Afterglow. The Justification of Chaos - стр. 28
But hope is deceptive.
Forgetting fear and danger, I pulled Sam forward, walking as fast as I could. My legs, feeling as heavy as lead, could barely carry me. But I didn’t care; I needed to reach the soldiers, to get answers to at least some of my questions.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked nervously and loudly before we had even caught up to the soldiers, and the street echoed his question, carried by a gust of wind; I snapped to awareness and glanced worriedly at Dort. He had never liked people in uniform, despised anything related to weapons and violence. How desperate must he be to be the first to start a conversation…
The man leading the group raised a finger to his lips in warning and spoke only when we were no more than a meter apart.
“Nothing good,” he said, giving us a scrutinizing look. He looked to be around forty to forty-five; short, greasy black hair, touched with gray in places, dark, thick eyebrows, and narrow lips. He held a rifle against his chest. “I assume you spent the night in isolation?” And, without waiting for an answer, he continued. “The Northern Plague has spread through the remaining areas and swept the city overnight. There will be no evacuation. Government forces will not come. A safe place should be sought outside the neighborhood on your own.
But all I could think of was one phrase ringing in my head: "swept the city." I swayed. Swept the city? Everything had been fine yesterday. It had only been one night. Swept the city. Yesterday everything had been relatively normal!
“Are you injured?” asked one of the soldiers who stood a little apart. Sam shook his head.
“No, but it looks like you have injured people,” he began cautiously, “and we know of a more or less safe place; we spent the night in a bookstore…” He added urgently, “We need help and…”
“Lead the way. We’ll discuss everything there,” the man who had started speaking with us interrupted Sam. “But no foolishness.”
Sam nodded unevenly and pulled me back, still eyeing the soldiers impassively. The group was made up of men and two girls, one of whom, injured, was being carried. Her jacket was tied around her waist, and her shirt was soaked with blood – her shoulder was bleeding heavily, but she was alive: she moaned and occasionally twitched, gasping raggedly for air.
The man leading the group fell into step with me and Dort, and his gaze was as watchful and inquisitive as mine. He was a little taller than Sam; he exuded a sense of firmness and confidence on some physical level. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that several weapons were pointed in our direction.
Soldiers like soldiers. Black uniforms, heavy high boots, backpacks, tactical vests, pouches, jackets, knee and elbow pads. On their belts – knives, spare weapons; some had holsters on their chests or legs. A few wore helmets.
“How did you survive these past twenty-four hours?” A man walking next to us asked hoarsely, examining us with a keen gaze. “A bookstore, huh? It's not exactly a place that associates with an impenetrable stronghold.”
“We haven't been outside since yesterday,” I replied more sharply than I intended. “Yesterday, around noon, we locked ourselves in the bookstore with an employee. The basement level. No windows. We can't be seen, and we can't see out. We only decided to venture out today. We were waiting for help, but it never came. We had to rely on ourselves. Honestly, we don't fully understand what's going on… if we understand anything at all.”