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Many things have changed at the mine, including the way of eating. Within a month, a canteen with 50 seats was built. It had only been in operation for three days, and not everyone had time to get used to it; a table, a bench, a special room — it all looked not so much strange as questionable.
Nekrasova sat down in her usual place, in the middle of the room by the wall, and stared at her plate, where pasta and some chicken were floating in a yellowish broth.
Lena Bagrationova sat down next to her. She was also in a bad mood, but seeing the combination of muscle tension on Nastya's face, she thought that he was doing even worse.
"Nastya, what's wrong?" — Lena had a knack for getting the right demeanor at the right moments and pitching perfectly ordinary questions with the right tone. Now it was silly for her to be as sour as she really was.
"No, nothing," Nastya turned away slightly, and at the same time with that she confused all her sad thoughts, only her mood remained.
— I can see that. You're not wearing your face.
— You know, on you, too.
After these words Lena inwardly gathered herself definitively and put this result on her face — it turned out to be very good.
— Not really.
Nastya looked at her, wanting to check it out: lively eyes added by freckles, red hair tied in a braid — and indeed, there was a face.
— All right. You're wearing, uh.
— There you go!
— What am I seeing?
— That things aren't as bad as they seem.
— Yeah. It's worse than that.
— Oh, come on, man! As if punishing yourself with something will make anyone feel better.
Nastya turned away, "It's my fault." — In what?
They fought over me.
— I know.
— You know?
— Yeah. What's the big deal? They fought over you, but what could you do?
— I don't know. But since they're me.
— Nast, just because they both love you doesn't mean they will listen to you…..
— What if I did?
— How could there be a "suddenly"? Didn't you tell them that— Told you… But I really don't like them… Both of them.
— Here we go. What else did you tell them?
— That… no matter what they do, I can't love any of them. I told them that to each of them individually.
— So what are you blaming yourself for?
— I don't know…
She really didn't know what to blame herself for. And Lena didn't know, but she felt that if she were in her place, she'd blame herself just as much. It's part of life. And not everything in life is logical.
In the far corner sat the prefect and his deputy. Both were hoping for good things, but at the moment they could only wait, preparing for bad things to happen.
Kostya Rich approached their table, concerned and anxious, "Gavi, I…" "Have a seat," Horus interrupted him without raising his eyes.
Kostya sat down and clenched his hands under the table, "Gavi, I don't know how to say it. It's impossible! I can't imagine what it's about… I knew that their relationship wasn't okay, but to go to this extent…"
— It comes down to this.
— Gavi, I don't know.
— Are you so worried about what Stoloff said?
— Yes, Gavi. Honestly, yes.
— And you're not worried for nothing.
"Yes, not in vain," thought Kostya, looking at his heavy stony hands, "I know you had a son die. I'm sorry, but almost everyone here has had someone die. And one of the children died too… And I have one too… I only have my wife left. I don't want to…"
— Don't be crazy. Nothing's gonna happen to your wife. Look… I'll tell you right off the bat. I don't want to kill those two fools. But I know they'll fight again, and I'll have to do it… The power to control others is unexceptional. If they break the rule, they'll pay for it with their lives.
— Gavi, they're just still young…they don't know…I've talked to them…I don't understand what they have.
— They'll fight anyway…" said Gora and thought about what he had been thinking about last night, "People are most united when they are protecting something they can't survive without. Then they are together. Then they can only support each other.
There was a rumbling sound, and the lights worn in the surroundings flickered and fussed. And everyone rushed to the mining and slaughtering sector.
The ceilings next to the stratum were held up by wooden and steel beams more than two meters high. One of them collapsed, the other tilted. The earth fell on everyone's heads.
Keeping his face firm and composed, Hora entered the sector. There were already four people on one side of the beam, three on the other, and among those three, two of them were the ones who had recently fought. They stood shoulder to shoulder, pushing as hard as they could. Someone was setting up another one next to them. Some were holding the ones that hadn't fallen off yet, while the rest were watching for another row of footholds. Two catfish piled up here completely and two partially.
And the light was flickering, and the earth was falling, but only the commanders were shouting loud orders. This is the mystery of the miners' resilience. When there is no confidence in the possibility of survival, when there is not enough air and it is dark around, something that sits deep in the soul of those who "live" underground is triggered.
Discipline works. Everyone knows that their commander is experienced and wise, that he has lived many years and is still alive, which means that he feels the Motherland, which he will not part with. And if you want to survive, you have to listen to him, no matter what happens.
Faith works. This is a very ancient meaning, because "in the trenches everyone is a believer". Everyone believes
Ознакомительная версия. Доступно 9 страниц из 41
