The roar of the engine made me open my eyes. The tank was rolling off in the direction the gentleman in the tailcoat had gone. It circled my dune and rumbled onward. Four naked women and three men sat on the turret. Four bodies lay across the engine deck.
I climbed down off the dune toward the smashed-up train car.
«This thing brought me here. They blew it up. There’s no road back!» I thought, and kicked the axle box.
Someone whimpered inside the twisted wreck.
— Hey, — I called out warily.
— What? — came a sob in reply. A thin, girlish voice.
— Come out.
Just in case, I took a step back. I was afraid of everything and everyone. Who was crying in the blown-out car? Who had managed to stay alive? Some tank crew’s hanger-on? A passenger gone out of their mind? Someone dangerous? Safe? The Holy Spirit?
In answer to the swarm of questions, my bench neighbor stuck out — or rather, her head did, whimpering:
— Where are you from?
— Uh… we rode together. Come on, come here.
The girl shook her head no, still not showing herself fully. She looked naked.
— Got any clothes?
— No.
I took off my shirt and threw it into the car. Something rustled inside, then bleated:
— Are theeey… gone…
— They’re gone. Drove off.
— For sure?
— See for yourself.
Sniffling and rustling, the girl poked herself out of the car.
I offered a hand. She jumped down onto the sand, leaned her back against the car, pulled her knees up, and sobbed at the top of her lungs, turning into a full-blown bawling mess. Mascara-black tears streaked down her face.
What was I supposed to do with her? What was I supposed to do with myself? How do you look away from a pair of white thighs?
Looking for answers, I glanced around.
— Shh-shh-shh! Quiet! — I ordered.
The girl shut up. It got easier to think, to line up thoughts into logical chains and draw conclusions, but something was still missing. What?
— What’s your name? — I asked her.
— Vera.
There it is! Vera — in Russian her name means «faith,» and faith was exactly what I needed: a goal, and belief in it.
— Here’s the thing, — I told Vera. — We follow the tank. Nowhere else to go. We’ll die of thirst here. Wherever that tank went, there should be water. Thirsty?
— Mm-hm.
— Right. You’re thirsty. I’m thirsty. So we walk toward where there are people. Not scum like these. Let’s go.
— I’m-not-not go-going any-anywhere, — Vera hiccupped.
— What?
— No-no-nowhere…
— Fine, stay here then. I’m not going to talk you into it — and truly, I couldn’t talk girls into anything. Especially ones like this: whimpering, crying, and bawling.
