Something rattled below, whereupon Gabriel began to spin the winch.

Half a minute later the rope rose to the right level: an AK-74 was lying on the hoist. Gabriel looked around: there were no plagues.

"And you have a lot of that?" – he asked in a low voice.

"I don't know myself… But it looks like a whole warehouse," came the reply of a somewhat thoughtful man – apparently he really didn't know.

"Hold on, I won't be long," Mountain tossed down and, putting the machine gun aside in the shadows, went to the purification room.

Three minutes later the commander, held by Konstantin, was sinking to the bottom of the pit. Now it seemed to him that it was not so dark and damp, but it stank of decomposition more strongly, and his opinion about food had changed: strange as it may seem, but here in the pit, for some reason he felt hungry.

At the very bottom stood Nikolai, already calmed down but still as eager for "free air", with a pickaxe in his left hand and another AK-74 in his right.

"They're hungry for it, aren't they? – Gabriel thought. – They are tired of being slaves… It's not just one tortured man, it's all of us… We are all in his face now… Everyone here is already dreaming of war… I'm already dreaming about it… For example, today. I dream Manhir comes down to us. He comes up to me. He looks me straight in the eye. And then falls to his knees and says, "Forgive us, my lord. "Save our lives. And everyone, all the plagues do the same… God, we're supposed to be free, aren't we?"

"Commander?" – Nikolai asked, coming up to Gavriil. He immediately came to his senses, recognizing to himself that this had become a habit, and replied, "Well, Kol. Come on, show me what you've got here."

The one waved the machine gun back and stepped aside… A pile, just a pile of weapons was visible from the hole made in the ground.

"Ahem…" said Gora. – Okay, we'll take five of them with us. We'll leave the rest here – the plagues won't come down here anyway…"

"That's it?" – Nikolai was stunned, and had obviously planned a lot of things, so this answer knocked him for a loop.

Now he could be tricked or killed-what he had planned, he couldn't help but do.

Gabriel chose the first: "We need to prepare. I promise we will rise, but it will take time. Will you be patient? For my sake."

The authority is so strong charismatic, no one could argue with him, and if he asked for something, respect will make him do it. Gora, he's like a father.

"Commander," Konstantin heard from above.

"What?" – The voice took on its usual not-so-"charismatic" forms. "A1's here to see us. Himself."

The five minutes during which Hora reached the second sector were filled with deep thoughts: the people really need freedom as much as sunlight, which they are not allowed to see enough of, and the most important thing is that one day they will get it. Gabriel kept tying his son and daughter-in-law to all this: he wanted them to be free, and his grandson to know no slavery at all.

Sector number two was the office. Here everything is counted, everything is reported, and there was a separate room, though entirely empty, for separate meetings, which were very few (A1 really rarely went downstairs – it was difficult to breathe for the unaccustomed).

When Gavriil and his deputy arrived, everyone else was already there, including Pavel Pozharin himself. All but A1 nodded respectfully, Volin even smiling: a nice man after all.

"Well now that everyone's gathered, I can tell you what's the matter…" everyone could see how difficult it was for him to speak, and how he was greedily gulping for air. – I'm ready to take ten of your men upstairs with me. I was wrong about them. The plagues are bastards, they must die. They…"