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THE MAN WITH THE BLUE FACE
We were sitting on some logs near Uncle Volodya's summer cottage. Daddy was whittling a willow stick for my bow, and I was waxing the bowstring. Everything was peaceful and quiet. The only noise was the chug-chug-chug of a steamroller at the far end of the street. It was rolling out asphalt, because they were paving the street. The driver's seat was very high up, so that when the steamroller rolled by the cottage all I could see of it was the driver's head sailing along over the top of the fence. His face was blue, because even though he shaved he had a heavy beard.
The driver had a woman helper. The head that sailed by next to his had a face with rosy cheeks and pretty eyes.
I knew that they'd gone to have their lunch in Sosenki where their garage was. They'd started working at night when we were all asleep, because it was cool then.
The man with the blue face nicked my leg with a switch once because I'd tried to start up the steamroller while he was away. I didn't like him. I was afraid he'd tell Daddy on me, but he didn't even notice me and sailed right by.
Daddy and I were sitting there on the logs. I was whistling. Daddy wasn't saying anything. We kept smiling at each other now and then, because we like living in a summer colony. We'd been staying there for nearly a week, so I knew all the boys and the dogs. We went rowing, made campfires, went mushroom-picking and had even seen a mother elk and a baby elk crossing a field.
Today Daddy and I were going to shoot some arrows, and then we were going to fly a kite right up to the sun. While I was thinking about all this the gate clicked and our neighbor Alexander Semyo-novich came over. He has a Volga and he and Daddy are friends. He sat down beside us and said,"I don't know what to do."
"What's the matter?" Daddy asked.
Alexander Semyonovich said his driver was getting married that day.
"Why should that upset you?"
"I've got to be in town today at all costs." Daddy said nothing.
"How about showing some neighborly feeling and lending a helping hand?"
"I'm on vacation. I'm spending it with my son," Daddy said.
"Why, he'll enjoy the ride," Alexander Semyonovich said and slapped me on the back. "We'll take him along."
Now at last I saw what he was getting at and wondered why I hadn't guessed it right away. Our neighbor couldn't drive his own car! He didn't have a license yet. Daddy can drive any kind of car, because he has a license. He even took part in a rally once. But he doesn't have a car. He's a top-notch driver, though. Alexander Semyonovich said he wished Daddy would drive him to town and back.
I could see that Daddy wasn't very excited by the idea, because he was happy just sitting in the sun near the barn, wearing his old slacks and whittling a stick. He didn't feel like going anyplace. I thought it was a great idea, though, so I said,
"Let's go! Sure, we will!"
Then Alexander Semyonovich jumped up, "That's the right spirit! Let's go!"
Daddy gave in, though he did say, "I've got to be back by three."
Alexander Semyonovich pressed his hand to his heart and said, "By two! May I drop dead on the spot if we're not back by two. Have no fear about that."
Daddy and I changed. Then he drove the car out of Alexander Semyonovich's yard and we got in. Alexander Semyonovich sat beside Daddy and I got in the back. I kept looking straight ahead at the road, at the speedometer, at the woods and at the oncoming traffic, pretending I was driving. Then the car became a rocket-ship, and I was the first earthman to fly to outer space and the cool stars.
It was a wonderful ride! Everything was green: the grass, the big trees and the tiny birches. The wind was strong and warm, and it also smelted green.
I stood behind Daddy, whistling and staring at the road ahead. It was as shiny as silver, and if I bent my head I could see the hot air shimmering and oozing over it.
Now and then I'd spot something on the road: a board, which had probably fallen off the back of some truck, a clump of hay, and I had no trouble guessing where that had come from, or the kind of rags drivers use to wipe the grease off their hands. I had a feeling the road was telling me who'd driven along it before us.
We were speeding along. I was playing rocketship again, pulling levers, pressing buttons and keeping my foot on the gas as I took us past Mars and the Moon, and still farther. Then I decided I was weightless and began jumping up and down to see whether I really was or not.
"Stop jumping!" Daddy said.
So I went back to staring at the road and just then I saw the girl. She was running right ahead of us. I don't know where she'd come from, because she hadn't been there a moment before. She just suddenly appeared from nowhere!
The car swerved to the right. The horn blared.
I remember seeing the girl sprint to the right too, which meant she was right in front of the car again. Then there was a terrible screeching and clashing. It felt like someone'd suddenly yanked the car by the tail end. Then everything became sort of crazy.
First, I felt that I'd had an electric shock. Then something whined inside the car, and then crunched. The horn kept on blowing. I was pressed against the back of the front seat and was clutching it as hard as I could. Through the window I saw all the birch trees topple over to one side. Then they jumped back into place again. Then they toppled over again. Then everything stopped. I was on my hands and knees. An open window was on top of me. I felt I was in a submarine, or at the bottom of a well. Then I began scrambling like a cat, grabbing whatever I could get my hands on: the seat covers, the door handles, until I was finally out in the fresh air again. The car was lying on its side on the bottom of a small slope at the edge of the road. All the windows had been knocked out. Smoke was curling up from under the hood. The roof was squashed like an old hat. The car was making a droning sound. The wheels were still spinning, just like a beetle's legs will move when you flip it over on its back.
Somebody was climbing through the front window of the car. It was Alexander Semyonovich. He came over to me and said, "D'you know where my left shoe is?"
He only had one shoe on. He turned and looked back at the car, clutched his head and said again, "I don't know what happened to my shoe. Help me look for it."
I started hunting around in the grass, but couldn't find it. The car was humming strangely. It was a terrible sound that sent shivers down my spine, so I backed away.
A truck pulled up by the side of the road. Some soldiers jumped out of it and ran down to us. One of them looked into the car, waved to the others and shouted,
"There's a man in here! Hurry!"
The soldiers crowded around the car and set it right side up. It kept on droning. You'd think it was calling for help.
All of a sudden I remembered that Daddy was still inside the car! How could I've forgotten about him? I was scared to death and dashed back to the car.
Something was wrong with the way Daddy was sitting behind the wheel. His body was turned back as if he was looking out of the rear window. His arm was stuck through the bent wheel and was blowing the horn, and it was all blue and swollen and bleeding.
The soldiers began straightening out the steering wheel. Then they opened the front door and helped Daddy out. He was very pale. Even his eyes were pale. His arm dangled. It didn't even seem to belong to him. I ran over and stood right in front of him, but he didn't really notice me; just then a motorcycle drove up. There were two militiamen on it. One of them said,
"Let's see your license!"
Daddy was standing sideways, so the militiaman couldn't see his bleeding right arm. Daddy tried to get his left hand into his right pocket but couldn't. I got his driver's license out of his pocket for him. Daddy looked at me. I thought, by the way he did, that he'd just remembered I'd been with him all along. He grabbed hold of me with his left arm and bent down real close, but when he spoke his voice seemed to be coming from someplace far away.
"Is it you?" He began shaking me. Then he began shouting, "Where are you hurt? Tell me!"
"No place. I'm all right."
Daddy crouched down and leaned against the front wheel. His face got all wet. Big drops of sweat were running down his forehead. He began slipping sideways, I thought he wanted to lie down. I grabbed his shirt to keep him from lying down on the ground.
Then a man in a white doctor's smock came towards us. He kneeled beside Daddy and lifted his right arm. "It's a double fracture," the doctor said.
He helped Daddy up and led him over to the ambulance. There were a lot of people there by now, a lot of cars, buses and even the steamroller that had been paving our street. I followed the doctor and Daddy, but was shoved away by the crowd. When Daddy reached the top of the slope I saw the man with the blue face who drove the steamroller hurry over to him. He said something to Daddy and Daddy nodded. Then Daddy got into the ambulance. I decided I'd run after it till I caught up with them, but Daddy turned and shouted something to me. I didn't understand what he said.
The ambulance drove off. I started running after it, but stopped halfway up the slope, because it was so steep and my heart was beating so fast. I could see the Volga down below. It looked like a tank that'd been hit by a shell. Alexander Semyonovich came around from the rear of the car and said,
"Imagine, my shoe was in the luggage compartment! Incredible!"
One of the militiamen came over to him.
"This boy sure was born under a lucky star. There's not a scratch on him! Now then: is this your car?" he said and started writing in his notepad.
Just as I was going to ask him when they'd bring Daddy back a man shouted from up on the road,
"We're taking the boy home! There's no use him roasting in the sun here. We're paving their street. Right outside his house. Come on up here, sonny!" It was the man with the blue face.
"D'you want to go with him?" the militiaman asked.
I didn't know what to say. It wasn't right to leave Alexander Semyonovich all by himself. He probably guessed what I was thinking.
"That's all right. You go ahead," he said.
"Can you manage without me?"
"I'll try. There'll be people here to help me."
But I just stood there.
Then the pretty girl who was the driver's helper came down the slope. She took my hand and said. "We'll let him hold the wheel, won't we?" Then she said to the militiaman, "You tell him he can hold the wheel. He's going to drive the steamroller all by himself. He can even blow the horn if he wants to. He'll blow the horn, and everybody'll envy him, and you will too, won't you?" The militiaman said nothing. "Come here, dearie. You can hold onto the steering wheel, love."
She kept crooning, just as if I was a baby, and led me up the hill to the man with the blue face. He smelled of hot gasoline. He put my hands on the steering wheel and his own next to mine. His fingers were thick and his nails were very big.
He stepped on the gas, moved the levers, and the three of us rolled away from that terrible place. Everything was green again:
the grass, the birches and even the wind smelled green. You'd think nothing had happened.
We kept rolling along with nobody saying anything and even though my hands were on the wheel I wasn't playing any kind of a game. I didn't feel like it. After a while the man with the blue face said to the girl,
"Just think what a fine dad this boy has. Few men would've risked it. He didn't want to hit that little girl. He smashed up his car instead. Though a car's only a pile of iron. You can fix a car. He didn't want to hit that girl. That's what counts. What I mean is, he risked his own boy's life instead. That man's a real fighter. A man with a real big heart. That's the kind of man we all respected so much at the front."
He put his finger on my nose and pressed it like a doorbell and said, "Rr-r-ring!"
And because he'd said what he had about my daddy I squeezed his big finger hard and burst into tears.