A few years ago I worked as an opera in the department of internal affairs in China Town. In this regard, I want to tell one case that I attended when giving evidence.
It was at the beginning of June 2000, I would be on days, on duty.
The area in the sense of ordinary crime was rather calm - a hooligan, petty thefts were in progress. Of the grave were murders, but mostly business/politics, i.e. All order.
Three PLN cars were shuttling around the district, one of which started this story:
3-30 am call, one of the groups. "Blow on Solyanka." We sat down and drove off, the second opera, I and three other employees. After 3 minutes on the spot. A woman, 30 years old, is dressed decently, according to the documents of a Muscovite. Alive. Whole, not counting two scratches. It is worth, crying, muttering something. Sober. We with Serge (the second opera) and Andrey (the senior from the group) approach with inquiries and calming. They sat down and began to write. Have thrown. We started again, with a clean one. Then they left again. Because it does not happen, some devilry, she said, turned out. And we do not write devilry; these are the problems of doctors usually. But it turned out this: she and her husband left the restaurant at Pokrovka at 23:00. They threw the car not far away in an alley, does not remember the exact name, reminds visually how to go. The evening sank, the aisles are empty: there is a kind of funny area, the streets are lively, and in many lanes uninhabited boarded-up single-story buildings. So far, it's 23-30. Here around one of the buildings hear the wild hellish screams from the building. She is uncomfortable, and Lesha (that's the name of her husband) is trying to rush to the rescue. And how - it is incomprehensible, the building is boarded up, the windows are full of boards, the doors are not visible, the entrance is from the yard. They run into the courtyard, she wails: "Lesha, let's call the militia" - and he does it for some reason: while they say they'll come, the crime will make ten times and run away, so at least we'll scare you. Here's the door, not locked. Here an important nuance - she noticed that the door is posted with some newspapers. The cries were gone. Cautiously step inside, eyes do not see, she remains on the porch. Suddenly, her husband's cry is heard, and some sobbing or camping (yes, that's exactly what she said, CHAVKANIE, we asked 2 times again). After 5 seconds, cotton, the husband flies back, the hand is bloodied, the jacket is not there, all white, shakes, but it seems to be alive. She grabs her arm, yells "RUN." They're running. Where? Why? They do not understand; they lost the car, they got confused in the alley, there are no people. Take the cellular, there instead of the standard MTS - "Addokkrd" or something like some rubbish. Dial "02", they are in response to squeaks and words in an incomprehensible language. "112" is the same. They panic, they run. They run into some dead end; she remembered the name. "EMPTY DENTIST.", Quiet, deserted, dark. "WHAT, WHAT ARE YOU, HOW ARE YOU?" She shouts to him. He is silent in the stupor, says he does not remember, says that he must find a car and go. She cries, does not understand what and how. Suddenly, a vibration begins in the earth. "Probably a subway," she says. "Yes," agrees the husband, but starts to tremble. Grabs her like mites by the hand, and they run to the end of the impasse. "Stop here; I'll go out, I'll see what's there and how," he tells her. Makes a step around the corner. She rushes after him, but he is not. Stupidly NOT. A direct empty street, for those 3/4 seconds it was impossible to hide. She screams, calls, cries, laments, thinks it's a ridiculous rally, but he's not. Wandered, wandered, then suddenly came across people, asked them to help, but they recoiled, as from the sick. As a result, I went to Solyanka, and then the car of our guys spotted it.
Very much asked us to find it. Yes, we would be happy, but how? According to the rules, she did not see any crimes for three days. Not precisely, more shortly. Okay, we throw the scribbling, we go to the site. They found the house. "The dead end" EMPTY "or" Emptiness "on maps of Moscow does not exist, and there is no similar name in the region.
We inspected the building. Empty, dusty old. The only thing is that the door is not covered with newspapers, swears that it was. Strange, of course. Even more impressive with a jacket - it was found. More precisely, the remains. He was lying on the other side. Dusty piece. Without traces of blood and foreign substances. But ONLY half. It's cut diagonally with something strange, like a razor. The other half was not found.
We found the car, there was a near-by mother there, really - no traces and damages. We call her a "sober driver," even if she is lucky, her aunt is clearly not in the right way to steer herself. We take explanations from her final reports, I write to him. Decided to leave, as is, only combed a little.
We stand, smoke, with the assistant of the elder on duty, the old fat captain. A huge man was, the old is still hardening. Although now he is retired already, then there was at least where.
I ask him what he thinks. He stretched himself, looked at me and asked: "What is the name of the impasse?".
"The impasse of emptiness, or emptiness," I say. "Strange some name; there is no such."
He took another drag, coughed, and replied: "If you're old, you're in my safe." There is a selection of one from the archive. There are several similar cases there. Also disappearing. There was one that did not disappear, but survived, carried some nonsense about finding a way, worse than not. His doctors were taken away later, but, in general, then I did not observe the system in this, it was a quarter of a century ago. And now I have been watching for a long time, and I try not to walk along the old Chinese-city lanes. "He extinguished and went into the building.
In general, it's worth talking about missing people: just because people do not disappear anywhere.
People go, but then they are found. As a rule, in spring, surfaced. And usually, a person has a prehistory: an environment (an individual or something else), a kind of activity (private creditor), and so on. But that's so, an ordinary person in the middle of a busy city in front of his wife dissolved into the air, there are almost no such stories. Nearly.
I rummaged around in the file cabinet. I found another 8 cases, where it figured, there was a "dead end Emptiness." Too disappeared, everywhere denied cases - no one was going to look for them. There is no one. And nowhere, it seems. In any case, not on our map, not in our global cities.
I also talked with colleagues from other departments later: nowhere else is more like this.
Sometimes the old-timers say something like that, at the level of bucks, but I did not believe before, I thought, so old-minded - to chat. But suddenly he became practically a direct participant. And a little differently to these stories began to concern.
Since then I try not to walk in the center along the back streets with abandoned buildings. No wonder they are still standing there.

alone at home...

I was 12 years old, and, as was customary, and probably not only with me, every summer I went to my grandmother, well, not quite to the village, but something of the sort. One evening my grandmother went off somewhere, I came from the street, and there was no one at home, it was about 10 pm. I fell down on the couch and turned on the TV. I slept in an armchair; it's my dog ​​of the breed of a lapdog, a curly blond with a pink nose. All would be nothing, but the dog had a habit of raising barking when someone came to the window or door. I do not know how she defined who is who, but what's important is that she was never wrong. The dog raised her head and yelped once as if she had said "WHO!" On her dog. I did not pay attention, but the dog zealously repeated the "tussle" at intervals of a few seconds, then he jumped to the floor and ran to the window, barked. I went to the window and asked: "Who is there?" Nobody answered me, I asked again, but again silence. The dog listened and did not bark ... Suddenly he turned and yelled at the corridor door, so loud it sounded that the ears were buzzing. I open the hall door without a backward thought and say with a loud, solemn voice: "WHO IS THERE?" But in response silence again ... Puff as a chain broke, ran up to the front door, barked, as if with a stock, with a hoarse, typing air into the lungs, and then ran to me and, hiding behind me, made strange sounds: either Barking, to whining ... I already re-rooted, scrolling in my head, what could scare him. Slowly, intermittently breathing, I walked to the door and in a small voice asked: "Who?", And again the silence ... The dog died down and as if waiting for the answer of someone who was outside the door. I took a step toward the window and, rising to my toes, peered through the window. The wing was empty, no one was there, but then I shuddered, the shivers ran through my body, I felt that someone was standing there, and the dog could feel it too, he snarled and snarled. And then the door jerked as if it had been kicked. From fright, I almost turned gray in my rough 12 years). And as mad, he rushed into the room, jumping on the couch, and the dog followed me, while he pityingly whimpered and sometimes barked, but, rather, it was like a cry, like a cannon someone kicked and it hurt him ... On the sofa, the dog again fell silent and watched without looking up from the open door into the corridor, then he jumped over my clenched knees and ran to the arch connecting the room and the kitchen and began to rush into something invisible, as if someone were standing there with Stick and swung at him. I was terrified. Push made a throw, then ran back, whining, and again rushed to the arch ... Such a horror not everyone will survive. After another retreat, Puschok jumped on the couch and pressed himself against me. I did not know what to do, closed my eyes and pressed Cannon to my chest with all my might. My heart was beating wildly when suddenly I heard that someone was rustling with keys in the castle. It was a grandmother. When I opened my eyes, it became so calm and cozy before me; it's hard to describe ... When I told my grandma what happened, she said that I needed to watch less "heresy" on TV, and nothing would be imagined, but I- Then I know that it did not bother me ...


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