His first thought was to leave as quickly as possible, leave everything behind and focus on going to Roman. But the inability to control a vehicle took its toll, so using a surviving bandit wasn't such a bad idea. Gritting his teeth, Alexander turned off the engine, got out of the car and headed back to the place where the scream came from.
The bandit, who was Sergei Pavlovich Kudryavtsev, according to the documents, was crawling on dirty concrete, covered in blood, with a shattered back, each movement causing a new wave of agony.
“Help... Me,” he croaked, his eyes were full of tears and horror when he saw Alexander. - Call... An ambulance... Please.
Alexander was not a fool, and his plans were different. If he calls an ambulance, the police will arrive on the scene, and he will be drawn even deeper into this nightmare. And it’s strange to spare his tormentors just because he begs for help. The whole situation evoked one emotion in him. Every step inflamed the young man's consciousness. Adrenaline was pounding furiously in Alexander’s veins as he approached the suffering Sergei. He felt anger and rage at the same time. Thoughts about his own safety flashed through his mind, about the fact that this man and his comrade had tried to kill him just a few minutes ago. He could not afford weakness or pity.
When he was close enough, Alexander kicked Sergei in the face without warning, trying to suppress the man's screams. The blow was so strong that the scream froze in his throat, and Sergei winced from unexpected and acute pain.
“Listen to me carefully,” said Alexander, sitting down next to him and raising Sergei’s bloody head so that their eyes met. - You will help me, or I will make you regret that you were ever born. Understood? A broken spine and death will only be the beginning, believe me.
Tears of pain and fear flowed down Sergei's face, but he nodded, realizing that he had no choice.
Alexander picked him up from the ground and dragged him to the car. Every movement caused Sergei a new wave of pain, but fear of Alexander’s possible actions forced him to remain silent. As soon as they got to the car, Alexander threw him into the passenger seat.
- Now tell me how to drive the car. How to start? What to reap? - he demanded, clutching the stolen pistol in his hand. - And set the GPS to my house. I think you know where he is.
Sergei, coughing and trying to hold back groans, explained to Alexander the basics of driving. With every word that Sergei uttered, his voice became weaker and weaker, but he continued, realizing that every subsequent minute could be his last if he did not fulfill Alexander’s demands. It took less than three minutes to do everything. After that, with weak hands, he set the GPS to the address of the Stepnovs’ house.
As soon as the GPS showed the route, Alexander first fastened his seat belt and, following Sergei’s instructions, started the car. Sergei was too weak to resist, but his eyes reflected deep fear and despair. He knew that Alexander was now in control of his destiny, and he was forced to rely on the mercy of the guy who, only a few hours ago, had been his victim.
The car slowly moved away. Alexander gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to look at Sergei. He felt the anger and adrenaline slowly give way to cold determination. He needed to get home. While Alexander was intently watching the road, trying not to make a mistake, Sergei lay silently in the passenger seat. Pain, fear and fatigue took their toll, and he seemed to pass out, only emitting faint moans from time to time.
The journey home seemed endlessly long, but finally the GPS announced that they had arrived at their destination. Alexander carefully parked the car and turned off the engine. His heart was beating wildly as he looked at the entrance of the high-rise building, and then at Sergei’s lifeless body.
He understood that his further actions could determine his entire future fate, and he needed to act very carefully. With this thought, he took a deep breath, opened the car door and headed towards the entrance.
Lit by the dim light of the lamps, the entrance seemed uncomfortable and alien to Alexander, despite the fact that it was his own home. His steps echoed loudly as he walked up the steps, trying not to think about the fact that he had left Sergei in the car.
When he approached his apartment, Alexander paused for a moment in front of the door, studying the wooden surface. His hand shook slightly as he inserted the key into the lock. The turning of the key and the creak of the door opening seemed incredibly loud to him in the silence of the night entrance.
There was silence in the apartment. The darkness inside was broken only by the faint light of the street lamps filtering through the windows. Alexander carefully closed the door behind him, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He felt a strange sense of alienation as he stood in the hallway of his own home. Everything here was so familiar and at the same time alien, reflecting his inner chaos after everything that had happened in the last hours.
Soundlessly, he walked into the living room, past the furniture, which could barely be distinguished in the darkness, and headed towards the window. He looked down the street, at the car in which Sergei remained, and felt his heart squeezing with anxiety and uncertainty, realizing that he still had a lot to go through before he could gain any confidence in the future.
After he curtained the windows, deep darkness reigned in the room. Alexander lingered for a moment in this darkness, trying to collect his thoughts. He then reached for the switch and a soft light filled the room, instantly changing the atmosphere.
Looking around, Alexander saw the decoration of the room - neatly laid pillows on the sofa, magazines on the table, a TV opposite the sofa. The air seemed musty, as if the apartment had been standing for a long time without an owner.
His gaze fell on the photo frames on the wall. There were pictures of him with his parents - happy moments captured on paper. In one of the photos they were at a picnic in the park, in the other they were at Alexander’s graduation party. His parents smiled in every photo, full of pride and love for their son. Looking at their faces, Alexander felt a pang of remorse and pain from the fact that he was not even sure if these were his parents.
He turned his gaze to other objects in the apartment, trying to distract himself from the oppressive feelings. Books on the shelves, a small collection of films, headphones on the table next to the computer. All this reminded him of a normal life, which now seemed so distant and unattainable.
Alexander took a deep breath, trying to gather his strength. He knew he needed to do something, plan, think about next steps. Standing in his apartment, surrounded by memories and silent witnesses of his past, he knew that he had not a minute to lose. However, before taking action, he allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment and feel like just a tired young man, lost in his doubts.
Alexander began to slowly cross the space of his apartment. He entered the hallway, the place where he usually dropped his keys and took off his shoes. Now it was something like a portal separating him from the outside world - the world of chaos and danger into which he had just plunged.
Moving on, he glanced at the living room from which he had come. Walking further, Alexander found himself in the kitchen. It was a small but efficiently organized space with modern technology. The faux stone countertop bore traces of the many dishes he had prepared, and the walls were decorated with colorful tiles, adding a cheerful touch to the kitchen. There was a clock mechanism hanging on the wall, ticking smoothly and monotonously, reminiscent of the inexorable passage of time.
Next was the bedroom - his sanctuary, a place where he could rest and forget. The bed with a soft mattress and fluffy pillows seemed to him now an oasis of calm. On the nightstand next to the bed was an alarm clock and a photo of him and his parents taken on his last day at university.
In the bathroom, reflected in the mirror, he saw his face, exhausted and tense. The geometric tiles, the clean towels hung neatly on hooks, and the clear glass shower stall all seemed alien, like they belonged to another life.
While he moved from room to room, every detail of the interior, every object evoked in him a feeling of dissonance. His own apartment, once filled with warmth and security, now seemed distant and incomprehensible to him, as if he had stepped into the home of a stranger. This feeling of alienation intensified with every passing minute, reminding Alexander that his life would never be the same.
Alexander's heart sank when he heard the sound of the key turning in the lock. He quickly turned to the door, his heart beating so loudly that it seemed its beats could be heard throughout the apartment. Every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation of the threat, every cell in his body was ready to flee or fight. “This can’t be Sergei,” a thought flashed. He left him unconscious in the car.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
The door slowly opened and a figure appeared on the threshold. For a moment, Alexander was ready to attack, but when his eyes adjusted to the contours of the man, he froze in surprise. On the threshold stood the man he had seen earlier - middle-aged, with hard features, a searching gaze. Recognizing him, Alexander felt adrenaline rush into his veins again, and his muscles tensed, preparing for a possible conflict.
- What is he doing here? - thoughts were spinning in Alexander’s head.
“Good evening, Alexander,” said the major, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him. His voice was calm, but there was a sense of confidence in it. - Sorry for the sudden visit, but we have serious things to discuss. Well, I promised to visit you.
- Alexander tried to remain calm, but his eyes ran around, looking for possible escape routes or objects that could serve as weapons.
- What you want from me? - he asked, trying to sound decisive, although there was tension in his voice.
The major sighed and slowly approached the table on which there were photographs of Alexander’s parents. He nodded towards the pictures before turning his attention back to the guy.
“I’m sincerely sorry, Alexander,” the major began, his tone was soft, but there was a sense of seriousness in it. - I mean your loss. The death of your parents was the factor that did not introduce you, but I’ll be honest, if it were possible, I would like to meet you under other circumstances.
Alexander felt a chill run down his spine. His gaze involuntarily slid to the photographs on the table, and he felt his heart clench in pain.
- What... What did you say? - he whispered, his eyes widening with indignation. - Why? How did this happen?
“I understand that this is a shock for you,” the major continued, remaining calm and carefully looking into the guy’s eyes. - But I need to know, Alexander, do you really remember anything? About nothing?
The major was silent for a moment, watching Alexander's reaction, then slowly sighed and extended his hand.
“Apparently we need to introduce ourselves again, Markov Maxim Ivanovich,” he said. - I'm here to help you, but I need you to be completely honest with me. It is very important.
Alexander, still trying to digest the information about the death of his parents, trying to understand how he feels in this case. They were not his past, but the words still carried the weight of awareness. Forcing himself to come to his senses, he nodded weakly to the Major, acknowledging that he was ready to speak.
- Great, I know you had to get certain information. This information is extremely important for both of us. Where is she?
Alexander's face reflected complete bewilderment. His mind was spinning, trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle into a coherent whole, but to no avail.
- I really don't know what you're talking about. - he said, his eyes looking for at least some answers in the major. - Please tell me what's going on? I do not remember anything. How does this relate to my parents? Why did they try to kill me? And they did it successfully!
Major Markov stared at Alexander for a moment, studying him. Then he sighed slowly and headed into the living room, where he sat down on the sofa. The man frowned, as if remembering difficult times, and began to talk, his voice sounding firm and confident:
- While you served in the army, Alexander, your parents continued to live in their house in the suburbs of Saratov, not far from the center. They led a quiet life until they were offered to sell their house and the adjacent plot. This was not just a proposal, but rather an ultimatum, and, as you understand, not only private individuals were involved, but also local authorities, including the police. However, your parents stood their ground. They refused to sell and even began to actively resist - they participated in rallies, wrote letters and appeals to various authorities, trying to protect their right to property.
Markov paused, as if checking Alexander’s reaction, and continued:
“The situation worsened when bandits got involved after police provocations. They set your parents' house on fire, but even that didn't break their spirit. Your parents, with the support of their neighbors, continued the fight. However, soon the gang, known as the “Gang of the Wind”, it is not difficult to guess who its leader was, turned its attention to the neighbors where your parents temporarily lived. They were cruel, Alexander. They killed everyone, leaving no chance. And while you were in the army, these people illegally seized the site, forging all the necessary documents.
The guy seemed to be in a vacuum, not understanding how to react. This information definitely applied to him, but he could not fully understand, what he feels, listening to this and perceiving it as another soul from a dagger, should it evoke emotions?
“When you returned from the army, you were greeted not by your family, but by chaos, the wreckage of your former world,” Markov continued, his voice now sounding softer, as if he was reliving memories with Alexander. - You tried to achieve justice, appealed to all authorities, but you were ignored, as if you were a ghost of the past that everyone wanted to forget.
The major paused, a spark of stubbornness and determination shining in his gaze.
- I had just graduated from the academy then. A young lieutenant full of ideals, who had just arrived in Saratov. I was assigned to this case, and, I must admit, with an unambiguous hint to hush everything up. But meeting you changed my mind.
Markov leaned forward, as if emphasizing the importance of the moment.
- You and I have a plan. Using my authority and access to information, we were able to act much more effectively. You found the Wind... And killed him, despite all the danger you ran. I won't forget that call when you said it was all over. I didn’t even know whether I could congratulate you or regret the path we took.
Markov sighed, as if removing the burden of heavy memories.
- Veter had incriminating evidence. Information that covered corruption and shadow business schemes. This helped me climb the corporate ladder. I became a captain, turning everyone over to the internal security department.
Markov looked around the room, his gaze falling on the photographs on the wall, and his eyes softened for a moment.
“The next stage was even more ambitious,” Markov continued, his voice taking on the tone of a combat commander, recalling the fierce battles. “We unraveled a whole web of crime, identified connections that went deep into the structures of power and the criminal world. But you, Alexander, you did the impossible. Single-handedly infiltrating the lair of one of the most dangerous criminals, the man known as Dusk, you obtained information that became key.
Markov patted the table with his hand.
- After we received this data, I mobilized the regional FSB. It was a real raid, Alexander. Midnight, flashing lights, shouts of commands, the sound of doors being broken... We arrested dozens of people, conducted searches, confiscated a lot of money and weapons. It was something like a military operation in the heart of the city.
The major grinned, but there was no joy in his smile, only a bitter awareness of the complexity of their task.
- This operation brought me another promotion, this time to major. But, you know, I never thought of it as a career. For me it was a mission. Unfortunately, not everyone got what they deserved. Berezov, one of the main defendants in the case, somehow escaped punishment. And Dusk... This man was damn careful. There were almost no records, documents, evidence - there was almost nothing. They remained free, but we undermined their strength and disrupted their plans.
Markov lowered his eyes, his gaze was tired.
- Do you remember that call? - Markov raised his eyes, and his gaze became piercing. - Exactly. Forgot. You called me with wild excitement in your voice, as if you were holding something explosive in your hands. He said that you have decisive information on Berezov, that this is the last chance to finally remove him from the game. I understood that this could be a turning point for everything we had been working towards for so long.
The major paused, as if recalling every detail of that night in his memory.
- We agreed to meet at my dacha, in a secluded place where no one would disturb us. I was preparing for this meeting, checking security, making sure that traces of our communication were erased... But you didn’t show up. I waited all night, tried to call you, but your phone was unreachable.
The major took a breath, and his next words were barely audible:
- And only now, after such a long time, I find out that that night you had an accident. That it was not a simple glitch in plans, but that you may have miraculously survived. I... I didn't even know how to feel. You understand?