CHatt has beaten out a foot a door and has jumped out on a roadside, pressing to a stomach a manual machine gun. Having
risen on the semibent feet, the officer has started up long turn along highway. Its person has suddenly warped, it has thrown
up the weapon on a shoulder and has fired a volley from podstvolnogo a grenade cup discharge. In second flash black
figures were swept. Then the opposite clap was distributed.
Security guards have already dispersed and slowly moved on the highway parties, being spat by fire in bushes. After a minute
one of them has given a sign that all in a relative order. Soon the others have joined it also. On highway wounded men
writhed.
Chatt has broken into the bus and has untidily sworn.
- What is the matter? - the general has enquired.
- Savages, - panting, Chatt has answered. - Nomads in skins with small arms. There all is covered by them.
- Savages?! - She was surprised. - What the hell?!
- If I knew, - the captain has leant about a salon wall. - there corpses as a dirt.