Kiss of the wind

The ice cream slowly melts in the sun, despite the sub-zero temperatures in February and the snow that has pleased us this winter. The white liquid shimmers with green filling. They appear to be pistachios, but the label has long since worn off. My ice cream truck is my joy. It starts up quietly, serves faithfully and pleases everyone around with bright colors. And delicious ice cream, of course. Especially me, a fierce sweet tooth, who even has nothing but ice cream instead of brains. When I was planning to buy an ice cream van, my friends tried to dissuade me in every possible way. They said that I would still find a job in my specialty, that ice cream is not in trend now, they showed all sorts of examples of failed businesses... I don’t know, maybe they were right, but looking back over, I don’t regret the decision made then, it was for a long time my guiding star and outlet. Although, as the parents said, this can’t even be called a business, it’s just a child’s whim that won’t live long. But they allocated money for this whim from the general budget and even helped with the first purchases. I love them immensely. What a pity that my parents and younger brother passed away even before me. If it were different, perhaps it would be easier for me now. Boris, sometimes an infuriating, but still dearly loved brother... He was only in his second year, he had everything ahead of him, he had not yet begun to live. For what… And parents? In honor of the New Year holidays, they were going to arrange a mini-tour along the snowy peaks on snowboards.The backpacks were already standing in the corridor, completely ready to accompany the loving spouses, in whom, despite everything, bright and bright feelings had not faded away, on their unexpected journey, tickets for which were languishing on the nightstand, waiting in the wings. What did they do wrong? They were just sitting at the New Year's table, having fun and counting the chimes. For what!? Why, having turned on the light in a spacious room that served as a hall in absolute silence, did I see smiling corpses sitting at the table? It would be better if I died than to remember their lifeless faces, it would be better if I died than to see all the people dear to me dead, surrounded by festive tinsel. It was a terrible sight. Golden garlands of different shapes and sizes, a terry tablecloth that was taken out of the closet only on holidays, artificial snow scattered by my brother the day before and my favorite sandwiches with caviar. And their distorted faces, with frozen smiles on their lips coupled with glassy eyes. Psychologists would call my further state shock. I am grateful to my body for the fact that, under the state of this shock, I began, as if beside myself, to shovel all the food prepared for the holiday into a sports bag, avoiding with my gaze the bluish-pale corpses sitting at the table, with saliva hanging from the corners of those now grinning in a terrible grin. , whom I loved and not noticing the black spots under my clothes. Praise to all higher powers. I don’t know how I dragged this bag and my parents’ two backpacks to the van; I’m not at all sure that under other circumstances I would have torn them off the floor. I still can’t shake the thought that my parents will no longer need the things my mother carefully folded.Just as the left tickets for the bus, which was supposed to leave two days later, will not be useful. Didn't leave. No one went to the mountain slopes that day. The planet lay dormant after an outbreak of instant, horrific deaths. Those who did not die sat quietly, mourning the loss and not making themselves known. They say that at the first chimes, wolves howled shrilly, warning of the grief that would engulf the planet in a minute. Grief for the untimely departed people dear to the heart, sorrow for a bright future that will never come again. I believe in this, I myself hear the howling every night and twice already this squealing and whining, dying away at the last stroke of midnight. That fateful night, pushing in with an invisible hand, I started my organ, as I affectionately called the ice cream van, and drove closer to the forest and away from people. What was guiding me at that moment remains a mystery. Perhaps fear or shock, or perhaps a long-standing subconscious desire to go into the forest for the sake of peace and tranquility. Then it seemed to me the safest place in the Universe. I was so focused on the road that the mountains of the dead, lying everywhere, frightened, but did not stop me, unable to get to the brain, encased in the armor of awesomeness. The corpses lay on top of each other, like fallen dominoes around an extinguished Christmas tree. Some had firecrackers, streamers and sparklers in their hands, others had children who would no longer know the joys of life. It’s scary to imagine how the survivors felt in the square. Were there even any survivors? I don't know. Just as I don’t know what it was like for the kids to see their dead parents. Maybe they didn’t understand anything and considered everything a new game. I hope so. I also don’t know why I remained alive. As for me, it would have been more merciful to die during the first outbreak, as the survivors called these deaths. Perhaps death was a sign of mercy, although the holy father calling on the maddened crowd shouted the opposite. He was one of the few who did not leave in a hurry to an unknown destination, did not lock himself in his house and did not succumb to the general chaos of the lawlessness that had begun. It’s a strange thing, while some people were dying, others began to fight among themselves for no apparent reason, simply slaughtering each other. That evening I came for provisions, which were now not a problem to get, because the shops were empty with full shelves. The snow creaked underfoot, soothing and, together with the hood of my father’s warm down jacket, muffling the sound of the agony of the living. I noticed a lonely figure in a black robe in the middle of the chaos that was happening right on top of the bodies that had not been removed by anyone. Fortunately, it was winter and people did not have time to start to stink much, giving off only a slight scent.The Holy Father cried out to the crowd that paid no attention to him and spoke about the horsemen of the Apocalypse. He believed that people were not to blame; he randomly prayed either to the survivors to repent and retreat, or to the gods to forgive their foolish children. He, true to his work, quoted the Bible, drawing my attention to the black spots spreading more and more over the bodies of the dead, hiding the already green skin, the mark of the Conqueror. It's good that I didn't notice them on New Year's Eve. The gods gave us a nice gift, a memorable one. I appreciated. As well as the irony that the priest who begged people for repentance died in the second outbreak. Funny, gods, seriously. You wanted us to laugh, didn't you? From the heart, choking and dying. The smiles on the faces of the relatives were not accidental. After the second outbreak, although there was no holiday, no one thought about celebrating, despite the fact that was next in line from the horsemen, people smiled again. Oh, it wasn't like the Bible at all, no warnings. Flash, instant death. The only difference is in the reasons. On the first of January, people died with black spots on their bodies, and on the eleventh, ten days later, with stab, cut and lacerated wounds. Some had their body parts cut off, and the whole thing turned into a bloody massacre, although, according to survivors, wounds appeared on their own and even in those who did not touch the weapon. A cruel retribution for our mistakes. Even this is a joke. Dying, people with their blood stain the pristine white snow that falls straight from the sky, but does not have time to freeze. Praise be to everyone in whom you can believe, I was not in the city at that moment. I never completely left the forest, living in a van, my favorite ice cream machine. Ice cream is all I have left from my old, carefree life. Now it tasted bitter, but I still ate it. I couldn’t bring myself not to eat, although I tried more than once. I tried, not because it’s winter and eating cold in the cold is a perversion. For a sweet tooth like me, this is not a hindrance. The point is in the third outbreak - the Hunger, it left people in every sense, skeletons, the skin was so tight over the bones, and the eyes seemed like dark hollows. Their smiles looked even more terrible, although I thought that it couldn’t be more terrible than a smiling severed head with a beard matted with blood. Maybe. But no matter how much of a bastard I felt, I couldn’t refuse all the different flavors of melted ice cream. They were the only joy in a series of dark days, despite the fact that the refrigerators had not kept frost for a long time and I relied only on winter. In general, I think that we are all lucky that the Apocalypse crept up on us in winter. Like that furry animal with a cunning face, remember? Electricity went out all over the planet on that ill-fated New Year's Eve. People are now also being disconnected from the power source in the same way. Someone from above will simply press the “off” button, killing all life on Earth. I feel that today, with the last strike of the clock, there will be the last outbreak - the fourth, and none of those who survived before will survive it. Animals feel it too. They toil, driven by instincts, try to hide in the darkest and most remote corners, knowing in advance that everything is in vain. I don’t run away, evolution has killed these instincts in me, so now I look in fascination at the snow, which is not covered in blood, unlike the city, and the container of ice cream placed on it. It lasted exactly a month, thirty-one days. The last portion is in front of me. This time I don’t eat it, I’m waiting for the evening. This time everything is different. And lit up blood red, and now everything reminds me of the thick burgundy blood covering the earth, the sunset, and the wolves coming out of the forest. I'm not afraid of these predators. They are the only ones who did not hide, like people, in secluded places, continuing to howl at the moon. The wolves know better than me that today we will all die; they mourned their death in advance and grieved for their brothers.Therefore, when I, sitting in ski pants right on the snow, patted next to me, a rare wolf of pure white color separated from the pack, coming out of the shadows and even allowing itself to be hugged. At the withers he was the same height as me who was sitting. Having buried my nose in his thick, winter fur, I did not immediately notice how his entire flock sat down in a semicircle towards the forest, giving me amazing calm. Together we looked for the last time at the setting sun, the emerging moon and the shining stars, trying at once to absorb the beauty that we had missed throughout our lives. No one thought to move, except for the fur and hair blown by the wind. No one will howl this night, neither me nor them. We are ready. The snow-white beast tangibly butted me on the shoulder with its powerful muzzle, forcing me to stagger, leaning on my numb hands and look at the container with the remaining ice cream. Yes, wolf, I also felt the clock, invisible to the naked eye, begin to count down, thank you. Almost midnight. I reach out with my hand, chilled by the cold wind, previously warmed by the wolf, to the teaspoon. This is already meaningless, but when I die, not only with my tongue, but also with my heart, I will feel the overly sweet, downright cloying taste of ice cream. I didn’t leave it there on purpose, it just happened that way. The electricity ran out, the animals ran out, the ice cream ran out, the people ran out. The last, twelfth stroke of the clock was accompanied by a sharp cooling and our common intermittent sigh, knocking out the last shred of steam from our chests.

***

The cold winter wrapped everyone in its shawl sparkling with frost, and along with it the planet was covered by an amazing, never before encountered absolute silence. The lanterns and the fires, unable to withstand the severe frost, went out completely and completely discharged. Nature froze along with her children, without disturbing the long-awaited peace. It was not man who now reigned on Earth, nor even the Ice Age. A small planet circling around its star was captured by a blue tint, turning it into something fabulous and equally unusual, but terrible in its essence, freezing its insides and streams, leaving behind only the ice figures of civilization and not giving even the omnipresent wind. A chance to live. The wind also soon disappeared, touching the girl he loved for the last time, surrounded by wolves, and tasting the ice cream on her lips.