too focused on his gun when she felt a slight push in her stomach. She stepped gently aside, but her knees were shaking.

With his chin up, he wanted to look into the room. As if burned by boiling water, Lorena jumped in front of him, forbidding passage.

— Kitchen. The kitchen is right there.

— Forgive me, — he glanced at the door and then headed towards the kitchen. In boots. On the carpets. — Didn't mean to offend.

She closed the room to a clique, following the lieutenant. Bitter saliva gathered under the tongue.

— Feel like at home.

McGuire snorted and began to look around the kitchen. With folded hands behind his back, he appreciated the interior, looked at the soup, at the garbage bucket, at the radio, at the windows... It seemed that nothing could hide from his eyes that were a little hidden under his hat.

— Few months ago, we undercovered a huge hideout of partisans, can you imagine? They were pretending to be builders. — He turned to her, gazing not in the eyes but in the soul with such a concentrated look of his.

— And what did you do to them?

— We put them in the cell until the tribunal. But if I were the judge, I would hang them up in the center.

He catched the woman's concerned face.

— Don't you find it inhuman?

— That's the mercy for rats who are hiding in the canalisations. Rats bring illness to the city, and my duty is to clean the city from the disease.

— You're doing the right thing.

— As always, — he coughed a few times, — but don't you worry, from now on, I will protect your area from this moment. As you could hear from the streets, there's a danger of occurring terrorism. So I'll just do the standard check, nothing more.

Lorena struggled to resist the need to hug her shoulders and bend her back so that she would not be seen. She felt naked in front of him. But instead, she said:

— Be my guest.

— I didn't want to distract you from cooking, too, — McGuire pulled out a small notebook and pencil from under the coat. — I won't take too much time.

— You're not distracting me. — She tried to squeeze out the most pleasant smile. He only laughed at it.

— I understand no one likes it, — graciously uttering every word, he crouched at the table. — Please, sit down.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He pointed to the chair beside him. Lorena's stomach began to twist into a knot. She sat down opposite, as far as possible. The lieutenant only crept his teeth, pinning his eyes to the paper.

— What is your name, m’lady?

— Lorena Kamelford.

— A beautiful name... You are a housewife, Lorena. You don't work at all? — The lieutenant looked at her from under his forehead.

— No. All day at home. — She looked away.

— So only a man works... as it should be, — he muttered under his nose. — He works as a..?

— Builder. — For a second, he stopped making tiny notes in a notebook but then nonchalantly continued.

— A good apartment for a builder... Do you have kids?

Lorena compressed the fabric of her pants.

— Of course. She sleeps in the room.

— How old?

— Six.

— Only one child?

She nodded, clutching her toes.

— It's hard for a builder to provide more. Suddenly, he shook his head.

— I saw two different men's pairs of shoes when I walked in. Did you know, m'lady, that lying is bad?

She bit her tongue. So he is the observant one.

— Your husband knows how to manage finances if he knows how to provide at least two children in such times. Bravo. — He sounded extremely ironic.

All the muscles in Lorena's body began to strain. She didn't like the «conversation» dynamic.

— Want some tea? — She jumped up, looking the lieutenant directly in the eyes, challenging him.

— Black without sugar. — He leaned back in his chair, lifting his crooked chin to the top, as if he was waiting for that question.

He looked at her again from head to toe. Saliva accumulated under the tongue, so much Lorena wanted to spit in his face. Instead, she headed for the stove. Lit a match, opened the gas — and the blue-and-orange flame showed itself. She poured water into a saucepan, put it on the stove, prepared mugs... And all this time, she did not leave the sticky feeling of looking behind. It made its way to the bones. She wanted to get out of the skin, just to not feel this annoying feeling of anxiety next to him.

After a while, the rustling of the radio stopped, and quiet music began to play again. Lorena's fingers went cold.

— Interesting music, is it 60th? — Man propped up his chin with a free hand. By chance, the spoon jumped out of Lorena's hands and rolled to the floor with a characteristic bell.

«Shit.»

— Are you bothered? I can turn it off. — She quickly picked up the spoon and went to the refrigerator on which the radio stood.

She just had a few inches to reach the switch... The lieutenant put his palm forward.

— Don't. Let it play... You have good taste. She stopped and returned to the table with a wry smile. Her throat was starting to dry out.

— Parents often listened to this. Thanks to them that I know such golden songs.— She turned on McGuire and caught his cold, predatory look. You could say he was blank, like he was glancing through Lorena. Very quietly, he asked: — And where are they now?

Chest responded with a painful drop. — What are these questions? — The smile disappeared from her face. She remained quiet.

— Ah, I understand, a difficult topic. Mine, too, have been gone for ten years. Those were tough times.

— I'm sorry. Then it truly was—

She was interrupted by a very noisy rustling of the radio, which also happened literally fifteen minutes ago. When the sound interference was over, the male voice at that end coughed.

«Cobras entered the territory of birds. Birds should stay quiet when cobras are around. Birds need to behave calmly when cobras enter their nests...» — radio said.

Lorena's eyes darkened in a moment; she began to stagger. Heart was pounding somewhere in the ears.

At one point, the boredom in the eyes of the lieutenant disappeared. He straightened his back, at the moment rising to his feet. She almost rushed to him but only quietly pinched her hand. «Calm down. Otherwise, he'll understand for sure. »

— What kind of program is this? — He looked around cunningly.

— It's... — Lorena tapped her fingers nervously on the table, wandering her eyes around the kitchen. The eyes caught on the portrait of the cuckoo, which hung directly on the dining table. — Transmission about birds. My favorite. She turned back to the tea, pouring boiling water over the mugs.

— I hate birds. — The lieutenant clattered his tongue contemptuously. He viciously turned off the radio, even the plastic button crackled. —They carry all sorts of infections, just like rats do.

Before returning to the place, lieutenant ran his finger over the surface of the refrigerator. Lorena just breathed a sigh of relief.

«Touch whatever you want but me.» — echoed in her head.

— Your tea. McGuire did not react to the tea. He smiled for unknown reasons, looking somewhere in the void.

— Too much dust on your furniture, — Looking down on his finger covered with a huge layer of dust, he put one leg over another. — Such a lazy wife?

Lorena tried to relax her shoulders.

— There's not always the power to clean up. — She smiled involuntarily. And again, silence. Lorena remained standing at the table, looking at the cup, then at McGuire.

— So, what's the next question?

— You have embossed arms like you do for a woman. Like lifting heavy things?

McGuire reached out to her. Lorena walked away, outraged. But she said nothing. A nasty lump came up to her throat. She wanted to spit it out.

— I forgot your last question. — Her voice was demanded, but mostly, it sounded annoyed.

— Please sit down, — again, he pointed to the chair beside him. — I can't feel like a gentleman being served by such a beautiful lady.

She sat down slowly opposite the lieutenant, staring into him.

— Still don't trust me. I was hoping that my appearance would attract. — He smoothed his hair. Probably from a crooked nose, asymmetrical eyebrows and eyes and thin lacquered hair were the most attractive in his appearance.

«Self-confident dude.» — She admitted to herself.

Lorena bit her cheek.

— You come only for the small interrogation?

McGuire sighed irritably. He drank tea slowly, then smiled very lightly.

— Remember the blood test you had to take with your family between March and April?

— Yes... why do you need it?

— I just want to check the result and put a few seals.

Lorena rose silently, quickly going to the pedestal in the corridor. Her heart was pounding in her ears. He was playing all this time just for this one thing. Too early — only this sentence was playing in her head. What to do now?

She opened the first box, which usually consisted of letters and all sorts of small documents that were received a little time ago. Her hands trembled. Clutching papers with the hospital emblem, Lorena took a deep breath and exhaled.

The lieutenant looked at the documents from different angles for a long time, sometimes looking at her. She was standing in the middle of the door.

— As I thought, — like a final sentence, said the man with disappointment. — Give me your passport, the passports of the children, and the passport of your husband.

Something inside her stirred. Something nasty and annoying.

Lorena silently returned to the pedestal, starting to get passports in brown covers from under other letters. She stopped for a second. From the kitchen, you could not see this pedestal because of the spellbinding in the corridor. «If only he hadn't heard...» — Taking three passports in the right palm, with her left, she hid the fourth under the sheets.

— Why it take you so long? — Sounded right at the ear.

She jumped and shouted, almost hitting the lieutenant's nose with her back. He dodged in time, retreating on one step. Without saying anything more, he meticulously put his rough palm forward. She held out the passports.

The lieutenant did not return to the kitchen. On the contrary, he again pushed Lorena to the side and laid out all the documents in a row on the pedestal before wiping the surface with a jacket sleeve in disgust. He took a small seal from the pocket of the jacket, opened each of the documents, and began to mark. A minute later, he grunted, half a turn looking at her.

— There were four medical reports, and there were only three passports. Where's the last one? — There was no friendliness in McGuire's voice anymore. He began to get very annoyed.

— I think my son took his passport with him. — She looked him straight in the eyes.

— Really? Why? — He bowed his head to one side, twitching his eyebrow.

— He had to pick up one package at the post office.

— What kind of package?

The man straightened up, starting to approach her. The air was too little. Like a large rock, he seemed to block out all the light. Lorena began to back up.

— If you're lying to me and this time, Ms. Lorena, — The sharp whisper seemed to strike in the ears. He swiftly approached, grabbing her hand and clutching it. She howled involuntarily. — The consequences will overtake you sooner than I leave the area. Lying to the military is the highest degree of crime!

His voice sounded like thunder. Lorena closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She pulled out her arm by herself, gaining air in her chest to scream—

— Mom! — Richter burst into the apartment all red and out of breath, leaning on the door frame, ready for battle just like his mother.

— Here comes the prodigal son. — Once losing interest in Lorena, the lieutenant congratulated Richter.

She reached out to her son, calling to herself. He obeyed, hiding behind her back.

— We were just talking to your mother. Yes, m’lady?

Lorena swallowed the saliva heavily, trying to control her breathing. However, McGuire snorted and turned to her son.

— Where is your passport, young gentleman? Mother said you had it.

Richter was silent, clutching her blouse. According to the face of lieutenant, it was clear that such a game did not suit him. He straightened himself and fixed his hat.

— Mothers are always protecting their puppies. — With these words, he eagerly opened the pedestal to the crunch of wood in the openings, mixing and tossing all the documents there.

They could only watch. Lorena observed it, trying not to jump on uninvited guests and not to start to hit him.

With a contented face, he took out Richter's passport, twisting it in his hands, just like piece of meat after the hunt, before finally putting the seal on the first page. With his nasty smile, McGuire saluted Lorena. She gifted him with a hated look.

— Well, the procedure is over, and I took enough time from you. M’lady, forced to leave you.

The soldier had almost left the apartment when suddenly he stopped.

— And you, young gentleman, protect your mommy at all costs.

Richter squeezed his mother's hand. She put her hand on his back.

— You never know who's going to come into the apartment next time.— He corrected his hat again, finally leaving the apartment. — Dumb bastards. — Very quietly came to their ears.

— Who was it? — Coming from behind, asked a worried Richter.

— I don't know. — Her breathing was ragged, restless. Her breasts were rising in spasm. Her head was only full of thoughts about passports.

The first steps to the pedestal were difficult: the legs were filled with lead, and like Lorena did not try, she barely tore her toes off the floor.

Moreover, Richter came first, now looking at the red rectangle in the lower left corner of the passports.

— What does that mean?

She didn't know what to say to it.

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Already in the blink of night, someone almost tore the door off its hinges. Out of fear, Laurena, armed with a roller, hurried to the corridor, opening the door at her own peril.

— Oh, a nightmare. — The roller fell out of her hands in the terrible sense of whom she was going to hit.

Patrick jumped into the apartment in a second, throwing his bag on the floor, almost immediately picking up his wife in an embrace.

— Sh-sh-sh, everything is fine, everything is fine, — He pressed her to his chest. His heart pounded in a frantic rhythm; Lorena could hear it. — I'm so sorry I couldn't be around before. The boss did not let to go. Are you okay? Richter’s at home? Sally?

— Yes. They are already sleeping.

The man ate quickly, even more greedily than he had never eaten before — they always had plenty of provisions. He only wanted to finish as soon as possible so that Lorena could tell him about the meeting with the lieutenant in every detail.

— The lieutenant himself... Why didn't he send his minions? The radio, you say, stopped working, the moment military arrived? — Patrick was confused. — They could do this on purpose so that we would not know too much. The connection should be silenced so that no one sends a message.

— At one point, I thought he figured out. — Lorena drank hot tea — she still was freezing after that encounter. — I don't think he's going to report on little things like that.

— No, from your description, he is too pompous for that. Okay, I'll talk to the boss. Maybe I can alternate with someone so you're not constantly alone.

— I just forgot to close the door on the key. — She confessed guilty, lowering her eyes.

— No. — He said, determined. — We don't know how much they're here and if he’s going to bring someone else next time.

Patrick was right. If the military entered the city, then this is not for a day or two. The military in the city did not bring anything good at all. And from now on, the door is best kept closed at all times.

— You know what, — he got up and turned on the radio, choosing the program. — Let's dance, I find it better. — And he began to dance to the cheerful rhythm of music.

Lorena giggled as she accepted her husband's hand and started dancing with her feet.

— You remain optimistic as always. — She spun around his arm.

— I haven't even stopped being a gentleman since our meeting.

— And you always were choosing the dance in such situations.

— Duties, vows, conflicts... they always distract from my joy of life — you.

The husband put the other palm on his wife's waist, starting a cheerful and, moreover, active dance. They both laughed and smiled.

— What else happened today? — Asked Patrick when Lorena turned her back to him again, resting her head on his shoulder. Their pace was now softer and slower.

— As always, I went to the store, walked Sally, sent Richter to the bakery... Nothing new or interesting. Oh yes, Richter was scratched by a cat.

— Did the cat bite his hand off?

— No.

— It's not scary then. He will be a man, and some scratches will be the least he will have to see. — Patrick went around her, and now their position was more like a waltz.

—They seemed quite deep to me. He was so crooked when I processed them — ubelievable!

— Ha, I have no doubt they'll be gone before dawn.