Executioners

Chapter 1

"Alright, Natasha." Galina Petrovna, opening the refrigerator door, took out a jar of raspberry jam. "I made this jam myself using my grandmother's recipe."

"In the fridge." She put the jar back. "There are five jars of it there."

"Galina Petrovna." Natasha sat on a chair, hands folded on her knees, her eyes were wet, but she was holding back. "Maybe something can be done. My dad works at the Ministry of Distribution."

"We've discussed this." Squatting down and taking the girl's hands in her palms, Galina stroked the back of Natasha's hand with her fingers and said, "I don't want to get your dad in trouble, and especially not you."

"But..." Natasha finally couldn't hold back, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "After all, many people get off like that, so many rich people and deputies, and everyone turns a blind eye."

"Now, that's just hurtful." Galya stood up, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at Natasha reproachfully. "Don't lump me in with THOSE MANY. I never aspired to wealth or power."

"But Galina Petrovna." Natasha stood up and, pressing against her, finally started crying. "This just can't be."

"There, there, it's alright." Galya said soothingly, stroking Natasha's head. "That's life, and you can't change anything."

"But you can..." Natasha raised her tear-streaked face to look at Galya. "Get a postponement. I heard a new law is being prepared soon, that executioners of the first category will be granted amnesty."

"I heard that too." Galya said, kissing Natasha on the forehead. "But it's unknown when it will be enacted."

"And how long could I manage to postpone my sentence..." Galya sat Anya down on a chair, walked over to the kettle, turned it on, and started pouring tea into cups. "It's unknown, and it's also unclear if I could hold out for long in the torture department."

"But you are..." Natasha, taking out a handkerchief, began wiping her tears. "Strong, you'll manage."

"Physically..." Waiting for the kettle to boil, Galya poured boiling water into the mugs. "Maybe I could last a long time."

"It's just, you see..." Diluting the boiling water with a little cold water, she opened a cupboard and took out a black, pot-bellied bottle. "Something's been off with my psyche lately."

"Really?" Natasha accepted the cup from Galya's hands and didn't even notice that she had splashed some semi-transparent light-brown liquid from the bottle into it. "You wouldn't know it by looking at you, Galina Petrovna."

"Hmm." Galya smirked, took a sip from her cup, and then smacked her lips pleasurably. "My job has turned me into an unfeeling stone monolith in the eyes of others."

"Really?" Natasha said quietly. "I'll become like that too."

"What? No." Galya reached out and soothingly patted the girl on the shoulder. "Executioners come in different kinds."

"And not necessarily ones like me." Taking another sip, Galya squinted pleasantly. "Presenting themselves before the condemned as monolithic statues of justice."

"Still..." Natasha finally took a sip, gasped, and asked, "What is this?"

"Old Pilgrim rum." Galya smiled, taking a sip. "They produce it in India, very expensive."

"But are we allowed..." Natasha took an uncertain sip, then licked her lips. "Wow, it's really tasty. So, are we allowed to drink at work?"

"Officially, no." Taking another sip, Galya poured more rum into her cup. "There's even a punishment stipulated for it."

"What kind?" Natasha's eyes widened in fear, and she put the mug on the table. "I... I don't want any more."

"Well, then don't offend me." Galya said reproachfully. "We're celebrating my retirement right now."

"Really?" Natasha asked in surprise, picking up the mug again under her boss's watchful gaze. "But is your age even appropriate?"

"So, insulting a superior officer of the CEC while on duty." Galya said in a stern tone, pointing at the mug and continuing, "Consuming alcoholic beverages in the workplace."

"Oh." Natasha covered her mouth with her palms, looking at her still-current boss in horror.

"Is punishable strictly, the form and severity of punishment. Determined by the superior of the offending employee." Galya stood up, took the mugs, and poured the still-hot tea into the sink. And to Natasha's surprise, she took glasses out of the cupboard. "So, to hell with tea."

"I accidentally found out..." Winking at Natasha, she took three oranges from the fridge, put them in a deep bowl, and placed it on the table. "That you wanted to give me a box of chocolates as a farewell gift."

"Yes." Natasha took her hands away from her mouth. "They're in my backpack."

"Bring them." Galya commanded, pouring rum into the glasses. "We're having a celebration here today."

"Oh, I'll be right back, in a flash." Natasha was glad she wasn't being punished. She ran to her backpack hanging on the coat rack among her and Galya's outerwear. "Come on, open up already, you."

"Finally, aha." Natasha pulled out a huge box of chocolates and put it on the table. "Here."

"Wow." Galya was surprised, opening the box. "These are very expensive."

"I know." Smiling, Natasha took one chocolate into her mouth, chewed it, and added, "Good thing they were on sale."

"Oh, you..." Galya reached out and ruffled Natasha's red curls. Thinking that if there is an afterlife, she would definitely miss them. "You little bug, decided to save money on your boss."

"Galina Petrovna." Natasha pulled away. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what exactly?" Galina squinted slyly and finally reached out to ruffle the girl's red curls again. "Like this?"

"Galina Petrovna, don't do that." Natasha covered her curls with her hands. "And anyway, these chocolates cost a quarter of my salary."

"So..." Tilting her head to her right shoulder, Galina looked slyly at Natasha. "Since we've decided to celebrate my retirement here."

"Alright, Galina..." Catching herself, Natasha corrected. "Galya."

"That's better." Freeing Natasha's hands, Galya took a glass and took a sip. "Seems you were asking about the pension."

"Yes, about the pension." Natasha also took a sip, chasing it with a chocolate. "What did you, oh sorry Galya, what did you mean by the phrase 'I'm retiring'?"

"You don't know?" Rolling her eyes, Galya shook her head. "About the law on amnesty for executioners upon being assigned for liquidation coming out soon. You remember?"

"Well, I heard something." Natasha replied. "But I was taking exams at the institute when the law about pensions came out."

"Oh, right." Galya slapped her forehead. "It came out in mid-June."

"Yeah." Natasha said thoughtfully after taking a sip. "Then a month of probation at your Center."

"And then I ended up with you, I mean, with you." The girl smiled. "So, what's the law?"

"For all executioners of the first category." Galya took a sip. "After ten years of work in one center, they are allowed to retire. And you can even go on a working pension."

"And how long have you been..." The girl squinted slyly and looked at her friend, as she now considered her. "On a working pension?"

"Just two months." The executioner smiled sadly. "As soon as ten years hit, I filed for it."

"That's a shame." The girl drawled. "Must be lousy when you've just retired and they decide to execute you."

"Well, that..." The executioner smiled widely, wiggling her eyebrows, and took a sip. "Depends on how you look at it."

"In what sense?" The girl didn't understand. "You don't have much savings, can't even leave a decent inheritance to anyone."

"Not much, you say?" Smirking, she took an old, worn-out phone from her pocket. Showing it to the girl, the executioner said, "Three hundred thousand, yeah, I agree it's little, but it's enough for you."

"What?" The girl exclaimed, knocking over her glass from surprise, spilling rum on the table. "Enough for meee?"

"Well, yes." Galina stood up, took a rag, wiped the table, and poured Natasha more rum. "I registered that money as an inheritance for you. After the execution, you'll be able to withdraw it from the account."

"But why?" The girl asked, looking at her friend in shock. "You did this?"

"So..." Galya looked at Natasha offendedly. "We agreed, I think, to address each other informally."

"What the hell." The executioner protested, her speech slightly slurred. "You're using formal address with me here."

"Sorry." The girl said, folding her hands in a pleading gesture. "I'm just flustered and mixed it up."

"Just kidding." Galya smirked. "Me."

"So, what about..." The girl reminded her, taking a sip. "My inheritance, why me specifically?"

"Because..." The executioner said, making a stone face. "A coin pointed to you. So I had to rewrite the will."

"Ah, poor Seryozha." Galya sighed sadly, propping her head with her fist. "My beloved third cousin, you won't see this money."

"Um..." Natasha's face fell, and her eyes widened. "I think I'd better refuse such an inheritance."

"Noo..." Galya expressed herself half-understandably. "I won't toss the coin again."

"And anyway." She sharply pointed at Natasha with her index finger, almost knocking out the girl's right eye. "That's your problem now, and I'm going to the scaffold the day after tomorrow."

Hrr... Suddenly falling face-first onto the table, Galya started snoring like a drunken cobbler.

Natasha, sitting at the table, looked in shock at her former boss. Who was snoring, lying right on the table in the middle of the storeroom. Where at any moment someone from management or other employees could walk in.

"Um... Galina Petrovna." Natasha said, shaking Galina Petrovna's shoulder. "Please, wake up."

"What? Where am I?" For a moment, lifting her head, the Executioner looked around with a bleary gaze. "Leave me alone, you pest. Hrr..."

"Damn, what to do?" Natasha trembled with fear, turning her head looking for something that could help. "Maybe go to Alexandra Maximovna for some medicine."

"Hrr... Smack, smack." Galina Petrovna snored loudly throughout the storeroom, smacking her lips in her sleep.

"Damn, and she'll report upstairs. She definitely won't let it slide, and she'll start asking questions." Jumping up, Natasha rushed to the backpack but, rummaging through it and finding nothing useful, returned to the table. And started shaking her boss. "After all, as a doctor, she must report such incidents."

"Although, wait." Natasha rushed to the door. "Slava should help, he seems understanding."

"Stop, you." A normal voice came from behind. Turning around, the girl saw the executioner getting up without difficulty and sitting on a chair. "Damn, you're such a child still."

"Oh, Galina Petrovna." Natasha rushed to hug her, crying. "You! Are you okay?"

"What's going to happen to me?" Galya patted the girl on the back soothingly. "Damn, you haven't even learned to distinguish heavily diluted alcohol yet."

"Where was I supposed to learn?" The girl asked indignantly, pushing Galya away from her. "I'm only twenty-three."

"Well, you were a student." Pouring more rum into the glass, Galya took a sip. "You would have definitely learned in the dorm."

"I finished the institute in my own city." Sitting opposite Galya, the girl also poured herself some rum and took a sip. "And the institute was a couple of blocks from my house."

"I see, lucky you." Galya said thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling with a thoughtful gaze. "Although, depends on how you look at it. You missed out on that dorm life."

"But..." Natasha smiled. "I graduated from the institute with honors."

"Well, that..." The executioner waved her hand. "Believe my experience, it's not an indicator."

"Why?" Natasha was surprised.

"Look." Galya took out the phone again, found the right photo, and handed it to Natasha. "That's me in my student years."

"Oh, wow." The girl instinctively covered her mouth with her palm and uttered. In the photo, a girl her age dressed in biker gear was looking at her. "That's you?"

"Who else?" Taking the phone back, the executioner smirked. "I managed to ride on my Vasya before motorcycles with gasoline engines were banned."

"You called your motorcycle..." The girl looked at Galya in surprise. "Vasya?"

"Well, yeah, on one hand it's cool." Galya smiled, looking at other student photos. "And you won't mix it up with others."

"I see." Natasha said thoughtfully. "So why are you hiding diluted rum here?"

"Yeah." The executioner waved her hand, not looking up from the phone. "For the condemned, you remember, about the birthday person's wish."

"Oh, I get it." The girl slapped her forehead. "And it's diluted so the condemned doesn't get drunk out of his mind and miss all the prescribed sensations during the execution."

"Uh-huh." The executioner took another sip from the glass and handed the phone back to the girl. "That's him, Vasya, a beauty, huh?"

"Wow." The girl exclaimed, examining Galya's chrome-plated steed. "Did you ride it with a muffler?"

"How else?" Galya snorted. "There was already a law then to make everyone install mufflers."

"I see." The girl smiled, returning the phone. "So why did you choose me after all, and not your nephew?"

"I don't