CHAPTER ONE
When the Great War began, Robert was a happy, ordinary thirteen-year-old, unaware of the threat. He lived with his parents on the outskirts of Malbork, Wielbark. When the first strange accidents began to occur in the Muggle world, befalling all sorts of people in all sorts of corners of the world, Robert was just beginning to show signs of illness, manifesting itself in mental suffering due to the holidays, which were already so close, yet still so far away...
Robert liked school, but only on days when he had no obligations—meaning there were no tests, quizzes, questions, or any other tormenting of young minds, or littering. But as is often the case at school, whether in the kennel, the kennel, the teacher's room, or the temple of knowledge, you can never be sure of anything. So, overall, Robert enjoyed school for about a week in total throughout the year (seven days for the less intelligent). The temple of knowledge, or like the aforementioned teacher's room, the Assembly of Undemanding Hot Stools, didn't keep him awake at night. Robert didn't belong to any of the school's main "ethnic" groups. In other words, he wasn't an athlete in math—always present in body and spirit, but unfortunately not in mind, so he didn't ask for a calculator at the blackboard when calculating the square root of 16. He wasn't a nerd, either, so he was never hated in class. He wasn't a genius either, because he was simply a lazy, stinking person. Consequently, his mother, the good Mrs. Kornelia, with a pretty name but a slightly more aggressive disposition, always armed herself with a full can of air freshener before entering her son's room (because there was never enough of it in Robert's room). However, as it might seem, the stench wasn't coming from Robert himself, but the lazy person was stinking because he never effectively investigated how a wild skunk from the forest got into his room and... how should I put this nicely... left its odors in such places that the epicenter of the neighborhood stench was always Robert's room, named after the exceptionally stinking skunk, the stinking one. Robert wasn't an average student either, so he was a sort of school representative of "ethnic" blandness. Robert, however, was in reality a representative of versatility. He wasn't a stupid kid, so he mostly didn't do his homework at home. He was usually prepared, but not because he "worked hard at home," as his History teacher used to say, but because he simply had a solid memory, and he kept things he considered useful for the future in his head, not letting them escape with a wave of other, unnecessary information. Robert was well-liked, though like everyone else, he had a handful of enemies. He also had, like not everyone else, his own group of friends, including his best friend, his reflection in the mirror, practically his twin brother, Rafał. Robert's group had unique members: the dimwitted Łukasz, the know-it-all Darek Dariusz, the clever Franek, the laid-back Kamil, and the cool Rafał.
The end of the school year was approaching at a dull pace, like teenagers returning from a party in the early morning hours after guzzling Coke from a beer bottle and talking about how much they'd drunk, or how drunk they'd gotten. Robert had no major problems with grading, though there was a minor incident in Biology class when Roszpucha objected to giving a "very good" grade to his best (and, Roszpucha thought, most diligent) student, Robert. She'd spit on his grade for answers when she'd roused him from his lethargy after her lecture on the composition of gastric juices and demanded he repeat the name of some compound, or whatever, that breaks down proteins. When Robert, though lethargically but surprisingly sober, replied: salivary amylase, Roszpucha twirled her green pen, which was buried in her greasy hands, and tore open her greasy red brawn, which served as mouthpieces, shouting: "Puck!" Robert sat down with the taste of injustice in his mouth and sank back into lethargy. Thinking nothing more of the incident, he continued to live in the belief that the stick wouldn't harm him. For five minutes, Roszpucha insisted on lowering his grade to "good" until the recess bell rang. When the entire class group left the classroom, blood dripping from the duel between the top students: Klara, nicknamed "AllAch," and Edyta, nicknamed "Roszpucha," Robert decided to bring out all the guns of war, his irresistible charm and political instinct at the forefront, and start scheming—read: shitting—for an "A.
" "Ma'am," he began ingratiatingly, standing to the side of the desk so that Roszpucha could have a frontal view of her favorite classroom fixture, the skeleton, Wacek.
"What?" she spat with the utmost contempt she could muster, indicating, like a skunk with its butt turned to the aggressor, that she was out of the question.
"I was thinking about my answer from that... such a happy day when you deigned to ask me... my answer, and although... of course I was sure you were right... I pored over a lot of books... and I came to the conclusion that you must be... an amazing teacher, that you were able to understand all this... and remember it all... And I came to the conclusion that I want to be... a teacher, but not an ordinary, common one, but an amazing, brilliant one like you..." Robert's technique was clearly working, because Rapuka fixed her pig-like eyes on the humble student standing before her. Robert could have sworn he saw tears standing in her eyes... Oh God! Her tears, now streaming down her pig-colored skin, were flecks of fat like broth...
After this performance, Robert was on the rocks, and well... it went like clockwork. In the blink of an eye (because he couldn't stand the sight of a crying piglet) he got a very good grade and raised the grades of everyone in the class except Darek Dariusz, who already had an A, and it couldn't be higher because Roszpucha didn't give excellent grades.
The rest of the pre-holiday period was spent for Robert, during all his classes, cracking jokes, because, as is usually the case at the end of the school year, there are quizzes to improve already inflated grades. In History, the class idiot, Krzysztof K., known to the general public by his nickname Ksysiu P., was tormenting himself. The class had a great laugh almost the entire lesson, as Gucio the teacher refused to give up such pleasure in continuing to perpetuate Ksysiu Pojeb's agony on the class forum. Soon, the entire school, including Ksysiu P., knew about the "historical clowning," and as a result, he no longer had a life there. The kennel reeked increasingly of the decaying bodies of students who had lost duels to battle-hardened teachers. It was increasingly difficult to endure the sweltering heat of the "Temple" within its repulsive walls, begging to be used for rest, or perhaps even drifting. The end approached with increasing speed, to the great relief of both sides of the school class. Although there was still a week left until the summer "ceasefire," the atmosphere was becoming lighter and more pleasant, but the obligation to attend the kennel still brought terrible grimaces to both sides. The days flew by, perhaps not with the speed of rushing rivers, but it was bearable, and finally, after days filled with drawing patience from the deepest depths, the wonderful, long-awaited day had arrived.
Danuta and Jan's Thursday day crept towards its end in the scorching sun. Tomorrow would be the day of liberation, the day of freedom, Independence Day! The Enslaved Student People! Robert lay on his bed in his room, watching the "breaking" news. The presenter, a fake smile glued to his thin lips with super-strong glue, was announcing tomorrow's news. With great (fake) glee, he recited a poem he supposedly wrote in a fit of joy over the end of the school year tomorrow. The story was so far-fetched that Robert couldn't believe someone could make such a fool of themselves, while simultaneously trying to fool others. Robert couldn't believe that during this idiotic performance, anyone could believe the "presenter's" intentions were genuine. He was wrong! A moment after he finished his psychological ramblings, a voice came from downstairs, or more precisely, from the living room, from the throat of a tearful woman—Robert's mother, Cornelia.
"Ro-berrrt!" The woman with a handkerchief in her hand sobbed loudly. "Come see how nice this presenter is; it's amazing there are still people like him!"
"Yes, Mom, I see, he's really very nice!" he replied, as a way of deflecting the sarcasm, and sank back into a rare but very pleasant rest, tinged with a sense of genuine freedom.
After a while, he fell asleep, deriving real pleasure from it. Waking up in the night, lying on the bed fully clothed, it took him a moment to realize why he'd woken up at all. Shouts came from downstairs, as if someone had been attacked. Robert looked out the window; the street was shrouded in a sleepy haze, and nothing moved in sight. The shouts faded, and for a few minutes, Robert stared wide-eyed into the darkness, but he saw nothing. Just as he was about to go to bed, a loud bang rang out. Robert, standing by the window, immediately poked his head out of the room into the night air and began scanning the area again. Again, nothing moved, but now a faint whisper could be heard, so faint that Robert wasn't sure if it was just a figment of his imagination, or perhaps the distant sound of a television or radio on, or perhaps the truly faint echo of a whispered conversation. In a quiet alley, the slightest sound was always audible, especially at night. This time, it was true, but Robert, despite his keen hearing, couldn't make out a single word from the faint whisper. Still carefully scanning the alley, he finally spotted the likely source of the whisper. On the lawn in the garden of Mr. and Mrs. Biniwiuk, Frank's parents. A woman stood, and next to her sat a proudly erect cat, its rear turned to Robert. The woman was clearly talking to someone, but there was no other person in sight, and she certainly wasn't talking on her cell phone. The woman turned her head away from the cat and looked out Robert's window. For a moment, she looked him straight in the eye and just as quickly... vanished into thin air. Robert rubbed his eyes, looked again at the spot where the woman had stood a second ago, and thought frantically for a moment.
"What? Is this? How? Impossible! I thought so. No! She really did! She vanished into thin air! I saw it right. I didn't imagine it!"
Robert knew exactly what he'd seen, but he couldn't quite explain it. He just didn't know what to do now, whether to go and tell someone, or pretend nothing had happened. The answer, however, didn't occupy his troubled and confused thoughts for long. A man now appeared on the grassy stage, and in the dim lamplight, he looked as if he'd recently eaten dinner in a dumpster, for at times he looked like a bum. Robert, however, couldn't understand where this feeling was coming from. The man clearly wasn't surprised by his strange (unusual) situation, yet he was standing in the middle of someone else's lawn, in the middle of the night, his bum eyes staring first at the cat, then at Robert, who was still standing at the window, transfixed by curiosity and the strangeness of the whole incident. A head appeared in the upstairs window of the house across the street, and after a moment of drawing aside the curtain, it appeared in the cold. Franek nodded to Robert, a now-old sign of the Bucket Transmission. Robert grabbed his end of the rope with the cup and whispered.
"See that bum on your lawn?"
"What's he up to?" the whisper from across the street replied.
"I don't know, he just stands there, throwing short glances at me, then at the cat, over and over again. Did you hear that bang and the screams?
" "What? No, I didn't hear anything, you know, I'm a heavy sleeper, and even several alarm clocks don't bother me, except for my mother, who, when she gets going...
" "Stop it! Stop talking! You've got a good sense of humor, damn you! So why aren't you sleeping?
" "Because... I was a bit overwhelmed, and since it took so long, I finally woke up, and I saw your head in the window, so...
" "Well... yes, yes!" Robert replied quickly, adding a hint of understanding to keep Franek from getting too excited again... "Have you seen him before?"
"I don't know... maybe, but I can't see his face, well, it's hard, but something reminds me of a guy who once sold me a pack of fake cigarettes...
" "What?
" "Uh, nothing, I said it wrong, I meant, you know, what I put in the skinny guy... in math..." Franek started twirling something—, his tongue getting really tangled up in a really unusual way, until it had so many knots on it that he couldn't speak at all—
"Were they fake? And I thought you'd gone completely crazy, you started smoking—
" "Uh, yeah. You know, I wanted to show off—, but I never wanted to smoke either, and then he sold them to me and... Listen, but you won't tell anyone, okay?" Franek said, "Okay," in a voice so pleading that it would break a sensitive heart, but not with Robert...
"I'll think about it... hmm... I have another catch for you to add to my collection." Oh, it'll come in handy, it'll come in handy. - Robert started playing a little - with his friend, and it was great fun, well... but you can't bully - ?
- Okay, I won't lie, you almost have it covered...
- Hey! Like almost?
"You! Don't nag me or I'll change my mind!" Robert again sipped blood from the firm authority of a cool, clever guy that Frank enjoyed.
During this fruitful conversation, the man on the lawn didn't seem to move an inch, and the cat accompanying him seemed frozen in cement. Robert could still see Frank's head in the window of the house across the street, and he was debating whether to tell his friend what he'd seen. After all, this wasn't normal, and Frank might simply not believe him, or worse, call him a lunatic, a madman, or a psycho. Robert stood in silence for a few minutes, thinking hard. "No, he's my friend, he wouldn't say that, he knows me and knows me... but actually, I probably wouldn't believe such a story myself... No! I won't. Maybe I just imagined it!
" "Are you going to sleep—?" he finally said to Frank. For a long moment, silence filled the phone.
"I don't know, there's nothing interesting here, but I don't think I'll fall asleep anymore. Sometimes I do, that's why I doze off at school... I think I'll stay up some more. Actually, I think I have to, he's standing on our lawn... I have to keep an eye on him—, but if he stays like that much longer... I think I'll wake up my father.
" "I think I'm going to bed—...have a nice vigil. Bye."
Robert threw himself onto the bed. He didn't even feel like undressing anymore, so he placed the mug by the pillow, rolled onto his stomach, and tried to fall asleep, but it wasn't that easy for him anymore. Thinking about this woman, Robert had already come up with various theories, but none of them were good enough to be true. He listened to at least a dozen songs on the radio while he was thinking, but he still couldn't fall asleep. He began to think about his vacation, lost in dreams, found himself floating in the air, among the clouds, the wind raging in his hair, and below his gliding body was a mosaic of colors, bathed in blue on all sides... a faint sound echoed in his ear, a voice growing louder, someone's voice booming in his ear. Robert opened his eyes; it was night, Franek was calling him from a cup.
"What's going on!?
" "That guy!" He vanished into thin air, so normal, he was standing there, and suddenly only a hazy outline remained, and then nothing. I'm not lying! I wasn't sleeping! I saw it! Wait... a woman appeared... out of nowhere!
"When?
" "Well... now." Robert ran to the window, looked out, and on the lawn stood the same woman he'd seen before. "What's going on?" he thought. "This isn't enough! What are they up to? And... how do they do it?" Robert leaned out the window even further, assessed the situation for a moment, and shouted.
- Who are you? - Franek picked up on Robert's intentions and added - Exactly... and why are you standing on my lawn!
The woman looked at Robert. When Franek screamed, she turned towards him, looked straight ahead again, and after a moment, she raised her head. Franek groaned. The woman nodded to the cat and disappeared with it. Something grabbed Robert, someone was squeezing his arm. He felt dizzy, his room swirled before his eyes. A moment later, however, he felt a jolt. He only had time to turn his head to see the woman's face and the cat at her feet, and in the background, Franek's room. A moment later, he felt another jolt, his legs left the floor, and images swirled before his eyes. Robert couldn't think, he didn't seem to want to, he felt like vomiting. He felt another jolt, his legs hit the floor, his head dropped to the icy floor; he lost consciousness.
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