A story happened to a colleague of mine. It was the summer of 2001, he had been back from a business trip to the Caucasus for three weeks. In the evening, just before the closure of the garage cooperative, at about 11:45 - 11:50 pm (he remembers the time exactly, because at 24:00 the gates in the cooperative were closed and the dogs were released), he put the car, went out of the cooperative and walked home.
The very cooperative is located between the private sector and five-story buildings. To get to the street. Shilov (to the five-story buildings) must first go along the road through the wasteland, there are 200 meters. The road is asphalted, unlit, with one side of the wasteland itself, and on the other side of the first 80 meters stretches the wall of the cooperative, and then one-story barracks and private houses. The road was lined with poplars all along, and where it was closer to the barracks, behind the poplars everything was dug up - the town had pulled the sewage pipes or something, I can't remember now, the fact was that it was dug up in trenches.
He walked 70 meters from the gate, it was dark, as he said, behind only the lighted background from the gate cooperative, heard footsteps behind him - turned around, saw - a man walking behind him, the distance between them was 20 meters. An acquaintance turned away and continues walking. Then he hears - the footsteps are closer and more frequent, apparently, the man added a move. At the same time I can hear him muttering to himself, unintelligible, murmuring. He walked a few paces more, he hears some muttering from behind even closer, and the character of his footsteps changed, became more frequent or something like that. He turned round and saw a man behind him on four bones. At first he thought that he was drunk, a hitchhiker, his legs did not hold him, he got down on all fours. And then I realized that the man on all fours did not lose speed, but on the contrary, reduced the distance faster and mumbled something.
The fellow officer was not a timid man, but he said he was so scared, not as of the danger in the war, but of a terrible fear, and my gut twisted with cold, I said, immediately pulled my PM out of the bag on my belly, pulled the bolt and took aim at the man. The man stopped, did not stop muttering and did not get up from all fours like a dog, jumped into the poplars and behind them in the ditch, a few seconds more was heard rustling the sand, and then disappeared. A co-worker said that he was backing up to the lighted place, looking around, with a gun in his hands, he was so scared.
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