The incident that happened to me last fall does not fit in my head, I dream, and I wake up in a cold sweat. Here, I want to share with you — maybe it will make me feel better.
I stayed late at work that day. Friday, my friends are all at the cottage. I took the train to my station in the suburbs, and then I had to take the bus. I'm standing at the bus stop, it's cold and windy. Unpleasant weather. I looked at the bus schedule and had to wait another forty minutes. Let me, I think maybe I can hitch a ride for a small fee. He stepped to the side of the road and held out his hand. I had to stand for a long time. There weren't many cars, and no one was in a hurry to stop. One arrives, I told him where, he charged such a sum.. Refused, in general.
I'm standing further away, maybe I'll get lucky, a fellow traveler will appear. An old "seven" of dirty crimson color drives up. I open the door and look inside the car. It looks like he's stuck his head in the freezer. Well, I think the guy has an air conditioner in his car, but why turn it on? It's already cold outside, it would be better to turn on the stove...
He pats me on the front seat, smiles and doesn't say anything. I told him to take me to Novodmitrievskaya. He answers:
— I won't get to it for about a kilometer, and then you'll get there yourself, if you can.
And he's smiling broadly again, as if he's been waiting to meet me all his life. And the guy himself immediately seemed strange to me. Her lips spread out in a smile, as if they were being stretched apart by strings, and her face was like wax— not a muscle moved, and her eyes were bulging like a dead fish's, with a whitish haze.
"Drunk or stoned," I decided, and began to retreat, backing up to slam the car door. Then he leans in my direction and doesn't let me close the door completely.:
— Sit down, I won't take the money, I'm afraid of something...
I look at his hand, but the fingers on it don't move. You might as well stick a mannequin's hand in the door. His fingers were like stone, frozen in one position. Then the light of the lantern illuminated his face brighter than the light bulb in the car interior. The combination of his gaze, complexion, and matted hair on his head caused me to have an uncontrollable fit of fear. I turned around and rushed to the bus stop, where several people were already waiting for the bus. Once in the middle, I took a deep breath and looked around. There was no car.
"He's gone, thank God," I decided. Then I felt a little embarrassed for myself, and I began to wonder what had scared me so stupid. Well, the guy got drunk and went for a ride, it got hot from hot drinks — he turned on the air conditioner at full power, saw the voter, stopped, and just wanted to chat on the way... And I, like a deer, galloped away from him. I must have amused him from the bottom of my heart.
Anyway, I didn't vote anymore. I waited with everyone for the bus, which was another half hour late from the schedule.
As I approached my destination, the village of Zhdanovka, I saw a car accident. My heart ached uncomfortably. And yet, despite being tired and cold, I got off the bus one stop earlier and headed to the accident site. Traffic police and ambulances were already parked there. As I got closer, I realized that I was not mistaken — it was the same car. Or rather, a pile of torn iron wrapped around a concrete pillar. I asked the doctor about the driver's well-being, to which he gave up. However, later he asked if I knew the deceased. I replied that I didn't know, and stomped off in the direction of my village.
Everything that had happened flashed through my mind. Remembering the cold in the cabin, I shivered. The thought flashed through my mind: "The old seven — where does the air conditioner come from?". Then a sign caught my eye.: "UNTIL THE END. Novodmitrievskaya — 1 KM". For some reason, I immediately remembered the words of that guy: "I won't get to her for about a kilometer, and then you'll get there yourself, if you can...".
"Yes," I thought, "I could hardly have made it if I had gone with him anyway."
Maybe some kind of sixth sense, trying to save me from death, painted in my brain whitish eyes, unnatural facial features and the wild cold in the cabin, scaring me to horror. I don't know. I still dream about that car and that guy. It's like we're driving with him, laughing, and then it takes our breath away, and we fall into the abyss. And again I wake up in a cold sweat...
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