For some reason Mel got even more angry because of those screams, and started hitting them with inexplicable violence. Finally he climbed on the scooter and cruelly jumped up and down on it (and on them). Those poor devils screamed desperately and begged him to stop.
âHey, arseholes! Weâre from Low River! You beat up our brother, and you havenât finished paying for it yet!â Gagarin communicated his solemn message to all those who were lying on the ground. âWeâve just taken personal satisfaction, by beating you up and cutting you. But you still have to satisfy the criminal law, which youâve shamefully violated! By next week five of you pansy bastards will report to our district with five thousand dollars, to be paid to our community for the trouble youâve caused. If you donât do it, weâll repeat this massacre every week, until weâve killed all of you, one by one, like mangy dogs! Goodbye and good night!â
We felt like unbeatable champions; we were so pleased with how things had gone that we set off for home singing our Siberian songs at the tops of our voices.
We crossed the park, breathing in the night air, and it seemed to us as if there would never be a happier moment than this in our whole lives.
When we came out of the park we found a dozen police cars in front of us: the cops were lined up behind the cars, with their guns trained on us. A searchlight flicked on, blinding us all, and a voice shouted:
âWeapons out of your pockets! If anyone tries anything stupid weâll fill him full of holes! Donât be fools, youâre not at home now!â
We obeyed and all threw our weapons on the ground. In a few seconds a heap of knives, knuckledusters and pistols had formed.
They put us into the cars, hitting us with the butts of their rifles, and drove us all to the police station. I thought of my pike, that beloved knife that was so important to me, and which I would certainly never see again. That was the only thing I could think about. The idea that I might go to prison, because of my situation, didnât even cross my mind.
They kept us in the police station for two days. They beat us up and kept us in a cramped room without food or water. Now and then someone would be taken out of the room and brought back bruised and battered.
None of us gave our real names; the home addresses were false too. The only thing we didnât lie about was the fact that we belonged to the Siberian community. Under our law juveniles can communicate with the police â we exploited this possibility to trick them, and make their job more difficult.
Mel wouldnât calm down and tried to attack the police, who hit him very hard, striking him on the head with their pistol butts, giving him a nasty wound.
Finally they set us all free, saying that next time they would kill us. Hungry, exhausted and battered we set off for home.
Only then, as I dragged myself like a dying man through the streets of my district, did I suddenly realize that Iâd been very lucky. If the police had identified me I would have had to spend at least five years on the wooden bunks of some juvenile prison.
It was a miracle, I said to myself, a real miracle, to be free after an experience like that. And yet I kept thinking about my pike: as if a black hole had formed inside me, like a member of my family had died.
I approached home staring at the tips of my shoes, eyes on the ground â under the ground if it had been possible, because I was ashamed; I felt as if the whole world was judging me because I hadnât been able to keep my pike.
When I arrived, I was like a ghost, transparent and lifeless. My Uncle Vitaly came out onto the veranda and said, smiling:
âHey! Have they reopened Auschwitz? How come nobody told me about it?â
âLeave me alone, Uncle, Iâm aching all over . . . I just want to sleep . . .â
âWell, young man, unfortunately itâs
âHey, arseholes! Weâre from Low River! You beat up our brother, and you havenât finished paying for it yet!â Gagarin communicated his solemn message to all those who were lying on the ground. âWeâve just taken personal satisfaction, by beating you up and cutting you. But you still have to satisfy the criminal law, which youâve shamefully violated! By next week five of you pansy bastards will report to our district with five thousand dollars, to be paid to our community for the trouble youâve caused. If you donât do it, weâll repeat this massacre every week, until weâve killed all of you, one by one, like mangy dogs! Goodbye and good night!â
We felt like unbeatable champions; we were so pleased with how things had gone that we set off for home singing our Siberian songs at the tops of our voices.
We crossed the park, breathing in the night air, and it seemed to us as if there would never be a happier moment than this in our whole lives.
When we came out of the park we found a dozen police cars in front of us: the cops were lined up behind the cars, with their guns trained on us. A searchlight flicked on, blinding us all, and a voice shouted:
âWeapons out of your pockets! If anyone tries anything stupid weâll fill him full of holes! Donât be fools, youâre not at home now!â
We obeyed and all threw our weapons on the ground. In a few seconds a heap of knives, knuckledusters and pistols had formed.
They put us into the cars, hitting us with the butts of their rifles, and drove us all to the police station. I thought of my pike, that beloved knife that was so important to me, and which I would certainly never see again. That was the only thing I could think about. The idea that I might go to prison, because of my situation, didnât even cross my mind.
They kept us in the police station for two days. They beat us up and kept us in a cramped room without food or water. Now and then someone would be taken out of the room and brought back bruised and battered.
None of us gave our real names; the home addresses were false too. The only thing we didnât lie about was the fact that we belonged to the Siberian community. Under our law juveniles can communicate with the police â we exploited this possibility to trick them, and make their job more difficult.
Mel wouldnât calm down and tried to attack the police, who hit him very hard, striking him on the head with their pistol butts, giving him a nasty wound.
Finally they set us all free, saying that next time they would kill us. Hungry, exhausted and battered we set off for home.
Only then, as I dragged myself like a dying man through the streets of my district, did I suddenly realize that Iâd been very lucky. If the police had identified me I would have had to spend at least five years on the wooden bunks of some juvenile prison.
It was a miracle, I said to myself, a real miracle, to be free after an experience like that. And yet I kept thinking about my pike: as if a black hole had formed inside me, like a member of my family had died.
I approached home staring at the tips of my shoes, eyes on the ground â under the ground if it had been possible, because I was ashamed; I felt as if the whole world was judging me because I hadnât been able to keep my pike.
When I arrived, I was like a ghost, transparent and lifeless. My Uncle Vitaly came out onto the veranda and said, smiling:
âHey! Have they reopened Auschwitz? How come nobody told me about it?â
âLeave me alone, Uncle, Iâm aching all over . . . I just want to sleep . . .â
âWell, young man, unfortunately itâs
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