- How do we go back? - asked Ilya Stepanych, when they splashed and navizzhalis. - You're absolutely naked with us ...

- I do not know. Can you give me something to wear?

- I have no trunks, only shorts and a T-shirt. She just to the most interesting place for you ... What did you feel when you ran naked?

- To be honest - nothing. Just a desire to lead them away from you. I still stopped and teased them ...

Sukhorukov stabbed into his nerves some kind of splinter, which was called, perhaps, by his conscience, and maybe, in some other way. He hugged Ilka by the hips, and they went ashore - in the eyes of a company of graffiti artists who painted the embankment.

Ilya Stepanych immediately felt the shrill tickling where the pants were supposed to be, and stiffened. Ilka froze too.

“Yes, now I feel everything I should,” she whispered to him. - Tin, never thought it would be so.

Graffiti artists became so interested in them that they turned their backs on their masterpiece. It is unlikely that for the first time they saw naked people on this shore - it was probably the case in Ilke, at which everything that had eyes was staring at and dressed. Nudity acted on her not at all as on Sukhorukov: she proudly doused herself with her chest sticking out.

- Hai! - she waved graffiti.

Ilya Stepanych's cherished dream came true: his wife was seen without everything.

He was even dizzy. Some incredible, dimensionless luck, which he did not deserve, saved him from the dangers and gave him a dream after dream ...

“I have an idea,” he shouted to Ilka. “What if we ask them to color you?” Will body painting! Painted body is no longer naked, so in the city you can ... Eh?

Ilka resisted for about three minutes. Then she was surrounded by agitated graffiti artists, wiped dry with a rag, wrapping all over her body, and began to water from their cans - from three sides at once. Ilka squealed (the paint was cold) and immediately turned into a black-red-yellow something that changes color before my eyes. They painted her face, hair, and her convex shell ... Ilya Stepanych stood and crushed the economy under the shorts, hoping that no one could see.

Then, when she was covered with ten layers, turned into a shimmering messenger of other worlds, and nafotkalis with her fill, - proud Ilya Stepanych took Ilka by the black hand, and they went to the hotel.

Every moment of this journey was laid as an unforgettable kaleidoscope in their memory. They almost did not speak, full of glances of passersby, who, like a sin, were many. Naked Ilka fotkali, hailed, and sometimes slapped on the pope, if they fell short. She walked sportively, flexible and harmonious, like a panther, and really looked like a beast painted in black paint with colored stains. A gun was sticking out of Sukhorukov’s shorts, and he didn’t know where to hide it.

There was only one way out:

“Ilka,” he called pleadingly, throwing out the farm. There was no one around: they were deadlocked.

“No, nooo ... I can't do that,” Ilka shook her black and scarlet head and backed away from him. But green eyes shouted "yes", and Sukhorukov just took it between her legs. It was sticky, like in the middle of a peach.

“Nooo,” Ilka purred, spreading his legs, and he jerked her off, smearing the juices on the black skin. Then he whispered - “cancer!” - and Ilka, casting a desperate glance back, sank onto the pavement.

They could be noticed at any time.They could have walked in, and they would have no place to hide, no place to run ... They both knew it, and therefore Ilya Stepanych had finished without making even ten jolts, and Ilka — a little later, when he put a trembling hand into her . She writhed and squirmed on her knees, impaled on his fingers, while Sukhorukov crushed her from the inside and listened to the trace of colored fireworks in herself ...

- How will I go now ... finished? - Ilka lamented, and the emasculated aggregate of Ilya Stepanych painfully responded to this word.

Then they still reached their area. It was too long and too fast: I wanted their path never to end.

... but it ended. Once and for all.

- Look! Here it is, bitch! - rang out from somewhere in Russian.

Ilka cried out and painfully jerked off his hand to Ilya Stepanych - “run!” - and he froze like a gypsum - “to where? what is it again, Ilka? ”- until they were surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Ilka howled in horror and dragged Ilya Stepanych to go where it was, but he did not understand anything, but they were no longer allowed to leave.

“I told you, Vasya, you have to give back the debts,” one of the rye, probably the main one, approached him.

- What's the matter? Who are you that ... - cried Ilya Stepanych and stopped off: the trunk was looking at him.

The next moment was blinded from impossible shreds, which the consciousness then tried to make out, like glued cards, and could not tear one from the other. Barrel shot; Ilya Stepanych pushed something, and he fell down on the asphalt; Ilka collapsed on him, and he did not understand why she was on him, and why he didn’t feel pain, until he saw that the scarlet paint on her head glitters and runs down his chest.

- I got into the girl ... Kill the fuzzy ... Stop ... Tatoo ... No tatoo ... We recognized ... We dump ... ... came from somewhere, but he was still looking at the scarlet color and tried to understand , and could not, but still tried ...

***

Two weeks passed. Sukhorukov did not hang around with anyone, quit his job and lived on savings, which could be enough for a year or two.

For days he considered Ilkina's photos and sifted through her things, which remained to live in his apartment — he did not dare to throw away even the labels from her tights. At night, he piled a pile of pillows, lay on her cheek and imagined that it was Ilka. He let go of his beard, stopped washing and stank of an old goat. He did not go outside, ordering food on the Internet.

One day, rummaging through Ilkin’s bag, he again stumbled upon that same talisman.

“He didn’t save you,” he thought, twirling a decrepit plaque in his hand with an image of some figure wrapped in an ornament. He was never interested in such things - but he tried to savor everything connected with Ilka, sucking the pastime for days and weeks from her things.

He suddenly seemed familiar figures on a piece of paper, glued to the talisman. He did not know what it was, but it suddenly seemed to him that somewhere he saw just such a form of recording.

He broke the numbers in Yandex ...

He stared at the screen for a long time: he showed him a blue-green map with forests and lakes. Near the village yellow Louhi.

The numbers turned out to be GPS coordinates. And they pointed to the island, lost in a huge lake network in Ilkina, their homeland.

Ilya Stepanych stared at him until his eyes ached. Then he leaned back and began to think. He had already forgotten how to do it, but the reason was worth it.

It could not be an accident. GPS-coordinates with their accuracy to 5 meters are not used for approximate instructions. It was meant exactly this island, the same among hundreds of the same islands of the immense lake edge. And even this point on the island.

What could be there?

There was a dead end, and Ilya Stepanych came from the other side. Ilka somehow knew that he should be killed. She knew the bandits, knew that they were mistaken and would take him for their debtor Vasya. And she died in his stead.

There was a dead end here too. At first glance, these two dead ends were not related to each other. But the very presence of the second impasse was a tiny, scanty promise to find a way out of the first.

And from the first exit was not. And Ilka was not there either, and after the funeral on the lips of Ilya Stepanych, the taste of her cold forehead was still stiff.

But the island was. And the only thing that Ilya Stepanych could do was find out what was on it.

He took up the cards again. The track was three dozen kilometers away. Next - walk through the forest.

Ilya Stepanych never went hiking. But in the end, he had plenty of time.

***

On the shores of the forest lake boughs cracked.

A man got out of the thicket. He was loaded like a camel, and he was tired like a dog. It came out early in the morning, but it still ripened to the lake by sunset, - there was a night in front ... Read more →