Stories from Lyubavino. Chronicle of an extraordinary Incident

The company burst into unanimous guffaws, while Lyosha, casting a modest glance downward, merely smirked:

“Well, it happens…”

And so Mikhalych, holding forth on the benevolence of the heavenly powers as manifested in the discovery of the copper cable, came to a “sober” conclusion that such a stroke of luck was none other than the doing of Lyosha, their fortunate talisman. For, as soon as he had joined their crew, good fortune itself had simply floated right into their hands. Mikhalych raised a shot to Lyosha and his luck, which seemed to have been stashed in his pocket since the very day he was born. The men unanimously joined in, knocked back their last shots, and, content with both themselves and the presence of such a lucky individual in their ranks, began to leisurely gather their things and head home. Tomorrow was a new workday, the free-for-the-taking cable had been fully extracted, the celebration was over, and the usual work routine awaited them in the morning.

Mikhalych and Lyosha proudly carried home crumpled five-thousand-ruble notes to their wives – an ironclad justification for two evenings missed by the family hearth. The remaining members of the “whoo-hoo crew,” as yet unburdened by family ties, proudly carried their earnings home to themselves – without any need for excuses to anyone.

And so, the morning of the fateful day arrived. There was no sign of trouble – until the site foreman, flushed and agitated, burst in to tell Mikhalych that the inspectors were coming tomorrow and the crew was hopelessly behind schedule, all thanks to their irresponsible deviation from the plan over the last two days!

“What are we going to do?!” wailed Vasily Sergeich – for that was the foreman’s name – for the entire office to hear. “We’re this far behind! And you’re still here with your cables and your drunken orgies!”

Ninochka, the secretary, passing by, shot them a sidelong glance. Her mind operated on a unique and mysterious wavelength. She interpreted the word “cables” in the only way she found intelligible. But her brain failed to connect the image of Foreman Mikhalych with an orgy of drunken male dogs, and so, shaking her mane of curly red hair in disapproval, she hurried on her way.

“Mikhalych, we’re utterly screwed tomorrow if we don’t at least start digging for those pipes…”

“Ah, don’t you worry…” he replied calmly, scratching his stomach.

“Don’t worry?! What do you mean, ‘don’t worry’? ! What kind of ‘don’t worry’ is that?!” Vasily Sergeich was on the verge of hysterics.

“It’s time to take a crap, and we haven’t even eaten!..” Mikhalych grumbled, for the hundredth time repeating his favorite saying about falling behind schedule. “Stop your trembling, Sergeich… The lads and I will put our backs into it now… We’ll sort this out properly, the way adults do. How does it go with them, over the hill? ‘Do or die…’ And how is it with us? ‘Die, but get it done…’ That’s the whole difference, Sergeich! And who are we? We’re Russian! Tha-a-a-at’s it!..” Jabbing a finger toward the sky and proudly lifting his chin, he strode off with a purposeful step toward his crew.

The men had been toiling like damned souls the entire shift, yet the lag behind schedule was atrocious. It was unanimously resolved – or, to be more precise, Vasily Sergeich resolved – that these good-for-nothings, meaning the entire crew, would have to make up for two days of slacking. He ordered them to work until full darkness. It was summer, the days were long, and even at ten in the evening it was still quite light. And if need be, they did have some lighting, however meager.

Mikhalych, not wishing to sour relations with the site foreman, reluctantly agreed. No one wanted a dressing-down or to be stripped of their bonuses. Their pay wasn’t great to begin with. And besides, at this time of year, the evenings were indeed as bright as day. It was June, the peak of the summer solstice. The fine weather was conducive, and so it was collectively decided to stay on until twilight.

With silent steps, the summer night drew near, filling the air with the many-voiced chorus of crickets and the whisper of foliage. With each passing minute, the sky grew a deeper hue, the world grew still, and the surrounding villages, as if on command, sank into slumber. But within the brigade, in defiance of the pervasive tranquility, the work did not cease for a second.

It must be noted, dear reader, that in these parts, one seldom saw light in the windows late at night. The locals had lived since time immemorial by an established principle: “Early to bed and early to rise!” Even in the district center, life gradually ground to a halt: in the freshly painted five-story buildings, the little lights winked out one after another, the streets grew empty, and only rarely did the late gleam of headlights flicker in the distance.

The “Whoo-hoo!” crew was already well on its way to the desired result when suddenly, let’s not be afraid of the word, IT arrived – that fateful moment!

From under the excavator’s bucket came a deafening “BO-BOOM!” A blinding flash erupted, the ground shuddered and for a moment gave way beneath their feet, and a dazzling pillar of light shot into the sky. Acrid smoke began to pour from the freshly dug pit, and Mikhalych only had time to catch a glimpse with one eye as his faithful eagles – Sasha, Dima, and Valera – illuminated by an infernal glow, were sent flying in different directions like rag dolls.

Sasha plummeted into the nearest bushes like a sack of potatoes; Dima, having spun gracefully in mid-air, landed in a nearby hole; and Valera, as if attempting to break the world record for the long jump, vanished beyond the visible horizon.

Casting a terrified glance toward the excavator cab where Zhenya was sitting (a dramatic image that would be seared into his memory for life), Mikhalych saw the enormous, saucer-wide, utterly deranged eyes of Zhenya the excavator operator.

The settlement with the charming name of Lyubavino and all the surrounding villages were instantly plunged into darkness. An ominous, tomb-like silence fell all around, promising nothing good.

Suddenly, this silence was torn apart by a strange sound – something between a muffled collective shriek and a drawn-out howl. It slowly spread across the land, swelling and filling everything around. The members of the “Whoo-hoo Crew,” already scared out of their wits, felt shivers running down their spines, and the hair on the back of their necks stood on end.

“Folks, is everyone alive?” Mikhalych croaked in a voice not his own, crouching down from fright.

His throat was parched from the shock, and in his chest, his heart, driven wild by terror, fluttered frantically, as if trying to leap out and make a run for it.

“Yeeeah… sort of…” came the discordant, out-of-sync replies from Sasha, Dima, and Valera. Their soot-smudged, haggard faces, with a feverish glint in their eyes, kept peeking out from the most unlikely hiding spots. Their disheveled hair and fear-contorted silhouettes looked cartoonish in the gathering dusk.

“We must’ve hit some power cables! Now we’re in a right mess!..” Mikhalych rasped out again.

“Mikhalych, are you crazy? We’re following the project plan, it’s not our fault!” Sasha and Valera started wailing in unison.

“They told us where to dig, so we dig there. How is any of this on us?” Dima chimed in.

“Oh, sure…” Mikhalych was breathing heavily, his hands planted on his knees, waiting for his heart to gradually settle down.

“Mikhalych, you should just catch your breath, look at you… you’re pale as a ghost…” Lyosha noted with concern.

“Catch my breath… for fuck’s sake…” Mikhalych gave a philosophical smirk. “To stay calm, I’d have to be gobbling down valerian! Striding across a field, tearing it up and swallowing it without even chewing… Roots and all!.. Till it’s sprouting out of my damn ears!”

The crew burst out laughing. Even in the darkest moments, when a situation felt like it was ripped from a horror film, Mikhalych maintained the serenity of a Buddhist monk. His jokes, sharp as a nail in your boot sole, served as an unmistakable signal: panic was hereby declared illegal.

“We’ve got two options, lads: we either laugh, or we panic. And our panic comes with a ‘deluxe’ package – complete with an ambulance, the big bosses, and possibly an exorcist. So laugh, boys, it’s cheaper and far better for your health!” Mikhalych was fond of saying in tough times.

“Now, just hold on, Mikhalych… They’ll figure out tomorrow where these cables came from. And as for us… we’re just the hands… the hired help,” Dima reasonably pointed out, a smile already playing on his lips.

“Only now we’re in for a world of trouble… a real earful,” Mikhalych exhaled with vexation. “And tomorrow, the inspectors will be descending on us… Damn them all…!” He clutched his chest once more. “Zhenya, you alive over there?”

“Yeah, sort of… alive,” Zhenya’s voice quivered. “The bucket was nearly torn clean off.” He wiped the sweat from his face and was surprised to find his hands shaking with a fine tremor. In fact, his whole body was shuddering slightly. He’d been through all sorts of things in his life, but this was a first.

“We’re actually lucky it didn’t turn out worse!” Dima remarked, cautiously peering into the trench. “Holy smokes! There are several cables in here!” he gasped, grabbing his head in disbelief.

“Yeeeah… we’re screwed…” Sasha muttered pensively, squatting down on his haunches and lighting a cigarette.

Mikhalych finally straightened up and with a tragic air, delivered his verdict:

“Yeah… A total clusterfuck!.. And I’ll tell you what, boys, the time has come to look this fuckup right in the eye.”

With a heavy sigh, he waved his hand and trudged off to report to the bosses on the emergency line, despite the late hour.

The following morning, the little town was abuzz like a disturbed beehive. Everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, was trying to figure out where the electricity and other customary blessings of civilization had vanished.

The more advanced pundits, those with but a superficial grasp of the issue, were foaming at the mouth, vehemently insisting: “That’s it, we’re done for! The Mayan apocalypse has arrived!”

And how could it be otherwise? The year was 2012 – the zenith of civilization, a time when humanity, having reached unprecedented heights, was awaiting with the greatest impatience… the end of the world. Surely, such a momentous year couldn’t pass in Lyubavino without a grand cosmic cataclysm!

And as you can see – they had finally gotten their wish! It had come to pass!.. Although, not quite in the form they had anticipated. But who pays any mind to such trivial details?

The local blogger, who fancied himself a sort of Raskolnikov chasing existential truth, or perhaps a Panikovsky in pursuit of the golden ratio of a sensational scoop, was dashing between administrative buildings like a fly in search of jam. He was greedily fishing for details, dreaming of crafting a bombshell report that would blow up the local social networks. The scent of a scandal was in the air! And this hero of our time was just about to rush beyond the district limits – if only to get his hands on the coveted “internet” – to immediately bestow upon humanity the blessing of his exposé.

Alas, the trail of the true culprits behind the collapse stubbornly eluded him. Instead, he found some hot-headed individuals who, threatening to relieve him of his expensive equipment (and, for good measure, a couple of his teeth), quickly explained to the promising journalist that silence is golden, while a scandal guaranteed a hole in the budget and some serious health issues.

As for the town’s mayor, he was beside himself. And not so much because of the sudden energy crisis, but rather because his personal, meticulously laid plans for the weekend had unexpectedly collapsed. Eyewitnesses claimed that the face of the city’s chief magistrate that day displayed the entire spectrum of human emotion – from righteous indignation to theatrical despair. It’s just that concern for the townsfolk seemed to have gotten lost somewhere within that spectrum.

Back at the office where our daring brigade worked, a great commotion had also ensued. It was no laughing matter – to leave an entire district without power. It was fortunate that a backup line existed for the local factory and hospital; the electricians were now working urgently to connect them to it.

The chief power engineer arrived with his entourage. A whole crowd of people with intelligent faces, armed with maps and schematics, was anxiously inspecting the area where Zhenya had stumbled upon the power cable just the day before.

“What the bloody hell is this cable doing here?! It can’t be here, it’s impossible! How on earth did this happen?!” the chief power engineer was indignantly exclaiming, waving his papers around.

Arguing amongst themselves, the noisy delegation spent a long time pacing back and forth across the site. After prolonged and heated disputes, a decision was reached: to dish out well-deserved reprimands to all responsible parties and to shift the trench thirty meters to the side.

Zhenya, who still hadn’t quite recovered from the previous day’s shock, timidly inquired:

“And are you sure… there’s absolutely nothing here?”

To which the chief power engineer replied with utmost conviction:

“Everything that was here, you bloody well pulverized yesterday!!!”

“Well, I guess… The boss is always right!” Zhenya muttered under his breath.

The excavator purred to life peacefully once more, and the crowd dispersed. And literally fifteen minutes later…

Dear reader, can you imagine what happened fifteen minutes later?!!!

Well, this time, against the backdrop of an unbelievably bright, blinding flash – so intense that Zhenya thought, “THAT’S IT!!! This is THE END!!!” – his entire short and somewhat wayward life began to flash before his eyes, slowly, frame by frame. And it must be said, he wasn’t too far from the truth.

The scene unfolded like something out of a top-tier Hollywood blockbuster, only in slow motion. A deafening clap, more akin to an explosion, accompanied by a tremendous detonation. A torrent of blinding light, erupting from beneath the earth and shooting straight up into the bluest of skies. Acrid smoke, lazily creeping out of the half-dug pit. And finally, the excavator’s bucket, now melted and bleached white, scraping metallically as it swayed dejectedly in the smoky haze right before Zhenya’s very eyes… For a fleeting moment, he thought he had died.

The other representatives of the “Whoo-hoo!” crew and other workers, well aware of yesterday’s events, wisely kept their distance from the working excavator this time. Just in case.… And when “all that crap” happened (as Mikhalych later so aptly dubbed the incident), they were all sent flying in an instant, like pins in a rundown bowling alley.

A minute later, the picture took on its final form: the clouds of smoke dissipated, revealing a truly epic scene. In the center of the chaos, sitting in his cockpit like a newly crowned emperor on a throne made of iron and diesel fuel, was Zhenya. However, the throne was swaying precariously, and the emperor had a slight pallor. Petrified, like an ancient statue, with eyes the size of soup plates, he looked around him with unseeing eyes, feeling his hair stand on end all over his body, including hair he never even knew he had.

The excavator’s bucket, now wobbling and missing one tooth, having ultimately failed to endure this second misfortune inflicted upon it in the last twelve hours, let out a drawn-out metallic groan of despair… And finally, the finishing touch: from the ravine, like timid groundhogs, the grimy faces of the workers were cautiously peeking out, clearly uncertain whether they should abandon such a safe haven at all.

As it was later established, those were the emergency backup cables.

Oh yes… Those very ones… For the factory, the hospital, and something else besides…