What a terrible beast the mouse was. Terrible beast

The most terrible beast

We have a beast in our world: strong, brave and cunning, with sharp features of a predator, fast and animal-like dexterous, the most terrible beast that humanity has ever known - mortis. These creatures are similar in appearance to us humans, but instead of nails they have neat grayish claws. Hard to the touch, small and slightly curved, they can be fearsome weapons. The second distinctive feature: if you approach them at arm's length, you will smell a slight, almost imperceptible whiff of carrion. That's what we called them - the dead.

No one knew where they came from, but various assumptions were made: one of the most popular was the zombie apocalypse. This version, in fact, did not stand up to any criticism, but was extremely popular, taking first place. The only thing that spoke in favor of zombies was that the Mortis were not alive. This hair-raising fact was discovered completely by accident.

I have already said that we are similar in appearance. So, somehow Mortis’s child ended up in the hospital. That is, then they thought that it was a person, without focusing on the unusual deformation of the nails, which, in comparison with cardiac arrest, looked like an insignificant trifle. His heart did not beat, and the doctors tried with all their might to bring him back to life. Suddenly, the child opened his eyes, asked where his mother was, got up and left. By the way, the doctors never started the heart.

From this case, targeted research began. Mortis, both large and small, began to be caught and examined. First of all, the heart function was checked. It didn't beat. Not a single one. Even in the fetus in the womb (then we were lucky and caught a pregnant female Mortis).

In all other respects, these creatures did not look like the living dead: there was no cadaveric decomposition, except for a slight smell, they ate the same as people, they did not eat raw meat, or rotten meat either, they did not bite people or their own kind.

The second most popular version: gene mutation. It was intertwined with genetic modification, and the lines between the two were blurred. Either scientists have done something wrong and are now just making square eyes, or evolution has failed somewhere.

The third version was that the Mortis are not of this world. Yes Yes! Moreover, this assumption was only a small percentage behind the previous two. It was as if they had entered through some mythical portals or similar ummm... devices. Despite the apparent absurdity, the version took root, and now society is divided into three camps: according to the number of popular interpretations of one specific fact - the existence of a life form different from the human one.

And then people started disappearing. Mostly children from remote villages. Previously, they would have thought of wild animals; in those places there were bears, wolves, and lynxes, but there were witnesses who claimed to have seen the dead nearby. And once the crazy father of a missing girl of about seven, foaming at the mouth, proved that the dead man was holding his daughter on his lap, her side was torn, his hands were covered in blood up to the elbows, and his mouth was also smeared with blood.

Rumors rolled faster than a snowball during an avalanche, and groups of hunters began to be organized to shoot the Mortis. They consisted mainly of wolf and bear hunters: having seen a lot in their lives, they were not afraid of either the dead or other animals.

Our group went hunting at night at the request of the parents about their missing son: the boy walked across the field to the neighboring village in one street, but never reached it. The parents thought that he was with the neighbors, and they thought that the boy simply changed his mind and did not come. They grabbed it in the evening, and, consider it, the whole day was lost.

Our permanent squad gathered quickly: lately disappearances had happened frequently, twice a week, and we were ready for anything.

Almost immediately we were on the trail of an adult ghoul: he took us down the river, to where the missing boy lived.

Hoarse breathing struggled through my throat. The nostrils flared, sniffing the scent-filled air.

Lead away the predators.

The pungent human smell hurt the sense of smell, causing nausea.

Down along the river, as long as they don’t notice the trail leading to the mountains.

We got lost a lot, in zigzags, constantly returning to the same place, and walking in circles. No matter what kind of beast this ghoul was, he was a master in the art of confusing tracks.

We tailed him for two days. Then, suddenly, the trail split: one went into the mountains, the other wound the same way down the river. Having carefully examined both, we came to the conclusion that the trail belonged to the same dead man, and a fresh one at that.

Then the commander of the detachment, an inveterate safecracker, decided to split up: four go down the river, and the remaining four go up the mountains.

It must be said that these Mortis are strong and hardy beasts: in order to gallop through the mountains like we did, hardy and seasoned men, you need to have remarkable strength and dexterity.

Noticed!

And they separated.

One, two, three, four predators went down the river, and the same number began to climb up the mountain.

Cunning creatures.

Sometimes we saw in the distance the blurred silhouette of an adult man. Then we accelerated our pace, and, having reached the supposed place where we had seen him, we found traces of a recent foreign presence: a broken fresh branch, a fuzzy footprint, slightly trampled grass, indicating that a person had passed here. Or dead.

The most amazing thing was that when they contacted the second half of the detachment, their reports were the same: they saw a silhouette, they were following a trail, a moved stone, trampled grass and footprints on the soft ground. Can this really happen? So that anyone - be it a dead thing, an animal, or a person - would be in two different places at the same time? Mysticism, and that’s all.

The hunters, exchanging glances, moved forward, each thinking about his own. I, for example, thought that for the reward for this mortis, I could finally go on vacation with my family: me and my wife, my eldest son and daughter.

Inherit.

Break a branch.

Move the stone.

Show up, but only slightly, to stir up interest and reveal a desire to follow. If only the animals did not understand that they were being taken away from their lair.

And, going further away, freeze for a moment, splitting your consciousness. Down to the river steadily rolling its waters. A light shadow quietly darted - the second four animals were following the trail, which meandered like a hare, returning to the same place.

Show up here too.

Make some noise.

Break a branch.

Move the stone.

And - again return to the body left in the mountains.

Give me a minute to come to my senses.

To break into a frantic run again.

Food supplies began to run out: there was at most two times' worth of dried meat and dried fruit, the bread dried out and turned into crackers. We didn’t take water - there were enough springs and fresh rivers around so that we wouldn’t feel thirsty.

On our first night, when we had not yet split into fours, despite the sentries posted, the main supply of food disappeared: only what was left was what was piled up by the fire. A bunch of questions immediately arose: what was the point of stealing food if you could kill us all? Or not all, but some, the effect would be the same. We did not turn back because food could be obtained along the way; all the detachments did so, especially since it did not present any difficulties. Everyone in the squad is a hunter in the literal sense of the word, either a bear or a wolf, and he is capable of catching fish or small animals in any way.

If there are any excellent swimmers in the taiga, they are bears! Neither horses nor dogs can compare with them. The bear easily and naturally cuts through the water, puffing and creating waves like a small steam boat. The expression on the predator’s muzzle is the most innocent, well, at least take a picture of it on a postcard! The thick skin on its face does not convey the threatening facial expressions characteristic of other predators. The round ears, barely noticeable among the thick fur, are not pressed to the head, like those of wolves and lynxes, and other expressions of rage are also not very noticeable. It seems that he is not a beast at all, but a human-like, clumsy and good-natured fat man. But with an unpredictable character...

The fat man chasing our Robinsons crossed the source in a matter of seconds and, in order to swim to the shore, tried to overcome the log blocking the path. Bears don’t like to dive: water pours into their ears - and so he, sniffling and groaning, tried to climb over the log from above, tightly grasping it with his front paws. Everything is the last barrier between him and the guys. Now the animal will jump out onto the shore, and there is nowhere to escape from it. There is nothing to hope for except an axe.

The log lying freely on the water, under the weight of the bear’s carcass, made a complete revolution around its axis, and the animal again found itself at its starting point. The bear tried again - the log turned again and returned the animal to its original position. A terrible roar filled the river. For a bear, this is no longer a log, but a cunning, irresistible trap. He furiously grabbed the pine bark with his fangs and pounded the log with his clawed paw. Knocking crumbs out of the bark, he repeated his unsuccessful attempts again and again and, tumbling around the log, showed the guys his wounded bottom with purulent wounds. Finally, the swinging log became detached from the bushes, and the current and breeze carried it out into the spill of rubbish. And the bear, angry at the log, kept spinning and spinning around him - he had no time for the guys.

- It's gone! – Andrey said nervously, watching how the log, along with the acrobat, disappeared behind the waves.

“That’s right, it blew through,” agreed Anatoly, still clutching the ax with his whitened fingers. - How will we return? Did you see how he destroyed our region? He did this on purpose to prevent us from escaping. I calculated correctly - now we will sunbathe on the island.

“We’ll wait until the Kalmyks arrive,” Andrey answered carelessly.

“We’ll have to wait a long time: the last families returned to the steppes this spring, only Marusya remained.” Apparently, they didn’t like it here - they are drawn to their homeland.

“Then let’s go back to the dugout, maybe a steamer or boat will pick us up.”

-Have you seen at least one ship in three days? Until the water subsides, the entire fleet moves through the channel, in short it turns out. There is nothing to wait for, you have to get out yourself. However, you can’t row it out on a raft: it will be driven by the wind or current somewhere into the bushes and sit there, crowing.

Reasoning sadly, the guys trudged back to the dugout. Here is the fence near which they met the moose family, the wooden trough under which they found salt...

- Tolya! What if we sail away on a deck? Look how healthy she is!

- Need to try. It will lift us up, but it’s too narrow – you could tip over.

“And we’ll fasten a counterweight from a log to it with wire and make a sail from a canopy, like on a catamaran,” Andrey got excited.

“Let’s better eat first, drink tea, and then draw in the sand what you made up again.” Let's figure out what and how. “We have nowhere to rush now,” his friend cooled his ardor.

The coals at the door of the hut had not yet cooled down, and they managed to fan them again. The fire began to smoke merrily: to drive away the midges, rotten insects were thrown into it. Andrey took the pot and went down to the water. The bear tracks had not yet disappeared, but they no longer bothered the guy: the animal was now far away. Andrei leaned toward the water to scoop it up with the pot, and his ear caught a strange whining sound: as if a large spider was beating against the window glass and buzzing tediously. The sound grew, spread out and approached the hut, and soon it became clear to Andrey: a motorboat was coming. Forgetting to scoop it up, he jumped out onto the hillock and shouted at the top of his lungs:

- Tolya! The motorboat is coming! Put wood on the fire!

But there was no longer any need for this: the motorboat appeared around the bend and headed for the hut.

- Here! To us! Hey! - the guys ran along the shore. From the motorboat they waved their cap at them - they noticed. Hooray!

“The Gordeevskaya boat,” Tolya learned, “we’re lucky, our guys.”

The boat stuck its high nose into the sand and “our guys,” three in number, jumped onto the shore.

- So here you are! - the eldest of the brothers, Nikolai, began in a reproachful tone, - you are resting, but there is almost anxiety in the village. Varvara Makarovna came running and asked to look along the way. As soon as we detected the smoke, we realized that it was yours. Well, how did you get it? Is it on your ear?

“They’re herding bears here, not catching fish,” Vanyusha interrupted Nikolai Jr., seeing footprints on the shore.

“It’s not us, but he’s herding us,” the guys explained.

- What do you have - don’t you have anything to scare him with? From the hut you can throw him through the window without risk. Better than from the warehouse.

- We are without a gun. And we can’t go back: he crushed our region.

“Then get on our boat.” You were lucky that we went to plant potatoes, otherwise it remains to be seen how long we would have had to wait.

How long will it take for the boys to dive? In a minute, all the property is in the boat.

“Thank you for getting us off the island,” said Andrey.

– It’s not us who need to be thanked, but Pashka Zero and the board – it’s because of them that we have to hide the garden on the islands. If it weren't for them, would we have gone...

The Gordeevs know how to make good boats! The high bow confidently cuts the water, and the boat easily runs up a gentle wave. The motor at the stern purrs loudly and evenly and sways slightly.

Life is good! And especially, all is well that ends well. Despite the fatigue, the guys were not left with joyful excitement, and when the mainland shore appeared in the distance, Tolya suddenly sang with fullness of feelings:

“Glorious sea, sacred Baikal, glorious ship omul barrel!.. Do you know,” he turned to Andrey, “what is the most terrible animal in the taiga?” - Human!

- Poacher! – Andrey did not agree.

Black oil slicks swayed on the waves around the boat, and a helicopter flew overhead.

“MI-sixth,” Andrey defined, “Mishka!”

Everyone looked after the helicopter.

Arkady Zakharov

The cat is so cute: his chest is white, his legs are gray, smooth, he lies in the sun, warms himself - his soul rejoices. But it depends on who. Everyone knows that for a mouse there is no beast worse than a cat. But the stupid mouse from the fable “The Terrible Beast” saw a beast with a handsome appearance and said: “Kind, kind...”. And she was not afraid of him. But she was afraid of the loud rooster. And only the mother told the stupid mouse who really should be feared. Appearances are sometimes deceiving...

"Terrible Beast"

The mouse went out for a walk. She walked around the yard and came back to her mother.

- Well, mother, I saw two animals. One is scary, and the other is kind.

Mother said:

- Tell me, what kind of animals are these?

The mouse said:

- One, scary one, walks around the yard like this: his legs are black, his crest is red, his eyes are bulging, his nose is hooked. When I walked past, he opened his mouth, raised his leg and began screaming so loudly that I didn’t know where to go from fear.

“It’s a rooster,” said the old mouse. “He doesn’t harm anyone, don’t be afraid of him.” Well, what about the other animal?

— The other was lying in the sun and warming himself. His neck is white, his legs are gray, smooth, he licks his white chest and moves his tail slightly, looking at me.

The old mouse said:

- Stupid! After all, it's the cat itself.

Terrible beast

The mouse went out for a walk. She walked around the yard and came back to her mother.

- Well, mother, I saw two animals. One is scary and the other is kind.

Mother said:

- Tell me what these animals are.

The mouse said:

- One is scary, he walks around the yard like this: his legs are black, his comb is red, his nose is hooked. When I walked past, he opened his mouth, raised his leg and began screaming so loudly that I was very scared.

“It’s a rooster,” said the old mouse, “don’t be afraid of it.” Well, what about the other animal?

“The other one was lying in the sun and warming himself. His neck is white, his legs are gray, smooth, he licks his white chest and wags his tail, looking at me.

The old mouse said:

- You're stupid. This is the cat himself.