Chapter 21

They put Matvey on a gurney and took him to the ward. Matvey Vlasovich delayed the nurses for a second. His patience was running out. He had to finally look at his grandson. And the doctors were in no hurry. Smiles played on their faces instead of the recent tension. A moment later, Matvey Vlasovich breathed a sigh of relief. The bluish nasolabial triangle disappeared from the boy's face, the skin had its usual color. Breathing was quiet and even. He slept. Just slept.

The paramedic moved a chair closer to the bed of the wounded man, pointed to him to the man:

“Sit here for a minute, if you like. And then you are welcome to the corridor. There is a place for you too. Lie down on the couch. I'll bring you a pillow and a blanket. It would be nice to sleep until morning. You and we need rest. Nurse on duty. Cope without us now. What is your name?

- Matvey Vlasovich, and you?

- I'm Marina Fedorovna.

- Marina Fedorovna, I would like to talk to this person. with a donor. After all, I didn’t even have time to thank him. I didn’t get to know each other, but now he’s blood relatives to us.

Yes, he's already gone. Probably a hotel. Where else could he go in such a blizzard? Come sleep soundly. We got him out of bed. Go to him in the morning.

After kissing his grandson, Matvey Vlasovich went out into the corridor. Peace and quiet reigned in the hospital again. The patients, obeying the gaze of Marina Fedorovna, dispersed to the wards. The light was dimmed. The nurse, without raising her head, wrote something in a thick magazine. The man moved towards her, hoping to find out something about the stranger who became the savior of his grandson, but Marina Fedorovna intercepted him:

- In the morning, everything in the morning.

Yes, I just wanted to ask.

Ask in the morning and tell us. We need patient data, and yours as well. Enough time for that. It can be seen that the blizzard charged for several days.

This prediction did not come true. It was not yet six in the morning, when Matvey Vlasovich was awakened:

- We got a call. The helicopter has already taken off for your grandson. Should be here soon.

Having hastily filled out the hospital form, Matvey Vlasovich rushed to the hotel where the donor was supposed to spend the night. The squat building, like a hut, turned more into a hostel than an inn, was empty. Only the cleaning lady, irritated to the whole world, finished wiping the floors:

Yes, all our guests are gone. As they saw that the blizzard was subsiding, they fled. They all have houses. Why should they lie down here?

Yes, I only need one. Such a bearded, solid man in boots that pilots used to wear.

- And here all the men are in such boots. So they trample on my floors, and I clean it up. There is no one. Everybody left.

Disappointed, Matvey Vlasovich opened the door, but the cleaner's voice suddenly softened:

- Is it you, did they bring a wounded grandson at night, made a rustle in the hospital?

- Yes I. The grandson broke his leg. Have you already heard it?

— But how. There are already legends about you.

Matvey Vlasovich was sincerely amazed:

- About me? Why about me?

The cleaning lady for a moment stopped slapping the floor with a rag, leaned on the mop and peered with interest at the middle-aged man standing in front of her with a pale, exhausted face and bandaged hands. On them, he could not pull on mittens. What she saw clearly made an impression on her. And she explained:

- Well, how? After all, not everyone will save themselves in such a blizzard, but you won how much an adult guy was dragging in your arms. It's not a child. And not everyone will find the way to our village when they notice it. Here they are surprised. They say that you should be one of the hunters.

- Well no. I am a geologist. Former geologist. The edges are well-worn here. That's for sure. My snowmobile is broken. I had to walk. What was to be done?

“Well, yes, there is nothing to do if it breaks down,” the woman agreed and continued her work, “and your car is now around the corner, behind the wind. Her hunters, our guests dragged. They say that there is a small breakdown. Anyone can fix it. And even more so a man like you.

The woman suddenly smiled coquettishly. This instantly rejuvenated her by ten years, and the barracks began to seem quite a cozy haven.

The news that unknown people took care of his snowmobile, abandoned outside the outskirts, did not really surprise Matvey Vlasovich. In the North of Siberia, people have long been accustomed to helping each other. Otherwise it would be even more difficult to survive there. But he did not have time to respond to the message. A helicopter chirped over the village. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I heard:

— Look for your donor in the forest. He is from the taiga!

Matvey Vlasovich answered by her example:

- So all your guests are from the taiga.

- No, many are from the tundra. Although ... there is no difference for me. Everyone has to clean up after.

There was no time for long conversations. People were bustling around the helicopter. Matvey was taken out of the hospital on a stretcher and lifted into a car. Pilots hurried:

- Faster. The blizzard will be back soon.

Matvey Vlasovich himself "heard" the wind again intensifying.

In the meantime, his grandson seemed to be doing well. Ignoring weakness and a tightly “packed” leg, he tried to look out of the window at the ground, the retreating hospital, people waving after them. The doctor was forced to stop him:

— You, the guy, let's not be a hero. Lie still, until you have done something. So, look how many people he put on his ears.

Matvey, who had not expected such a stern outcry, snored resentfully, like a child, but evidently admitted the doctor was right and calmed down.

Grandfather wanted to cheer him up, but did not have time. He was distracted by the doctor's satellite phone ringing.

“This is for you,” he said, handing it to Matvei Vlasovich.

The voice of the eldest son, father Matvey, sounded calm, even ordinary:

- Hi Dad. We know everything. Do not worry.

— I couldn't tell you, there was no connection.

Yes, we know. Do not worry. Tell Matvey that his mother and I are going to the hospital. We'll meet you there. The rest of the houses are waiting. If necessary, they will come too.

Matvey Vlasovich suddenly remembered the snowmobile, but his son reassured him again:

- We'll take him. Artem and Sergey will do it. As soon as the blizzard subsides, they will go. So long, dad. I can't borrow this phone for long.

Having returned the device, the elder Butakov tried to understand who and when managed to warn his family about the accident, but he did not find an answer. Thank you Dr.:

- You have a good service. It is not so easy to determine a "window" for flight in such a blizzard.

The answer puzzled him again:

- And it's not us. Someone called us and gave us the exact time. Almost up to a minute. At first we did not really believe, but then we realized that the forecast was correct. Everything came together. We have time.

- And who was that knowledgeable?

- I have no idea. I was told in the evening that a wounded man was waiting in this village. I was ready, as was Ivanovich. Our pilot. The order to fly was received, and we flew.

***

The surgeon examining Matvey in the hospital was laconic:

“First aid was provided very professionally. The patient's condition is much better than my colleague told me. We assumed that it would take some time to support his heart, but it turned out that this was not necessary. He is OK. I agree that a direct transfusion was necessary.

As for the reaction, it is difficult now to say what caused it. It is possible that just a direct transfusion provoked her. No wonder it is allowed only in extreme cases. We will watch.

- And now, how is he now?

- At the moment, I'm almost one hundred percent sure that everything went off without any consequences. All is well with the heart. We also invited a cardiologist. So I don't think we can postpone the operation. She's a routine for our department. You do not need details, I will simply say - we will insert a metal rod into the leg. It will provide the fastest regeneration of bones. True, the guy is still growing. Most likely, in a year or two you will have to repeat the manipulation. But he is strong. Everything will be fine.

The operation began shortly after the arrival of Matvey's parents. Together with their grandfather, they waited for its completion in the spacious lobby. It was dark and quiet here. There was a smell of coffee from the machine, medicines and trouble. In the corner, a middle-aged woman was crying softly. She was comforted almost in whispers by two young men. An elderly couple, hands clasped, silently, without looking up, looked at one point. Not far from the Butakovs, a downcast man was sitting alone with some papers in his hands. Forgotten coffee was cooling beside him. Without looking at them, worried people in white coats sometimes ran past. Time passed slowly.

Matvey Vlasovich noticed how, under the influence of this oppressive atmosphere, an expression of submissive doom also gradually appeared on the faces of people dear to him. This he could not allow. He took Matvey's camera out of his backpack. I started talking about yesterday. From the very early morning, when he and Matvey went hunting. About how he immediately managed to knock out two birds with one stone, how the young man at first also tried to shoot, but quickly lost interest in this occupation. As soon as the sun colored the sky with a red-pink light, he grabbed the camera. Fascinated by the beauty of the morning snowy taiga, he forgot his gun. Sunrise, a mountain cliff, the banks of the Irtysh, a hare in a jump ... The son and daughter-in-law looked at the footage he had taken. They agreed that Matvey should not be a hunter, but he is good as a photographer. Matvey Vlasovich did not forget about the accident itself, he missed only some details, which parents do not need to know. He began to blame himself, but his son interrupted him:

- Dad, Matthew was driving. He has been driving a snowmobile for a long time. I had to foresee everything myself. And it's not about wine at all. He made a mistake. And they learn from mistakes.

Igor and Lyudmila listened with particular attention to the stranger who turned out to be their son's savior.

"So did they give you his name?" Igor finally asked thoughtfully. “They don’t know where he lives, where he comes from, but the name must remain in the registration books. In the hotel, and in the hospital. If he was treated there.

- Name, yes, called. George. Surname. Wait, now I remember. Mikhailov. I don't remember my last name. They also said that he was not from here. There is no permanent address. In the summer, they say, he lives somewhere far away in the taiga, and in the winter he often comes to the village. Stays at a hotel. But what is the hotel? Hostel. Hunters from distant villages usually wait out the bad weather there. From the tundra.

Nothing, we'll find it. Let's deal with all this, - the son nodded in the direction of the door, through which they took Matvey, - yes, the weather will be fine, and we will find it. If he comes to this hostel, it means that his place of residence is somewhere nearby.

- No, all the taiga huts close to the village are known without a doubt. The locals would immediately tell me where it is. And here is complete uncertainty.

- Well, it doesn't matter, we'll find it. Man is not a needle. Even in taiga.

Matvey Vlasovich nodded his head, recalled everything that had happened to them yesterday. Especially what he did not dare to tell his son and daughter-in-law about yet, postponing it for later. And he was afraid that they would not believe him. How do they describe the interference of a random donor in the work of a doctor? He was haunted by thoughts about the strangeness in the behavior of a stranger with whom their family had intermarried in such an unexpected way.

Before his eyes was still a picture that he himself now seemed both terrifying and incredible. Confused doctors, the grandson's white face. And then a shaggy bearded man with outstretched arms over their child, sparkling threads going from the man's palms to Matvey's body. Doctors obediently fulfilling all the requirements of a semi-stranger. What was it? How did he manage to do what so frightened the experienced doctors? Could they have stabilized the situation without his intervention?

Now the former geologist, accustomed to paying attention to all the details in the most extreme situations with peripheral vision, recalled everything that happened then. How the wounded man's breathing evened out and those around him calmed down, but the donor became more and more pale. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he stepped aside. And leaving the room, he caught his shoulder on the jamb of the door, almost sank to the floor from exhaustion.

This could mean only one thing - in a matter of minutes he lost his obviously remarkable strength. Who is this person? Matvey Vlasovich's suggestion that he could be a shaman or a healer, of which there are many in the tundra, Marina Fedorovna confidently rejected:

- He's not a shaman. There are not many shamans. They are all well known. Yes, and not from our edges. He is a visitor. Lives here for a long time. Knows northern customs. But he doesn't take medicine. If I were a doctor, I would not contact us. We have treated him a couple of times. And what did he do? I only know what you have seen yourself. How to evaluate it?

She paused, then added quietly, but with conviction:

“I’m sure it would have been even harder without him.” And something else that seemed to paralyze me at that moment. And yes, it still shakes.

“How did I not think to ask what he was being treated for? Yes, and in that magazine did not look. Surely there is his middle name, and where he was born. But nothing, we'll go to the village. We must also thank the doctors, ”Matchey Vlasovich reassured himself. But new questions came to mind:

- Who told his son about the accident, about when and to which hospital the wounded were supposed to be delivered. Who contacted the air ambulance dispatcher, exactly suggested the possibility of a flight?

The son and daughter-in-law were still looking at the photographs, and Matvey Vlasovich got up and went to the large window. Outside, the blizzard was raging again. Under the pressure of a strong wind, trees swayed and groaned, rooftops and billboards rumbled. Through the dense veil of snow, the light of street lamps was barely visible. It intensified, then disappeared altogether. At the height of the day, only rare cars passed by the building, but slowly, making its way through the covered tracks, an almost empty tram passed. Matvey Vlasovich remembered his journey with Matvey in his arms from the stalled snowmobile to the hospital. He was shaking as if from a chill. Now he himself did not understand how he managed through the snowdrifts, seeing almost nothing in front of him, to reach the hospital. Drag the sled with Matvey.

No, it's better not to remember. No need, he ordered himself aloud. The son called out to him:

- Dad, you're on the phone.

Hearing the voice of Evdokia Alexandrovna in the receiver, he immediately stepped aside. He missed her the most right now. Almost mechanically answering his wife's questions, he physically felt what she probably felt at that moment. Her presence is there. Sixty years together. They have long since become one.

- How are you?

— Yes, I am. Matthew had a problem.

- Well, it doesn't matter, half the trouble. Our Matveyka will recover. He is all about you. Strong.

Before the eyes of Matvey Vlasovich, the pale face of his grandson, who had lost consciousness, reappeared. He was ready to say:

It's good that you didn't see him like this. You couldn't take it.

But then he caught on. Who - who, and only his wife was enough for everyone with her four children and grandchildren. But maybe that's why enough trouble with her?

The surgeon stepped into the foyer. And without his explanation, it was clear that the operation was successful, as he promised. Once again explaining its essence, he asked:

“Which one of you was with him at the time of the road accident?”

- I, - answered Matvey Vlasovich, - I am his grandfather. Our snowmobile overturned. Matthew was driving.

The doctor remarked encouragingly:

It's good that he and not you. He has stronger bones than you and I. And the body is young. Will recover faster. Given the reports of a colleague from the village, we will now carefully observe him. If everything is stable, we will transfer to the ward. Parents can take turns being with him. We don't have enough staff. And he will need help.

Listening to the parents' words of gratitude, the surgeon repeated again:

- It's not only our merit that everything worked out. Your son's body is healthy.

Pointing to Matvey Vlasovich, he added:

- There is someone, the same as the grandfather will be a man. Real Siberian.

Matvey Vlasovich repeated these words to himself many times, comparing them with those that he heard only a few hours ago from another doctor:

“Your grandson has serious heart problems, just like you. And in general, he is not yet strong, too thin, already glowing through and through.

At other times, this might not have been noticed. Or explain by the fact that the situations were completely different. Bleeding teenager, just taken from the cold to a tiny hospital and already fully recovered from what he experienced, received medical care here, in the conditions of a large hospital. But aren't there too many oddities coming together?

They drove in silence. The blizzard continued to rage. On both sides of the highway, snowdrifts grew every hour, gradually turning it into a tunnel.

Finally reaching the gates of the house, the son turned to Matvey Vlasovich with his whole body and looking into his eyes said, without hiding his excitement:

- You, dad, were right - you don’t need any nanny, we still have to learn and learn from you! Thank you!

- And then! - answered Matvey Vlasovich, - but a bathhouse will not hurt me, and a hundred grams too! Preferably something stronger!