The military ambulance ground to a halt near the main entrance of a psychiatric hospital. An officer jumped out of the car and strode into the building.
I sat silently in the van and looked through the window listlessly. Two soldiers sat by my side. On our way my guards had been mute as fishes, neither uttering a word. Nothing would persuade them to look into my eyes.
The officer came out on to the doorstep, shouted something and waved his hand.
`Get up,' said one of the guards. `Can you walk?'
`Yes.'
I hauled myself out from the van and walked into the hospital. The sharp, characteristic tang of drugs burned my nose. In one of the rooms a light was burning; my guards sent me there. A young bearded doctor asked something of the officer and wrote in a medical notebook. A nurse, a very strong woman, approached me and said: `Let's go, son, into another room. I will examine you there.'
I meandered after her. The room was starkly lit, like an interrogation area.
`Take off your clothes,' said the nurse.
I removed my military uniform and neatly placed it on the couch.
`Don't be silly son, take off your underwear as well.'
After a short pause for thought I removed my pants. The nurse looked me up and down, top to toe, wrote down some notes on a sheet of paper, took a uniform and disappeared. I remained, standing naked. Well, this is it. They've got me. Nowhere to run. After a few minutes the nurse returned with pyjamas and underwear.
`Well, my lad, here are your clothes. Get dressed now. Someone will come to collect you. I've found five roubles in your pocket. I put them into the inventory.'
Slowly I began to dress.
The nurse looked like a rural woman, powerfully built, with a large and simple face. A good woman. She reminded me of my dead grandmother. Doors flapped faraway. Someone's arrived to collect me. Who can it be? Where are they going to take me? Hundreds of questions tormented and tortured my mind. Another face has entered the room.
`Hello, Maria.'
`Hi, Bo' sun. New recruits arrived for your barrack. Look, Victor: don't punish a boy for nothing.'
Maria came back to me and said: `Your uniform will remain here. When you're discharged from the hospital, we'll return it. And now go with Victor.'
I nodded and rose from the couch. Victor stood in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. A striped vest visible under his medical gown, sleeves rolled up at the elbows. On one hand, a tattoo of the sun rising over the sea: on the other, an anchor. He is around sixty years old, in good form, a strong bastard: with hands like claws, - this crab of a man. He grasped my hand in his pincers, as if I were a little fish, closed the claw, and dragged me to the entrance. We stepped out on to the porch. The guards stood near the van and smoked in silence. The Bo' sun more tightly gripped my hand.
`I won't run away,' I said quietly.
`I know your type.'
It's almost dark. My guards are staring at my back. I felt the weight of their eyes. The Bo' sun tows me like a crippled yacht to the dock. I shut my eyes. We continue to zigzag among the puddles and falling leaves without difficulty. Well, he's a really good Bo' sun, this crab-man. Suddenly we've stopped. I open my eyes. The barrack is barely visible through the strange neon mist around it. The Bo' sun unlocked a door and pushed me into the darkness. A dim light illuminated a cramped room, with two benches fixed to the wall. On the adjacent wall was a small hatch, no higher than my chest.
`Take off your clothes,' said the Bo' sun.
`What for?'
`What for!? What for! Because the regulations say so. Come on, hurry, boy!'
I removed the clothes and placed them on the bench.
`Are you ready?' asked the Bo' sun.
I nodded. He opened the hatch, pressed my neck with his palm and pushed me into the unknown. The lock closed with a clank behind my back.
A bright neon light blinded me for couple of seconds. Slowly I opened my eyes and I saw a place of horror and desperation. Where am I? Oh, my God! What a lovely place. Such faces as these I've never seen before in my life. A loony bin. Fuck me! What am I going to do? What will happen to me? Will I ever leave this place? Or is this it? This is my graveyard. Welcome to hell, pal!
In a small hall on beds, they recline. Half-naked, sub-human, with dark vicious eyes. All of them are bold, bony and thin as animals in the zoo. In the middle of hall stood a dinner table with two benches along the side. On one bench lying down is a man in filthy underwear. On the bed near the window sat two young fellows with a big ugly bloke who had tattoos all over his body. The nearest bed to them was occupied by a man, who looked like the old cobra from the Jungle Book. He reclined on his elbow and looked at me with suspicion. Next to him sat a young medical orderly, on a chair with a small table, screwed to the wall. He was preoccupied with a newspaper. Should I approach him? I looked around and met the eyes of an ugly bloke. After looking me up and down, he beckoned me by hand. I walked towards him.
`Are you a soldier?' asked the bloke.
`Yes.'
`Good, we're in the army too. Sit down, traveller. What's your name?'
`Boris.'
`My name's Nick.'
I shook his paw of a hand and then introduced myself to the young fellows. One of them was called Andrew, the second one something growled to himself under his breath so that I couldn't catch his name.
Nick sat on the bed, dressed only in boxer shorts. His entire body was covered with tattoos of different sizes and decoration. Most of all I was struck by two tattoos: from his chest, the Virgin Mary with the baby stared at me from amongst the clouds. Very good work. On his left hand - a watch tower in barbed wire, covered with old scars from repeated attempts to expose veins. There is no free space on his body, entirely dark-blue. I should give him a nickname: the Iconman.
The noise of a clanking lock immediately interrupted my thoughts. Everyone glanced at the door near the orderly's post. The Bo' sun entered the hall, saying something to the young orderly, who got up from his char and left. The Bo' sun approached our company and said: `Andrew, explain our rules to him.'
`All right.'
`And you, boy, come to me later on and I'll give you your sleeping gear. All right?'
I nodded in response.
`Listen, Boris,' said Andrew. `The rules are simple: don't talk loudly, it's forbidden, and don't argue with gaolers.'
`I understand.'
`By the way. Why did you cut your veins?' Andrew asked me.
`I didn't want to live.'
Andrew glanced at me sceptically and grinned. I looked into his bright green eyes and realised that he didn't believe me.
`Hey, you, don't give us this bollocks,' said the Iconman. `You tell this shit to the doctors, not to us. We don't want to be in the army either, so we're here. Understand?'
`Yes, I understand... Where can I lie down?' I asked Andrew.
`There are no bunks available. Sit down on mine,' said Andrew and pointed his hand towards the bed near the second window.
I sat down on the corner of bunk and immediately fell asleep. Someone touched my head. I opened my eyes.
`We'd better go to the loo,' said Andrew. `They going to shut it soon.'
`Yes, let's go.'
The Bo' sun stood near the door and rattled the large bunch of keys. The toilet was small, and it stank. Along one wall stood a long pedestal ten inches high. On the pedestal, one single toilet seat and a cesspit hole. The toilet seat was broken and covered with white binding. Everyone pisses into the hole. A metallic sink hung from the wall, a tap without the handle popped out from the wall. Andrew stood near the door and quietly spoke to the Bo' sun.
`Do you smoke?' Andrew asked me.
`Yes.'
I took a cigarette-butt from Andrew and greedily smoked it to the end. When we returned to the hall, Andrew said to me: `Listen, Boris, there are no free bunks in here. But if you want to sleep on the bed, kick out this Muslim soldier, Rakhim,' Andrew motioned with his eyes to the bed opposite his. There lay a skinny youngster of Asian appearance.
`What about Bo' sun?'
`What do you think I was doing in the bog? I spoke to him about it. He is all right, he wouldn't mind; he doesn't like Muslims. The nurse stayed well clear in the nurse's office. Don't worry, no one will complain to the doctor.'
`All right, I'll think about it.'
I sat on the bed and occasionally glanced at Rakhim. He clearly felt something for, he looked with fear at each patient who passed by his bed. What should I do? Should I drive him off? Or should I let him be? I don't want to sleep on the floor. I ought to make a decision and soon, very soon. Well. If someone complains to the doctor, there might be unpleasant consequences for me. A dilemma.
I got up from the bed and approached the Bo' sun.
`Can I get my sleeping gear?' I asked him.
`What? Wait, I'll call you.'
On my way to bed I passed by Rakhim. I looked into his eyes, where fear and desperation flashed. Suddenly he shuddered and huddled into the corner of the bed. The decision is made - I will sleep on the bed. I must act quickly and suddenly. The main thing is not to give him time to yell or cry. Well, what will be - will be.
The Bo' sun arose from his post and gave me a sign to follow him. I got up from the bed and walked into the corridor. In the corridor along the walls on beds lay ugly schizophrenics. The Bo' sun opened the hatch at the end of the corridor, took out mattresses and blankets and threw them on to the floor. I was the first in line with two lunatics behind me. Not enough beds. I got the gear and immediately returned to the hall. I strolled to Rakhim's bed, threw the mattress on the bed and said: `Get the fuck out of my bunk.'
Rakhim started to mumble something to himself, but I had no time to hear him out. I raised my hand and he rapidly slid down to the floor. I threw his mattress after him and put my blanket on the bunk. Then I glanced at Andrew. He nodded his head in encouragement and grinned. The Iconman and the Cobra man observed my action without emotion. I glanced at Rakhim. He looked at me and started to whimper like a beaten dog. Then he took the mattress and crawled further from me. Poor boy. I felt sorry for him. I have nothing against him. But, this is life. What is done - is done. The Bo' sun returned to the hall and looked at me, then at Rakhim, with a charismatic smile on his lips.
Thanks, Andrew for your help. I will sleep on the bed - as humans do. What lies in wait tomorrow? Hundreds of questions flew in my head and tormented me. I should ask Andrew tomorrow about everything. He seems like a good fellow, helpful. Well, I must sleep now. I've lost too much blood, strength too. I turned to the wall, stretched the blanket over my head and immediately fell asleep.
***
The neon light and the metallic buzzing of lamps woke me up. It's dawn. The Bo' sun peacefully slept at his post. The air in the hall is stuffy, sticky, an acid mixture of drugs, urine and adrenaline. A slop-bucket, this place, filled with mad animals. The walls are rough, dirty, and yellowish in colour from the sweat and stains of patients. Beneath grilles, neon lamps hang from the ceiling and hum like a swarm of mad bees. All the beds are of one design, their angles rounded. The floor, tiled and warm - apparently, the heating is laid under ground, as in Turkish baths. All furniture in the hall was screwed to the floor or clamped to the wall. Welcome to a neon paradise!! I looked around. Six beds stood in the hall along the walls, four beds in the corridor. Mine stood on the path to the toilet. Three patients sleep on the floor. Something sits on one of the patients, sleeping on the floor. What is this? Hallucination or reality? I cannot believe my eyes. A goggle-eyed toad peacefully squatted on the blanket. I felt that someone was watching me. I turned my head and met with the laughing eyes of Andrew. He was raised on his elbow and looked at the toad. The toad slowly slid down from the blanket and clumsy crawled into the corner under the bed. Andrew smiled and summoned the toad like a dog by hand. Where am I? Oh, my God! What kind of hospital is this? This is a zoo! What will happen to me? I turned away and again fell into a doze stupor.
I awoke to the clanking of locks and hectoring voices of orderlies. The hall began to come alive. Patients picked up mattresses from the floor. A young orderly sat at his station and was making a knot on the towel. Another orderly, rattling keys, unlocked the storeroom. Some patients continued to lie on their beds. I got up and stretched myself. I noticed some movement near the orderly's chair. The Cobra man jumped on his bed and shrieked something to me. The orderly rose from his post and looked at me.
What's happened now? What's going on? Instinctively I knew that something is moving behind my back. I turned and covered my face with my hands. Someone has fallen on my shoulder. He scuttled down from my collarbone, gripped my arm and bit it, in the place where I had stitches already. This madman was eating my hand but I felt no pain. Who is he? Bastard!! I threw some punches with my right hand and the maniac fell to the floor. The orderlies jumped on me like panthers, pushed me onto the bed and pressed me down. Through their bodies I saw the Cobra man shouting and dancing a furious break-dance on the body of falling madman with a malignant glee. It was Muslim, Rakhim. He howled something in his own language and did not try to protect himself against the vicious attack. One of the orderlies let go of me and rushed to him.
`Hey, Alex, enough... I said enough, go to your bunk,' shouted the orderly.
`Enough... enough... These fucking Muslim bites hissed the Cobra, kicking Rakhim in the stomach that he collapsed onto his bed.
Poor Rakhim continued to howl and cry. The second orderly, who still held me down, looked at me with suspicion and removed his hand from my neck. He got up from the bed and at charged at Rakhim.
`Don't howl, mother fucker,' yelled the orderly.
Rakhim began to bleat like a sheep. After consulting amongst themselves, the orderlies took him by the hands and dragged him into the corridor.
I was still lying on someone else's bed. Suddenly I felt a body stir under me. I jumped up from the bed and saw the frightened face of a patient. He looked at me with fear and frustration. All this time he did not move and made no sound. I sat on my own bed. The marks from the bite remained on my hand, two droplets of blood oozed down. I wiped the blood from my hand. Should I disinfect the wound? This Muslim might be contagious - like the Komodo dragon. Well, pour Rakhim. I'm sorry. It was self-defence.
Patients began to sit down at the dinner table. The door from the adjacent compartment opened with a crash. Two young fellows in pyjamas placed buckets of food on the table. I'm so hungry. I sat on the bench near Andrew and company.
`So, how do you like our madhouse?' asked Andrew.
`Shit happens.'
`You'll be punished for that fight,' said Andrew.
`For what?' I asked in bewilderment.
`For fighting. They will give you an injection, sulphazin.'
`But, he started it.'
`First, second: no matter, you'll get the punishment for causing havoc anyway,' said the Iconman.
Breakfast was served. One of the orderlies counted the patients, sitting at the table, and he handed out spoons. All dishes and spoons were made from aluminium, soft and flexible. Andrew and the Iconman pushed aside their basins without any attempt to try the contents. The contents were a suspiciously disgusting colour. A porridge. I tasted one spoon of it and immediately spat it back in the basin.
`Did you like it?' asked Andrew and smiled.
`Disgusting shit.'
`Give it to the psychos, but keep the spoon,' said Andrew and motioned with his eyes at the opposite bench. I took out the spoon and moved the basin aside. In an instant the porridge was seized by a patient opposite, who looked like a lizard with bubble eyes.
`Fucking scavengers,' muttered Andrew with spite.
I took an aluminium mug with tea, bread and a portion of butter. The butter was strange, white and barely solid.
`What is it, butter or what?' I asked Andrew.
`Oh, yes - something, it's margarine. The kitchen lackeys give us this shit instead of butter, fucking queers. Look at them, pigs,' whispered Andrew and glanced at the fellows who had brought our breakfast.
`What is wrong with the tea? Why it's so disgusting and milky?' I asked Andrew.
`Tea? They pour bromide in there, afraid that we're going to fall in love and screw each other in the ass,' said Andrew, and smiled.
The orderly disentangled from the bed a young fellow of Asian origin and gave him his porridge. I ate the bread with margarine, gulped down with red water and bromide, and decided to get up from the table.
`Sit!' shouted the orderly above my ear. `No one gets up, until I say so.'
`Okay, okay, I'm not deaf. Why are you shouting?'
`Don't talk so much, boy,' growled the orderly in my ear.
`Okay. I'm new here. I didn't know the rules,' I said quietly.
The orderlies stood behind us and watched how we consumed these lots of shit. After breakfast, our masters collected spoons and counted them twice.
`Why are they counting spoons?' I asked Andrew.
`Afraid that we'll cut them for the pigs they are.'
Around the diner table sat twelve patients. The opposite bench was occupied by six maniacs from the corridor. Others patients eat in the wards or on the beds. The Cobra man sat on his bed and drank just his tea. At last the orderlies allowed us to get up from the table.
`Let's go to the bog,' said Andrew.
Near the toilet stood a long queue. Andrew began to hassle patients and push them inside.
`Hurry up, psychos!' hissed Andrew.
Patients like mice, rapidly slipped into the toilet. Some of them mumbled something to themselves and spitefully looked at Andrew. I noticed one freak in the queue. He has a hole in the head. The hole looks like the crater of volcano. The eyes are reckless, searching for something on the floor. The stomach is huge as a five months pregnant woman. In one moment his eyes fixed and he tumbled to the floor like a frog. He caught some kind of insect and greedily pushed it into his mouth.
`What the fuck is this?' I asked Andrew.
`Well. This is the Terminator. He was specially raised for our barrack - the insect killer. You'll see here a lot of strange things. Have you seen the toad today?'
`Yes.'
`The toad lives in the crack in the corner. Surely she must be as mad as the rest of us in this neon kingdom.'
`This neon light is killing me, Andrew.'
`Yeah, everyone is irritated by this fucking light - it's always on. Only the nutters get used to it; they don't care. They only care about food and naps.'
As the queue slowly ebbed away, we entered the toilet.
`Where can I wash myself?' I asked Andrew.
`Ask the orderly, he'll turn on the tap.'
I turned to the medical orderly and asked him to turn on the tap for me. He reached for a bunch of keys in his pocket. I washed my face and rinsed my mouth.
`Listen, Andrew, have you got any toothpaste?'
`No, brother, there is nothing in here, neither brush nor paste. Do you know how animals clean themselves?'
`Well, sure I know.'
`Then do it, brother.'
The Iconman, the Vampire and the Cobra man came into the toilet.
`Are you all right, pal?' the Cobra man asked me.
`Yes.'
`By the way, what's your name?'
`Boris.'
`My name's Alex. This fucking Muslim ambushed you from behind, I haven't seen him at first, but then I saw him crawling behind your back, fucking snake!'
Alex the Cobra was about forty years old, very thin and bony, he's definitely the shrivelled cobra, its poison drained and spent. On his shoulder, a small tattoo - a snake winding through a human skull. His eyes are bottomless and turbid, pupils small as needles. He was one who wore pyjama trousers, denoting privilege.
Two men with tattoos entered the toilet - convicts, obviously. They lit their cigarettes and squatted under the wall. Their burning eyes and behaviour reminded me of spotted hyenas. They did not speak much, just short phrases and lightning glances around. In the toilet - a good atmosphere, with not a moron insight. Everyone spoke quietly. Water dribbled from the tap. Suddenly I heard a strange echo, a mighty footfall emanating from the corridor. Looks as if an elephant is coming to piss, I thought to myself. Everyone in the toilet smiled.
`The Tsar is coming,' said the Iconman.
The orderly opened the door and pushed inside a huge fat man in a long dirty shirt without shorts.
`Well, lads, I'll close the toilet when Tsar has finished with his needs,' said the orderly.
`I've just arrived, pal,' said Alex the Cobra maliciously.
`You smoke too much, Alex. Are you stoned?' asked the orderly.
`Stoned? How? Bring me some hashish or grass and I might get the chance,' said Alex the Cobra.
`We don't have drugs down in our village.'
`What do you have then?'
`Flowers,' replied the orderly.
`Then bring me poppies. I love poppies for breakfast,' giggled Alex the Cobra.
The Tsar perched on the pedestal above the hole and witlessly looked around. It was obvious that the orderly did not want to continue this conversation with Alex the Cobra.
`Listen, orderly, our Tsar is also a human. Let him smoke,' appealed Alex the Cobra.
`He's no cigarettes,' said the orderly.
`I'll give him a cigarette,' said the Iconman.
`All right, all right, just don't smoke too long. I have my duty to perform,' said the orderly and left the toilet.
`What kind of duty he's talking about?' asked Alex the Cobra.
`Hey, Tsar, do you want to smoke?' asked the Iconman.
Tsar nodded and smiled in response.
`Well then! Let a sing-song begin!' announced the Iconman.
Tsar straightened himself above the hole and howled: "From Moscow to Kaluga everyone's dancing the boogie-woogie."
The entire toilet broke into laughter.
The Tsar reminded me some fat reckless Caesar, his long dirty shirt a toga like a Roman tunic. He was definitely not from the working class, his fingers were long, the skin on his hands sleek. His head is bald on top, but along the sides dangle scraps of hair.
`No, Tsar, not good enough,' said the Iconman. `How about a dance? Dance the twist Tsar, everybody dance.'
The Tsar pranced like an opera singer, and began to sing the same song. And suddenly he started to dance the twist above the hole, shuffling his feet on the pedestal and vibrating his flabby body. Caterpillar. The spectators rose to the occasion with a stormy ovation. The orderly glanced into the toilet and returned to his duties. The Iconman gave to Tsar an almost finished cigarette butt and walked out with the Vampire. The Tsar perched on the broken toilet seat like a throne, and began to smoke with relish, letting out the smoke with a whistle.
`Well, let's go to the hall,' said Andrew.
We left the toilet and sat on the bed. On the nearest bed sat the Iconman and the Vampire. The Iconman whispered something to the Vampire. They sidled up to us. The Vampire looked at me vacantly and asked: `What did you do before the army?'
`I studied.'
`Where did you study?'
`In College.'
`Well, what did you do in your free time?'
`Sport.'
`What kind of sport?" continued the Vampire.
`Listen, why do you ask so many questions? What are you? A spy or something?'
`Hey, mate! Don't make so much noise,' said the Iconman. `We're the "family"; we ought to know a little about you. What are you? Who are you?'
`Well, you could ask me first. I was a yachtsman for a while and then I did Judo.'
`Have you won anything in sport?' asked the Iconman.
`I did sport for myself, not for medals.'
`Fair enough,' said the Iconman with understanding.
`Have you got a nickname?' the Vampire asked me.
`Well, yes.'
`What is it?'
`Wolverine.'
`What's that?' asked the Vampire.
`It's a kind of animal that lives in the forest,' I said, with irritation.
`I know this animal,' said the Iconman.
Sure you know, you are a bear yourself - I thought to myself.
`Who gave you this nickname?' asked Andrew.
`My neighbour.'
`Why?'
`He called me that, because he could never catch me. He was a poacher and at the time I was snatching fish from his secret holes. I love fresh fish for dinner.'
`Where do you come from, mate?' asked the Iconman.
`From Rostov.'
`A very well known town in the criminal world, Alex is from there, your pal,' said the Iconman, and turned away. The interrogation had finished. The Vampire asked the Iconman something about prison and the Iconman began to tell him fairy tales, about the camp romanticism, escapes and the law of honourable thieves. The Vampire listened to him with admiration and devotion in his eyes. Very well, they'd found each other. Kindred spirits, the first one through his tongue, the second with his gullible ear. And thus, I was enrolled to the "family-pack".
`Why are they closing the loo?' I asked Andrew.
`They want to see us in the hall. The bog is open three times a day after meals. If you're so desperate to piss, ask the orderly. He'd open it but he wouldn't allow you to smoke or stay there too long.'
`I see. Who is this fellow stretched on the bed?'
`Another Muslim soldier. They gave him three mils of sulphazin. He brayed and moaned like a donkey, and then bit the orderly's finger. Listen, why do the Muslims bite? Rakhim bit you too.'
`I don't know. It might be animal instinct.'
`Yeah, and now he is staring in one point on the ceiling, praying without stopping, pissing and shitting under himself. He's blown his top.'
`Listen, Andrew, what is it, sulphazin?'
`Well, it's difficult to tell. Basically it is an injection, sulphazin. You'll get it after supper. Doctors say that the sulphazin will purge our body from neurotic infection. In fact, this is the punishment for disorderly conduct.'
`It's bollocks. What kind of infection, are they talking about?'
`Nervous infection, madness. The logic is: you're fighting and disrupting the status quo, so it means that you've too much neurotic infection in your body. So, they will try to get rid of it with sulphazin. Understand?'
`No, I don't understand. This is rubbish.'
`We're guinea pigs for them. They can inject us with anything they want. Prepare yourself - the shot will be painful. You won't feel the pain tonight, but tomorrow, it will be hell. When you will wake up, don't jump down from the bunk. I'll help you to get up.'
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