Another murder

It was raining. Dozens of people had gathered at the Tokhmakh cemetery. It was the funeral of General Emin.

At the head of the procession, soldiers carried a photograph of the general. In it, the deceased smiled, staring into the distance. Behind them, the military marched with wreaths of red roses and flowers in the colors of the Crotho flag. A coffin was carried in the middle of the procession. At the very end walked a forty-year-old woman and a seventeen-year-old boy with his head down. The boy’s face drooped, but his eyes burned with black hatred.

Suddenly an old man approached the boy. It was the caretaker of the cemetery.

“What is a young man like you doing at such a sad event?” the old man asked.

The boy raised his head and stared at the caretaker. After a pause, he spoke.

“I’m burying my father.”

“I see,” he drawled. “My condolences,” the old man said slowly.

The boy moved on.

When the general had been buried, people lined up at the grave. At the front stood a man of about sixty, a woman, and the same boy.

“Clara, you need to be careful. If Emin was killed by terrorists, then none of this is simple. Your husband never let you in on any of his affairs?”

“No. He always knew how to keep family and work separate. But I don’t want to talk about it now. My heart is breaking,” Clara said, wiping away a tear.

“You need to pull yourself together. You have a son, and you have no right to drown in your grief and stop thinking about the future. Emin is gone now, which means your family no longer has any protector.”

“And you? Won’t you help us?”

“I…” he drawled, “with my health, ahahaha.” George laughed nervously. “Of course I’ll help. The question is how long I can protect you. And I still have to protect myself and my own children.”

“Yes,” General Emin’s wife said dismissively. “I understand. I need to pull myself together. But I can’t right now. I’m sorry,” she said sadly.

“I understand.” General George continued after a short pause. “Listen, it would be good if our children became friends. Bring Zen to visit us.”

“Let some time pass. Zen needs to be alone. It would be wrong of me… you understand.”

“Yes.”

A gray sky showed from under the umbrella. It was still raining.

“Listen, Clara…”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Emin was afraid to die?”

Clara looked at George with wide eyes. Even standing at her husband’s funeral, every word about death sent her into shivers and panic.

“Enough! Don’t talk to me about death anymore! Please,” she said, ready to kneel and beg the whole world to be silent. “Show some respect. I beg you. I can’t listen to this anymore. I… I can’t do this anymore,” she said, and, falling to her knees, she began to cry.

“I’m an egoist. Forgive me, Clara. I’m sorry.”

Clara did not react at all and only sobbed. Meanwhile, her son stood nearby, staring at the grave with his hateful eyes. Even when his mother fell to the ground, he did not go to her. In that moment, every emotion was alien to him but anger and hatred.

A lone bird flew across the sky. General George dropped the umbrella to one side and stepped forward.

“I want to say goodbye to Emin personally. Please, could you all move away a little?” George asked those present.

The soldiers helped Clara up and stepped back. George walked over to the grave and, with a start, fell to his knees.

“Hello, my friend. So this is our en…”

Before he could finish, his body flew up into the sky. An explosion thundered.