Work Text:
She pulled over to the side of the road, looking at him in despair.
"Do you know if that store on the corner of Universytetska Street is open? The pet store, people said online that they were selling off the remaining food. I have a cat, you know, and I have to buy some because tomorrow the store shuts down for good, and what am I going to feed him?"
The March was struggling to squeeze through the fabric of reality. Time was winning; Silver had to do something, but what exactly? How to stop it? The human factor made the task much more difficult. This is a job for Sapphire, not for him. But he had to do it, because where is Sapphire now?
"My cat is hungry at home. What if he dies there alone? What will I do?" the girl complained. Her clean white hands pressed against the dirty, tattered fabric of her coat. The March around her was frozen with a cold fog hanging in the frosty air. The branches of the trees were bent down, dripping with clear tears.
Silver sighed.
"Let's get out of the road. You might get hurt," he said and made a polite gesture to the roadside. The car whizzed past them without noticing, only slowing down a little as it plunged into the March cold.
"But I have to go down to Universytetska," she replied, looking back. "What if they start shooting again? I'd have to stay here for ages, and he's alone down there."
The idea that came to him was strange, but he had to try it.
"Don't worry about the cat. Your relatives came back and took him out of your flat. He survived the occupation, hid in the sofa, drank the water you put in the bathroom in case of water shortage. There is nothing to be afraid of. You can move on."
The girl stopped, looking at him in disbelief.
"What? They're gone? They're not shooting anymore? But I can hear the guns."
The March hit him in the face with the cold, the plastic stench of smoke and the distant sounds of gunfire. Silver shook his head.
"It was over a long time ago, believe me," he said softly. "You can go on in peace. Here is your suitcase."
He handed her a cheap-looking small red suitcase, its wheels scuffed, handle short. The girl hesitantly took it.
"But what will happen to me next? What’s there?" she asked.
Silver smiled. The March had shrunk into a ball, grey and cold, and it was getting smaller by the second.
"Something warm, I think. It's August, and the apples are ripening on the tree behind you."
"August," she repeated. "But it's the fifth of March today, isn’t it?"
"Not anymore," Silver said, and she smiled awkwardly, waved her hand and went on down the road. The wheels of her suitcase clattered on the patterned cobblestones.
He glanced back quickly, catching sight of a dark human-shaped stain that the cars were unconsciously avoiding, and immediately turned away. It worked here once, it will work again.
***
The car stopped at the very wall. The bonnet was up, and the man beside the car was pacing back and forth, looking around nervously and ducking.
Silver cautiously walked around it.
"Hide! Watch out!" the man shouted and grabbed Silver's elbow. He did not resist and hid behind the bumper.
"What happened?" he asked the man. The man just shook his head.
"You have no idea how difficult it is to deliver the supplies now, and I'm carrying medicine, do you understand? There's a man with severe heart failure. Haven't you heard? The volunteers made several requests, it's an old man from Mineralna Street." The man sighed and shivered. The cold wind pulled up his hood. Snowflakes melted on his worried face.
"I can fix the car if it's not serious," Silver replied.
"But I think they hit the engine," said the man. "You see, I was driving very fast, there’s no other way to do it here! But something hit me in the chest, it was probably the steering column. But now everything is fine, it’s just the car won't start. I can get through as long as there is no shelling." He sighed. “I need to deliver the medicine, or maybe evacuate the old man, you know, if he agrees. Old people are so stubborn. They are not afraid to die.”
Silver stood up and looked under the bonnet. The cold, snow-scented air blew into his face, and he carelessly waved it away.
"Let's see what I can do."
The engine was blackened with soot, but Silver took out a spanner and began to turn a nut. This would buy some time, and besides, the March loved chaos, and reducing entropy will weaken it.
"There's really no rush for you," he said. "Not only did I hear about the old man from Mineralna... who hasn't heard about him? I came to say that he was already evacuated. His house collapsed, but he stayed in the potato cellar and survived."
He turned the nut one last time and straightened up.
"I think now your car is okay,” he said. “Look, there's no point in going there. Go back, your medicine is needed where it's not now. See? Leaves on the trees above us. It's August, you're a little late with your help here."
The man froze, looking at the leaves above his head, not believing his own eyes.
“Indeed… but how could I not see it?”
“The March wouldn’t let you leave, and you allow it stay here and now. Time is insidious, it uses every clue to harm reality,” Silver replied calmly.
The man looked at him, silent. A cold wind tugged at his hood, ruffled his hair, and then retreated. The summer sun broke through the gray clouds and touched his cheek. Then he spoke.
“So, I was shot.”
“Yes,” Silver said.
“The March? Why is it? It’s just March, not ‘the’. Today is the fifth of March, as far as… Oh God. It’s not.” The man rubbed his face. “So… Should I go then? Where?”
Silver did not explain. He simply pointed to the car and said:
"You can go, yes. Anywhere. Anywhere you want most. Now you can allow it."
The man shook his head again, but obediently walked around the car and got behind the wheel. He turned the ignition key and the engine roared, lively as if new.
"Okay. I'll try to think of something," he said and smiled. "You know, it's such a relief. To know it's all over. Thank you."
"Actually, not at all,” Silver replied. “I wasn't worried about you so much as that reality couldn't handle this maddened March. But I'm glad I could be of help."
The snow on the roadside was melting, turning into steam that rose above the asphalt. A street cleaner went by, washing it off. The man waved his hand for a last time and drove away; Silver watched his car disappeared around the corner. On the roadside, where his car stood, a dark spot remained, barely visible against the wet background.
Silver sighed. There was one more task left, probably the most difficult.
***
They stood with their weapons at the ready, haughty and prepared for anything. Silver stepped towards them, and they laughed as they looked at each other.
"Look at him. He’s so bold," said the first one, jerking the machine gun in his direction. "What are you doing here? What's your name? Are you a negotiator? You forgot the white flag, you fool."
"It'd be still stupid," said the other, smiling through his black beard. "We'd just shoot you and be done with it."
“My name is Silver”, he answered solemnly. "And I'm not going to negotiate with you. I came to tell you that everything is over."
Behind him was a dilapidated wall painted in giraffe skin colours. Dark spots of brown, painted with even darker ones, were riddled with bullets and shrapnel. The wall was smoking.
"Silver! What kind of nickname is that?" asked the first. His frog-brown uniform was soaked with mud. "Is that your call sign?"
"What are you, some kind of faggot or something," said the second and stopped smiling. “It’s not over! We have to take this roadblock! It opens the way to their capital, well, yours, you bastard. Pray, these are your last moments."
The machine gun was aimed at his chest. Silver took a step forward.
"Listen, you. Look around you. It's not March, no. It's summer, it's hot, and no one has taken this roadblock."
"You're lying!" the first one shouted and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The other man looked at the gun in surprise and tried again. Still nothing.
"You don't believe me?" asked Silver, raising his voice. Suddenly, they both backed away, looking at him with fear, as if Silver had grown bigger, changed into something terrible. But it was only sunlight, which, together with his words, spilled onto the cold ground, onto the abandoned rails that had not been used for thirty years.
"But look around you. See? The grass is green. The sky is bright. And you're dead, both of you, and you've been dead for a long time. You've lost. You were abandoned here, abandoned by your comrades, and your bodies lay here for over three weeks until the forensic team came and took them away. Do you see the dark spots under your feet? See? That's all that's left of you here! The stains on the road!"
The March glinted in their eyes with the cold of morning ice. It was indeed a difficult task.
"Get out of here!" Silver shouted finally, and the two slowly melted away, their faces staring at him in horror.
The car passed them without noticing. The sun glistened on its windshield.
The March retreated, but did not give up yet, and Silver looked around, trying to understand what was the matter.
Then he saw a dog. He was hiding between the concrete blocks standing on the roadside, dirty and torn. It was a small ginger dog with a white tip of the tail, and it twitched uncertainly. His coat was covered in soot, snow and sleet.
Silver clicked his fingers.
"Come here. Are you lost? You poor thing. Will you come with me?"
The dog twirled his tail and crawled out of his hiding place. The March shuddered for the last time and disappeared; hardly forever, but Silver knew now how to deal with it. How to defeat it.
He whistled, and the dog ran after him, overtook him and disappeared into the radiant summer heat.
And so did Silver, because his work was done for today.
But if necessary, he will return.