Project "Eye" p.12
Photo: AV Photography
References to the previous parts and appeal to those who see the Oka publications for the first time:
In part number 11 :
“You know, Oliver Steele,” Melissa said, “now I'm really glad that I was with you on one side of the barricades.”
Oliver did not answer, and, after listening to Melissa, silently went to collect his backpack.
“Yes, let's get ready, talk elsewhere,” said Matt, “the troops know where we are?”
“Yes,” Melissa replied, “one of the fighters had a lighthouse and a walkie-talkie with him.
- When the planned contact with the center?
- At dawn.
“So we still have four hours,” Matt estimated, “pack up and leave, explain all this,” he looked around the room, stopping for a second on Joe’s body, “in short, explain everything later.” When we find a quiet place.
Charges did not take much time. The backpacks were almost ready, and while the men finally decided what to take with them and what to leave, Melissa changed into her armor. Oliver and Matt replaced the batteries - their relatives were already rather discharged, they poured water into flasks from the stocks of those killed.
“As I understand it,” asked Matt Melissa, “there is no sense in trying to get to the gathering point?”
- No, they have been waiting for you there for a long time.
- Clear.
The heavy, nauseous smell of blood struck the nose, so there were no more people willing to linger. They had already left in about fifteen or twenty minutes and silently moved east to the coast.
The once-safe places were spread around. Skeletons of one- and two-storey houses of the middle class of an American suburb, merging into dilapidated streets and small towns, were seen here and there. The crooked poles of electrical networks, similar from afar to huge rotten toothpicks stuck into the ground, complemented the picture of general decline. It seemed to Oliver that if you close your eyes, you could hear the distant rumble of ancient engines on the highway: cars used by those who for some reason did not want to switch to electric cars. Actually, now it seems silly - the extraction of fossil fuel is not an easy event, and the sun is always shining.
But what is human nature, if not a constant contradiction to common sense? The very fact that our ancestor climbed down from a tree and picked up a stick, as Darwinists prefer to assert, is unnatural in itself. And then upright walking, agriculture, pyramids, damn it, even the holy inquisition is an achievement of civilization, not to mention typing, space flights and weekly TV shows. And all this is unnatural. But like any show, the time of civilization was coming to an end, as the surrounding picture clearly showed.
It was the sunset of the world.
It seemed to Oliver that even the air had changed over the years - it became cleaner, as if throwing off the fruits of human activity: once the areas boiling with life were overgrown with bushes, young trees made their way through the asphalt. Nature rose to its fullest, like a chained titan chained to a man’s knees. But she rose to her feet and, picking up more air in her chest, with one tension the chains attached to her broke off. And there was no human merit in the chains, by and large ... Nature's Titan is submissive in its essence, although it has a foolish, merciless disposition. He allowed to put himself on his knees, hang up with chains and parasitize a man on himself. But when he became unbearable - his legs got numb, or maybe his neck, he got up and, with nature inherent only to him, the titan, faceless, indifferent, but violent cruelty, he tried to destroy the parasites with his own movement.
And we, the people-parasites, could not do anything about it. It was foolish to feel safe living on the surface of a gigantic, burning from inside piece of stone, which rotates around the fiery hell with great speed like a wound. No matter how large the world in our view is, we are only locked in one chamber with the titan of nature and are entirely in his power.
While Oliver was pondering this, time flew by for him. Even when the sun disk touched trees in the distance, Matt called him:
- Oliver! Let's get settled for the night.
After there were standard, already so familiar for decades years of camp life, preparations for sleeping, awakening, duty, and then again a short but already ragged sleep. They had to go.
On the third day of the journey, Oliver noticed that Melissa looked lousy: perspiration on the face — especially large drops of sweat gathered over the upper lip, intermittent, heavy breathing, pallor. The woman tried not to show her that she was bad, continuing to walk along with her new comrades, but her appearance betrayed her with her head. She talked a little, and didn’t ask her much - everyone kept their breath, trying not to stray from the marching rhythm, which was complicated by the wild nature of the rugged terrain and the need to avoid the roads. On the first halt Matt had suggested not to put her on guard, fearing to sleep under the protection of a traitor, but, as Oliver reasonably remarked, it would be foolish to not trust Melissa now, after all that had happened. Now, even if there was a desire to ask her about something, it is unlikely that Melissa could go and talk at the same time.
After she stumbled three times and nearly fell in half an hour, Oliver broke down and announced a halt. His companion looked at him with mute gratitude and, dropping her backpack under a nearby tree, collapsed beside her. Carefully watching the new ally, Oliver noticed that Melissa unconsciously clings to the injured site, which should have led them astray after a rigged assault on the house where they met. Now, too much trick played with her a cruel joke.
“Turn off your costume,” said Oliver who approached her.
Melissa glanced at the man and, realizing that the wound had become a problem, and this was clearly visible, silently touched the control panel on her shoulder. The tight-fitting slender figure of armor went limp and began to crawl down, revealing shoulders, as if turned from marble. Now, in the light of day, Oliver could once again appreciate the mature beauty of his companion: a trim, slim figure, clear skin, regular, sharp facial features. Someone could say that instead of armor on her, it would have been more appropriate to have a civilian dress, but a piercing, cold look betrayed her killer - Oliver unmistakably identified himself by his eyes.
Now the pain was read in them and, for a second, it seemed to Steel General that even fear didn’t expect the wound to inflame.
Melissa was not shy men. Being primarily a soldier, and only then a woman, she quietly began to pull off her battle suit, exposing a medium-sized elastic chest with large, pink nipples. Having undressed almost naked, she left the costume at knee level and began to unwind the bloody bandage, which she put on the wound so as not to bleed.
- I changed it yesterday when we passed the stream.
On a piece of her shirt, which Melissa had shamelessly put on the dressing, there was clearly visible gore mixed with yellow pus.
- Antibiotics prick? - asked Oliver.
- Of course, twice a day.
The steel General knelt beside her and, bending lower, sniffed the wound. A terrible and familiar smell of rotting flesh hit his nostrils. The skin around the inlet was reddened and inflamed.
- The thing is rubbish, brought the infection.
“Thank you, otherwise I didn’t notice,” the woman, exhausted by the pain and heat, snapped.
- It is necessary to clean the wound and cauterize, or at least lose your leg.
Matt, who watched all of this, summed up:
- Then stay overnight here. The place is not bad, the roads are far, the forest is thick, - the old commander looked around, and then looked at the sky, - and the sunset after three hours already.
- So they decided. Okay, you sit down and this, ”Oliver paused with a second glance at Melissa’s chest,“ put on something. ” We, of course, are no longer young, but somehow embarrassing.
Melissa smiled tiredly back and nodded in agreement, reaching for her backpack. From it, she took out the remnants of a shirt — from the bottom there were not enough fifteen centimeters, which went to the “bandages” —and threw it over her shoulders, shivering from the touch of cold fabric — the autumn came into its own.
Matt went to look for firewood, and indeed any branches from which a fire could be made, Oliver took the flasks and went to fetch water - in ten minutes of the course they crossed the stream.
An hour and a half later, when the sun began to decline and was about to touch the horizon, water was already boiling on a hot burning fire in one of the flasks — wash the wound.
Melissa for this time seriously passed. The woman's body, as if sensing the coming respite, vainly threw all its strength into the struggle: the “army” of immunity attacked the infection, sustaining enormous losses — the body could not win the fight alone. Melissa hit the chills. When Oliver threw his jacket over her shoulders, which he had previously carried in his backpack, he felt that it was all on fire. It was no longer possible to delay.
After preparing the water, the men gently washed and cleaned the wound as best they could. Before that, Oliver placed their army bayonet-knives with the edge of the blades in the embers - burn the inlet and the outlet. Of course, they would not have been prevented by the help of a qualified doctor, but in the forest there were some difficulties with the presence of doctors, so I had to manage with such field, ancient methods.
While the wound was being washed, Melissa held on, although Oliver felt like a woman shuddered in pain every time they touched the inflamed tissues around the wound. Next came the knives. Matt lifted Melissa to her feet and brought a small branch to the woman’s mouth, offering to eat her, which she did, although with some reluctance.
A moment after the branch was in the teeth, Melissa howled in pain — the end of the wide M9 blade in Oliver’s hands touched the bullet wound inlet.
- Hold her, Matt! Exclaimed Oliver.
The old commander intercepted a stronger woman, but she herself had already ceased to twitch, by force of will having suppressed momentary weakness. After Oliver finished with the entrance, Melissa turned her back to him and rested her forehead on Matt's chest. The whole procedure could be performed lying down, but then washing and cleaning the wound would not make sense - there was nothing clean around that could be used.
“Just don't kick me between your legs, okay?” - Matt said jokingly to the "patient". Melissa smiled only weakly in response, gripping the man’s broad shoulders tighter.
At this time, Oliver took the second knife out of the fire and burned the outlet. The smell of burnt flesh re-arose in the air, but the second, final part of the procedure Melissa suffered better.
The steel General laid aside the second blade and reached for the pre-boiled and dried piece of cloth. He bandaged the burned wound to them. After a double dose of the antibiotic from Matt's traveling medical kit was injected, the procedure was over. All three of them sat around the fire: the men silently warmed up the rations, and Melissa tried to make herself comfortable.
“Now tell us, dear, why you almost gouged out my eyes with a syringe with painkillers,” Matt told the woman.
At this time, Melissa found a suitable position in which the leg was the least painful, straightened her jacket and replied:
- I can not.
“Are you one of these lovers of pain, or what?” - asked jokingly old commander.
Melissa did not appreciate the humor.
- I would be glad, but not.
- Why so? - Oliver entered the conversation.
The woman frowned and looked away. It was evident that she did not want to talk about it.
“Melissa, it's simple.” Either you tell, or we are throwing you here, Oliver threatened, or maybe worse. Do not upset me, please. You know what happens to those who upset me, ”he added meaningfully.
It was clear to everyone that Oliver was bluffing, but what the hell was not joking - Melissa did not want to check the words of the Steel General.
Matt chuckled under his breath.
“Are you trying to sell this cheap lie to a man who shot himself in the leg?” - Matt took a container filled with sublimated rations five minutes ago with water and scooped the porridge mass with the end of a knife, blew and sent it into your mouth - did you drink your brains completely in your Ghetto, old man?
Oliver was blurred. Matt was right. His threats to the telepathic fighter looked as ridiculous as it was possible.
Matt continued to mock at his comrade, and while he was mocking Oliver, Melissa collected her thoughts.
“Gentlemen,” she began.
Matt's jokes immediately fell silent and both, he and Oliver, turned into a rumor.
- It's all about the drug that made me the operator. Between themselves, doctors call it "true vision", but on flasks I saw the inscription EP-22 (i-pi-22), through a dash. The whole thing is in the EP, - the woman was momentarily interrupted because of pain piercing her leg in an awkward movement, but, seeing the interest of her comrades, she almost immediately continued:
- As far as I understood from the passages of the conversations, the EP is responsible for the stimulation of the nervous system and the activity of the brain, and the devil knows what else. I had to undergo an operation to implant a repeater implant, right here, - the woman touched the neck under the back of the head. The implant strengthens and focuses those abilities that we receive during the course of injections. But there is a side effect - the brain and nervous system become hypersensitive to any type of drugs that affect it. It’s as if I were a powder keg, and the dose of anesthesia was a burning match. Bring it to the powder and get an explosion.
- So, stop, it will kill you or what? - asked Oliver.
- As I was told, yes. In fact, kill, - answered Melissa.
“Wait,” Matt interrupted, “unlike this comrade, I am documentation on your clairvoyant experiment ...”
“I don’t see the future, I read minds,” Melissa smiled.
“But to hell with it, you understood me,” Matt continued, irritated by the fact that he was interrupted. “Well, it said there that at the beginning of the research, even before Drought, all kinds of drugs were actively used in Russia. All that you can catch the buzz.
Oliver stirred the coals with a stick in the fire.
- I am not aware of this, but I can definitely say that without an implant, I have little use for it. He is like an antenna, like glasses for the visually impaired. In the activated state, I see miles ahead, but when it is turned off, I barely feel the surface near myself. If you understand this analogy, ”Melissa replied.
“Approximately,” said Oliver, “that is, an anesthetic stabbing is contraindicated to you,” he concluded, “but then the question is.” You showed that the implant is in the neck, at the base of the skull, right?
- Yes.
- So how was he sewn there without anesthesia?
- To live.
Matt choked on his rations.
- On live ?! Without anesthesia ?!
“Yes,” Melissa nodded. “Exactly.”
The men fell silent and looked at their companion now completely differently.
“You are given something that causes you to lose control over your body, but all the senses remain in place,” the woman added, “the sensations from the operation, how to say it.” How to go to hell.
- You want to say that you really experienced this shit? Matt asked.
- As you see.
“Nonsense,” Oliver retorted, “I saw people, healthy men, die on the tables of field hospitals during leg amputation, if they were not stuck with a horse dose of morphine, and then surgery on the neck, at the base of the skull, in the same nerve canal or as they are there, more than anywhere else, as it seems to me.
Melissa just smiled back.
- Evolution, - she strangely distorted the word evolution, not knowing how it is correctly pronounced, - a ridiculous thing. You men, strong and big, but not able to endure such pain. That is why the body of operators consists of 80% of women.
- Specially selected? Matt asked.
- As far as I know - no. We just survived more often. I heard that Dr. Ivor, on the contrary, preferred men in the course of the selection, ”Melissa replied,“ I heard, I thought you men were more mentally stable.
Oliver also began to take his ration, and the third, with the only spoon they had, handed it to Melissa, sitting to his right.
- Hold on.
- Thank.
“You know,” Oliver began, blowing a ration at the end of the knife to the hot mass, “now I understand how you yourself shot the leg in the jewelry.
“As you see,” the woman grinned, “not enough jewelry.”
- And that's true.
“So,” Matt interrupted their conversation, “let's return to these operators of yours,” the old commander felt that now, when Melissa was weakened by heat and cauterization of wounds, they would be able to get as much information from her as possible, “that is, you are stitching this crap in your neck.” and everything, you read thoughts and make people shoot themselves in the head?
Melissa grimaced.
“Everything is much more complicated, Commander Matthew,” she replied, “An eye, as we call a module, is very much dependent on the primary abilities of the operator.” I am from the first league, my level of synchronization of the nervous system with the module is close to fifty percent, but there is also a higher league.
- Higher? - Oliver was surprised, - you half a dozen soldiers controlled at the same time, without even seeing half of them, and you want to say that you are not the strongest yet?
“No, not the most,” answered Melissa, “there are two girls, I heard, sisters.” They have a sync of about seventy percent. And this difference in power is almost an order of magnitude. In combat mode, it is enough for them to think about suicide, so that everyone within a radius of fifty meters will grab the barrels and put a bullet in their mouths.
Oliver pondered.
- What? Matt asked.
“Yes, yes,” answered the Steel General, “apparently I heard about one of them, back in the ghetto.” Matt, can you remember the huckster, Small?
- Such a slippery type with shifty eyes? Running errands for Tommy? - clarified Matt.
“Yes, he himself,” Oliver's friend confirmed his guesses, “and so, he told me over a glass that during one of the raids on the Ghetto, one soldier in a nychka at the sight of some strange young lady almost blew his head off.
- You never know what this trash you could weave, - Matt chuckled, - such as he would sell his mother for a glass of booze.
- Suicide? - suddenly asked Melissa.
“Yes,” Oliver replied.
“So he met Adikia,” Melissa summed up.
- Adikia? , — .
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Source: https://habr.com/ru/post/368159/
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