Arkadi Strugatsky: The Ugly Swans

"What an idiotic position," thought Victor. "You're itching to ask what's going on, and you can't. Got to find out some way of asking. Beat around the bush. An observation with a query in the subtext. Maybe I'll have to fight? Don't feel like it. Not today. I'll hit him with the pistol. Right between the eyes. How's my lump doing?" His lump hadn't moved. It hurt slightly. "Funny duties the nurses have in this institution. But I've always felt that Diana was a woman with a secret. From the first glance and all five days... . Ugh, is it damp, should have taken a swig of something before I left. As soon as I get back, I'll have something. Aren't I being good?" he thought. "No questions asked. Your order is my command."

They circled around their half of the building, crawled through the lilac bushes, and wound up near the fence. Diana shone the flashlight on it. One of the iron rails was missing.

"Victor," she said softly. "We're going to turn onto a trail. You'll follow. Watch your feet, and don't step off the trail. Got it?"

"Got it," said Victor submissively. "A step to the right, a step to the left, and I shoot."

Diana squeezed through first, then held the flashlight for Victor. They made their way very slowly down the hill. It was the eastern slope of the health resort hill. All around them unseen trees were rustling in the rain. Diana slipped, and Victor barely had time to grab her shoulders. She freed herself impatiently and went on. Every minute she repeated, "Watch your feet. Follow me." Victor obediently watched Diana's feet, flickering in the dancing pool of light. At first he kept on waiting for a blow on the back of his head, right on his lump, then he decided it was unlikely. It didn't fit together. Probably it was just some nut who snuck off, or Rosheper had had a tantrum and they'd have to march him back, frightening him with an empty pistol.

Diana stopped short and said something, but her words didn't reach Victor's consciousness. Within a second, at the side of the trail, he saw someone's shining eyes -- immobile, huge, and staring intently from under a wet, protruding forehead. Only eyes and a forehead, nothing more: no mouth, no nose, no body, nothing. Just the heavy, damp darkness and in a pool of light, shining eyes and an unnaturally white forehead.

"Bastards," said Diana. There was a catch in her voice. "I knew it. The bastards."

She fell to her knees. The beam of the flashlight skimmed along the black body, and Victor caught sight of a glistening metallic arc and a chain in the grass. "Quick," commanded Diana, and Victor crouched down next to her. Only then did he see that it was a trap, and that there was a man's leg caught in it. He put both hands into the iron jaws and tried to force them apart. They gave way just a little bit and then snapped back into place.

"Idiot!" shrieked Diana. "Use the pistol."

He clenched his teeth, got a better grip, and strained his muscles until his shoulders cracked. The jaws came apart.

"Pull," he said hoarsely. The leg disappeared. The iron arcs snapped together, catching his fingers.

"Hold the flashlight," said Diana.

"I can't," said Victor guiltily. "I'm caught. Get the pistol out of my pocket."

Diana, swearing, felt for his pocket. He wrenched the trap apart another time, she put the handle of the pistol between the jaws, and Victor freed himself.

"Hold the light," she repeated. "Let me look at the leg."

"The bone is shattered," said a strained voice in the darkness. "Carry me to the resort and call for a car."

"Right," said Diana. "Victor, give me the flashlight, and you take him."

She shone the flashlight down. The man was sitting in the same place as before, leaning against a tree. The lower half of his face was hidden behind a black bandage. "An owl," thought Victor. "A slimy. How did he get here?"

"Hurry up, take him," said Diana. "On your back."

"Stop jabbering," said the slimy. "I'm staying here."

"Leave him," said Diana.

"Don't be a fool," said the slimy. "Leave me ... here... ."

"You're all crazy!' sputtered Victor.

"Right away," he answered. He remembered the yellow circles around the eyes. A lump rose in his throat. "Right away." He crouched down next to the slimy and turned his back toward him. "Grab me around the neck," he said.

The slimy turned out to be thin and light. He didn't move and it seemed as though he wasn't even breathing. He didn't moan when Victor stumbled, but every time it happened a shudder went through his body. The trail was much steeper than Victor had thought, and when they reached the fence he was completely out of breath. Getting the slimy through the gap in the fence proved difficult, but in the end they managed.

"Where to?" asked Victor when they had reached the entrance.

"Into the lobby for now," answered Diana.

"Don't," said the slimy in the same strained tone. "Leave me here."

"It's raining," objected Victor.

Victor didn't say anything and started walking up the steps.

Victor stopped.

"Goddamnit, it's raining," he said.

Victor, not saying a word, strode up the steps three at a time, reached the door, and walked into the lobby.

"Cretin," whispered the slimy and dropped his head on Victor's shoulder.

"You dolt," said Diana, catching up with Victor and grabbing his sleeve. "You'll kill him, idiot! Get him out of here right away and put him back under the rain. Right away, you hear? What are you standing here for?"

He turned around, kicked the door open, and went out onto the porch. The rain seemed to be waiting for his return. Before it had been drizzling lazily, and now it poured down in torrents. The slimy moaned softly. He raised his head and suddenly began panting like a hunted animal. Victor was still dawdling, instinctively looking around for some shelter.

"Put me down," said the slimy.

"In a puddle?" asked Victor, sarcastic and bitter.

"That's unimportant. Put me down."

Victor carefully lowered him onto the ceramic tiles of the porch. The slimy stretched out his arms and legs. His right leg was twisted unnaturally; in the strong light of the porch lamp his great forehead seemed blue white. Victor sat down next to him on the steps. He really felt like going back into the lobby, but that was unthinkable -- to leave an injured man in a heavy rain and seek shelter in a warm place.

"How many times have I been called a fool today?" he thought, wiping his face with his hand. "Pretty often. And there's a grain of truth in it too, insofar as a fool, alias dolt alias cretin and so on, is an ignoramus, persisting in his ignorance. Look at that, he's doing better in the rain. His eyes are opened, they're not so terrible looking. A slimy," he thought. "Really, a slimy rather than a four-eyes. How the hell did he get himself into a trap? And how come there are traps around here? It's the second slimy I've met today, and both of them in trouble. They get in trouble and they get me in trouble."

Diana was in the lobby on the phone. Victor listened.

"The leg... Yes. The bone is shattered... Okay... All right... Quickly, we're waiting."

Through the glass door Victor saw her hang up the phone and run upstairs. "Something's gone wrong with the slimies in this town. Too much fuss around them. For some reason they've gotten into everyone's way, even the middle-school director's had it with them. Even Lola," he remembered suddenly.

"It seems she also had something to say about them." He looked down at the slimy. The slimy was looking at him.

"How do you feel?" asked Victor. The slimy didn't answer. "Do you need anything?" asked Victor, raising his voice. "A sip of gin?"

"Don't yell," said the slimy. "I can hear you."

"Does it hurt?" Victor sympathized.

"What do you think?"

"An exceptionally unpleasant man," thought Victor. "However, the hell with him -- we'll go our separate ways. And he's in pain."