…

  Roman dashed up to him, eyeing the hand nervously, and pleaded:

  

  
• Give me the phone or put it on speaker! I wanna ask Suzanna to drop this whole Let’s just toss that freaky thing away.


  

  

  
• So one vote for tossing, one vote for taking it home… and you know what I say? If there's a killer lurking around, he might stroll into our town and take out our families next. So let’s take this hand to the cops and let them deal with it. Valdis’s been sitting around doing nothing except breaking up fights between Batilda and Oh- and pulling me by the ears... So let her actually do some work.


  

  Roman jumped indignantly:

  

  
• Just say you want to butter her up so she doesn’t scold you for your


  
• Maybe I do, - the troublemaker admitted - You gotta be on good terms with the cops. Or at least not piss them off for no reason. What do you say, Suzie?


  

  The call was dropped, and Grofo sighed.

  Great. She got offended because they didn’t do what she wanted. Or not? Who the hell knows with her? The point is, he was going to listen to her, but then did his own thing anyway. Which, yeah, wasn’t the classiest move. But hey, someone’s gotta keep people safe- because a maniac on the loose ain’t a joke. Who’d understand that better than a stand - up comic in training?

  Surprised at his own level - headedness, Grofo muttered into the air:

  

  
• So how the hell do I carry this thing? I don't wanna hold it out like this the whole


  

  A harsh wind howled, strong enough only to stir the flimsy recycled - material shopping bag Roman always kept in his pocket. He offered it up like he was giving away a piece of his soul, and Grofo raised an eyebrow:

  

  
• Are you serious? You want me to put it in a grocery bag? This ain’t a loaf of bread!


  

  

  
• You got a better idea? - Roman snapped, shaking the bag at him even more


  

  Sighing, Grofo spread his arms and stepped over. He grabbed the bag and quickly stuffed the morbid item inside. Roman immediately asked:

  

  
• Can you not walk right next to me? I don’t want to be constantly reminded I’m next to a chopped - off hand.


  
• You’re such an egoist! - Grofo burst out, but calmed down just as fast when a thought struck him- what if his little brother ended up losing a hand too?


  

  No. He was doing the right thing. He had to protect that whiner, even if it meant getting into a fight with Suzie.

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  Too bad his choice made it clear to both her and Roman that his promises meant squat and that he was just a dictator who never listened to those close to him.

  Even so. He was gonna do what he thought was right. Because he was scared. For all of them. That’s all.

  

  
• Roman’s mouth twists in a silent scream, a huge cleaver hovering over his wrist, sizing up its


  
• Brrr… cold… - Grofo shivered, trying to pass off his fear and horror as just being


  
• Come on, let’s move or we’ll still be stuck here by - Yelled Roman, panting behind him.


  

  They both picked up the pace, hoping the weather wouldn’t worsen or turn into a blizzard. They really wanted to keep moving at this speed.

  Luckily for them, the day turned out to be pretty decent. Even though it was already getting dark, the brothers moved quickly through the well - known forest and soon reached the edge of the settled area.

  The police station was literally about two hundred steps from the edge of the natural zone, and now the guys, thoroughly exhausted, were walking toward it like into the arms of their loving mom.

  

  
• Never thought I’d be this eager to see the cops, - Grofo winked at his brother, trying to cheer him


  

  Roman looked completely crushed and didn’t even bother complaining anymore that it was a dumb idea to bring this thing here instead of tossing it in ?vrekj?la. He just didn’t have the strength or will left - his head hung low as he dragged himself along. Seeing that, Grofo decided to square his shoulders and set an example - he was totally fine, no big deal.

  So, the guy swung open the station door, stepping in without wiping his boots or taking off his hood. He glanced around the blue - painted walls, trying to spot Valdis, but didn’t see the chief (and only) cop anywhere. Instead, behind the reception desk sat exactly the person who should’ve been there.

  There was Kristina, the elderly and plump receptionist of the place.

  And she was FaceTiming, soaking her feet in a basin of hot water. The woman had wrapped herself in two thick quilted blankets that reached all the way up to her chin- or rather, to her massive mole, which was bigger than her actual chin and was her proudest feature.

  Shame it was the only thing she liked about herself.

  Grofo cleared his throat, trying to get her attention, but nope- Kristina was fully immersed in the most important mission of her life: telling her nephew all about how...

  

  
• Simon, you don’t understand... everything hurts! Absolutely everything! My neck, my joints, my neck joints, and most of all - my soul.


  
• What’s wrong with it, Auntie? - Simon asked out of Grofo caught a glimpse of the guy on the screen - he was trying to decide which pool to start cleaning. Simon worked in the capital as a janitor - or, to be fancy, a cleaning manager - at a swimming complex and was just getting ready to start his shift as the place closed to guests.


  

  Meanwhile, he listened to his hopelessly sick aunt whine, nodding along and tossing out empty phrases and equally meaningless questions.

  

  
• It makes me sad to realize you don’t want to come live here with me, and instead keep trying to make something of yourself in Give it up, move here - I’ll get you a job at the factory, and you can take care of your suffering aunt.


  
• Well, there’s a tempting offer… - Grofo thought sarcastically and crept up to the woman’s ear, then coughed VERY loudly.


  

  And… it didn’t work!