“Sure, all she needs now is a fit,” said K., looking out of the window.

She never did emerge from the building.

K. sighed and ran downstairs. Anton followed him, wearing his fixed expression of scorn.

A little boy stood on the steps by the man’s body. He poked the body’s cold hand with the tip of his shoe. He had a tattered, adult tracksuit jacket over his shoulders. His face was smeared with mud.

The woman was sprawled out on the floor right there. K. sat down next to her, tilted her head to the left, and put one of her slippers, which had slid from her feet, under her head. The boy came closer. K. looked at him.

“Quick, go get some water. Is there any running water?”

The boy blinked.

“Water, in a bottle or a cup. Fast. Well?!”

The boy disappeared into the basement.

“I shouldn’t have shouted, now he won’t come back,” thought K. as he lightly slapped the woman’s cheeks.

“Nina Sergeyevna, Marina Olegovna, whatever you’re called, come on, come on.”

She murmured, moaned and drooled. K. checked her head for injuries. Then her pulse. The boy returned with a cup of water, handed it to K. and squatted to watch.

K. took a small sip and licked his lips. The rest he poured over the woman’s face. She sat up with a gasp and tried to get to her feet.

“Antonina Petrovna,” said K., “let’s go and lay you down in the ambulance.”

“Nadezhda Markovna,” she corrected him. “I won’t go.”

“Let’s go back upstairs and lay you down on the sofa then.”

A voice came from one of the upper floors: “Hey, Paracelsus, maybe when you’re done fiddling around with Grandma, come on up, we’ve got one with shrapnel in the head here.”

A fresh explosion echoed throughout the neighbourhood.

K. rushed upstairs, looking sternly at the boy.

“Take Grandma up to the third floor.”

At the fourth floor, he stopped to catch his breath. The doors were flung wide open, the building was in a state of pandemonium, a young blond woman was lying in a pool of blood in the hallway. Her skin was ashen and her hair soaked with blood. She wriggled, and soundlessly opened and closed her mouth. Anton was crouched over her, fixing her head in a bandage.

“I thought you’d checked this floor,” K. said, pulling out another first aid kit. “Where’s all this blood coming from? Check her neck.”

“They only just opened the door.”

Anton carried on clumsily applying the bandage.

“Where’s this blood coming from? Please, try to keep still,” said K. putting his hand on the woman’s forehead. “Keep your hands still. And you, hurry up!”

“I’m going as quickly as I can. She’s going to croak. We have to get her to the hospital.”

“Give it here,” said K., grabbing the bandage. “And try to keep your head about you.”

The boy from downstairs appeared at the door. He stood there blinking and then ran away.