"Mikhail Evstafiev. Two Steps From Heaven " - читать интересную книгу автора "Yes, I see him..."
He did not dampen the grand-dads' exhilaration, consenting silently that the village belonged to the spooks and was thus doomed to destruction, so there was no point in wasting pity on its inhabitants. He had agreed, so he, too, was now part of this "game." He lay cradling the rifle and looking through its sights at an old man who peered out from behind a wall from time to time. ... Prokhorov's right: there's a war on, they've no business showing themselves outside ... there's a war on, so it's either them or us ... all these so-called peaceful civilians, old and young, hate our guts, and given the chance, they'll wind our gizzards around a pitchfork and put them out for all to see ... they help the spooks, the bastards, going back and forth as if they're tending their fields, but at the same time, the sons of bitches are setting out trip-wires ... " Sharagin took aim, but at the same moment decided not to kill the old man, just shoot over his head, and tightened his finger on the trigger. In training, he had been the best shot in his group. It would be easy to hit the target at this range - too easy. ... live, old man .... "Bet you he'll miss," came a whisper from behind. " ....." "No ... Bet you ten chits." That was Panasyuk. Sharagin aimed again. A drop of sweat trickled from his hairline past his ear, down his cheek and fell on the rifle butt. He held his breath. He couldn't understand why he had suddenly given way to doubts. His fingers felt the stiffness of the trigger, as though it was resisting him. "... taking too long to aim, fuck it, he'll miss for sure!" needled Prokhorov's voice. The shot boomed out. The old man fell away from the wall, staggered forward a few steps and fell. "Ha! Gotcha!" whooped Panasyuk. "Class shot! Right in the brain box!" Confirmed Titov, still glued to the binoculars. "Head's gone like it was never there. Just his jawbone hanging on his neck!" The armoured vehicles were like pincers around the village; moving inward, the paratroopers began combing through the village. Groups of soldiers dispersed along its dusty, crooked streets. ... the village is empty, definitely empty ... and the artillery pounded the hell out of it ... everyone must be long gone ... but, then, who knows? ... A dead donkey lay beside the last hut, distended from the heat like a |
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