Struggle: The Path to Power - Владимир Андерсон

that everything will work out, that they will be able to withstand, and if not, then thank God — they are exhausted and it is time to rest in paradise, having left this hell.

It's the spirit that works. It's a strong, free, miner's spirit. It moves both hands and feet, and it doesn't let your eyes blink from the dust. It sticks in your head and says one all-moving word: "Forward!".

Gora squeezed between all of them and pressed into the very center of the beam. He had to move it forward almost half a meter to get it upright and into place.

For a moment it seemed that everything was falling apart, that it was time for this land to take away half a thousand of its sons. But no — all as one, as a single gust of wind, tearing down everything in its path, as a mighty sea that wanted to take an island far away from the big land, as a long-dormant volcano spewing lava, as an 8848-meter mountain standing on both legs. This is power, and nature herself is happy to see her children inspired by it.

All moved forward, and the beam moved, and Nature smiled, proud of those who do not fail her and endure her trials.

Kostya stood next to Gora, out of breath. His face was badly twisted from exertion, but happiness peeked out through the rest. His voice was quiet, but confident and satisfied: "Now they won't fight, my friend. Now they know what friendship means."

And then he remembered that Hora had gone out of the block that night, and before that he had ordered a change of posts in the mining sector. He'd been gone for hours, and he'd come back out of breath. And now his eyes looked special, as if no one could know what he now knew.

You couldn't mistake that look for anything else… Calculating, purposeful, intelligent….

Gora smiled slightly with the tips of his lips and, with a nod to Kostya, headed for the

exit of the sector.

Masha

It's been another half a month.

Today Masha got up earlier than her grandparents and sat down on the bench by the porch.

Everything was green in the neighborhood, and the sun was about to come out. There was a slight breeze, and for a moment it seemed that everything was fine and there was nothing to grieve about, but I didn't want to think so, because it wasn't.

She put her hand on her stomach, feeling what was left of her husband. She had thought many times about what to name the child, but they couldn't come to a single decision, she wanted him, Rafael, to like it.

"If it's a girl, it's Christina. — thought Masha. — He liked that name. But if it's a boy… He never told me what his favorite boys' names were. He never told me anything, not even his own. So what do I do with that?"

She closed her eyes and remembered how she'd met him, how she'd first seen his eyes, how she'd breathed in his scent. Her heart had beaten like never before, and the air had felt not just different, but like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

She remembered the first time she had said "goodbye" to him, smiled and went to her soma… It felt as if the Lord, the Virgin Mary and Jesus were all looking at her, at her reactions and feelings. And she didn't want to think about it, she just wanted to believe. Believe that this is love, the love that will be with her for the rest of her life.

And the first time they kissed. "It's good that he didn't see my face," Masha thought, because she felt herself blushing then, and so she pressed herself against him at once, close to him. And that warmth, which went round and round, rattled like a native. Then she realized that this was it, her happiness, it had come not just once, to stay for life.

Masha decided, so that forever, that she would never part with him, never, no matter what happened…

She was holding herself together as best she could right now. She gathered her strength and inhaled, then exhaled. All the heavy stuff came out, and only a small tear rolled down her cheek. Just one.

"Daughter, no matter how I look at you, you have the same expression," Maria Sergeevna quietly closed the front door and looked at the girl again.

— I miss you.

— Me, too. For my folks.

— Did you lose them? Yes?

— No, Mashenka, of course we haven't lost them. They're always with us… My husband and I are going to see them now. Will you come with us?

"I'll go," Masha answered somewhat timidly, not understanding what was meant now; "not lost," "to go to them now." It seemed as if they were going to some unknown place where their relatives lived in special conditions.

A couple of minutes later, Vladimir Ivanovich came out of the house with a huge green backpack that weighed as much as he did. In spite of this he was not heavy at all, and he held himself as if it had been decreed from on high that at a certain age he was destined to carry this thing.

They walked quickly, not looking around. After forty minutes, the house with the barn and the well disappeared from sight, and the green meadows were gone. Almost immediately the thought arose to ask how long it would be. But no matter how one looked at the question, it seemed indecent.

The river where Masha had cried, and where Maria Sergeevna had found her a month and a half ago, appeared at the edge of the river. The water was as clear and smooth as it had been that time, and, though there was no moon, it reflected a grayish gloomy light.