The roar of the engine alarmed me and roused me. I went back up to the crest like a lizard, to watch the tank roll past. Four naked women and three men were sitting on the turret. Four bodies lay on the engine compartment.
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 slammed my foot against 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 had been crying in the blown-up carriage? Some tank crew’s hanger-on? A passenger gone out of his mind? Someone dangerous? Someone harmless? 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.
