To drawn.

The coolness was felt on the street. Emerging from around the corner of the house, Makar raised his gun. The wind shook the branches of the trees, or even tore off the leaves, carrying them away. There was tension in the air. It flew, permeating the air with its anxiety. It was for this reason that, with every breath, Makar's heart beat with a vengeance. There was silence all around. In the darkness, the features of houses, fences and streets were barely discernible. Although there was nothing in this area, like a clearing without trees. The sky was overcast, raising atmospheric pressure. The guy stood, darting his eyes around the deserted place and peering into the darkness. However, the same silence did not budge. Makar understood that he was risking a lot by going out into the open. He tried to walk as quietly as possible, trying to be as silent as a lynx. Makar listened attentively to the silence. But he heard nothing but his own heartbeat in his ears. The guy was trying to calm his breathing so as not to give himself away. Not to give out...? Yes, he is literally at gunpoint for anyone! Whether it's a sniper or a simple pistol. A branch cracked. Makar jerked, aiming the gun. Thunder rumbled in the sky, and the rain fell like a bucket. The guy grabbed the gun with his other hand, pulling it to eye level to aim better. The rain drummed on the leaves. Heavy drops splashed on the ground, spraying smaller drops around them. Extraneous sounds were drowned in the rain. Makar clenched his teeth, tightening his grip on the pistol grip in his hands. The branches of the bush parted, and, in the dim light, hidden under the cotton wool of heavy clouds, the moon, the sleeve of the jacket appeared. Makar waited patiently for his opponent to come out. In just a minute, he was soaked to the skin. His hair gleamed in the darkness from the dampness. The water from him lasted like a stream, and his hair stuck to his forehead, getting into his eyes. He was angry. Adrinalin gushed into the blood when the enemy slowly got out of his hiding place. Patience exploded, but Makar knew how to wait. Although he was shivering and the air was getting hot. The opponent came out halfway. The damp clothes hung on him like a sack. He had his back turned, but if it had been lighter, Makar would have had time to react. The guy felt his heart skip a beat, which was an intuitive message of danger to him. But he missed it. The roar softened and disappeared behind the noise of the downpour. The drops hit the ground with such force that it seemed as if the water was bubbling around and bubbling. Makar felt a blow in his chest. Without wasting a second, the guy fired four bullets at the enemy. The world before his eyes shook. It was as if his breathing had been cut off. He tightened his grip on the gun, but the handle was slippery, either from sweat or rain. Makar stepped back. In the eyes of the split and he could not stand on his feet, collapsed to the ground. The enemy slipped like a shadow into the bushes, hiding from the crime scene. No one else saw him. The rain mercilessly pounded the guy's body. A convulsive breath escaped from Makar. He was about to get up, but as soon as he raised himself a little on his hands, pain cut through his chest. The guy reflexively twists, squeezing the scream. The gun fell with a dull crack on the damp asphalt. The gun drove a dozen centimeters and stopped, swaying under the lashing blows of raindrops. Lightning split the sky in two, and thunder rumbled over Makar's head. The guy inhaled hoarsely and immediately coughed, turning over on his side. The puddle under him darkened. He did not have enough air, but trying to breathe deeper, he was pierced by a wild pain, or oxygen flowed out of his lungs with a strange whistling sound. Makar pressed his hand to the wound. He was slowly but surely getting cold. The cold chilled him to the bone, but the blood contrasted strongly with its warmth. He lay down. The water flowed sideways, rolling somewhere in the distance above his head. Makar tried to get up, but impotence and pain prevented him from doing so. He struggled, tried, but all in vain. His body went limp on the cold, damp ground. Hurried footsteps approached the recumbent body. After a few seconds, they stopped. – Damn it... Makar... The man bent over the guy's body while his partner prepared a gun in case there was an ambush. A bright fanarik flashed in the darkness and hit Makar. The wound on his chest was bleeding and bubbling. A slight movement of his chest rose and fell. He's breathing! The man knelt down, simultaneously pulling out his mini-first aid kit. It was necessary to act quickly, so without delay and hesitation, the Makar's shirt tore under strong hands. – Rick, they don't seem to be here. What about Makar? – Removing the gun, the partner turned around. – Bullet wound in the chest area. A through wound in the lung. It looks terrible... Rick crumpled the bandages and began to push Makar into the wound. The guy's body shuddered, and he groaned painfully. The pain burned like a raging fire. Shock washed over him. The man removed the wet hair from his face, throwing it back. Biting my lip, trying to focus on helping. With willpower, he forced his hands not to shake, even though he was shaking. He hissed. Arthur calmly watched what was happening, although his soul was tormented by anxiety. He was holding a flashlight so that Rick could safely provide first aid. A flash of pink light illuminated half the sky, accompanied by a rumble. Arthur was sweating from the tension and therefore thanked the rain for the fact that it was skillfully hidden. Makar shuddered. He was blinded by pain, but there was simply no strength to strain. He barely remained conscious, although it seemed that the sounds were becoming deaf for him. Or maybe it's just that he was deafened by the thunder? Dots from lack of oxygen flashed before my eyes. A hoarse, wet cough covered him again. He couldn't understand why he was salivating so much, but he didn't want to understand it. However, it was more important for him to stay alive right now. –Arthur, he's coughing up blood. – Rick notified, making sure that the bandage was tightly pushed into the wound and no bubbles formed on the bloody, water-soaked shirt. – Obviously. – There was an answer to him. Makar tried with all his might to stay conscious, but as luck would have it, his eyes dimmed. No matter how hard he tried, it couldn't be stopped. The sounds became muffled. Even his voice seemed quieter, or maybe he was really getting weaker? With every fiber of his soul, Makar wanted to live, but he couldn't even move. However, he touched Rick's jacket weakly with his fingertips, as if grasping at the last hope of survival. Makar shuddered and went limp. His consciousness was leaving. The guy couldn't keep control over him. The darkness of unconsciousness was slowly seizing the soul. Or maybe it was death? Black waves enveloped the spirit, dragging it into their domain. Makar was overcome with despair. He broke out of the shadows, stretching out his hand to reach the light. But he slipped and splashed into the water. No, it wasn't water. It is the gathering darkness of death. Makar screamed, but his voice was drowned, bubbling up to the top. The guy floundered, rowing up to the light. Suddenly, the clothes became heavy. Like tentacles, it wrapped around him, stubbornly dragging him to the bottom. And no matter how hard he tried, his strength was not enough to stay on the surface. Makar stretched out, feverishly stretching out his hand, wanting to touch the light. The noise subsided. It was like he was in water. The darkness was clouded by a saving light. Like a cloud. Makar let out a desperate cry: "NOOOOOO." Not a sound. Just bubbles popping up. Makar couldn't do anything. Just accept it and go to the bottom, living out your memories in the last seconds of your life. Darkness swallowed up the remnants of light, and hopelessness fell on the soul of the guy. His hand dropped. The boy did not want to accept death, but when all the sounds were drowned, realization came to him. He's doomed. The bottom of a huge abyss was approaching. Getting closer. Closer. And closer. He was left in utter darkness, under a huge body of water. No light. Not a sound. Nothing penetrated here. Makar was drowning. He was exhausted and no longer fought for life, going with the flow. The cold penetrated to the farthest corners of his soul. After reviewing the last fragments of memories, Makar reached the end. His back touches the bottom. The guy jumps up on the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs. His heart seemed about to jump out of his chest. His entire body was covered in cold sweat as he looked around wildly. The bright light hurt my eyes, and the sharp smell of medicines hit my nose. He realized that he was in a hospital bed. – Welcome back. – Rick smiled with relief. – We already assumed that you would not survive... – Arthur sighed, warmly greeting the guy. He patted Makar on the shoulder. – You'd better lie down and not make any sudden movements, otherwise the wounds may open. Makar exhaled raggedly. It was close. He miraculously survived.