"Aleksandr Abramov, Sergei Abramov. Horsemen from Nowhere ("ВСАДНИКИ НИОТКУДА", англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Did he swallow him up?"
"I don't know."
"But you saw what happened."
"I saw it cover him up, but I didn't see it swallow him. Rather it
dissolved or evaporated the thing."
"What kind of temperature is needed?"
"Did you try to measure it?"
Martin even stopped, struck by the enigma.
"To melt a plane like that? In three minutes? Ultradurable duraluminum,
by the way."
"Are you sure it was duraluminum and not a hole of a doughnut?"
He didn't understand and I didn't try to explain; from there on we
didn't exchange a word till we got to the tent. Here too things were
happening. I was struck by the strange pose Tolya had taken, doubled up on
the box of briquettes and clicking his teeth from horror or from the cold.
The stove had already cooled off, but it didn't seem to be very cold in the
tent.
"What's the trouble, Dyachuk?" Zernov asked. "Heat up the stove if
you're cold."
Tolya did not answer; like one hypnotized, he Sat down near the stove.
"Going nuts a little bit," said Vano from under his fur protection. He
seemed to be gay enough.
"We had some visitors too," he added and nodded in the direction of
Tolya.
"There wasn't anyone here. Speak for yourself!" he shrieked and turned
to us. His face was twisted, distorted, almost about to cry.
Vano put his finger to his head as if to say we're all crazy. "We're a
bit upset. Okay, tell your own story," he said to Tolya and turned away. "I
myself was damn upset, Yuri, when I saw two copies of you. I couldn't stand
it and ran like hell. Jesus it was awful, terrifying. I took a gulp of
spirits and covered up with the coat. Wanted to go to sleep, but I couldn't.
I don't know, I was asleep, maybe I wasn't, but I had an awful dream. A long
one, mixed up, terrible and funny. It seems I was eating a jelly, dark, not
red, but violet. An awful lot of it, so much in fact that it filled me right
up to the ears. I don't remember how long that lasted. But as soon as I
opened my eyes, I saw that everything was empty, cold, and you weren't here.
Then suddenly he entered. My own self, like in a mirror, only without jacket
and in socks."
Martin listened attentively. Though he did not understand the
conversation in Russian, he guessed that the talk was about something that
definitely interested him as well. I took pity on him and translated the
gist. He was at me all the while Vano related his story, asking for a faster
translation. But I couldn't go that fast and only later did I relate the
whole of Vano's story. Unlike us, Vano immediately detected a difference
between himself and the guest. The drunken state had long since passed, and
fear as well, only his head continued to throb; the man who entered looked
at him with bull-like eyes, dull dazed eyes. "Quit this nonsense," he yelled
in Georgian, "I'm not afraid of snow maidens, I make mince meat out of
them!" The funniest thing was that Vano himself had thought about that in
the same terms when Zernov and Tolya had left. If someone were about, he