World Of Karik: A Game Of Villains 53 The Old Man

"Yes," I nodded, still unable to believe my eyes. "Nice to meet you, Dmitry Valerianovich."

"Why are you looking at me like you saw Hitler, son?"
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I couldn't tell him that I could see how long he had been here. So…

"It's not because of you," I said, relaxing deliberately. "I got scared. I thought I was going to fall down."

"Where's your tombstone?" Dmitry Valerianovich asked. "Somewhere upstairs?"

"Yeah," I nodded. A dangerous question, and an unpleasant one. I decided to pretend that the adrenaline rush had made me oblivious.

"Mine is here," the old man said bitterly. "There's no way out. I looked."

I wanted to believe him as his voice was sincere and heartfelt, but I found it hard to believe that an immortal person spent decades unable to get to the surface. Push comes to shove, he had enough time to dig out a tunnel with a spoon. Like the count of Monte-Cristo.

"How long have you been here?" I asked cautiously.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Oh, I don't know."

Suddenly, his face twisted into a grimace and he started to cry.

"I can't even kill myself," he said through tears. "And I can't break my d.a.m.ned tombstone."

"Why?" I asked sincerely, admiring the play unfolding in front of me. Oh how diverse were the talents that managed to get into this world!

The old man chuckled, "I can't lift my arm. Old age, you know... It prevents you from doing such things. I had hope, though. Seems it wasn't for naught… You came."

"No one else ever came here?" I was amazed.

Well, old man, you expect me to believe you. Two can play this game.

"There was one," Syomin waved his hand. "He tried to kill me, though. For experience, apparently. I killed him myself."

Sixty, I thought at that moment. This old man has been in this world for sixty years. Has he been here this entire time? Probably not. Anyone would go crazy in his place.

"Have you been here for a long time?" the old man asked.

"In this dungeon?" I inquired. "I got here just today..."

"No," Syomin grimaced. "In this cursed world."

"A month, perhaps," I said with slight hesitation in my voice. How long have I been here, really?

"Oh!" the old man exclaimed. "You're quite young. Listen," he said, "who is governing there in Moscow?"

He probably meant the president. I humored him and gave him the name.

"I see," Syomin nodded, biting his lips. "And what about the Moon?"

Maybe he really was crazy. Maybe he really was a psycho who had been here for years. He probably asked everyone about these things. Judging by his reaction, he got different answers each time.

"Americans were there, we weren't," I said.

"Nothing has changed," Syomin nodded gravely. "I get it."

"Let's get out of here," I suggested. "I think that we can do it together."

The old man whispered something inaudible and waved his hand.

"We'll try," he said without any enthusiasm.

"Where's your tombstone?" I asked, pretending not to notice his skepticism.

"Brachioson."

"What?" I asked.

"Follow me, quickly!" Syomin answered and started moving.

Looking behind at where the old man was looking, I saw a pair of unblinking, glowing eyes.

"Don't look at it," said my guide in a loud whisper. "Just don't look at it."

My legs became heavy, so it became much more difficult to move. d.a.m.n it, I really wanted to turn around and look into those unblinking eyes. I felt like I was walking through thick water. Can water even be thick? I thought. Why not, if you add a thickening agent into it…

What did the old man say? There's no water? He's delusional. It's right there! My feet are wet. How would that be possible if the water was thick? I apparently trampled it, and it burst, spilling droplets as if through a sieve. And rats. Little grey rats dug holes through the water. As if it that would save them from the insidious, brown algae. Algae is insidious, right, Dmitry Valerianovich? What do you mean? What the h.e.l.l…? What Brachioson? What are you talking about? The water here is as thick as jelly, and you are bothering me with your conjectures. I can't go any faster, you old donkey!

The fog lifted and movement became much easier. Oh, my G.o.d, what had I been thinking about? What was that nonsense in my head?! Thick water, nonsense!

"Come on, Vasily, come on!" the old man urged. "It won't leave us alone if it sees us."

"Does it use hypnosis?" I asked, trying to keep up with Syomin, who was quickly walking in front of me.

"Something like that," he answered. "It's some sort of mind manipulation. I'm used to it, so it doesn't work on me... Well, almost. I learned to fight it. But you could be easily captured."

"One can't get used to that," I muttered.

The old man dived to the side, peeked out for a second, and dragged me behind him. He was very strong, despite his small stature and venerable age. His fingers were as strong as wire knots.

"It has killed me many times, Vasily," he said, walking. "I can't count how many times. You get used to it even if you don't want to. You shouldn't face it, you shouldn't…"

Syomin's voice was a barely audible whisper. He then suddenly growled and sobbed. Stopping abruptly, he turned around and looked me straight in the eyes. Something was being reflected in them, but I couldn't make out what. Where is the light coming from anyway? We've been walking in the dark so far. Where is this strange glow coming from?

"The walls," the old man said as if he had read my mind. "And the ceiling. It's high, you can't see it, but it's glowing. Run," he suddenly added. "Run. Apparently, it's not my destiny to get out of here."

I might have been ashamed of running away in my past life, but this world had changed me. Oddly enough, when you keep dying and resurrecting, you start to appreciate life more. My tombstone was above ground and in a relatively safe camp so I wasn't risking anything. This obscure Brachioson that was following us could kill me and I would get revived a moment later. I just really didn't want to experience that unpleasant feeling again. I still had to figure out what this place was. I didn't know would I be able to find my back if I leave.

A sudden, eerie, deafening scream came from behind me, turning my entire being inside out.

"Nooo!" the old man screamed hysterically. "Nooo, don't do that, nooo!"

Something flared up. My heart was throbbing with fright, and my temples felt like they were about to burst. I turned around and froze in horror. A transparent shadow was moving toward me, drilling into me with its unblinking eyes. And under them, under those terrible cataracts, trapped in an airbag, floated the smoking remains of the old man.

Suddenly, its eyes dimmed and dissolved into the air along with the contents of its invisible stomach. The fear was gone.