The remains of a turbine engulfed in flames lay on the ground by the molten fragments of a fuselage covered in an oily, black film and flakes of ash. Soldiers at the edge of the field were dragging suitcases into a heap and rummaging through them. Firemen unwound their hoses. Some people walked around spots where the fire had already gone out and were planting sticks with white ribbons into the black earth. Each ribbon marked somebody’s charred bones.

Passing the fires and covering his face with his sleeve, K. walked to the turbine, to the very heart of the smouldering. There was no looking for survivors here. His boots quickly turned black and wet. Spines and ribs crunched underfoot. Everything was dead, torn apart, the plastic and metal fused. Approaching the turbine itself, K. shielded his eyes from the heat and for one brief moment, it felt like he had found what he was looking for. Hidden from the rest of the world by the black smoke and debris, he was alone. The world was empty. There was nobody left, nobody needed to be saved. That was it. The end. K. grasped at the sensation and tried not to let it go until his head began spinning from the heat and lack of oxygen.

A journalist with a camera emerged from the smoke, took his shot of the burning turbine, and slapped a microphone in front of K.

“What happened here? What are you feeling?”

K. covered his face with his hand, turned and walked away.

The blue of the evening swiftly swallowed the ugliness.

K. went to a crossroads at the edge of the village. People had managed to put out the hay, and had slumped against the fences, watching the firefighters in a daze.

K. approached and asked: “Do you need help? Do you know if someone needs help here?” They shook their heads. He proceeded further down the street asking the same question. Nobody needed anything. Grumpy was standing next to the ambulance and puffing grimly on a cigarette. It looked like he had been there for a long time.

“Doc,” he said. “Hellooo, Doc. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just inhaled some smoke, that’s all. No survivors?”

Grumpy grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.

“What survivors? Snap out of it will you? The Cossacks are here, they’ll set up a perimeter. We’ve been given orders to leave.”

“Where to? Snizhne?”

“No, back to base. And not a word about Snizhne. Do you hear me? We weren’t there. We saw nothing, we heard nothing. We’re going to keep our traps shut. And our traps will stay shut good and proper.”

K. wasn’t listening.

“Let’s go to Slovyansk. I need to get out of here. I can’t be with these fucking people anymore.”

“Are you mad? Slovyansk is completely surrounded. There’s going to be an offensive any day now. There’s only one road left. And that one is being shot up twenty-four seven. I said we need to lie low and keep schtum, not head into the meat grinder!”