part 21
They were waddling through the darkness, and then suddenly something changed in the air, there was a feeling of more space opening to the left. Ignoring what was supposed to be a side corridor leading God knows where Brill kept going. As they waddled through the crossroads, Brill felt a little insecure as the man turned his head to look at the other corridor. Surprised by his sudden interest in the direction, Brill stopped slowly - her mind had come up with a new idea.
- Do you know how to get out of here, monsieur? - She asked slowly, pierced by a terrible suspicion.
- Of course," he squeaked arrogantly.
This short line made Brill's teeth clench annoyingly.
- Why didn't you say anything? We're almost suffocating, and you're making jokes like that?
The man only shrugged his shoulders slightly and answered:
- You didn't ask, madam.
Brill drowned in a sudden wave of anger, but the witty answer almost snapped off her lips, interrupted a small amount of particularly thick smoke, causing a crushing cough. Brill has shaken slightly and bent in half. The man's hand instinctively clenched her shoulders, supporting her despite his own weakened condition.
When Brill woke up again, she threw a fierce look at the man:
- Do me a favor, monsieur, and show me the way.
He nodded tiredly, and their verbal altercation exhausted him. The man pointed to the corridor she was about to cross. Following his instructions, the couple continued to shave in the dark. The smoke thickened beyond reasonable limits.
The man leaned on Brill's shoulders more and more every minute. His head was sinking lower and lower, and his legs were dragging. Brill's thin peace mask cracked when she looked at him. She could feel the shiny drops of sweat dripping down the man's skin in the places where their bodies pressed against each other. "He's very sick," thought Brill, with growing concern. And she knew she couldn't carry him if he passed out. Resisting the instinct of self-preservation, which convinced her to accelerate her step, to escape, Brill, focused on keeping her balance. She knew that if she went faster, the man wouldn't be able to keep up with the pace. She could have saved herself but knew that then she would have to leave him. It was an unacceptable way out.
- A little faster, monsieur. Please keep up the good work," Brill encouraged me. The man nodded distractedly but did not react anymore.
Stretching to see something in front of him through the impenetrable shadows, Brill was caught off guard when they came across something like a wooden door. She didn't even notice how they had reached the end of the tunnel. Hugging the man by the waist, Brill moved forward, looked for the doorknob, and as soon as she found it, she pushed the old door. She was instantly hit in the face by the gust of a cold gust of wind. Brill laughed loudly at the relief and took a deep cleansing breath. Barely shifting their legs from fatigue, they walked slowly through the door.
Quickly freezing from the light of the nearest street lamp, Brill stayed in the doorway, blinded for a moment by the shimmering whiteness of the street. At one point, as she wandered for hours in the basement of the Opera House, it snowed. The world outside was now covered with an even layer of white groats, giving everything a clean, fresh glow. Brill shaved forward, telling herself to leave the doorway, although her eyes had not yet fully adapted after dark. The aisle behind her spewed thick black smoke from which they had barely escaped, and he wrapped their clothes in the blink of an eye as they stepped on the snow.
As soon as they left the theater, the man was in half, like a rag doll. Brill could not hold his full weight, tripped with him when he fell, and his hand on her shoulders dragged her away. She stretched out her arms to prevent her from falling and fell into the snow that covered the cobblestone pavement. She knelt down and got out of the sluggish hand. Turned against the mysterious man, Brill quickly assessed his condition. Lying face up in the snow, he was trembling in the frosty air, but did not move to change his pose or sit down. With her eyebrows bent over and quickly cleared his face of snow, giving him more room to breathe. Blowing off a few randomly hanging strands from her face, Brill put her hand on the man's forehead. She was frightened by the burning heat of his skin: the fever had progressed at an astonishing rate.
She reached out and gently shook the man; her long hair fell on his cheeks.
- Monsieur, open your eyes. Do not fall asleep yet. Be patient a little bit longer. - He obeyed, opening his foggy blue eyes. Looking up, he stared indifferently at her face. - Stay awake, monsieur. I'll go and get help," Brill assured.
As she moved her weight to her heels, she began to rise, but the man met him: his hand slid uncertainly on the snow to grab her by the wrist. Clutching her fingers, he silently begged her not to leave him alone.
Brill met him with eyes and gently touched his cheek with a soft smile. In response to her touch, a man with a whistle drew in air.
- I promise I will be back soon. I give you my word. I don't want to leave you.
For a few minutes, the man looked at her in silent surprise. The snow fell in the night air above her head, giving her an ethereal look; moreover, it seems that the sincerity in her voice calmed him down more than the otherworldly look. The man's eyelids closed slowly, and he let Brill out his hand. She stood up quickly and, picking up her skirts, ran away on a snowy night, her voice rang in the cold air, calling for help.
When the crunch of snow under her feet subsided, the mysterious man was left alone in painful silence. He barely pulled a white mask out of the inner pocket of his torn shirt. Having gathered his last strength, the man put a mask to the right side of his face, hiding a defect that had previously been concealed by the darkness of the opera house and the snowy ground. Then the man sighed and fell into blessed oblivion.
to be continued...