Free The Blizzard by Vladimir Sorokin­ Page B

straight in the eye.
    “A strong woman…,” he thought, and remembering her little husband, he cast his eyes about the room.
    The miller was nowhere to be seen.
    “He’s still sleeping,” she said, as though she’d read the doctor’s mind. “Got a hangover. Eat up.”
    She set a plate of blini in front of him and slid the honeypot over. The doctor began eating the delicious, warm blini. Crouper entered the room and stopped at the door. He was dressed for the road and held his hat in hand.
    “There’s our hero…,” the doctor grumbled. He swallowed a piece of pancake and almost shouted:
    “Why didn’t you wake me?”
    Crouper smiled his birdlike smile:
    “How’s that I didn’t wake ye? Went right upstairs come first light.”
    “And…?”
    “I says: Doctor, time to go. And you says: Let me sleep.”
    The miller’s wife laughed and poured tea into her saucer.
    “That’s impossible!” The doctor banged his fist on the table.
    “As the Lord’s my witness,” Crouper said, waving his hat toward the icon.
    “Well then, that means you were having a good sleep.” The miller’s wife blew on the tea in the saucer.
    The doctor met her pleasant eyes and glanced at the other people in the room, as though seeking their support. Avdotia was busy at the oven, looking for all the world like she knew everything that had happened the night before, and her husband was sitting in the corner with a sort of ambiguous smile on his face, it seemed to the doctor.
    “How could they possibly know?” he thought. “Ah, to hell with them…”
    “You could have given me a shake,” the doctor said a bit more softly, realizing that he was going to be driving all the way to Dolgoye with this fellow.
    “Cain’t worry someone who’s sleeping. It’s a pity.” Crouper stood, holding his hat in two hands over his stomach.
    “Of course it’s a pity,” said the miller’s wife with smiling eyes, as she sipped tea from her saucer.
    “What about the sled?” the doctor said, to change the subject.
    “Fixed it. We’ll get there.”
    “You wouldn’t have a phone, would you?” the doctor asked the miller’s wife.
    “We do, but it doesn’t work in winter.” She dunked a sugar cube into the saucer and put it in her mouth.
    “Very well, I’ll finish my tea and come out,” the doctor said to Crouper, as though dismissing him. Crouper left silently.
    The doctor ate his blini, washing them down with tea.
    “Tell me, this blackness, where’d it come from?” asked the miller’s wife as she rolled the piece of sugar around in her mouth and slurped her tea.
    “From Bolivia,” said the doctor with distaste.
    “From so far? How’d that happen? Someone brought it?”
    “Someone brought it.”
    She shook her head:
    “My, my. But how do they rise from the grave in winter? I mean, the ground is frozen through and through.”
    “The virus transforms the human body, making the muscles considerably stronger,” the doctor muttered, glancing aside.
    “Markovna, them’s got claws like a bear’s!” the worker suddenly said in a loud voice. “I seen it on the radio: they can crawl through earth, through the floor if’n they wants, like moles. They get through and rip people to shreds!”
    Avdotia crossed herself.
    The miller’s wife set the saucer on the table, sighed, and also crossed herself. Her face grew serious and immediately seemed heavier and less attractive.
    “Doctor, now you make sure to be careful out there,” she said.
    Platon Ilich nodded. His nose was red from drinking tea. He retrieved his handkerchief and wiped his lips.
    “They’s mighty vicious.” The worker shook his head.
    “The Lord is merciful,” said the miller’s wife, her chest heaving.
    “Time for me to go,” said the doctor, squeezing his fists and rising from the table. “I thank you for your hospitality.”
    He bowed his head slightly.
    “Always welcome.” The miller’s wife rose and bowed to him.
    The doctor went over to the