« Postman »

Hello, the inhabitants of the blogs!
I still realized that I am not friends with the video yet (more precisely, I am not friends at all), and the text is rare from under my pen, but they are exactly what they turn out
Actually, therefore, I decided to post my first (so far the only adequately written) story “Postman”, created once for the Metro Storystands 2033. The results will be soon, but for me it is not some very influential factor.
And by the subjug, what remains to say: if you are biased to the « Metro universe 2033″, then I can assure you, in this story this is just a shell. The main thing is the meaning that in what conditions write will always remain the same

Call. Her voice is in dynamics. She is unhappy with something. I just dutifully be silent, because I do not want to break the silence in the apartment. She hits the phone. And again I don’t have time to say anything. Maybe it is better? Life goes on as usual, do not focus on the same things.“We should get to the bathroom, at least refresh, soon to work,” I thought.I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mood is spoiled. Not only with her, but by my conscience: her friend sleeps on the bed. I don’t even remember how everything happened.“No, you definitely need to get to the bathroom. Damn, and whose apartment is this? Not mine – for sure. Stop. This is not an apartment. This is a hotel room. Then everything is clear. ”It’s necessary, I have failures in my memory. Well, with whom it does not happen … The eyes are sticking together, but we must wake up. The students are not waiting.Going into the bathroom, I glance at the tile. « Eh, I would like this home … ». But I didn’t like something in the whole room. And I did not understand right away – I have no shadow! But there is a shadow behind me. It seems to be human, but with one detail: there is a mask with a beak on the head. I saw this somewhere … for sure! In such masks there were doctors in Italy from the era of the Renaissance. But what he forgot here? I turn around – nobody. Mirror! In films, it helped. I look at him and see this very doctor. He rushes abruptly at me and at the same time (everything happens in less than a second) is a female scream ..

At Novogireevo Station, a working day has long begun. Someone went to work at other stations, someone was already returning back, but there were units. But there was a man who stood out greatly among the rest of the inhabitants. His name was the postman. No one knows his name and age. Even sometimes they can not hear words from him. Before the disaster, he was a mathematician. Agree, an unnecessary specialty in the new world. In the early days, when chaos and anarchy reigned, he simply hid from everyone in the tunnels, and when he left the Novokosinsky tunnel, they thought that it was a monster, somehow miraculously sneaking into the subway. It is clear that the warriors from the checkpoint did what they usually: at first they shot, and only then decided to ask. But by happy chance, all the bullets went into milk, and the unknown target was not even scared and managed to send “… these damn snipers …”. And when the question “How to dignify you, dear man? », The lucky one after a small pause answered: » Postman Pechkin « . At first everyone thought that it was a joke, but he began to respond only to this word.
Accepted its heat at the station. Only there was no time to relax – the stations of the Kalinin Confederation needed working hands. But there was no place for him. Everything that he did not start was falling from his hands, and the postman himself just joked: « Yes, hands from the ass grow, what to do … ». Intellectual work, logical to assume, was not. Well, do not expel him. But in time they remembered his joke at the first acquaintance and offered to revive the post offices on the line. True, the idea of ​​special approval at first did not receive, but the leadership of the Confederation still insisted on its. “If the whole world has been destroyed for us, then we simply must maintain humanity! » – said in the official appeal to the population of stations. And so the postman began its work.
In the morning, he went around all the mailboxes that soon appeared at each station, and in the evening he carried all the letters. What did people write in them is unknown. And yet, the Sacrament of Personal Correspondence –– as the postman believed –– one of the most important rules that in no case can be violated. Although there were few letters, he was so responsible for this work that the delivery of everyone was not only for him, but for the recipient became a holiday. Sometimes, by order, stalkers brought from the surface just a very large number of notebooks and empty paper, and no one even said how useless this cargo is.
But today was the day, let’s say, unusual: the postman stayed at the station and did not go anywhere. Even if the calendar was a day off, he still left. And then something happened to him.
- What, mail? I really thought up a strike? -shouted someone behind his back. It turned out to be the assistant to the head of the station, Viktor Mikhailovich, whom everyone was affectionately called Hugo. – And how are everyone else?
- Ah, hello. No, don’t expect any strike from me. Except that I can die at any moment, then we will think.
- So! Well, set aside! Why are you going to die?
-Yes, again, the nightmares torment,-the postman looked somehow upset, especially after this phrase. – Listen, Hugo. When the stalkers will return?
- Yes tonight they promised. You wait for paper?
- No. I want to go with them.
To say that Hugo was surprised, it means to say nothing. Viktor Mikhailovich never thought that a closed and silent postman would shut on the surface.
- Well, why the hell do you need it? Okay, you want to die, but why do the guys involve all this?
- Viktor Mikhailovich, understand me correctly. I need to. You do not know, but I lived before the disaster in Reutov. And I would get there again. I want to see my house. I myself would have reached, but still twenty years have passed, and what is happening there, I don’t know. And the comrades of stalkers at least know how to behave under these conditions.
- But mail, how are we without you? – The assistant to the beginning has already saddened. – Yes, and what right now has come? So much time has passed! I won’t let you go anywhere!
- You can’t dissuade me anymore. Do anything, but I will leave to the surface anyway. And point.
On this phrase, the postman went towards his tent. Since stalkers will come at night, then their next exit will be no earlier than every other day.
During this time, a lot of things have managed to do. For example, destroy everything that has been created for centuries. For someone destroyed only the number of victims, for someone lost the opportunity. They say « war destroyed … ». Nothing of the kind! Everyone destroyed people. And not just military. Everyone put a hand to this. Maybe it sounds wildly. But this is so.
At least the postman believed in this. Sitting in his dwelling, he thought about his dreams. They were different, but the most frequent guest-a single nightmare-did not leave him for more than 20 years, tormented even before the disaster. And what is surprising: this is just a strange game of his brain. He knew that this never happened, and would not even happen. But for some reason, waking up every night, the postman always shuddered, his breath was intermittent, and the pulse was rapid. As if after a five -kilometer run. “That’s enough. I have been twenty years old. Better late than never at all. Everything was decided, ”he thought.
Behind all thoughts and reasoning, the postman spent the rest of the day. Before going to sleep, he was going to meet stalkers, but could not and fell asleep before.

I’m standing in the middle of a big nodepositbonuscasinos.co.uk street.Where am I and how I got here? Although the place seems familiar. Stop. This is Omsk! Are I in a nightmare again? Only this time, I will find out how it all started? Well, then forward. Just to decide on your exact location.The city looked like I remembered it: all covered with white snow, even on the roads. There were only no people. It seems that nuclear fire did not touch this place: in the buildings of the windows were intact, there are no traces of a fire anywhere. I would have suggested that this is not a dream, that the whole nightmare, a subway dreamed, if not for the absence of people and cars. Where are they? So, you still need to figure out where I. Find a plate with the name of the street! Forward!Rushed to the first building. So, there seems to be: « Marx Avenue, 15″. Question: “What am I doing here? ». Stop! After all, her house is nearby! A couple of kilometers and I’m on the spot. “So what am I waiting? ».And I ran. I haven’t run like that for a long time. Lord, how empty! So many good people lived in the city. They were in no hurry, well, if only to work. Even if it looked completely different. People had completely different facial expressions. They lived a full life. Omsk did not compare in comparison with Moscow: the inhabitants of the latter cared only about themselves and the amount on the bank account. But not here. The Russian spirit of community has been preserved in this city. Real Russian people lived in this city! But I wanted to move here. And it can stay? To hell with reality! But at first at least get to the goal.Crossroads. Maslennikova Street. There should be a bridge on the right. Yes, here he is. But I’m in the other direction. I turn around and run on. There is little left.Yes, I liked this city. I considered him the best that I saw in this life. And I wanted to move here. Would graduate from the institute and leave the mired in the shit of Moscow. Only there is no Moscow. And the shit is left. And flowed into the subway. Still, people are fighting for resources, for the territory. Yes for everything, actually. Thank God that the disaster destroyed most of the bad people, but good were injured. Let them be few, but they were.Arguing about this, I almost ran the building I needed. Post Office number 10. Great, already a little bit.Suddenly I notice what I did not notice all my ways: light in the window. So, one of the people is still in the city. But what is most interesting, the light in that very house. And in that very window. SHE!Understanding this spurred me even more. The doors of the entrance were open, as if they were invited inside. I did not dare to call the elevator, moved on the stairs. Necessary floor, necessary door. I pulled the handle, it opened, and I went inside.What the hell? This is not her apartment! And what then? Children’s world. Toy store. And the same empty. Okay, this is all a dream. Maybe it’s just a bad brain game? Or maybe a prophetic dream? The second is better. This means that my dream will come true. But first you need to figure out what is happening here.I will not unfold. And so I know that the doors are gone. The exit in front. I will look around, perhaps.The first rows of racks, and there are figures of people on everyone: small, each five to six centimeters. Almost Voodoo dolls. »Well, you are almost right ».This voice rang out in my head. This frightened me, I did not want to stay in place, as I could wake up. I go further and further. The racks are still standing in a row, all the same figures on the shelves. Stop! I cast a glance and I see a figure very similar to Viktor Mikhailovich on one of the shelves. And I see nearby and similar to me. »Yes, it’s really you ».Again this voice. “Who are you, damn it? Show yourself, ”I scream in the whole throat, but only a whisper remains at the exit.It starts to annoy me. But I try not to think about it, and I again look at my little copy. This is not even a copy, or rather, a copy from the world that died 20 years ago. And all surrounding her were drawn as if recently. I wonder why?“Because you also died twenty years ago,” this time the voice sounded close enough.I was afraid to turn, but interest made me do it. A little boy stood in front of me. In appearance ten years. He looked very neat for a man from the dungeons. Is he a man?- This is your voice sounded in my head? -I said, while experiencing surprise for my already voice, which began to sound in a completely different way.“Yes,” the boy answered. – And you didn’t recognize me? Yeah, I will be rich. Although wealth is to me. I have you.- How did I have to recognize you? And who we are?- People, who else.If logic does not change me now, then according to him it can be judged that he is definitely not a person. But I missed the monsters. So you have to be ready to wake up.- No, I’m not a monster. I am just God. But in your interpretation. Do not remember? Let’s help you, – snapping his fingers, he smiled. And some sounds were heard in the store. Only after a few seconds (or minutes) it dawned on me. This is a long -forgotten music, from that forgotten world. I could not remember what kind of melody it is.- Do not strain. The main thing is that the chorus has so deeply settled in your head that you took it for reality. And you believe this so much that your faith brought you here.God, child, a toy store … Damn it, these words are spinning in my head and can not work out into a single picture. Think! This is the only thing you always knew how to do.“Really? » – » The universe is endless? » – I said these two words with joy. Still, I could not see. And the song still settled in my head.- Well, this is how you say. I would say that is finite. After all, each person lives in his space and his life is limited. Everything in this world of course. After all, so you said? At least you, again, believed. But now it’s not about that. You probably wanted to ask about all these figures? These are all people. You remember the whole lyrics? Then you must understand how everything works here. And I can still say that you are only grunting one question. After all?“If you know, then why should I say something else?“Why is she not with me?»I asked this question for a very long time. I drove into my head that it was me to blame. For inexplicable reasons, I behaved completely unnaturally. The result, I think, is clear.- I hope that you did not refuse your recent decision? -God looked at me with some challenge-no. I can’t stand it anymore. I have to do it.- Well, then here my help, – and he took out another figure from his pocket. My eyes were eagerly clinging to her. – This is your dream. Your life. I’m not tired of playing. Just figures sometimes come across some boring. And you are generally interesting and at the same time a strange case. But I don’t dare you delay you anymore. There is a door ahead. Open it, and go further to your goal.After everything I saw, I knew that everything planned to be just obliged to work out.And here is the door … without hesitation, I’m taking a step. Another. And yet. »Goodbye, forgotten by everyone ».

The group was ready to reach the surface. They arrived in Novokosino for a long time, but could not go out according to weather conditions: it was raining on the surface. Of course, not the most terrible thing of the former world, but the majority still tried to avoid it. And after capture by radiation and other nastiness of huge territories, the rain turned into one of the enemies of mankind. Although, humanity itself has been and is the worst enemy.
- So, mail, we got Reutov’s card here, – the group commander looked pretty funny for such a position. – Show where to stomp.
The postman, practically without hesitation, poked a point on the map.
- Ty, yes here is 10 minutes on foot and we are in place. Maybe you’ll get it yourself? And then why do guys to drive in vain?
- I will not take away only so many paper.
- This is how much it should be there? – At that moment, all the stalkers were probably surprised.
- A lot. Unless of course there were no fires.
- Well, mail, let’s see. Group, to the exit.
Hermourians opened, releasing six people out. To where a person now does not feel safe. To where the black color broke out of the worst corners of the human soul.
The postman was at the head of the column. He was not afraid of the high ceiling of the sky, as if for the past few years he lived not in the dungeons of the Moscow metro, but here, upstairs. He even remembered how easy it is to get from the station to his house. Actually, it was there that he led stalkers. Here they crossed the Novosikhinskoye Shosse. Reutov met them blackened from fires in some houses with windows. The city looked at the postman with an accusing look. “You are the same killer as everyone who goes next to you” is that they would say at home if they could say. And he would answer that he was just a victim.
The group overcame more than half the way, and they never met a single creature, as if someone’s hand stops all the creatures of darkness from breaking miserable little people. The postman first wanted to lead the group through the courtyards, but thick vegetation did not allow him to do this. Reflex, he is reflex. I had to go around and make a small hook. They walked past a shopping center, which seemed to be called « Equator ». Stalkers have already cleaned it, and a very long time ago, no value was no longer represented.
And a few meters remained to the goal. Here it is, the house in which the postman lived all his conscious and not very life. He found the desired entrance and went inside, the rest followed him. It’s good that go just to the second floor. But before entering the landing, he stopped at the mailbox: something forced to look into the box. He expected to see anything, but there was a letter. Whole! Not just ashes, but a whole letter! So much time has passed, but nothing happened to the envelope.
Without thinking twice, the postman took off the box and hit the floor hard. The noise level immediately rose to the critical, by the standards of modernity, the size. But he doesn’t care. The box scattered from rust. The fact that the letter has survived until 2033 is just a miracle. The metal test could not stand by humanity, people of new conditions could not withstand. And the paper was able to.
In general, it is strange that someone in the age of high technology used mail services. Especially the Russian Post. Here, there is a wonderful example. It’s nice to get a letter written by a hand, and even with a soul. There is a share of romance in all this process.
The group reached the desired apartment. The doors, of course, were broken out. I often had to looter, and especially in the apartments of the dead. Although who knew that for example the owner of this housing is still alive.
- Mail, and where is your paper warehouse? – the commander remembered the goal of their campaign
- A second. I’ll look at the balcony. Fire did not touch the apartment, on our happiness.
Indeed, the pile of paper lay exactly where the postman said. And the apartment itself was empty. All that remains is two cabinets and a corner table. Judging by the layer of dust, all the acquired good has been made from here for a very long time. But the most valuable remains in the cabinets. These “artifacts” had value only for the owner, while stalkers simply did not even touch. The postman was even delighted with this fact. After all, one more miracle happened: in one of the cabinets, in the same place as on the day of the disaster, there was a photograph in which he and she were. Then they are still. Together.
Stalkers still divided the load among themselves, and the postman took advantage of this moment to open the envelope. The date on the stamp said that the letter came on the day of the Apocalypse. I waited for months, but it is how it happened ..

After reading the letter, the postman neatly put it back into the envelope, and also took the photo from the cabinet.
- Well, we are ready. I did everything what you need? – The commander was clearly relaxed by all this walk on the surface.
- I did everything I wanted. But you go back without me.
- What. Mail, don’t joke like that!
- And I’m not joking. I will not return to the station. Understand, commander, I have nothing more to do there. Successors, if that, I left. And now there is enough papers for a long time.
- We will not leave you here! Well, I got up and went! – After this phrase, the commander jerked to him, but stopped halfway, seeing a grenade in the hands of the postman.
- Risk. And then your guys will stay here. I said, leave. Then I, perhaps, will figure it out myself.
- Okay, crazy, understand further yourself. But here I will say: no matter what you plan – good luck ..
And with these words the stalkers left. The postman sat for a long time with a dummy in his hands, and then simply threw it on the floor. So he was left alone with silence.

There used to be a proverb « better than never before ». Even if it will happen later in ten, twenty, fifty years. It’s never too late to apologize ..

“I did not have time then, so I will ask for forgiveness now. How many times have I done in my thoughts! Chances of success? Now no one thinks about it, the world throws too disgusting pictures to the eyes every day. But I’ll go anyway.
If her elegant figure still stands on that shelf …, it makes sense, Vera. Pass 2800 kilometers through the scorched desert to the city of my dreams. As God said in that dream? « You died twenty years ago ». It turns out he gave me a second chance? “The only real mistake is not to correct your past mistakes”-yes, it seems that someone from the great of that world said.
A person must remain a person, be able to experience emotions, not a need. But there are practically no such. If I don’t need her, then no one. Therefore, I simply must, obliged … obliged!
Well, I told her a bunch of nasty things. Left, good. I still regret my words, succumbed to an unreasonable anger. Yes, I’m like that. But I can get sincere reassurance only there, in Omsk. What if … Suddenly, this is her thoughts about me make it so madly dreaming? Maybe she has been living inside me for a long time? ».

An hour or two has passed, and the postman was lying on the floor. The photo stood on the table, and he looked at her all day. He knew that the most difficult thing in all this suicidal idea is to take the first step. It is necessary. He rose with a sharp gesture, brushed himself awkwardly, feeling like a lunatic, which on the verge of realizing the illusoryness of his actions. He left the apartment and headed east. He did not remember the entire map of a huge country once, just walked on a hunch. Knowing that his fate leads.