R.E.D.J

The guy carefully closed the round hatch cover, pressing it tightly with his shoulder, tightened the latch, and turned on the compressor. In fifteen minutes, the air would be almost clean. The gas masks could be removed. His companion sank onto the concrete floor, hugging her thin knees with her arms, patiently waiting to the monotonous clicks of the timer. Their main enemy, the primary cause of death—radioactive dust—had remained outside. And a little bit still clung to their clothes, which they would soon take off as well.
Such meetings occurred twice a week. Therefore, they knew what would happen when the countdown ended and the raspy bell rang. A hurried, yet militarily practiced undressing. Impatient, greedy, almost mechanical kisses. The nervous pounding of closely pressed, slender bodies on an improvised bed. Blow after blow, she felt him pressing her bones into the old mattress. At some point, everything around them would practically disappear. It would lose its meaning and power over the half-dead flesh. It would be replaced by fleeting euphoria. But this would last no more than five minutes. Reality would return. Only fatigue, a feeling of emptiness, and a naive desire to prolong the sudden sensation of being human would remain. Almost a woman and almost a man.
Now he lay on a pile of crumpled tarpaulin rags, staring into the darkness. The nearby LED flashlight burned dimmer and dimmer, unable to cope with the encroaching twilight. But it seemed not to bother the girl at all. Resting her head on his shoulder, she silently ran her fingers across his chest, carefully avoiding unhealing sores on his ribs and just above his heart.
“Will you be missed?” he finally asked.
“No. Everyone’s out on an expedition until evening. They’ll be stocking up.”
“And you?”
“Well, I’m kind of going too… You did bring it, right?”
“As usual,” the guy nodded toward the backpack left in the corner. “Two cans of stewed meat. Three packs of biscuits. A bottle of mineral water. Unopened.”
“You’re eating my food again…” She smiled slightly. “I brought something for you too,” she said, sitting up and pulling a shoulder bag closer. She began taking out its contents. “Dry noodles. Chicken flavor. Spicy. With mushrooms. And here… also chicken… but in a cup. And look! Tea with a taste of… ma… ma…”
She struggled to read the label, but in the dark, the letters on the shiny package blurred and swam. The guy looked attentively at her hunched white body, gently stroked her along the protruding spine with his hand, and pulled her back toward himself.
“Come on now… I love you.”
The girl willingly returned the kiss.
“I love you too.”
“Do you think your people will figure it out soon? I keep bringing the same thing…”
“You try harder,” she smiled again.
The guy ran his hand through her hair, digging his fingers into the dry, tangled locks like tow, and once again suggested:
“Maybe we should run away?”
“You again?” Her voice sounded irritated. “Here? Without water? Without light?”
He glanced at the old metal barrel against the opposite wall, where a drop fell every minute. Water seeped through the ceiling from somewhere above and collected in the rusty container. Even without instruments, it was clear that the lithium and deuterium content there was off the charts. It wasn’t even recommended to wash with such water, let alone drink…
“I don’t know…” he didn’t want to abandon his idea. “Anywhere…”
“We’re already ‘anywhere’… I don’t think it’ll be better anywhere else,” she replied seriously, getting up and starting to dress.
“But we can’t hide forever…”
“Why not? There’s something romantic about it… Alright, let me go.”

* * *

The day passed quietly among the ruins. People try not to go out unnecessarily during the day. The sun dries out the soil, and the wind stirs up radioactive dust. But in the evening, rain sometimes falls. Along with the water, acid and other dissolved chemicals may fall as well. Foam and colored streaks will appear around puddles. Bright streaks will show on the gray walls. So it’s better not to go out in the rain either. However, after the rain, the dust settles and the air clears.

The young man stood on the sixth floor of a ruined high-rise building, leaning his back against a supporting column, looking at the wet city. To the right, beyond a grove of yellowed trees, if you cross the private sector and overcome the collapsed overpass, there is his home—a bomb shelter under the old hospital. On the other side, to the left, there is a pile of concrete boxes, a highway cluttered with old iron, and behind it looms the blackened skeleton of a shopping center, an office complex, and a system of multi-level underground parking lots. She lives there. From there she comes and there she goes. But he is forbidden to go there.

The girl appeared unexpectedly, as always. Sneaking up from behind, she covered his gas mask lenses with her palms and, trying humorously to imitate a bass voice, asked:
“Guess who?”
“It’s you, Yulia?” the young man laughed along.
“Yes, it’s me. And who else were you expecting?”
“There are people wandering around here… All sorts,” he continued smiling under the gas mask, hugging her tightly and regretting once again that he couldn’t kiss her right now.
“Who?”
“I saw some figure. Over there, near the garages. A big one, about two meters tall. With a shopping cart. I thought it was one of yours.”
“Oh? That’s strange…” the girl pondered. “Well, never mind.”
“You know, I was thinking… If you’re afraid, maybe I’ll try talking to them myself?”
“To whom?”
“With your people.”
“What are you talking about?! Don’t even think about it! They’ll kill you.”
“But, damn it… For what?”
“Yeah, for sure… Because someone from your group shot my cousin. Have you forgotten?”
“I don’t even know who could have done it…” the young man shrugged.
“They certainly know. And they haven’t forgotten.”
“Maybe it was Marik… He was always so bold…”
“Maybe.”
“But he’s already dead… It’s been a year now.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore.”
“So why me then?”
“Don’t you understand yet?” Yulia looked sternly through the gas mask lenses. “Someone has to pay. Maybe you. Do you want to? I don’t.”
“All right,” the young man gave in. “But I still don’t get it. Can’t people just come to an agreement…”
The girl firmly grabbed him by the turned-up collar of his jacket.
“You’re just standing here staring, aren’t you? Then look closer! Over there, over there… No. Look around! If people could come to an agreement, would all this have happened?”
He had nothing more to say to that. He simply lowered his head silently, and the girl, in turn, released his jacket. After a second, her hand softly slid down his shoulder, onto the back of his neck, pressing his head against her face.
“Romka… My dear Romka…” her lips whispered behind the air filter. “I really love you very much. So please, don’t do anything stupid.”
“All right,” the young man replied in the same low voice.
“Then see you on Monday. At our place.”
“Until Monday.”
“Don’t follow me, hear? Don’t even think about it! Don’t interfere!” she repeated once more.
“All right.”
“And don’t stand out here. You can be seen from a kilometer away.”
The young man nodded. Watching Yulia turn away and quickly descend the partially collapsed staircase, he desperately wanted to run after her. But he had promised…

* * *

The oppressive days of waiting, from meeting to meeting, merged into one continuous gray haze. Like the smoke that filled the sky with a solid leaden mist. The wind kept driving piles of dark clouds somewhere, but they never ended.
“How nice it would be to stretch out those short minutes together,” Romy dreamed, holding close to himself Yulya’s exhausted body, covered with sweat and bruises. Then, gathering courage, he suggested:
“Maybe you could come to me, Yulya? To the southern district. There’s electricity and water…”
“And where exactly would you live?” the girl snorted. “In a hospital bomb shelter? Or a morgue? Thanks, no…”
“Well, why not… We could live in the wards…”
“Sure. In royal ones! And eat only canned food. And your biscuits… Also from the time of Tsar Peas…”
“By the way, peas are also available,” the young man smiled. “But not only that. Look what I found for you.”
With these words, he pulled out of his bag a heavy package of coffee and a chocolate bar.
Yulya’s eyes lit up with delight.
“Wow! Damn… Cool… Real, huh?” she couldn’t hide her admiration, turning the fragrant package in her hands. “How do you grind it again… Well, never mind, I’ll figure something out… And this… Chocolate! You’re amazing… I feel like I didn’t work hard enough today for such a gift… Maybe I should do something else with my mouth?”
“No, seriously,” Romy blushed slightly.
“Seriously. It’s not difficult for me,” she licked her lips eagerly and made a move to lean lower, but the young man stopped her.
“All right. But later, sometime… What about my idea? Will you come? Or are you afraid? Don’t worry. None of ours will hurt you anymore.”
“I’m afraid that you might get hurt instead. Do you think your father won’t guess where I might have gone?” Yulya answered sternly, then added with difficulty: “And not only him…”
“Who else?”
“There’s a guy among us. A former soldier. He was already… Concussed. And after all this, he became completely deranged.”
“And what?”
“And nothing. You still don’t get it? I sleep with him,” Yulya suddenly blurted out.
“So what about your strict dad?”
“What about dad? Dad doesn’t mind. The man is big and strong. He’ll protect me. He’ll take care of me.”
“That’s somehow…” the young man tried to find the right word, but couldn’t finish the sentence and instead asked a question that immediately seemed too naive to him. “What about love?”
“Love… Has it been taken into account for a long time?”
“But you said…”
“That I love you? Well, I’m not denying it.”
“But, if I may say so, besides you, I have no one…”
“Well, that’s your problem.”
The girl turned away and wrapped herself tighter in an old blanket. Somewhere behind the steel bulkhead, rain began to patter on the metal. The time while it rains should be spent sleeping.

* * *

After the rain, Yulia left. She tried to do it quietly and unnoticed, thinking that Roma was asleep. But he hadn’t fallen asleep at all. He simply lay there with his eyes closed, thinking and listening. The rustle of her clothes. The creaking of the hatch cover. The silence. Drops falling into the barrel more and more frequently.
For the first time, the girl hurried so much as if she wanted to escape. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t take the gifts she was supposed to receive. Or maybe she just didn’t want to feel indebted.
Roma quickly dressed, carefully climbed out. Jumping over orange puddles, he reached the neighboring building. A few flights up, and he was already on his observation platform. He spotted Yulia’s figure moving away down the street almost immediately. The girl walked firmly in the middle of the roadway, unafraid of being discovered. A moment of hesitation, and the young man followed her. Past concrete boxes. Across a highway cluttered with old metal. To where the charred remains of a shopping center loomed black. Several times he froze, hiding behind the nearest shelter. But the girl never once turned around. However, on the roof of the office center, Roma thought he glimpsed a bulky silhouette holding binoculars. Still, given what they had planned, it no longer mattered. Enter inside, whoever might be there. Say that he and Yulya loved each other. And let them do whatever they wanted afterward. The young man hid again behind a pile of broken bricks. Through sharp reddish shards, sand, and earth, dirty pink flowers were pushing through. Something between a fluffy daisy and a giant clover. If they could live on these ruins, then why couldn’t we— he thought, and was about to follow the girl into the dark opening of the underground parking lot when suddenly he saw her again. Had she decided to go somewhere else? Had they sent her on an errand because she hadn’t brought anything back? Roma watched Yulia walk away. He decided it would be even better this way. If they killed her, at least it wouldn’t be in front of him. He stood up, went around the motionless barrier, and began descending into the darkness.
The first two levels were completely without power. With a dim flashlight, he had to proceed almost by touch. It was normal; under such conditions, no one would bother with lighting. Even more surprising was the deathly silence. Not a single sound. Only a flickering light somewhere in the distance.
A labyrinth of moved and dismantled cars. An entire battery of removed batteries. A silenced generator. A stove made from a gas burner, a sheet of iron, and several bricks. Scattered sleeping bags. And in the corner, a lightweight tourist tent on a frame. And candles. Many candles along the walls, on boxes, on ledges of ventilation pipes. Some extinguished, others still burning.
In the flickering light, Roma saw a pack of fruit tea. Yulia really did live here. “Italian Siesta.” Indeed… A dead midday. Feeling not fear anymore, but rather embarrassment for his intrusion, the young man descended one level lower. There were no abandoned cars here, but between the columns, long plastic bags arranged in neat rows were visible. From the smell, which penetrated even through the gas mask, the young man immediately understood what was inside. A familiar, yet unspoken bitterness squeezed his heart, forcing him to look away. There was nothing more to do here.
He retraced his steps back in a kind of daze. On leaden legs, stumbling over stones and pieces of rebar, nearly falling a couple of times, he finally reached their secret hideout with Yulya. And found her there…
“You’re here?” Roma was so surprised that he even forgot to close the hatch behind him.
In the strip of light coming from outside, she sat on the mattress, as usual, hugging her knees. Her removed gas mask lay nearby. Seeing the young man, she looked intently into his eyes.
“Where have you been?”
“To hell with it! I’m fed up! Where have you been?”
“Alright,” the young man also took off his respirator. “It’s just… You spoke so convincingly… But… You didn’t smell like another man.”
“How much do you know about how a man smells,” Yulya said defiantly.
“I know how corpses smell,” Roma replied coldly.
“So you were at my place… Clear. And I was at yours. And I saw graves in the park. Along the paths. By the rose bushes. You buried everyone. And I could only stuff them into bags and drag them down to the lower level. I just didn’t have the strength… For anything!”
“My condolences. I know you remember everyone… I do too.”
“You mean the candles? That’s not grief. I burn aromatics to somehow drown out the smell. And I’d gladly forget, but they won’t let me… The stench still spreads through the floors…” Her eyes flashed with helpless anger, and tears glistened on her cheeks. “Yes! I made it all up. Now are you satisfied, jealous fool?!”
“Well, that’s for the best…” Roma sat down beside her and tried to hug the girl, but she pushed him away.
“No! You’ve ruined everything. A person shouldn’t be alone. One cannot exist alone. If you’re alone, you’re vulnerable.”
“But we’re not alone,” the young man objected. “We have each other… We survive.”
“What difference does it make now? There’s no one else. Everyone is dead. And we’ll die too… Not today, then in a week. I asked you. Don’t interfere! It was fine the way it was. At least there was some meaning! And you… You destroyed everything.”
Suddenly, Roma noticed an empty tin can lying on the floor in a puddle of rusty water, and he understood everything. Yulya had already made up her mind, and therefore, she had decided for both of them. He picked up the can, scooped some water from the barrel, and, keeping his eyes fixed on the girl, raised it to his lips.

* * *

Through shards of glass and broken brick, the heavy boot of an unknown man crunched. Aggressive ultraviolet rays and radioactive dust no longer frightened him. Darkened lenses on a breathing mask, a closed respiratory system strapped to his back. Non-standard boots with steel shanks at the toe, gloves and knee pads over a protective suit reinforced by a servo-powered exoskeleton. An automatic carbine hung from a strap beneath his right elbow.
Either emerging from hell or preparing to enter it, he was now completely calm, slowly pushing a loaded supermarket cart and talking to someone.
— Were you taught T.R.I.Z in your America? Are you familiar with this concept?
— The Theory of Inventive Problem Solving. Of course,— replied a female voice through crackling radio interference.— Techniques and standard patterns for approaching problems that are currently unclear how to tackle. Only we called it T.I.P.S.
— Clever girl. I’ve come up with something similar here. R.E.D.J. Interested?
— Of course. Wait… I’ll turn on the recording. Just in case it might be useful to someone,— came the click of a spring-loaded button on an old tape recorder.— Done! So, what is R.E.D.J.? Tell our listeners…
— It’s as simple as four letters.R – resolve difficult situations. E – explore the environment. D – the only direction is forward. J – take joy from life, and do not just survive. These basic principles define motivation and set the general direction of action.
— You’re quite philosophical…
— What I’m getting at… A funny story happened. I stumbled upon a couple of teenagers the other day. And carefully followed them. They had two bunkers here. Packed full of supplies… All the other inhabitants had died out, besides…
— Hold on. Sorry to interrupt… What kind of supplies were they?— asked the female voice with interest.— Was there any champagne or caviar?
— No. Only army rations and soluble Chinese crap.
— Well, good riddance to both these bunkers… Sorry again… Continue!
The man left his heavy cart near the building wall. He took a few steps down the stairs into the basement. With his foot, he pushed open a wooden door, then with a creak, slid aside a round hatch and, bending low, crawled inside. The beam from his headlamp illuminated a small room, a rusty barrel, some rags, an old mattress, and two whitened human figures.
— In short, these guys had enough for a lifetime. All they needed to do was throw away the corpses. But they preferred to crawl into some hole themselves and die embracing each other… Whining, apathy, depression, and death… But some things must be overcome and moved past. When you risk drowning, don’t grab onto your father’s coffins.
The unknown man stepped over the motionless bodies, carelessly overturned their bags, spilling the contents onto the floor.
— Probably, there’s no sadder story…— concluded the woman in the headset.
— They didn’t know R.E.D.J. And that’s why we have such a regrettable outcome…
— You, my dear, are also a moralist…
— Wait, they seem to still be breathing…
— What? Repeat!— worried the unknown man’s companion.— Did you say they’re breathing? Are you nearby?
— Yes. They’ve inhaled poison. And now they’re dying in a pool of vomit.
— That’s disgusting, Peter! And so unpoetic. They’re suffering. You must help them!
— Certainly,— agreed the man, continuing to examine the items on the floor.— Listen… They have coffee and chocolate here. Want some?
— Mmm, Peter, you know how much I love chocolate… And is the coffee ground, beans, or instant?— the woman quickly clarified.
— Bean.
— Wonderful. In that case, I’ll get the grinder and wash the Turkish coffee pot by the time you arrive. We’ll brew it the oriental way.
— Understood. There’s tea too… Wait a moment…— the man picked up a colorful box wrapped in plastic film and turned it in the flashlight beam.— Passion fruit flavor.
— Oh, no…— said his companion with undisguised disappointment.— I can’t stand that chemical stuff. All those fruity flavors are so unnatural.
— Alright…— he tossed the package aside.
— Please don’t stay long. Help those poor kids. And come back soon. I love you.
— Likewise. Yes. I’ll be home by sunset. End of transmission.
Somewhere on the other end of the radio channel, a kiss sounded through the microphone, and a switch click ended the conversation. The man stood up straight, looked at the dying people, sighed, and racked the bolt of his rifle.