Life likes to surprise. Sometimes a light stripe comes – and you think: this is it, finally life will get better! Finally, everything will follow the path of calm and peaceful, full of happiness and pink ponies!

　　As if not so! It's all just a self-deception, no more. If you just relax, the fate will immediately turn back on you. And you will smell this unpleasant smell of feces, into which your supposedly carefree life turns.

　　This smell is what I see

or maybe not

in someone else's trunk, where I lie tied up. What or who in general was driven before me here?

　　But I am not so helpless! I always carry with me a knife-butterfly, I love to cut apples, and in general a useful thing in everyday life. My hands are tied behind my back, but I could turn away and the knife fell out of my pocket. Now it is necessary to catch it while I am thrown from side to side. It seems that my kidnappers drove off the paved road. This is not good for me.

　　Having hit my head, elbows, knees several times, I still managed to catch the knife and cut the rope. Having adopted a more comfortable position to less crippled, I started to wait. Alas, it is dark in the trunk, and at night it is a matter of time, so I have no idea, at least approximately in what direction they take me.

　　Something has rattled in my chest. No, I certainly do not learn from mistakes. I remember the first time I died... or don't remember? I tried to reproduce pictures of sleep that I often saw in my childhood. My death. To be more exact, my last death from my first life. Unfortunately, for almost thirty years on Earth I lost most of my memories. On the other hand, why do I need them here?

　　Well, here we are. I felt the car stop, heard footsteps and doorbells: it seems that there are three of them. Well, Vladimir, this is your way out. It is scary, of course, who will meet there, I crossed a lot of roads. The main thing is to be ahead of the curve.

　　Turn the keys in the trunk lock.

　　Bright light in the eyes from the lantern and a figure, or rather two.

　　I immediately throw a fire extinguisher into one of them, hear a sounding blow and a scream, hopefully, right in the nose. I jump out of the trunk and meet the second figure who was confused. My butterfly entered under his ribs. I dump the body, easily pull the first one behind his wrist and until he came to, turn my back to me and then wrap my forearm around his neck. The bloodied butterfly turns out to be at his throat.

　　And then I finally managed to look around.

　　Oh, shit!

　　Teenagers! One kid is lying on the ground, grabbing a twisted belly and moaning. I hardly inflicted a fatal wound on him, the length of the blade was too short and the blow came anywhere. A girl of fifteen years old looks at me with her mouth open, stands and does not make a sound with frozen terror on her face. The smartphone from her hands falls to the ground and she, screaming, runs from me.

　　I made a triangle capture of the hostage and knocked him out until better times. I rushed after the girl and quickly caught up with her, painfully broke her hand and, taking just in case, also by the hair, the wolf back to the car. A rusty six with dirty numbers. It made me laugh. What is this nonsense? Night, street, lantern. The pharmacy is missing. But it's not exactly a street, it's a dirt road, on the one hand a forest, on the other a field or a wasteland. It is dark there, you can't see anything.

　　I looked at the guys. It looks like years... and what the hell do you understand, modern youth, how old they are. Conditionally – from fifteen to twenty, quite decently dressed. They certainly do not come from poor families. To be honest, at that moment I was even confused who it was that came out on me; I do not remember having conflicts with children.

　　– You killed them! – yells at the girl I've been twisting.

　　– I did not kill anybody, you stupid little girl! – I shouted at her. – Who are you, why did you kidnap her?

　　The girl whines, mascara leaked. Damn her understand, whether her wrist was too twisted, or she was just nervous.

　　– It's a prank, man! – she whines.

　　– Prank? What? I'm gonna show you a prank like that now, you fool...

　　I've been seduced. I have already shown. For the rest of my life, I will be remembered.

　　Cotton, painfully familiar sound. Shit. It hurts.

　　Wild stinging pain in the chest. I put my eyes down and saw the blood stain that spread on my shirt.

　　How painful! I let go of the girl's wrist and slowly turned around. Another one, the same painted baby. In her shaky hands, obviously transformed into a weapon of war injuries, tears on her cheeks and terror in her eyes. I saw her face well, just in front of the lantern. She is beautiful, stupid.

　　It hurt. How painful.

　　I reached for the second girl in an attempt to take the gun and almost went deaf: she screamed like a cut and gave a dera in the dark of the night, throwing the gun on the ground.

　　I can't breathe, it looks like a lung is punctured. Ha! Well, I am lucky here, if I can say so in such a situation! I will definitely last another half hour. The main thing is to have time to meet with the doctors before all the blood runs out.

　　Trying to ignore the pain, I raised my gun.

　　The boy wounded in the stomach was no longer just moaning, but rather panicking:

　　– It hurt. I will die. Hospital, I have to go to hospital.

　　– Shut up! – I kicked a whiner a little bit and he whined from pain.

　　– Asshole! My father will kill you, you bastard! – the guy sneezed angrily in return.

　　The girl I was holding at the time of the shot was still standing next to me, not moving a step. She was shaking and repeating "oh my God," looking at the bloody guy with terror.

　　Yes, these are obviously not killers, but just drunken teenagers. What then is the course of action? Well, first of all, I can't leave these idiots. If I do this and that kid digs up – it will be harder to justify their actions in self-defense. But if I take them out ... hehe, it will be even possible to benefit from this situation.

　　I roughly grabbed the girl by the forearm and shaked.

　　– Look at me! – I barked and attracted her attention. – Hear, look at me! Calm down. Everything will be fine. Now you will help me and we will all go to the hospital, you understand?

　　She was nervous, but affirmatively, shaken her head looking at the gun in my hands.

　　– Where is the phone? Call an ambulance.

　　– Oh, mine is broken," she whines.

　　Oh, come on!

　　– Where's yours? – I kick slightly in the shoulder with a wounded knife.

　　– Do not touch me, asshole! You will answer for it. Do you understand? My dad... – I kicked him again, breaking off at half a word.

　　– It was my fault, you idiot. You give me the phone.

　　Hudo is poor, he took the smartphone out of his pocket and told the girl that she immediately grabbed the gadget.

　　– And how do you call an ambulance?

　　– Dial 112, – I tell her.

　　A few seconds of silence.

　　– The network and no, – she stretched out and cried.

　　I cursed the children, the cellular communication and my own unluckiness that evening. It seems that I will have to go myself, if not to the hospital, then at least to the place where there is a connection.

　　– Help me throw it in the trunk, – I'm poking a stunned guy.

　　– Is he dead?

　　– No, he is asleep, just asleep. He is alive, do not be afraid. We need to go to the hospital.

　　She nods at me and confidently takes the guy under my armpit, drags him to the trunk, where he puts him without my help. I slam the lid and address the wounded man:

　　– Where are the keys?