... in which Bassoon tries his best to fulfill his duty, but for the first time in years faces something inexplicable
All three elongated concrete buildings of the city hospital and the connecting air corridors were shrouded in smoke. Around the buildings and at the entrances, everything was blocked off by police cars and trucks. Having taken up positions behind their armored vehicles, a detachment of Rosgvardia soldiers controlled the area near the main entrance. Two blocks away, the streets were cut off by mesh barriers, where, in addition to Rosgvardia, riot police (OMON) and regular police officers had been deployed.
"Hey, Bassoon, how's it going over there?" crackled the radio of the soldier intently staring at the main entrance of the building, through which a black line of "Alpha" vehicles had quietly slipped about 15 minutes earlier.
"All quiet. They're working," came the reply.
"This is taking too long."
"I wasn't informed," Bassoon said grimly.
"Got it."
"Dudka, what's up? Bored? What's happening around perimeter?"
"Yeah, I'm bored. Everything's calm," replied Dudka cheerfully, holding his automatic rifle on his lap and watching as police with angry faces pushed back the approaching crowd of curious bystanders, worried relatives, and journalists from the barriers.
"Good," said Bassoon, continuing to watch the entrance.
Suddenly, the glass doors of the hospital burst open, and people emerged from inside.
"It's done! They're bringing out civilians!" Vityunya excitedly nudged Bassoon, having long awaited the moment when this whole commotion would end and he could finally have lunch.
But Bassoon immediately found the crowd spilling onto the street suspicious, and then downright frightening. Doctors and nurses in white coats and turquoise uniforms, patients dressed in mismatched shoes—all of them looked somehow battered, torn, and smeared with blood.
"What the hell did they do to them?!" exclaimed Vityunya, finally noticing the strange appearance of the freed people. "Look! And they're walking like drugged-out zombies."
The crowd indeed moved unnaturally, swaying from side to side, as if obeying some invisible waves.
"And where's 'Alpha'? Where are they?" continued his questions.
"They're probably still inside, finishing up," replied Bassoon.
"Citizens! You are safe! Please leave the cordoned-off area in an organized manner," boomed the megaphone. "You are safe. Please leave the cordoned-off area via the pedestrian path."
But the crowd seemed completely stunned and, ignoring the loud announcements, walked straight toward the semicircular line of armored vehicles.
"Citizens! I repeat, you are safe! Please..." The megaphone sputtered and fell silent as a soldier was pulled out of the vehicle on which it was mounted. A light-haired young man, about 25 years old, was shouting and trying to resist dozens of hands, but he was literally surrounded from all sides. Several people began tearing him apart with their teeth, while someone grabbed him from behind and gouged out his eyes with their fingers. The soldier continued screaming in pain. A woman, judging by her uniform, a hospital worker, approached closely and, looking at the mutilated, agonizing victim with a frenzied gaze, sharply slashed his throat with a scalpel, ending his suffering. The young man fell silent, and everyone else lost interest in him.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Vityunya shrieked, firing his second "Cheremukha" at the crowd and watching in horror as another one of his comrades was dragged away and torn apart.
"We're pulling back! Pulling back!" growled Bassoon. "I authorize the use of live ammunition..."
Firing sporadically and unsuccessfully at the advancing crowd, the Rosgvardia soldiers began regrouping and retreating. Within minutes, they were pushed back from their positions near the armored vehicles.
"What's going on over there?" Dudka's agitated voice appeared on the radio.
"We're dealing with mass unrest. Casualties... We're firing defensively," Bassoon replied, reloading his magazine and trying to keep his composure.
"You've completely lost it over there?! Civilians are casualties?!"
"We've got casualties! I don't know what's happening to them... The gas isn't working."
The tension around the cordon also began to increase. People became noticeably uneasy upon hearing shots coming from the hospital.
"Citizens! Please disperse! Everyone, disperse!" the loudspeaker on a police car began urging.
Dudka, who had stopped smiling carelessly, suddenly noticed Bassoon hurrying away along with several surviving soldiers. The crowd panicked and scattered in different directions from the barriers. Still not understanding what was happening, the security forces stationed at the cordon began getting into their vehicles.
"What's going on?" Dudka asked anxiously, approaching the retreating Rosgvardia soldiers who hadn't yet seen who was pursuing them, but received no answer. Cutting through the crowd and literally pushing aside the fleeing people, another pair of armored vehicles crashed into the barrier next to the soldiers.
"Reinforcements," flashed through Bassoon's mind as a familiar-looking soldier without an arm emerged from the damaged vehicle. Holding a pistol in his remaining hand, the unknown opened fire at the heads of the police and Rosgvardia soldiers. Other special forces accompanying him began spraying their opponents with short bursts of automatic fire.
Confused Dudka, unable to raise his weapon, fell, hit by a bullet in the head. Vityunya was struck and cut down by a burst of fire in the chest. Trapped between the Rosgvardia soldiers shooting at each other and the surging, frenzied crowd, Bassoon tried to take cover behind an already bullet-riddled police car, inside which two people had been shot to pieces, but he didn't make it. Two bullets pierced his forearm, causing burning pain, and then there was a sharp impact against his helmet, and Bassoon passed out, falling onto the asphalt.