Did the Power Come Back On?

****

When the power went out, Masha had just been about to stick her fork into the first piece of chicken breast she’d fried for dinner. Startled, she sat motionless for a moment, frozen with the fork raised, then hissed expressively:

“D-d-damn.”

As luck would have it, there was no moon, and the whole apartment instantly plunged into complete, impenetrable darkness. Masha’s windows faced a strip of forest; there were no streetlights there anyway, so…

Carefully setting the fork down on the table, Masha got up from the couch and, stretching her arms out like a sleepwalker, shuffled toward the kitchen. In the dark the apartment suddenly felt hostile and чужой. Masha couldn’t remember where she’d put the matches, since the stove lit with a button (of course, electric). Bumping into a hanging sheepskin coat, Masha suddenly remembered the lighter in its pocket and exhaled with relief. With a small flame that quickly burned her fingers but was still fire, Masha hurried into the kitchen and turned the gas on all the burners. The kitchen lit up with a ghostly cold glow.

Sitting down on a chair, Masha sighed in relief. Now the main thing was to find candles, and that was it—nothing страшного. Thank God there were candles left from New Year’s—long, twisted, vanilla-scented. But where were they? Hopefully in the kitchen, and if not? Masha could have put them anywhere. She rummaged in a drawer with various household odds and ends, and—oh, miracle! There they were, the candles. In their place, surprisingly.

Masha lit both candles at once, then changed her mind after a few seconds and blew one out—better to save them, who knew when the power would come back. She went into the room, stuck the candle into a holder, and set it on the table. Decided it all looked very romantic—dinner by candlelight, for one.

When the chicken was finished, a faint twinge of boredom appeared. For now the twinge was barely noticeable, but who knew how long she’d have to sit like this. Masha took the plate to the kitchen and returned to the room, sat on the couch. What to do? How to pass the time? Reading—too dark, bad for the eyes, and there wasn’t much to read anyway. Masha had long since switched to an e-reader—which was, ha-ha, without a backlight. What else to do? Lay out solitaire? Draw little roses in the margins of old newspapers? Go to bed? Too early, it was only nine. Masha was a choleric; sitting idle was like torture for her.

God, how dependent people are on electricity. How boring it is to sit without light.

And also scary.

Masha hadn’t been afraid of the dark since childhood, but now the small cozy apartment her parents had bought her seemed huge, чужой, and eerie. Because the candle dispersed the darkness, it only grew thicker in the corners. Masha shivered and suddenly remembered her phone.

She wanted to talk to someone—her mom, her dad, even her brother Misha, though they couldn’t stand each other. Just to hear a familiar voice. Or maybe call Svetka. Actually, that was an idea! She could drive over, and they’d go to a café or a club. Then Svetka could drop her at her parents’, and Masha would stay the night there.

Jumping up from the couch, Masha darted around happily looking for her phone. Then she remembered—she’d left it in the bathroom. She had a habit of carrying it everywhere, though there wasn’t anyone particularly important to call. Setting the candle on the little table in the hallway, Masha dashed into the bathroom and… fell, hitting her head painfully. She’d forgotten to wipe the floor after taking a bath and slipped on the wet tile.

Stars scattered before her eyes. Masha hit the back of her head on the doorframe and now sat on the floor, hissing in pain and rubbing the back of her head. There didn’t seem to be any blood, but a large bump was already forming. Plus she’d landed badly on her hip—there would be a bruise, and it hurt to straighten up. With difficulty, Masha got up, felt around on the washing machine for the phone, and, limping, headed back to the room. Yes, dancing was out for tonight.

Carefully lowering herself onto the couch, Masha pressed the unlock button and groaned aloud. She barely resisted the urge to throw the phone at the wall—it wasn’t its fault she’d forgotten to charge it. God, of course everything would go wrong at once. Masha squeezed her eyes shut, and angry tears ran down her face—from pain and frustration. Her head throbbed, her vision slightly doubled. Hopefully she hadn’t gotten a concussion; that would be a perfect end to the evening.

The sharp trill of the doorbell made Masha jump. Her heart pounded wildly—sudden sounds in the dark do not promote calm. Carefully standing, Masha took the candlestick and, feeling like a heroine of a Gothic novel, slowly went to the door.

“Who is it?” Masha parted her dry lips. Her voice sounded like a mosquito’s squeak.

There was rustling behind the door, after which Masha heard the cracked voice of her neighbor, Anna Pavlovna.

“Mashenka, it’s Anna Pavlovna, from forty-eight. Open the door for a minute.”

Masha exhaled in relief and reached for the lock. She opened the door.

The neighbor stood on the landing, which was lit only by the candle in Masha’s hand. “Strange, did she walk here in the dark?” Masha thought. Anna Pavlovna lived two floors down.

Anna Pavlovna stood motionless, looking carefully into Masha’s eyes. Her lips stretched into a kindly smile.

“Mashenka, dear, did the power come back on?”

“No, Anna Pavlovna, as you can see.”

The neighbor’s eyes darted behind Masha.

“And when will it come back?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have the maintenance office’s number.”

Anna Pavlovna slowly nodded, continuing to smile ingratiatingly. Masha looked at her, puzzled, waiting for some further action.

“Mashenka, can I come in?”

Anna Pavlovna stepped closer to the door but did not cross the threshold. Masha flinched slightly, seeing the reflection of the candle in the neighbor’s eyes. For some reason the request repelled her; Masha didn’t want to let her in. Though they got along well—Anna Pavlovna was polite, didn’t scold “the youth,” and Masha had gone shopping for her a few times. But now… something about the neighbor frightened her. The girl felt a bit ashamed of it, but couldn’t help herself.

The woman’s usually good-natured, full face looked somehow sagging and deflated. Her lower lip drooped slightly, exposing a dark row of lower teeth. Her hair, usually neatly tied in a bun, hung in messy strands. Of course, Masha understood that old age wasn’t a time of beauty, and it was evening, the neighbor looked “at home,” and the dim light didn’t help, but… the sense of danger was growing.

“Anna Pavlovna, they’ll probably restore the power soon. Let me walk you to your apartment.”

The neighbor chewed her lips.

“Mashenka, it’s so dark, there’s no light.”

“Do you have candles? I have one left, I’ll bring it out.”

“Just let me in, I’ll take it myself.”

A chill ran through Masha. She’d never seen Anna Pavlovna so insistent.

“Why does she need to get inside?”

“I’ll bring it now, wait.”

Masha barely resisted the urge to slam the door in the neighbor’s face and hobbled to the kitchen for the spare candle. When she returned, she noticed that Anna Pavlovna stood right at the threshold but didn’t cross it. Without stepping outside, Masha handed her the candle.

“Shall I walk you back?”

“Masha, can I stay with you? Please!” The neighbor’s face crumpled as if she were about to cry. For a moment Masha felt ashamed—maybe she should let her in, maybe the old woman was scared alone, and what was the point of sitting alone? She herself had wanted something to do. They could make tea, chat, listen to sweet old stories about youth…

As if sensing Masha’s hesitation, Anna Pavlovna moved even closer to the threshold and clutched the doorframe with her fingers. Masha glanced at the neighbor’s hand and felt horror prick her heart like an icy needle.

Anna Pavlovna had once been missing the phalanx of the ring finger on her right hand—the neighbor had told her she’d worked in a dangerous factory. Now the phalanx was there. Masha cast a quick look at the other hand—also all fingers present. Feeling dizzy, Masha stared at the woman’s face. Her consciousness seemed to split—in one sense she saw a familiar face, in another she didn’t recognize it at all. Anna Pavlovna stood hunched, looking from under her brows. As if she understood Masha had noticed something she shouldn’t have. The pause stretched. Masha fought the urge to slam the door; only the neighbor’s fingers on the frame stopped her.

The candle suddenly sparked and went out in Masha’s hand. The next second she heard a scraping giggle in front of her, some movement. Unable to bear it, the girl squealed and slammed the door. Apparently Anna Pavlovna had managed to move her hand.

Sobbing, holding onto the walls with trembling hands, Masha slowly made her way toward the kitchen, lit by the ghostly gas flame. Reaching the doorway, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, breathing convulsively and wiping tears. She didn’t understand what she had just seen, how to interpret it, or what to do next. She felt only animal terror, which had already reached its peak and was now receding, giving way to numbness.

In the muffled silence, broken only by Masha’s breathing, a scratching sound was heard. The girl flinched and peered into the hallway, staring at the front door. The scratching turned into tapping.

“Masha, let me in! Do you know when they’ll turn the power back on?”

The neighbor’s voice, coaxing and sweet.

“Go away!” Feeling a sudden surge of anger, Masha grabbed a broom and threw it at the door. “I won’t let you in!”

After catching her breath, Masha stood and lit a candle. She no longer paid attention to the sounds or the neighbor. The old woman had probably just gone mad. And the finger… who knows what she’d imagined in the dark.

Returning to the room, the girl placed the candlestick on the table and lay down on the couch, curling up. She closed her eyes and after a few minutes realized the sounds had stopped. Apparently Anna Pavlovna had left. Sighing in relief, Masha pulled a blanket over herself and dozed off.

The doorbell woke her. At the sharp sound, Masha jumped up on the couch with a pounding heart—second time that evening. Her first impulse was to ignore it, not go to the door, but the ringing was continuous, getting on her nerves. Taking the candlestick with a trembling hand, Masha went to the door.

“Who is it?” she croaked sleepily.

“Mashul, it’s me, Diana. Open for a minute.”

Hearing the answer, Masha relaxed slightly. Diana lived across the hall with her two-year-old daughter Arisha. Masha had once even gone over for coffee.

“Just a second, Dian.”

Fumbling a bit, Masha opened the door. Diana and Arisha stood on the landing, the girl tightly clutching her mother’s hand.

Masha forced a smile.

“Hi. Did you need something?”

Diana leaned forward, smiling brightly.

“Mashul, do you know if the power came back on?”

Masha felt the hair on the back of her neck stir. Frozen, she looked at Arina. The girl stood with a finger in her mouth, watching Masha intently.

“Diana, what kind of question is that? You can see it hasn’t…” Masha stammered helplessly.

Diana picked up her daughter. Now they both stared at Masha.

“Mashul, can we come in? Our microwave doesn’t work, we need to warm milk for Arisha.”

Masha gripped the door handle with icy fingers. She was ready to slam the door at any movement.

“Diana, my microwave doesn’t work either. There’s no power.”

“Oh come on, Mashul, Arisha’s afraid of the dark. Let us in, we’ll have tea.”

“It’s dark here too.”

Clutching the handle painfully tight, Masha watched as Arisha took her finger out of her mouth while sitting in her mother’s arms. The girl suddenly smiled and clearly said:

“Masha, did the power come back on?”

The girl slammed the door and burst into tears, leaning her back against it. She felt the blows on the door through her skin and cried out with each one. She already understood something terrible had happened, that what was happening now was abnormal and beyond logic. Arina still spoke very poorly, only individual words, and distorted at that; just yesterday she’d called Masha “Masa.” But what was there to be surprised about—Anna Pavlovna had grown back a finger; compared to that, a two-year-old speaking clearly was nothing.

Diana knocked for another fifteen minutes, though Masha had long lost track of time. Then the blows stopped. Masha pressed her ear to the door but didn’t hear the neighbor’s door slam. She also wondered why the other neighbors hadn’t come out when Diana was pounding. In such silence it must have been heard on all nine floors.

It was a mistake for Masha to think of other neighbors. After several dozen minutes, which she spent still sitting on the floor, the doorbell rang again. This time it was Sergei from downstairs, an auto mechanic. Masha didn’t open, and he repeated in various ways:

“Did the power come back on? Mashka, huh? Did it? When will it?”

And knocked.

Masha felt she was going mad. She firmly decided to leave the apartment. Strange she hadn’t thought of it earlier. She should have run right after Anna Pavlovna’s visit.

When the blows stopped and the neighbor seemed to leave, Masha quietly put on her sheepskin coat, took her bag, and stood for a while with her ear to the door. The landing was deathly silent. After a few minutes, crossing herself, she opened the door. The candle burned on the table by the door; Masha wanted to leave it, but realized she wouldn’t be able to lock the door in total darkness. Taking the candle, she stepped onto the landing. When the light fell on both staircases, a scream stuck in her throat.

They were all there, on the steps. Anna Pavlovna, Diana with Arisha, Sergei, Mikhail Petrovich from the first floor, thirteen-year-old Nadya with her grandmother, the tall blonde in heels from the second, the little old lady from the third, the Revyakin couple from the fifth, and many others whose faces were lost in the dark. They just stood there and silently watched Masha.

Fighting the trembling in her knees, Masha slowly backed toward the door. “Thank God I didn’t manage to lock it,” flashed a desperate thought. Without turning her back to those waiting, Masha opened the door slightly and darted inside, immediately throwing on the chain. The candle fell from her hands and went out. In the darkness Masha fumbled at the door with the key, trying to lock it, whining quietly, trying not to listen to the many-voiced howl that erupted the moment she slammed the door. Voices howled, moaned, screamed, cried, and this nightmare noise merged into one phrase:

“Did the power come back on?”

Sobbing, Masha crawled to the kitchen, her legs wouldn’t hold her. The noise filled her brain, pushing out all thoughts. The last thing she saw were the fading flames of the gas burners.

Getting Arisha ready for daycare was always a huge problem, and this morning especially. Yesterday the power went out, and the daughter refused to sleep, acted up, then cried and called for Diana. The girl had reached the age when you start to be afraid of the dark. In short, Diana had hoped that without electricity the girl would fall asleep earlier, but it turned out the opposite. The circus of tears and fairy tales went on until one in the morning, and when mother and daughter finally fell asleep hugging, there were only six hours until wake-up.

In the morning Diana got up with difficulty; waking Arisha and feeding her breakfast was even harder. Finally she managed to stuff her into a padded snowsuit, put on her boots and hat. Now the hardest part remained—getting Arina into the stroller.

Opening the front door, Diana began pushing the bulky stroller onto the landing. She noticed in passing that a new candle lay by the opposite door, where the student Masha lived, but didn’t have time to be surprised. Masha’s door flew open, and the owner herself stepped out.

“Hi, Mashul,” Diana said, lifting Arina under the arms and placing her in the stroller. The girl whimpered, bending her legs and pushing against the seat, and Diana didn’t immediately look up at Masha.

The girl stood by the door, arms hanging at her sides, staring somewhere past. Diana noticed Masha seemed drawn, her face very pale, her hair uncombed.

“Masha, are you okay? You look strange.”

As if hearing Diana for the first time, Masha flinched. Diana saw her step back toward the door, then, as if changing her mind, stop. In horror Diana saw Masha blindly stretch out her hands and, feeling through the air, slowly step forward. Masha carefully found the railing, grabbed it, and sliding past Diana with an unseeing gaze, asked into the space:

“Diana, did the power come back on?”