- My God! - Alexey Petrovich has told with despair, having looked at the thermometer. - ninety! It has laid down on the heated
floor, has dragged Dauge on itself. Jurkovsky hasty battened down the hatch. It turned out nothing: both the aperture of the
hatch and a cover have got out of the initial shape. It has somehow fixed a heavy hot piece of the plastic reservation, has
looked out in shchel: - Now will get on the tank... It bypasses obstacles - gets over on top... We Will look.
It has departed from a crack, has sat down somewhere in the dark. Alexey Petrovich was silent, listening to rustles outside,
to wheezing of Dauge, feeling, as intolerable heat glozhet a back. They are doomed. "Boy" was lost, there is no meal,
oxygen, waters... Ioganych it is bad, very bad. What to make for it? Though something though useless if anything else does
not remain...
"Boy" has trembled, the red light which is making the way through cracks of the hatch, became brighter. The scratch, a
gnash was distributed - the red film crawled over the mutilated conveyor...
In half an hour the temperature has fallen to sixty degrees, and Alexey Petrovich, cautiously having pulled down with Dauge
a smooth cap, has poured in to it in a half-open mouth a drink of orange juice. Ioganych poperhnulsja, has opened the eyes
full of suffering. Bulls the helmet has stroked it on an unshaven cheek and a plot again.
- Where we? - In "Boy", Ioganych, the friend... You are wounded.
- Painfully as... Feet... What happens, why is dark? Why we do not move?.
- There was an explosion, Ioganych, - has answered Jurkovsky and has become silent: there were no forces to tell all up to
the end.
- Yes... Explosion... I Remember. Me has thrown on the earth and has burnt... Vladimir, you understand, what is it?. The
nuclear copper Underground has blown up... You Remember, we... Argued... About it... Has not carried... Just under us...
Dauge quickly, has falteringly begun to breathe. Alexey Petrovich has to the full turned the crane of giving of oxygen.