The bald guy looked at Feri from a distance, and as if waiting for that cue, Feri regained consciousness and started moaning with pain.

‘Looks like he’s alive. But that’s about it. He’s not gonna be dancing anytime soon.’

A man poked his head out from the back seat. He looked around, fixed his gaze on Gábor, then grinned and shouted, as if they hadn’t just hit somebody.

‘Gabika, how’s it hanging?’

He got out of the car and opened his arms for a hug. Gábor stared at the man standing there like the crucified Christ, except with a grin on his face. He was a slim man, the same age as Gábor, with a sculpted goatee.

‘Feri?’ Gábor asked, a rhetorical question.

‘Of course I’m Feri! Don’t you recognize me? What are you doing here?’

Finally Feri put his arms down. He was getting tired of the pose.

‘By the way, was he trying to kill you just now, or what the hell was that?’ asked Feri.

‘Yes,’ answered Gábor. His legs really started to shake, he felt like he was going to collapse any moment now; he became aware of the muscles in his body, the muscles that should be dead by now. The trembling reached his stomach and in a few seconds took over his entire body. His teeth chattered, and Gábor felt he would never be able to speak again.

‘I think your buddy is in shock,’ said the bald man.

‘Yeah. Listen, why don’t we take him with us?’ asked Feri.

‘What?’

‘Why don’t we take him? There’s still room in the car, and Zanó said there would be someone else with us. Someone by accident. Someone who wasn’t invited.’

Gábor watched the two men from the bottom of a well as they argued about his life, the life that could be taken at any moment, all you needed was a knife, or not even that, only dedication, a will to kill.

‘What if that someone else brings someone else? What will we do with him then, if he’s not allowed to come down?’

Feri didn’t give up, and Gábor thought he should feel something for Feri right then. That would be appropriate, since his old friend was fighting for him, yet he didn’t feel any connection. It was because of the name, he was sure. For this was the second Feri that night; had he only seen the name, the two men could have been the same person. A murderer. How many Feris could be out there in the world? How many murderers?

‘Listen, I think it’s him. I mean, this was pretty dramatic, wasn’t it? What are the odds? Meeting him here, like this? It’s him, let’s take him.’