The Kitten By Leonid Elsakov
Pitch blackness…
Soul-piercing drafts…
Indistinct sounds echoing from afar…
A tiny ball of fur shuddered at every rustle coming from the outside. His mother had left two days ago, and all that time the kitten had been waiting for her, hiding inside a bureau and listening to the silence. He was exhausted and starving. His left ear was half-torn, his fur stuck out in ragged clumps, and bare patches on his side revealed long furrows of scratches left by someone’s claws. A cold—not biting, but constant and relentless—gnawed at the strength of his emaciated body. Over the last two days, the kitten had endured immense trauma: the home where he was born had been ravaged by an invasion of unknown creatures that snatched and devoured everyone in sight. Loud screams, shrieks, and death rattles were forever seared into his memory; the world he grew up in had shown its wicked snarl and unthinkable cruelty.
The feline pride had been destroyed, but his mother had managed to save her cub. She had scooped him up and, by some miracle, escaped the deadly trap, fleeing from their pursuers. She found a new refuge, hid the kitten inside, and went out to search for food. She had not returned since.
The kitten’s one intact ear suddenly twitched upright; he tensed as an indistinct noise came from outside. These were not the sounds of his mother returning. Someone was creeping, trying to step silently, but his sharpened hearing clearly caught a presence.
Soon it became clear there were several intruders. They stopped hiding and began to roam nearby. One approached and went quiet. A moment later, the half-open door of the cabinet was yanked wide, and a huge black paw began fumbling through the shelves, throwing everything out. The kitten froze—the monster’s fingers were inches away from his whiskered face… and a second later, they touched his tightly pressed front paws.
Hoping his mother would hear his call and come to the rescue, the kitten let out a long meow and launched a desperate attack. With his tiny teeth, he bit fiercely into the monster’s rough skin. The terrible paw jerked back, shook the little creature off, and vanished from sight. The kitten pressed his belly to the shelf and raised his hackled tail high, bracing for defense. His huge eyes flashed in the gloom.
Suddenly, a bright light flared. The kitten squinted and let out a thin squeak. The poor thing was grabbed and dragged out into the open…
“Grigoryev, hold the ladder! Borzov, Yashchenko—scout the room!”
The Major pointed to a doorway at the end of the corridor, and two soldiers equipped with night-vision goggles moved forward cautiously, rifles at the ready. A door creaked, and a minute later, a beam of light cut through the darkness—the signal that no danger had been found.
The office was in chaos: dust-covered sheets of paper, broken electronics, and overturned furniture littered the floor. A large cabinet standing in the corner looked more or less intact. The commander headed toward it while his subordinates scattered, searching for anything worth carrying back down into the Metro.
Trash crunched underfoot; drafts ruffled the scattered documents, trying to lift them into the air. The Major grabbed the handle of the cabinet door and pulled…
Inside were stacks of papers, thick folders, and various office supplies. The commander began rummaging through them, hoping to find something useful.
Suddenly, he cried out and recoiled, jerking his hand back. His subordinates immediately leveled their weapons, flanking the commander and aiming at the source of the danger.
“Don’t fire! Lower your barrels! Lower them, I said!”
After a second’s hesitation, the well-trained soldiers lowered their weapons. The Major switched on his chest-mounted flashlight and reached into the cabinet again, pulling out a pitifully squeaking ball of fur.
“It’s a kitten!” someone blurted out. “Where did he come from?”
Indeed—the commander’s strong fingers were holding a wounded kitten by the scruff of its neck. A real one. People hadn’t seen them for… well, for twenty years they hadn’t seen so much as an adult cat, let alone a kitten. They were certain the species had gone extinct.
The soldiers gathered in a tight semicircle, watching the little miracle in silence, smiles spreading across their faces. They hadn’t expected this, and even seeing it with their own eyes, they could hardly believe it.
“Is it… a mutant?” someone asked tentatively.
“No…” the commander unzipped his jumpsuit and carefully tucked the find against his chest, sliding it into an inner pocket to warm it with his body heat. “Just a regular kitten. Battered and starving, though. Life’s been hard on him. No matter—they’ll patch him up and feed him at the base. I’ll give him to my daughter to raise; she’ll nurse him back to health. Alright, men, let’s wrap it up! We’re going home.”
“Kostya, what are we going to feed him? And what if Dashka gets tired of looking after him? She doesn’t have a sense of responsibility yet.”
“Well, she’ll learn,” the commander said, gently placing the little creature on the floor. The kitten immediately began sniffing a pillar, stretching his neck comically. “I’m sure Dashka will be thrilled, and that’s what matters, Nadya. And the kitten won’t perish—he just needs food; he doesn’t need much else. Look at him eat that pork—he’s devouring it!”
“Is he contagious, though?” Nadya asked suddenly. “You brought him from the surface, and who knows what kind of diseases are roaming up there!”
“He’s clean. The doctors already checked him.”
“Fine, then,” the woman sighed, waving a hand. Honestly, she had agreed from the start, but she had to grumble for the sake of order. “But you’re the one who’s going to house-train him! Let’s go wake Dashka…”
An oil lamp cast a flickering light through the tent, dancing across the pale face of the sleeping girl. Kostya smiled: the pillow was at her feet again, the blanket hanging off the edge… He walked over to the cot and sat on the edge. He looked back at his wife; she shrugged as if to say, It was your idea, you do it.
“Dashka, get up…” Kostya said softly. Then again, louder: “It’s morning, wake up, sweetie.”
The girl mumbled something unintelligible, winced, and turned toward the wall.
“Meow.” Dasha’s eyes flew open. She turned toward her father and sat up.
“Oh, Daddy, what was that?”
“I have a surprise. I want to introduce you to someone.” Kostya placed the kitten on the bedsheet. He was no longer the emaciated creature found on the surface; his wounds had healed, and during his quarantine, he had been treated and fed.
The girl stared, her mouth slightly open in surprise. The fluffy guest moved and lifted his head.
“Me-a-ow!” he squeaked thinly. Dasha took a breath of wonder.
“Daddy… WHO is it?”
“It’s a kitten, honey.”
“Is that his name?” Dasha moved closer to her new acquaintance. He watched her every move intently.
“Uh… no. Kitten is… that’s what he is. Like you, me, and Mommy are humans. Each of us is a person. And his name… uh… his name is Vasya.”
“Vasya?”
“Yes, Vasya. But that’s for friends. His full name is Vassily.”
“Can I call him that? Am I a friend?”
“Of course! He came specifically to visit you. When I told him about you, he wanted to be your friend right away. Be polite to our guest—introduce yourself and say hello.”
“Hello, Vasya. My name is Dasha. I want to be your friend too.” The girl reached out her hand. The kitten didn’t shy away or jump back in fear; instead, he touched her fingers with his whiskers and rubbed his face against them. Nadya smiled—her daughter had a new friend. A satisfied Konstantin chuckled and summarized:
“Well, excellent! Now let’s all go for a walk and show Vasya the local sights.”
The kitten sat and watched the people scurrying between the tents. It was a fascinating activity: besides the familiar residents of the station, strangers occasionally appeared, bringing new smells from unknown distances. Some were in a hurry, others strolled leisurely, discussing the latest events. People shared news, talked about their problems, joys, and sorrows. Vasya liked watching the commotion. Right now, he was comfortably settled near the tent, his tail curled neatly around him, watching the passersby with a curious gaze, his ear twitching at every sound.
“…we’re leaving today. The tunnel is quiet, we’ll get there fast, shouldn’t be any problems on the way…”
“…gave birth to twins! Almost no mutations, both healthy, look just like their dad—bald and loud-mouthed!”
“…has anyone seen Kolya? My Kolenka? He went on guard duty yesterday and didn’t come home. The brass says he’s missing…”
“…cheap! Where else are you going to find a deal like this…”
“…a trader I know brought me such a great book…”
The kitten already knew some words. His favorites were “eat” and “dinner”—usually, after those words, Vassily was fed well. His growing body constantly demanded fuel and movement, so his main hobbies were eating and playing.
Having seen enough of the passersby, Vasya ran home to play with a hidden ball of yarn. Slipping inside the tent, he dragged a messy spool of thread from the corner. He dropped it on the floor, tilted his head, then gave it a little nudge with his paw… A stand on his hind legs, a pounce forward—and soon the little animal was chasing the toy all over the home, enjoying himself immensely.
The tent flap opened, letting in light from the station. The kitten froze, then leaped aside and hid under the cot. His mischievous eyes gleamed in the shadows—he saw it all as part of the game.
The tent grew brighter as Nadya lit the lamp. Vassily crawled out, tail held high, and enthusiastically rubbed against her legs.
“Vasya, you little rascal!” Nadya saw the yarn. “And I was wondering where my thread went! So it was you who dragged it off.” She bent down and picked up the shredded ball. She turned it in her hands, looking at the kitten; he was looking up at her expectantly. She felt like scolding him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it—not with him looking at her so devotedly.
“Purr-rr!”
“Are you hungry? Wait a bit.” The ball of yarn fell softly to the floor and rolled away. “The thread is ruined anyway; you can keep playing with it.”
A few minutes later, Vassily was happily devouring the contents of his bowl. Nadya sat tiredly on a folding chair, exhausted after her shift.
The kitten finished the last bits of meat and walked away with a sated gait, licking his chops. Jumping onto Dasha’s cot, he began to groom himself: licking his paw, rubbing his face, then cleaning his belly… soon, he was completely tidy. He glanced at Nadya; she had drifted off, her head resting on her chest. Vasya licked his nose one last time and trotted toward the exit. The mother of the family woke from her nap and watched the departing pet with a groggy gaze.
“Vasya, going for a walk? Go on then, I’ll get to the chores,” she sighed, heavily pushing herself up.
Vasily could wander the station quite freely, but he never managed to get past its borders. Vigilant sentries stopped all his attempts to slip away unnoticed, but the little animal didn’t give up—he desperately wanted to know what was hidden in the depths of the tunnels.
Today, Vasya decided to try his luck again.
Stepping silently, he crept toward the checkpoint located a bit further from the blast doors. Whenever a sentry moved or spoke, the kitten froze. How was he to know that his eyes were signaling brightly in the darkness, reflecting the light of the campfire?
“Petrukha, hand over a cartridge! I won, he came to try his luck again today!” A young man with a thick mane of red hair stood up from a crate and waved a greeting to the “intruder.” The kitten realized he had been spotted and trotted away, occasionally stopping to look back. The failure annoyed him, but it didn’t lessen his resolve to break out of the station.
But that could wait. For now, he could find something else interesting to do. For example, investigating this handcar loaded with heavy bags of unknown contents. The loaders had stepped away, which meant no one would interfere with his inspection.
Now, what do we have here? A worn suitcase, locked up tight, and it smells of something sharp and unpleasant… Yuck, we don’t need that. Next? A large sports bag, stuffed to the brim, but the zipper won’t let him in. A pity—there’s surely something worthwhile inside. Let’s move on to this checkered bag. Which, wonderfully, is left open!
A quiet rustle, and the kitten’s tail gave one last flick before vanishing into the depths of the bag. Inside were many interesting things: woolen socks, mittens, and gloves were piled together. Vasya pushed through them, burrowing deep. Tired of digging through the laundry, he went still, listening to his surroundings. It was warm and cozy in the bag. The kitten exhaled, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.
He was awakened by the zip of a fastener. A raspy voice gave a command to depart, and the bag swayed slightly. Vasya hid; the only sounds were the rhythmic clatter of wheels and the rustling of clothes. Then the handcar slowed, sentries shouted—they hopped onto the transport and began rummaging through the cargo. Finishing their check, the guards hopped off, and the traders continued their journey.
Slowly, a conversation began. One of the speakers was definitely a resident of Vasya’s home station—the kitten recognized the deep baritone of a chubby man who lived nearby. The other travelers were strangers.
Soon the chatter died down, and a tense silence set in, broken only by the heavy breathing of the pair of men working the levers. After some time, the handcar arrived at the next station, where part of the goods was unloaded, and the expedition moved on. Then came another station, where more bags were dropped off.
At the third station, it was time for Vasya’s bag. It was carried somewhere and dumped onto the floor a minute later.
The porter left. Vasya waited a while and then began looking for a way out. There was none: the zipper was shut tight, and a kitten could not unfasten it from the inside.
After a few minutes, Vassily grew tired of struggling through the clothes. He stopped squirming and went still to save his strength. It was very stuffy and hot. The socks and mittens surrounding him were no longer fun; he wanted to get out and breathe fresh air.
Just as Vasya was reaching his limit, ready to cry out for help, quiet footsteps approached. Someone walked right up to the bag, stood there for a moment, and then suddenly hoisted it up. Everything inside tumbled; the kitten was buried under the laundry.
The bag swayed for ten minutes of walking, then it was thrown to the floor again. The bag was opened, and fresh air rushed in. The kitten squinted against the dim light from outside.
“Tolyan, look at all this stuff!” a nasal voice rang out. “A whole pile of gear! I know exactly where we can hawk this. We’re gonna make a killing, bro.”
The owner of the unpleasant voice reached blindly into the bag and pulled out the first thing he touched. He caught the kitten. For a full second, they stared at each other in shock, and then the nasal-voiced man let out a loud shriek and threw Vasya away.
“Tolya-a-an!!! Tolyan! It’s a mutant! A-a-ah!”
“Where?!!” A grim-faced man appeared, clutching a piece of rebar. He raised it to strike at Vassily, who was huddled in the corner, but suddenly he calmed down and lowered the iron bar.
“Valik, you idiot… It’s just a kitten! How is that a mutant?”
“A kitten? What’s that?” the scared thief climbed down from the table he had jumped onto in his panic. “Does it bite?”
“Kid, you’re hopeless,” the grim man muttered condescendingly. “Right, you were born after the war, you’ve never seen a cat. But I remember them…” he said thoughtfully. “Hey, I should congratulate you, Valik. Happy holiday!”
“What holiday?” Valik didn’t understand.
“A feast for your stomach! Today, we’re eating meat,” Tolyan said with a crooked grin, eyeing the kitten.
“Oh! You mean we’re gonna eat that?” Valik realized. “Is it edible? Did people eat them back then?”
“Edible. We didn’t eat them, though. When I was a kid, we played with them differently,” the thug scratched his protruding belly thoughtfully. “But you can eat ‘em, for sure.”
“Sweet!” Valik rubbed his hands in anticipation of a hearty meal. “I’m sick of rats… Tolyan, I’ll be quick, I’m getting water—back in a flash!”
“Wait. Tell me first—did anyone see you when you swiped this bag?”
“Nah, come on! Valik knows his business! I snatched it right from under those losers’ noses, they didn’t even notice!”
“Alright, beat it,” Tolyan waved him off. “But let’s catch it first so it doesn’t bolt.”
However, they didn’t have to “catch” him. Vasya hadn’t been taught to fear humans; in his short life, he had seen only kindness from them, so he didn’t run when he was grabbed and thrown into a wooden crate. A piece of plywood was placed over the top to prevent escape.
It was then that Vasya realized it was time to get out.
But how? He couldn’t squeeze through the gaps in the crate, and the board on top blocked him. Tolyan, having locked the door after Valik, was already rummaging through bags scattered around the room, pulling out cooking pots.
The prisoner meowed pitifully, asking to be set free.
“Don’t scream, won’t help,” Tolyan replied, continuing to fiddle with the utensils.
There was a knock at the door.
“What now?” the bandit frowned, set aside a pot, and went to the entrance. “Who is it?” he asked tensely.
“Tolyan, it’s me, Valik,” a muffled, wheezing voice came from outside.
“Back already?” Tolyan was surprised and slid back the bolt.
At that very second, the door burst open, hitting the grim man square in the forehead. Armed men rushed into the room, pinned Tolyan to the floor, and twisted his arms behind his back. Valik was visible in the doorway, standing in handcuffs, looking at his senior partner with an extremely guilty expression.
“Aha, here’s the stolen goods!” one of the attackers noticed the open bag. A minute later, the room was empty: the stolen property was taken, and the criminals were led away under guard, the door closed behind them.
One problem was gone, but now he had to get out of here. The unlucky traveler walked from one corner of the crate to the other, trying to move the plywood with his paw. The wood lifted slightly, but Vasily didn’t have the strength to push it far enough to climb out. He tried again—no, it wouldn’t work. Then the kitten moved to the opposite side and found that the plywood didn’t fit tightly there, leaving a small gap. Vasya stuck his paw into the crack and pushed hard. The plywood shifted a little; he shoved his head into the opening, widening it with his body. A bit more effort, a push from his hind legs—and there it was, long-awaited freedom!
But getting out of the room was much harder. Jumping to the floor, the kitten went to the door. He rubbed his whiskers against the frame, tried to catch it with his claws, but nothing happened. After several attempts, he turned and surveyed the room with a puzzled look. His wish had come true—he was outside his station—but what to do now was completely unclear.
The table with the crate, a stool nearby, a rickety sofa in the corner, a pile of junk on the floor… The kitten began to inspect it all methodically. Reaching the sofa, Vasya looked behind it and saw a small hole in the wall.
A smell of dampness and rot came from the burrow. Sniffing cautiously, the kitten poked his head inside and listened. Sensing nothing suspicious, the fugitive ventured further.
For a while, he walked relying solely on instinct, as nothing could be seen in the pitch darkness. Then he began to come across strange plants that glowed faintly in the dark. For a cat’s vision, this was enough to see his surroundings reasonably well, and the kitten took heart.
But at a bend in the tunnel, a large rat suddenly leaped out from around a corner, rushing toward the victim with a fierce squeak. The kitten bolted, but this only delayed the end—the rodent quickly caught up and opened its jaws to grab Vasya by the tail.
At that moment, another rat appeared from a side tunnel and collided with the first. Both locked together in the narrow passage, fighting over who had the right to the prey. The kitten didn’t wait to see who would win; he ran as fast as he could. The wild shrieks of the fighting rats followed him.
Half an hour later, Vasya crawled out of the hole into a main transit tunnel. To the right, a flickering light from a guard post’s campfire was visible, and the voices of sentries drifted over. Vasily looked toward them: there were people there; they could feed him, protect him, and keep him warm.
The kitten turned away and resolutely trotted into the darkness of the tunnel. He knew clearly—his home was in the other direction.
The glowing plants he had seen in the burrow were here too. They hung from the ceiling, clung to the tunnel walls, and grew between the rails. Their deathly glow was enough for the kitten; he jumped confidently over the sleepers toward his goal, ignoring the water splashing under his paws.
Soon Vasily reached a lit branch leading to technical rooms. The source of light was a lantern on a miner’s helmet; a man lay motionless nearby. His clothes, with pockets turned inside out, were soaked in blood, and he was barefoot. But the man was still breathing—the kitten caught the raspy whistle of air being exhaled through his teeth.
When Vasya approached the wounded man and sat by his head, the man felt someone nearby and opened his eyes.
“Who is it?.. Help… I’m dying…” a soft whisper came. Then the man gathered his strength and turned his head. Squinting, he looked at the kitten, who was watching him expectantly.
The man took a deep breath.
“Well, now. Where did you come from?.. Or is this just a hal…” a short sob. “…a hallucination?”
The kitten stood up, walked close to the dying man, and placed a paw on his shoulder. The man exhaled noisily and swallowed blood-salted saliva.
“Real… I never thought I’d die in such company. I won’t make it, will I?”
The kitten climbed onto the man’s shoulder, lay down, and turned his face toward the wounded man.
“You know, when I was very little, at home… we had a cat. She was so beautiful and… kind. She put up with me, my antics. Even when I tried to catch her tail, she never snapped. If I bothered her too much, she’d just step aside. We loved playing ‘fingers under the pillow’…” the man paused for a moment to catch his breath. “You know, when I woke up, she was already by the bed, waiting for me to play. She walked me to kindergarten, then to school. She loved me most in the family…”
The wounded man talked to the kitten for a long time about his life. About his parents, his first love, his college days. About the people he had wronged and now regretted not being able to ask for forgiveness, and about the deeds he was ashamed of. About those he helped sincerely and selflessly, and those who betrayed him—and those he himself had betrayed. About his wife and children, whom he loved dearly and for whom he was ready to do anything. He spoke—and his voice grew quieter as the light from the lantern faded. At some point, the lantern finally went out, and the man went silent. His fingers, which had been gently stroking the kitten’s paws, went still.
Vasya bowed his head and climbed down to the floor. He touched his whiskers to the dead man’s cheek one last time, saying goodbye to the friend he had found and lost in the same hour. But Vasily himself was still alive—and undoubtedly, more obstacles and deadly dangers lay ahead.
The smell of meat made his head spin and sharpened his appetite. The guards at the checkpoint were careless; they didn’t notice the scout slipping past them.
Vasya followed the smell, running from cover to cover and hiding in the shadows of pillars, boxes, and stalls. The busy residents of the station paid no attention to the little animal; they were absorbed in buying and selling, making deals, begging… In short, they were engaged in active business, and they had no concern for some kitten.
Dodging passersby, Vasily reached the source of the alluring aroma. It turned out to be a local cafe. He slipped between the hanging threads of the doorway curtain and found himself in a smoky room filled with tables. At some of them, patrons were eating. Looking around, the kitten saw a well-dressed fat man gnawing on a large piece of schnitzel.
“Me-a-ow!”
The fat man stopped eating and looked at Vasya in surprise. The kitten was already sitting by the table, looking the man directly in the eyes.
“Oh!” was all the man could say. He put the schnitzel on his plate and straightened up. The fat man looked at him with amusement and even sympathy—the kitten felt the friendly attitude and tried again:
“Meow!”
“Well, you’re hungry, aren’t you!” the man realized, then cut off a piece and threw it to Vasya. The kitten didn’t hesitate and immediately started on the treat. While he ate, the people around watched the performance with interest: for them, it was a rarity, both for those who hadn’t seen a cat in years and those who, due to their youth, were seeing a kitten for the first time. Vasya paid no attention to the spectators and quickly ate the pieces of meat being tossed to him.
A cook came out from behind the kitchen curtain and stared thoughtfully at the new “customer.”
Soon Vasya was full; he stood up and stretched, arching his back. Licking his chops, he went to the fat man and rubbed against his legs.
“Aren’t you a furry one!” the man scratched the kitten behind the ear. “Waiter, the check, please!”
The waiter approached the table:
“Here is your bill, Andrei Denisovich.”
The fat man paid, got up from the table, and after giving the kitten one last pat, headed for the exit. The waiter waited until the client had left, then walked over to the grooming kitten and kicked him in the side:
“Get out of here, you fleabag!”
The blow sent Vasya flying, but he immediately scrambled up and bolted. Racing past a bouncer who had burst out laughing, the kitten flew out into the station. There, he barely managed to dodge a cart loaded with mushrooms and leaped aside. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his tail: someone, without noticing, had stepped on it with a boot heel. Shrieking, the kitten tore away; the startled owner of the boot pulled back his foot, and Vasily ran through the market stalls as fast as he could. People saw him, and noise rose from all sides—some shouted, some laughed. One heavy old woman even tried to splash the kitten with boiling water from a kettle, but luckily, she missed.
Escaping from all this horror, Vasya hid in a dark corner and began licking his bruises—his tail and back left leg hurt. The kitten was also completely bewildered: for the first time in his short life, humans had treated him so poorly. Even the two bandits who wanted to eat him hadn’t left bad memories (mostly because they didn’t have time to do anything to him, and he hadn’t understood their intentions; they just kept him locked up for a bit, but maybe they were just playing).
Regardless, nothing held Vasily here anymore. After cleaning himself up, he went to find an exit from the station.
Soon Vasya reached the blast doors. Of course, for the sake of communication between stations, they were open and were not an obstacle. Slipping past a dozing sentry was also not difficult. Beyond lay the familiar darkness of the tunnel…
About fifty meters later, the kitten saw the lights of a checkpoint. Their colleagues hadn’t noticed Vasily sneaking into the station recently, so he wasn’t particularly worried about crossing the border unseen.
“Valerik, shine the light over there!”
A searchlight flared brightly. The kitten squinted and backed away; the echo of soldiers’ boots thundered against the tunnel walls. Vasya was grabbed. He struggled as hard as he could, biting and scratching, but it was all in vain: his claws and teeth couldn’t pierce the thick gloves and fabric of their uniforms.
“Aha, gotcha!” someone’s satisfied voice rang out. “The backpack! Where’s the backpack? Give it here, this piece of filth is kicking!”
Vasya was thrown into a canvas bag, and the drawstring was pulled tight.
“Kisly!”
“Here!”
“Take this to the Station Chief’s secretary…”
“Maria, I am entrusting this to you,” a stern male voice barked. “I’m giving you one last chance. And let there be no more ‘initiatives’ on your part, is that clear?”
“I understand, Semyon Georgievich,” a calm voice replied. “It won’t happen again.”
“Remember the trust placed in you. And remember that there are many others waiting for your position. Be smarter than your predecessors.”
An older woman in a strict suit merely nodded and adjusted the glasses slipping down her nose. She stood before a large oak desk, behind which sat the chief, a man with sharp, almost rat-like features.
Semyon Georgievich made a contemptuous face and signaled to his bodyguard. The man stepped forward and placed a backpack in front of the woman.
When the guard untied the strings, huge, shiny, frightened eyes peered out from the depths of the bag.
“Don’t be afraid,” the woman said, reaching out a hand. “I won’t hurt you.”
The sad melody of “Moonlight Sonata” flowed through the spacious room. The performer was a twelve-year-old girl in a beautiful dress with a necklace. Her fingers glided over the piano keys, skillfully extracting notes that filled the heart with anxiety and sadness.
“Eleonora, your father sent you a gift…”
The melody broke off. The girl carefully closed the piano lid, stood up, and walked over to Maria.
“Hasn’t my father fired you yet?” Eleonora asked coldly. “I thought I’d have a new ‘nanny’ today,” she emphasized the last word with sarcasm.
The woman looked away:
“Your father decided to give me one more chance.”
“Really? How amusing. Usually, he doesn’t bother with such things. And why didn’t he come to give me this gift himself?”
“He told me to tell you he has a lot of work and won’t be able to see you today. But he promised that tomorrow he will surely take you and your mother to the dinner party at the Baumeisters’.”
“Hmm…” the girl tilted her nose up. “Fine. What is this gift anyway?”
After a short pause, Maria opened the bag slung over her shoulder. The kitten’s head immediately poked out, and he began looking in every direction. Eleonora, squinting, examined the “gift.”
“Is this some kind of new mutant?” she asked. “I’ve never seen one like it. My biology tutor didn’t mention them.”
“No, Eleonora, it’s not a mutant. There used to be animals called cats. This is their cub—a kitten. If you’re interested, Rudolf Vladimirovich can tell you much more about cats than I can…”
“And what can it do?” the girl tilted her head and curled her lips. “Or is it as useless as Silya was?”
“Well, in the old days, these animals were kept to catch rats, mice, and…”
“Don’t make me laugh!” the girl interrupted. “Can he kill even one rat? They’d eat him alive.”
“Rats weren’t the same back then. Besides, he’s still small.”
Eleonora shook her head skeptically:
“I still don’t believe it.” She turned and walked to the wardrobe. The governess followed silently, taking the kitten out of the bag as she walked.
“And so…” the girl opened the wardrobe door and began sorting through clothes, “…people kept cats just because they could catch rats?”
“Not only that,” Maria stroked Vasya’s head. “Cats are very beautiful and sweet creatures; people kept them just to have them, for comfort in the home…”
The girl glanced at the kitten and grimaced:
“He doesn’t look like a beautiful or sweet creature. He’s ugly, covered in scars, and only has one ear.”
“Life hasn’t been kind to him,” the nanny said.
“Fine, throw him somewhere and help me pick an outfit for tomorrow’s dinner at the Bau-meis-ters’,” Eleonora drawled. “I don’t feel like dealing with this ‘gift’ right now.”
It was dry and warm in the desk drawer. The kitten was sleeping, his nose tucked into a teddy bear. An hour ago, Eleonora had tossed Vasya in here with the words: “Sit quietly and don’t you dare make a sound!” After scratching at the corners, the kitten had curled up next to his toy companion in misfortune and fallen asleep. Tomorrow promised to be difficult—before throwing the poor animal into the drawer, Eleonora had announced that in the morning they would prepare for the visit.
The kitten woke up because he was tumbling over—someone had pulled the drawer open sharply. Vasya rolled onto his back and squinted blearily at Eleonora.
“Stop sleeping! Today we’re going out! And now we’re going to get you ready…” with these words, the girl grabbed the kitten by the scruff and carried him to the vanity mirror.
First, she put a dress on Vasily. It probably belonged to a doll once, and now the kitten had become the girl’s doll. He was categorically opposed and resisted as much as he could.
But the strength was too lopsided, and soon Vasya was clad in a dress that didn’t fit him at all. He even crouched on bent legs, pressing himself to the table and nervously twitching his tail; he felt so uncomfortable and unnatural in the clothing.
Having received several scratches and bites, Eleonora was now in a foul mood.
“How did your previous owners ever stand you!” she shouted in a huff. “Or are you just a stray, like the ones begging for cartridges at our station?!”
The kitten couldn’t explain to her that he never had owners. And not because he was a stray… It was just that before (it seemed a very long time ago to Vasya), he only had friends; a whole family that considered him a full member.
The bratty girl, meanwhile, didn’t stop there. She took out a comb and a powder box and, according to her ideas of beauty, began, as she put it, “to fix up this slob.”
The kitten didn’t even resist anymore; in that outfit, he couldn’t make a single proper move anyway.
A few minutes later, a slicked-back and powdered Vasya sat on the vanity, sadly looking at his reflections in the mirrors. But that wasn’t all. Eleonora began training him, trying to teach the poor creature to stand on its hind legs and curtsy. Naturally, nothing came of it; the kitten just turned away and tried to crawl away from his tormentor.
In the end, the girl flew into a rage. With hands shaking with anger, she grabbed Vasily and carried him to a metal cage standing in a dark corner. She threw the poor thing onto the sawdust-covered floor and slammed the door with a loud clang:
“Now this is your new home! My father does the same to everyone who doesn’t listen to him,” she brought her face close to the cage and squinted. “Silya lived here before you, and he was bad too. Do you know what happened to him? He was taken far, far away, and now he lives in a Kunstkamera!” Pouting her lips, Eleonora straightened up and went back to the vanity to preen before the dinner party.
The kitten sank tiredly onto the sawdust, lay on his side, and stared longingly at the thick bars of the cage. He spent the rest of the day in that position. Sometimes Eleonora came over and said something, but Vasya didn’t react. He didn’t touch the food and water that Maria brought twice. His dull eyes said that Vasya had lost all hope of escaping.
In the evening, the girl’s father arrived. After kissing his daughter, Semyon Georgievich sat in a chair, crossed his legs, and waited for Eleonora to put on her last pieces of jewelry. He didn’t even look at the “gift.”
Soon they left. Left alone, the kitten slowly stood up and went to the bars. He tried to squeeze through them, but nothing worked. The locked door was also an insurmountable obstacle. After searching all the corners and trying to dig under the sawdust, Vasily was finally convinced there was no way out. In exhaustion, he lay down again and closed his eyes.
The sound of a key turning in the lock came, the handle turned, the hinges creaked softly, and Maria, wrapped in a cloak, appeared on the threshold. She walked quickly across the room to the cage. Keys jingled, the metal of the opening door screeched, and the nanny pulled the prisoner from his jail. She immediately headed for the exit, hiding the kitten inside her cloak as she went.
Maria passed through the guard posts without hindrance and went out to the tracks. A handcar stood on the rails waiting for cargo; a bit further away, a grim-faced trader with a cigarette in his mouth leaned against a pillar. The governess headed toward him.
“Everything is fine, I managed it,” she said instead of a greeting. “Is everything ready on your end?”
“Yeah,” the trader muttered gloomily and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m risking so much for a kitten…”
“Andrey, you’re not doing this for him, but for me. Simply because I asked,” Maria knew that Andrey wasn’t actually risking that much. First, he had years of smuggling experience and a well-established channel; and second, he already had things to smuggle “on the side,” so the presence of a kitten didn’t change much.
But the one who was truly risking everything was Maria.
“Why do you even need this?” Andrey asked. “What for? They could catch you, track you…”
Maria smiled sadly:
“I won’t last long at this job anyway. Eleonora changes governesses like gloves… even if they catch me, what will they do? Fire me?” she suggested tentatively. “Then I’ll just go back to my home station, to my pigs, and everything will be as before. I know it will happen sooner or later anyway. This way, I have a chance to do something good right now.”
Andrey listened in silence, sighed again, and stubbed out his cigarette against the pillar.
“You’re crazy. Fine, give him here…”
The smuggler indeed managed to pass all the checkpoints without trouble. During that time, the kitten sat in a secret compartment under the floor of the handcar. When the traders left the guarded territory, Andrey stopped the transport and pulled Vasya out of the “secret,” deciding the “passenger” might suffocate in the airtight compartment.
The kitten’s heart sang. He was free again, and he was heading straight for home! Sitting on the lap of a bearded man with an assault rifle, Vasily enjoyed catching the oncoming air; the bearded man sang something quietly and looked around vigilantly, not forgetting to scratch Vasya behind the ear. Behind him, Andrey and his partner worked the levers of the handcar rhythmically.
The sense of danger came completely unexpectedly. The kitten suddenly realized they couldn’t go forward anymore. There, in the pitch darkness that the handcar’s lantern couldn’t properly pierce, Death was waiting. It waited for them, arms wide, getting closer with every stroke of the levers.
The kitten began to squirm, trying to figure out what to do. The bearded man looked with surprise as the fur on the little animal’s neck stood on end. Vasya let out a long meow, trying to warn the humans that It was ahead and that they must not go there under any circumstances.
Andrey turned at the panicked meow and froze, peering into the darkness. With a quick motion, he pulled his shotgun from his shoulder. Seeing this, his partner also reached for his weapon.
It hit them instantly. The handcar was still rolling along the rails when the darkness suddenly became an unbearable light. The partner slumped over the levers, his whole body hanging off them. Andrey dropped his Saiga and slowly covered his face with his hands, as if trying to shut out the blinding flash that had just taken his sight. The bearded man leaned back against his seat, a thin line of saliva hanging from the corner of his open mouth; in his wide-open eyes, a look of surprise was frozen, which disappeared as his pupils turned red. And all this happened in complete silence, because the surrounding sounds had vanished. No clatter of wheels, no rustling of clothes—it was as if a vacuum had formed.
The handcar stopped. Staggering, Andrey wandered across it, hands still covering his face, his mouth open in a silent scream. At the edge, he tripped and fell down onto the rails. At that moment, all the sounds returned at once, and Andrey could be heard moaning: he had hit his head hard in the fall. The smuggler stood up with difficulty, held his hands out in front of him, and walked away from the handcar, filling the tunnel with his agonizing wails.
But the kitten was unharmed. At the last moment, he had managed to crawl into the bearded man’s backpack, so the flash hadn’t reached him. Vasya peered out fearfully. He knew it wasn’t over yet: It was gathering strength for the next strike, which meant he had to leave here as soon as possible.
In the distance, Andrey’s scream cut off. Vasily jumped onto the sleepers and ran. He ran as fast as he could; the tension grew with every minute, and fear drove him harder than a whip.
After a few dozen meters, Vasya came across Andrey’s body: he lay on his side, curled in a ball, and many rats were already swarming over him, beginning their feast. The kitten’s appearance was an unexpected but pleasant surprise for them. Vasily was immediately surrounded, and he backed away, looking trapped at the bristling gray mass of teeth.
One rat leaped at the poor thing from behind and bit his tail. This was the signal for the others, and the rats pounced on the kitten, burying him under their bodies.
Suddenly, the pack seemed to explode from within. A powerful electrical discharge turned several rats to ash and scattered the smoking corpses of the others. The air suddenly smelled of scorched fur and burnt meat.
The few that survived fled. The kitten ran with them—he had been saved because, before the anomaly attacked, the rats had unintentionally shielded him with their bodies.
Mad with pain and terror, Vasily raced with the pack. No one cared where they were going; panic pushed everyone to run wherever they could. A burrow, then a ventilation duct… soon Vasya fell behind the remnants of the pack and only stopped when the sky, covered with heavy clouds, stretched overhead and cold air rushed into his lungs.
He fell into the freezing mud exactly where he stopped. His singed sides rose and fell heavily after the mad race; his body was badly bitten. After a while, Vasya finally caught his breath, came to his senses, and stood up with difficulty. He had to keep going; they were waiting for him at home.
The flapping of giant wings came from above, and then a huge mutant body landed heavily in a puddle near the kitten. Splashes flew in all directions, and Vasily jumped away, dodging them. This was what saved him: the monster tried to grab the prey with its teeth but only snapped its jaws in vain. Enraged, the creature turned clumsily and chased after the kitten, who took off along a half-ruined building. A few seconds later, the mutant caught up with its prey, but Vasily turned sharply around a corner, and the predator, running by inertia for a few more steps, stopped.
A shot rang out. Then another, and another, after which the mutant slumped to the ground with a shattered skull. A man who was around the corner had fired. Completely confused, the kitten jumped at the shooter and clung to his leg.
The man jerked his leg and threw Vasily back, pointing his rifle at him. A bullet flew past the kitten, but luckily missed; another kicked up a fountain of mud when he landed.
“Stop!!! It’s Vasya!” the shooter’s partner appeared next to him.
“What?! Who’s Vasya?” the man asked, stunned, his finger still on the trigger.
“The kitten! Our commander’s!”
It was hard to recognize the same kitten in this dirty creature. But the man lowered his weapon.
The two of them approached the little animal; it moved weakly, trying to stand.
“Listen, Yur, it really is him,” the shooter was amazed. “How did you even recognize him?”
“I’m more interested in how he even got here. He disappeared from the station a few days ago, and suddenly he turns up here, on the surface.”
“Speaking of the surface… grab him, let’s get him to the commander. You know what the air is like—he’ll get poisoned.”
“He won’t. In this area, it’s more or less clean, the concentration of gases and toxins is low—it’s like an oasis. The only one of its kind. Though I’m more inclined to think this spot is an anomaly… by the way, we found the kitten around here the first time, too.”
“Still, no reason to linger. Let’s go.”
A fine rain fell from the sky. A squad of Stalkers was positioned on a children’s playground: in a sandbox with a leaning wooden mushroom, two soldiers were working on a wounded man, while the others covered them, hiding behind gazebos and carousels.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“Yurik and Beton. Coming in from reconnaissance.”
“The commander’s been waiting for you. Was that you shooting back there?”
“Yeah, ran into a ‘flier’ on the way. We…”
“Incoming!!!”
Shots rang out. Yurik dropped the kitten to the ground and grabbed his rifle; Vasya landed on his paws and pressed his belly to the mud.
“Machine gunner, ten o’clock, group target…”
Because of the deafness caused by the shooting, the sounds seemed to come through cotton, but the kitten heard that voice and recognized it.
The voice belonged to Konstantin.
And the kitten ran. He put all the strength he had left into this final sprint. Shots thundered all around, killed mutants fell, but the little adventurer stubbornly pushed toward his goal, crossing puddles and dodging falling shell casings.
Right in front of Vasily, a “flier” dove at a soldier whose rifle had jammed, knocking him to the ground. To the right, a shotgun barked twice, and the monster fell over, hit by two large-caliber rounds. Vasya dove under the falling mutant and barely managed to pass before it hit the ground.
Then the kitten ran under a pull-up bar where a downed monster was hanging, jumped onto a children’s slide, and climbed to its peak. Behind the slide, Konstantin was inserting a fresh magazine into his rifle and grabbing the charging handle.
“Me-a-ow…”
The man froze and lifted his head. Right in front of him, shivering from the piercing wind, stood Vasya. He stretched his wet face toward the commander and meowed pitifully, stepping from paw to paw.
It was over; the attack had been repelled, and no one in the squad was hurt. The rain stopped. Not believing what was happening, Konstantin reached his hand to the kitten and touched his whiskers. Vasya immediately began rubbing his head against the fingers, letting out a quiet purr. Then the Major stepped forward and took the kitten in his arms, feeling the trembling of the dirty little body through his protective gloves.
“Commander?”
“Everything’s fine. Prepare the wounded for evacuation. Scouts to me,” as he had the first time he found the kitten, the commander unzipped his jumpsuit and tucked Vasya inside, ignoring the dirt. “How happy Dashka will be,” he thought, turning to the scouts. “She’s been crying for days… Eh, Vasya, Vasya, I’d love to know where you’ve been all this time and how you ended up here…”
It was stuffy and dark in the inner pocket of the jacket, but at the same time, incredibly cozy.
The kitten waited for the upcoming meeting with impatience. All his wounds had been healed, and the week-long quarantine was over.
The zipper hissed, and bright light filled the space around him, not blinding but softly highlighting the surrounding objects.
“Va-a-asya!” the kitten heard a joyful cry. Dasha scooped him into her arms and pressed him to her, her eyes shining with tears of joy. Nearby, Nadya gasped. Konstantin laughed happily, watching them and telling them the story of how Vasya had found him.
Everything bad was left behind. The kitten had returned home.
