Zadnikov once again looked at the unremarkable view outside the window, then began to awkwardly roll out of bed - he couldn't just get up - it was quite painful. Once again, he pushed away the thought that he was already dead - it wouldn't take long to go crazy like that. Despite this, the details of how he had somehow shot down the drones, and in general the events of the entire failed sortie, surfaced in his memory again and again.
When helicopters arrived at the facility, at the complex of buildings that his group was attacking, it became clear that the sortie would not end well. Then his squad was scattered, and the vehicles waiting in their distant positions were destroyed by anti-tank missiles - he saw this through his reconnaissance drone, which was of little use anymore - it became completely obvious that he and his people were being stupidly dumped, which meant that this was the end. Nevertheless, Zadnikov, who had lost contact with the survivors, decided not to wait for the end, but to break out of the sector. He had no clear plan, but he decided that if he was caught, he would be killed if not fighting back, then fleeing.
The first drone that spotted him fired from the machine gun that was attached to its suspension. The taiga spruce and thickets acted as Zadnikov's friends, not allowing the drone to descend, see the target and shoot accurately. Having spent its ammunition, the bastard left. However, by and large, this did not change anything - the sector was surrounded and they could hunt the survivors for at least a month - the result would be the same. It would be easier to disappear in the city blocks.
The second flying bloodhound carried several light mortar shells of the kind that are dismissively called fourth and fifth class weapons. Zadnikov, who had taken refuge near the rotten trunk of a tree that had fallen in ancient times, did not get off as easy as the first time - the attack resulted in a concussion and multiple small shrapnel wounds. At that time, he already had some doubts that he would survive until the morning. At some point, he even lost his composure, letting the thought of trying to surrender enter his head, but in the end, he still pulled himself together and continued moving on. The road five kilometers away was completely empty at night, but people drove there during the day, and he still had his "Glock". Then he thought that if he managed to capture some kind of transport, then perhaps life would go on. In addition, the pursuers, armed with all their arsenal, did not have absolute superiority - this simply could not be, and he knew this from his own experience of performing from this opposite side - during his career, he had more than once conducted such a hunt. Now, with his further actions, he needed to pump up the tiny probability of his survival to one hundred percent. Half an hour later, he came to some clearing. It couldn't be called a clearing, but it was something like that. There were exactly the same tall trees in the vicinity, but there were fewer damned bushes and tall grass. It became easier to walk.
Then he heard the sound of another drone. Zadnikov darted away from the clearing, but the sound kept growing.
The flying creature had definitely spotted him, and now the operator, pleased with himself, was just choosing a position from which it would be more convenient to bomb or shoot.
Zadnikov threw himself on the ground and crawled. Suddenly, he heard a single shot. The drone's buzzing suddenly stopped and it seemed like he even heard a booming knock from the device and the cracking of branches.
Hardly believing what was happening, Zadnikov looked first at the sky, then in the direction from which the sounds were coming, but as expected, he saw nothing even through night optics. There was an assumption that the drone's battery had exploded, but it was just an "assumption."
The next thought was that the shooter was a hunter who had miraculously appeared nearby, who did not like any authorities or their tools. However, the shot did not sound like a shot from a gun - it was a pistol. The fact that one of his surviving fighters could have been nearby would have been a priceless gift of fate, but how and with what did he shoot down the drone?
Then the cracking of branches was heard again. The sound created the impression that a completely unprepared person was making his way through the forest.
Zadnikov slightly raised himself and began to look around. He still could not find the approaching person. And then Zadnikov shuddered - turning his head once again, he saw some woman in front of him. Here the whole story either broke off or got mixed up. The strange woman raised her hand and some fiery threads burst from her palm, or rather from her fingers, and dug into his, Zadnikov's, body. His legs buckled. His head hit some snag, causing the night vision device to slide to the side. Then the woman leaned over him and rather carefully pushed the optics back onto him. He recognized her - it was the OSCE woman - he knew them all from memory, not just Zaperdyaev. It remained unclear what kind of gadget she had used, and of course it was completely unclear how she had ended up here and why.
- We have to leave, - Zadnikov said the first sentence in a muffled voice.
- We'll leave, she answered, but you won't believe where.
Zadnikov wanted to ask again what she meant, but for some reason his tongue seemed to go numb. She also grabbed his hand. In fact, she grabbed his hand before his tongue went numb. He turned his head to look at her, but before he could complete the movement, his head abruptly moved in the other direction, looking up at the sky. The sound of another drone was heard.
Zadnikov felt his free left hand, which had stopped obeying, reach for his pistol. The hand was both his and not his. Then he felt Landskricht move the optics from his head. The darkness that had reigned was suddenly replaced by some surreal picture with a sky the color of strong tea or something. The stars were clearly visible through the translucent clouds. Somewhere on the ground, some lights were phosphorescent - it was some kind of obsession.
At some point, his gaze caught a device moving a two hundred meters away. The hand with the gun rose in the direction of the drone. It was absolutely obvious that there was no talk of any aimed shooting at such distances.
On top of everything else, the hand was moving somehow completely wrong - the not particularly heavy gun was wobbling from side to side. Also, the hand was a little out of place. To the side, perhaps. Suddenly, Zadnikov was overcome by the feeling that he could already see how the flying drone shuddered, as if stumbling, and fell down. All because the device had run into an invisible whip coming from the gun. The task of whipping the drone suddenly seemed completely trivial.
A shot rang out, the drone, as expected, shuddered and went to the ground. Meanwhile, another one was approaching from the south - this even made him happy. An invisible and intangible whip, led by a seemingly unsteady and dangling hand, once again lifted the device and another shot turned the visible into the realized. It was madness.
After that second drone was shot down, the picture suddenly faded and Zadnikov found himself looking into the darkness, standing next to Landskricht. Whether his eyes had been closed before, he could not say, but he clearly felt that before seeing the familiar night darkness, he opened his eyes.
Without giving him time to really come to his senses, Landskricht transferred him here. Or rather, she transferred him to the field.
Then she announced to him that he was now in a parallel world, adding that the time would come when he might have to return and publicly tell about his attack that provoked the shuttle to take off. Zadnikov was perfectly aware that he was in no position to object. Landskricht's answer to the question of who she was finished everything. A bus arrived immediately with two of her accomplices, suppose. They spoke Russian. There, in the bus, in these conditions, they began to pull out the fragments. Then they blindfolded him and half an hour later they brought him into this hotel or slovenly Soviet-style recreation center.