3

Adam had gotten merrily drunk. He walked a little unsteadily along the town's largest street, sparsely lit by old streetlamps. Karolina walked beside him, gazing thoughtfully at the paving slabs constantly slipping away from under her feet. They could hear the music from the dingy pub they were reluctant to approach; they walked on the other side of the street, trying to ignore him.

"I'm fed up with this place," she said. "

You know we both have to work to support ourselves."

"I'm not talking about the pub, I'm talking about this whole town. After all, we wanted peace and freedom, and we have precious little free time." We can't even walk safely down the main street. It's not what we dreamed of.

"Freedom tastes so ridiculously salty," he said. "It's probably from some song.

" "But it's not freedom. We did everything to be free, and our freedom enslaved us. Don't you see? We've fallen into the same rut as people from big cities, only at least they have money.

" "What are you getting at?"

"Maybe we should just…" she gestured, searching for the right words. "Maybe we should start over; try again, maybe try to live a normal life, finally have time for ourselves, have a job that will give us more than just a living and a beer once a month with friends we don't like anyway.

" "I like them," he interjected

. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course. You said you didn't like our friends and that you wanted to get out of here. You haven't gotten to the heart of the matter yet—how you want to get out of here and where you want to go.

" "My sister, for example. I talked to her a while ago, and she said that if we wanted, we could stay with her for a while. She also said her husband would get you a job at his father's workshop. A well-paying job. It's not stupid, just think about it; we'd have more time, more money, and after a while, we'd be on our own.

" "I don't want anyone's help. I want to die knowing I've done it all myself.

" "Everything means what? What do you want to do to deserve the name 'everything'?"

"Stop nagging. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm not in the mood for it today. Besides, what about our house?

" "We could let those two live in it until someone buys it." They seem like good people; they shouldn't give us any trouble, and they might even buy it themselves. And if we don't make it in town, we can always come back.

"Yeah, that's a great plan, but let's talk about it tomorrow..."

Three men emerged from the pub. One of them, the largest, had a black eye, and all of them wore a grimace that resembled the smile of someone trying to smile while remaining as menacing as possible. They walked a few steps until they spotted Adam and Karolina.

"That's the son of a bitch I wanted to cut out of my wallet." The largest man pointed at Adam, and all three of them started toward them. When he was close enough, the largest man growled, "Where's your guy?

" "What guy?" Adam asked, standing so that Karolina was behind him, outside the four men.

"Don't you know which guy? Do I need to remind you which one?

" "He's gone.

" "Don't be silly, I saw you walking away toward your house. Should I go there and check?"

"Listen," Adam said rather uncertainly, "that guy's already gone. If you want something, talk to me."

The biggest one, without even taking a swing, punched Adam in the face, sending him flying straight at Karolina. He had barely straightened up when he was hit again, this time by a short man with a spherical, shaved head that resembled a potato. This time he fell to the ground; a moment later, all three were standing over him.

"I know he didn't leave because there wasn't a single fucking train leaving here today. You better tell me where he is, and maybe you'll get home on your own today."

The potato-headed man kicked Adam in the side; they heard him groan, but he still didn't say anything. After a moment, all three started kicking him; they only stopped when they heard Karolina scream,

"They're on the beach!

"

The sun was now visible only through the moon. The sand clung to their naked bodies, forming a rough crust; she ignored it as she pulled on her jeans. The beach looked like a miniature desert, illuminated by the moonlight like a giant spotlight. He was already dressed, only his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest.

"And now?" she asked

. "I don't know. You're the one telling the story," he said, sitting down next to her. She snuggled up against him, or rather, lay on top of him, the way a small child lays on top of its parent when it's too tired to go to bed.

"That would be a nice happy ending, except that happy endings don't exist; they're just the beginnings of new stories, waiting to be finished," she said in a dreamy, slightly sleepy voice. "Because this moment, like any good ending, would also be a good beginning." As for what happens next, it's very predictable... We'll return to Karolina and Adam's house and spend the meager scraps of the night there. Later, in the morning, we'll board a train, return to Szczecin, grab as much cash as we can, and set out to conquer Europe. While still in Poland, we'll be mugged and lose all our money; however, we'll remain faithful to our dream and somehow earn the money. We'll travel from town to town, asking for work, and when we find one and earn enough for just a ticket and some food, we'll move on. We'll start in the south, with Ukraine and its beautiful Lviv with all its cafes and monuments. There, we'll earn money for further travels, no matter how; there's always something. Then we'll head to Greece; we'll visit all those small seaside towns, full of mysterious places and legends. Then Venice and all of Italy; we'll see if Rome really is so beautiful, and once we're sure it is, we'll attack Paris. We'll live there. But only for a while, because there's still so much to experience…

She stopped when she heard rustling in the bushes and men's voices that couldn't be quiet, despite their owners' best efforts.

"You felt like crawling through the bushes," one of the voices said

. "It was supposed to be a shortcut."

Three drunk men practically burst out from behind the bushes, one of them tall and sporting a black eye, another with a head like a potato, and the third with a narrow skull that looked like a cadaver. Marek quickly recognized the largest one. He stood up, and Iweta stood with him; they held hands tightly.

"Is that…" she asked

. "Yes.

" "There are three of them.

" "He must have been hit too hard."

"Don't do that," she said, a little too theatrically. "Don't fight them, there are too many of them."

He knew she really wanted him to fight them. And he wanted to fight them too. It was the perfect situation, the perfect excuse to defend his dreams, and at the same time, a very bad time to run away. It was like a challenge; you had to take up the fight, even if you lost; because heroes always lose; because you can only run away without a reason.

"You know I have to," he said, kissing her gently, and turning to them. "What do you want?

" "You already know what the fuck you want," said the potato perched on the neck of one of them.

"Your guy's already taken a beating, now it's your turn."

The biggest one tried to punch Marek, but he deftly avoided his blow, grabbed him by his clothes, and with effort, pushed him behind him. Without waiting for the others to react, he punched the thin man with the skull-like head in the stomach. He himself took a blow under the ribs from the potato-shaped one, and then another to the kidneys; with a scream, he spun around, trying to elbow his attacker in the face. He missed, but took advantage of the swing and struck him with his other hand. The man flew back a bit, trying to quickly return to the fight; a powerful kick to the groin stopped him. Then the largest of them jumped on Marek; they both fell and rolled quite a distance towards the grove. They punched each other in the face. They didn't have much space, so the blows weren't hard; despite this, both had mouths full of blood. Finally, Marek pushed the man away enough to strike him with his forehead. Blood spurted thickly from his broken nose. The other two were already running up to Marek; he quickly crawled away towards the grove.

"A bottle!" Iweta shouted with genuine horror, watching the fight.

He found it easily, the same one he'd seen that morning. He grabbed the neck and, rising, quickly struck it blindly; he didn't hit anyone, and he himself was impaled on the potato man's fist. The blow wasn't a knockout, but it knocked Marek off balance. As he fell, he dropped the bottle. As soon as he hit the ground, he felt a kick. He tried to get up, but the incomprehensible sound of breaking glass stopped him. It was the bottle the largest of his attackers had smashed over his head. Marek lost consciousness; he didn't feel the blows the tulip had dealt him; neither the one aimed at his heart nor the ones that had lacerated his stomach.

Iweta screamed. She had never screamed like that before; so sincerely, so loudly, so piercingly. She didn't try to escape when a thin man with a deathly face approached her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the motionless Marek and his panting, arguing friends.

"Why the fuck did you cut him? We have a dead body because of you! Do you know what that means?

" "Why the fuck did he take the bottle? If he hadn't touched her, I wouldn't have killed him!"

Everything happened as if in slow motion: those screams, incomprehensible at times, indistinct, that thin boy who looked like death and was pulling her by the hand, the slowed-down roar of the sea, the loud, thunderous sound of crashing waves, Marek covered in blood, lying motionless among shards of green glass. In slow motion, yet very quickly, in mere fractions of a second. And those words, already repeating in her head like a broken record: we must get rid of the witness; they mingled with her own thoughts: we must escape.

She bent down, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it in the thin man's face. He let go immediately, clutching his eyes. She fled first along the sea, then into the forest. They weren't chasing her.

***

Adam panted, lying on the dark ground between two spruces. Karolina was trembling, even though the others had long since disappeared into the forest. She approached her husband and leaned over him. He tried to stand up, but a dull pain in his leg forced him to sit down.

"Why didn't you want to tell them?" She pronounced the syllables one at a time, with difficulty.

"Why did you tell them?" He pulled out his phone, with difficulty, and began searching for Marek's number. "I have his number, maybe there's still something we can do."

He immediately heard Marek's voice: "Yes, I'm listening." "

Hi, this is Adam, listen, there's a slight problem..." At that moment, he heard the screech of the machine – damn it! His phone was off.

"What now?"

She crouched down beside him and a moment later, she too fell to the ground. They sat there for a moment, looking at each other. They thought about what might be happening to Marek and Iweta now, that they might have escaped, or maybe Marek had even managed to cope; after all, he was sober, and they were stoned as hell. They also wondered what they should do now.

Some time passed before Adam looked up at Karolina and was about to say something when, in the distance, he saw a black silhouette running along the street. He straightened and took a closer look; Karolina followed his gaze. A silhouette, definitely female, ran, stumbling every few steps, finally turning into an alleyway; they both knew she was running towards their house.

"Iweta!" they uttered together.

They stood up and started towards her; over a hundred meters separated them. They tried to run; Adam fought the pain in his leg, taking longer steps with the one that didn't hurt. Finally, when they reached an intersection, they stopped for a moment. Iweta continued running, slowly now, on the last of his strength, drawn from nowhere; she was now just a tiny speck by their house, barely visible in the pale moonlight, which shone especially brightly that night.

"Run after her, and I'll look for Marek!"

They separated – Adam set off along the path through the forest, and Karolina, exhausted, ran down their street.