Chapter 2
Jake Creevy parked his van in front of yet another cozy, identical house and stepped out. Whistling a cheerful tune, he took a basket of bottles from the back and headed toward the porch. He loved his job: every morning, he delivered only fresh milk and cream to the upstanding citizens of the British Empire. In doing so, he contributed to the well-being of a great country.
“We have only the freshest and most delicious milk!”
That was the motto of his farm. Yes, Jake could do without work, but sitting in an office and rereading reports wasn’t his style. Accustomed to working with his hands since childhood, he’d drive a van in the morning and spend the evenings doing bookkeeping and other bureaucratic nonsense. Fortunately, his beloved wife was always nearby and supported him in every way. Jake also had a slight weakness: he loved the smiles of the housewives who gratefully accepted the precious cargo from his hands. He’d often exchange a few words with them, offering advice on healthy eating and recommending certain fermented milk products. Lately, his business had been on the rise, and his client list had expanded to include residents of Little Whinging, as well as the local school and police station. The latter received milk at a substantial discount. So what? Helping children and law enforcement officers was an honor.
The milkman knocked a couple of times, but no one answered, so he placed the fresh milk on the porch and was about to leave when the front door suddenly burst open. The sight he saw would haunt him for years to come: standing in the doorway was a child, a tiny, tiny girl who had just escaped from the underworld.
She looked about five years old, very thin, her face one big bruise, and a tired smile frozen on her split and bleeding lips. The girl was covered in blood from head to toe: her matted black hair was caked with crust, her stretched T-shirt had become almost completely burgundy, having lost its original color, and the red liquid on her thighs was still fresh. Jake looked into her bright, angry eyes and took a step back in shock. That empty, tired gaze, the “Two-Thousand-Yard Stare,” as psychologists call it, he’d seen it before when he served in the Imperial Army in Africa. What had this child been through?
The girl glanced at him blankly and, leaving red marks of her bare feet on the asphalt, walked past him. She didn’t last long; she collapsed just before reaching the lawn. Then Jake came to his senses and rushed to the injured child, carefully turning her over onto her back and checking her pulse; it was barely perceptible.
– Oh, shit! – He cursed and rushed to the car, where he had just recently installed the radio. – Where is it?! Your mother! You should have done this earlier!
The man frantically rummaged through the glove compartment, searching for the police radio frequency sheet his acquaintance at the station had kindly provided, along with the instructions for this marvelous long-distance communication device. They say a person can do anything in an emergency, and Jake, who had no electronics skills, managed to reconfigure the radio in just a minute, nearly breaking it in the process.
– DUNCAN! DUNCAN! – Jake screamed into the phone. – Holy shit! I have a little girl dying in my arms! Call an ambulance immediately!
At that moment, two police officers sitting in a car at the entrance to the city almost choked on their coffee.
“Oh, shit,” that same Duncan clicked a few times on the panel. “Duty! Emergency. This is car number eight. The milkman reported that he found a child in critical condition; according to him, the child is dying.”
“This is Engine 8, this is the duty officer,” a worried female voice came over the radio. “Understood, I’ll contact the nearest ambulance immediately. Confirm the victim’s location.”
– Got it, right now. – Duncan switched the radio again. – Jake, where are you?
– Me? – The milkman’s voice was confused, but he quickly pulled himself together. – Why, I’m standing right in front of number four on Privet Drive. Duncan, hurry! She’s unconscious and bleeding!
– Don’t panic! I’ll be right there! Your mother, f*ck… – The policeman switched the radio again, and his partner had already directed the car to the specified address. – Duty officer, I am dictating the address: Little Whinging, Privet Drive, building number four. I repeat: Little Whinging, Privet Drive, building number four.
“Understood, I’ll pass the information on now,” the police officer on duty replied. “The nearest car is ten kilometers from our town, and it’s heading your way now.”
– DUNCAN! – The radio in the car came to life again. – Where is help?
– Coming soon! Jake, coming soon! – The policeman shouted over the roar of the engine. – The car is on its way! Do you have a first aid kit in the car?
– Yes, just now, – answered the milkman. – What should I do?! I’m not a doctor!
“Me too!” Duncan yelled, but thinking quickly was a positive trait of a law enforcement officer. “I’ll contact the duty officer now, for sure! Linda recently took a first aid course!” The radio clicked: “Duty officer! We need help!”
– Listen, the ambulance will be here in seven minutes.
“The milkman has a first aid kit! You can’t just stand by and watch a child die!” the policeman turned to his colleague. “Linda, help! I’m giving you the Krivi frequency for a conference call.”
“Describe the victim?” A serious female voice rang out in both the police car and the milkman’s van.
“A girl, looks about four or five,” Jake replied. “Very thin and small…”
– Can you determine the damage? – The duty officer interrupted the man.
“It’s a complete mess! She’s covered in blood. Her entire body is bruised and it looks like she was raped. Her thighs are covered in blood! There’s still blood coming out between her legs. What should I do?!” Upon hearing this information, Duncan instinctively touched his service pistol, while his partner floored the gas pedal.
– Quiet! Calm down. Help is on the way. – At the moment, the one on duty had the coolest head. – Place the child on a hard, flat surface.
– Are you fucking nuts!? Where to? On the pavement or something? – the milkman shouted.
“Jake,” Duncan barked, “do as you’re told. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
– Yes. I can hear you.
– Jake. – Duncan took control of the conversation. – Put the baby on the pavement. That’s how it has to be!
– Yes, I did. It’s ready for the road, it’s already warmed up in the sun. – The milkman answered. – What next?
“Now turn her onto her right side,” Linda continued instructing the panicking man.
– Yes. I did. Next?
– Now move your left hand forward.
“Done,” Jake reported, breathing heavily. Running from the girl to the car wasn’t very convenient.
Bend your left leg at the knee and bring it forward. This will prevent the baby from rolling over onto his back.
– Ready!
– Now put something under the girl’s head.
– Aha! Right now… It’s ready. – Krivi reported into the radio and looked at the first aid kit, which he hadn’t let go of the whole time. – I have some painkillers and bandages in my kit, maybe I can at least treat the wounds?
“That’s not necessary,” the nurse on duty put a stop to the child’s self-indulgence. “You don’t know what the child might be allergic to, much less the extent of the internal organ damage…”
– Got it. – Jake threw the useless bag with the red cross into the cabin.
– I checked with the ambulance driver that the ambulance will be there within five minutes.
Jake exhaled nervously and looked at the approaching patrol car, its siren filling the neighborhood. Awakened faces began to appear in the windows; some even came outside. A neighbor from the house across the street, seeing the chaos unfolding on her lawn, ran back screaming.
The car screeched to a halt, two police officers jumped out and, holding their caps, rushed towards the injured child.
– Holy shit! I’ll strangle those creatures! – Duncan lifted his bloody T-shirt and, seeing the damage, rushed back to the car: – Linda! Emergency! Where’s the ambulance?! And I’m requesting backup! Send everyone here!
– Eighth car, what happened? – The duty officer’s voice noticeably tense.
“There’s a minor victim of a particularly brutal sexual assault lying in front of this house!” the policeman yelled into his radio. “The child is bleeding and may not survive until the ambulance arrives!”
“Understood! I’m transmitting this information to all posts.” A serious female voice came over the radio. “I’ll contact the superintendent now.”
“Mike, check the house! We need to figure out what the hell happened here!” Duncan dropped the radio and turned to his partner.
“If her parents did this, I’ll strangle them on the spot!” Mike responded and walked towards the house.
Two minutes later, an ambulance pulled up in front of the house, and two paramedics rushed to the victim. A crowd of onlookers from the local community had already begun to gather; many would remember this morning for the rest of their lives. Upon seeing the child, the arriving paramedics nearly fell into a stupor, practically shouting in unison:
– What the fuck?
– Did you find the bastard?
The paramedics didn’t listen for a reply—they turned their attention to the victim, checking her weak pulse, and, cursing once more, they carefully transferred the little patient to a stretcher. A minute later, an ambulance, siren blaring, sped down the road at full speed. A patrol car sped ahead, swearing its siren in unison with the paramedics, and a dairy farm van brought up the rear.
At this point, Mike was calling the station from the living room of number four and demanding everyone, including the district police chief. Because in his entire police career, he’d never seen such a slaughterhouse! And it was quite a sight…
The walls and floor were smeared with blood, the closet under the stairs was covered in blood, and an extremely unpleasant smell wafted from the second floor. Carefully, pistol in hand, he climbed the bloody stairs and peered into the open room. What he saw made his stomach turn back to breakfast, along with dinner. On a huge bed, once made with white linens, lay two bloody corpses: a woman with a kitchen knife protruding from her eye socket, and a corpulent man who hadn’t died immediately, leaving blood all around him. He had also formed a sizable puddle.
To get on the policeman’s nerves, a child’s prolonged cry erupted from the next room. Carefully opening the adjacent door, Mike saw a very fat boy squealing like a piglet and calling for his mother. “Fuck,” Mike thought, and rushed to the phone.
While the policeman was reporting on the massacre at house number four, the ambulance doctors were trying to perform a miracle:
– Marta, what do you say?
“We’re clearly a victim of sexual assault, with ruptured internal organs and internal bleeding. The child was also severely beaten. It’s a miracle she’s alive!” the nurse reported. “The bruises on her neck indicate she was strangled.”
“I’ll strangle the bitch!” came the quiet voice of the ambulance driver, who was currently setting up a conference call with the police and the nearest hospital in Wimbledon.
“I felt her ribs. Apparently, two are broken. We also have severe physical exhaustion.” The woman quickly cut open the bloody T-shirt and gasped.
“I’ll kill those creatures!” her partner growled. The girl looked very much like a prisoner in a German concentration camp. “What’s wrong with your blood pressure?”
“Seventy-fifty and still falling.” It took the experienced nurse three tries to insert an IV into the tiny vein.
– Cardiac arrest! – the nurse yelled.
***
I stood in the very arch where I was killed, in that girl’s body. Nothing hurt. It was overcast, windless, and somehow very clean. There was no trash, even the cracks in the walls had disappeared.
Finally, peace and quiet, I deserve it. I punished the bastards who abused my child and I have every right to die.
There was a rustling sound at the other end of the courtyard arch, and I looked up and burst into tears. With happiness—it was HIM, my Lyoshka! In camouflage, with an AKM slung over his back, as tall and stately as I remembered. He’d been waiting for me all these years, and I, secretly even from myself, had been waiting for him. I ran to him, hugged him, buried my nose in his stomach, and burst into tears. Lyoshka stroked my back with his hand. Then, when I’d calmed down a bit and looked him in the eyes, he pulled away and knelt down. He poked me in the chest with his hand and said sternly:
– What, are you just going to give up?
***
– THERE IS A PULSE!
– Oxygen mask! Quickly!
– The pressure is dropping!
– CARDIAC ARREST!
***
– What? Why? Lesha, I’m tired. I want to be with you. – I whispered, looking into his kind blue eyes.
“You’ve been given a second chance. You can live your life again. Don’t waste it!” He looked at me sternly.
“I don’t want to! I’ve fought my whole life! I’ve endured pain and humiliation! And now that we’ve finally met, you’re sending me back!” I screamed.
“Don’t rush to die, kitten,” he smiled and pushed me in the chest again.
***
– Heart massage!
– Her ribs are broken!
– I KNOW!
– Inhale! One. Two. Three.
– Be careful!
– Shut up! Breathe! One. Two. Three. Breathe! One. Two. Three.
– THERE IS A PULSE!
– CARDIAC ARREST!
***
– Lenochka, it’s too early for you to come here. – Another push to the chest.
– I’m tired… I want to be with you… – I cry and look into his eyes.
“The Lena I knew never gave up! She was strong and stubborn. Where did it all go?” He pointed his finger at my heart. “You’ve been given a unique chance, and are you really going to let it slip away?”
– I’m the same, I’ll come back… For you…
– For your own sake! – Another push to the chest.
***
– INHALE! One. Two. Three. INHALE! One. Two. Three.
The heart rate monitor had been beeping on the same note for almost a minute and the doctors were trying to do the impossible; the wounded girl’s little heart refused to beat.
“Defibrillator!” the nurse yelled, and his colleague desperately turned the machine’s knob to maximum. “Hands!… Shock! Another shock! Increase the voltage!”
– That’s the maximum! – the nurse answered.
– Hands! Shock! Shock! Another shock! – The nurse threw aside the handles of the useless device. – Cardiac massage!
– INHALE! One! Two! Three! INHALE! One! Two! Three!
– THERE IS A PULSE!!!
– CARDIAC ARREST!
“F*CK YOU, SKINNY! I WON’T GIVE IT UP!” the medic yelled and continued the cardiac massage.
***
– Why? – I look at Alyoshka.
“Your time hasn’t come yet. You’ve been given a second chance; gifts like that aren’t something to be turned down…” Lesha looks away. “Live this life for both of us…”
“I’ll try…” I whisper quietly.
“I believe in you.” My beloved smiled and poked me in the chest again.
***
The radio in the ambulance driver’s cabin came to life:
– This is the doctor on duty at Wimbledon Hospital, I give the go-ahead to administer adrenaline to the child!
“I understand,” Martha replied, quickly taking a syringe out of the cabinet and attaching a long needle to it, although in this case a regular one would have done, the child was very thin.
While the nurse was injecting the drug into the injured girl’s heart, her partner prepared the defibrillator again.
– Discharge! Come on!
The heart rate monitor continued to beep on the same note the whole time; the little heart had not beaten for almost two minutes.
– Discharge! Come on! BREATHE, DAMN IT!
We said goodbye, I looked into his familiar blue eyes and cried. I knew we wouldn’t see each other again anytime soon. But I was given a chance! And I really can’t waste it! I will live this life for both of us! I’m strong and I won’t give up so easily!
“I love you,” I said, looking at him.
“I love you too and I’ll wait…” he kisses me on the forehead and pushes me hard in the chest.
I’m literally thrown back out of the arch.
***
The little girl’s body arched, and the ambulance was filled with the unpleasant smell of burnt flesh, but most importantly, the device showed a weak, intermittent heartbeat.
– THERE IS A PULSE!
“Blood pressure is fifty over forty. We… won’t make it…” Marta said resignedly, looking at the monitor.
“There’s a military hospital in Sutton!” the nurse remembered. “It’s the closest one!”
“There’s construction going on on the main road,” the driver grumbled and reached for his radio. “Serviceman! We need to get to Sutton immediately! We won’t get to Wimbledon.”
“Got it, I’ll get it all organized now!” Duncan replied and connected to the Metropolitan Police.
A few minutes later, a “green corridor” was established along the ambulance’s route, and two more motorcyclists joined the convoy. At that moment, a huge number of people were worried about the little patient and did everything they could to ensure her survival.
Seven minutes later, a strange convoy of police cars, an ambulance, and a dairy farm van arrived at the central military hospital, where a team of resuscitators received the dying girl and rushed at full speed to the operating room.On this day, Elena Ivanovna died completely and gave life to Rigel Evans.
