This night Oleg did not forget his duties of his old life. There were guards posted around the camp. His immediate superior, responsible for the security service - Semyon Markovich, did not have time to arrive at the time of the beginning of the phenomenon that threw them into the new world.
Therefore, Oleg was the actual head of the six guards who were present at the corporate event, but did not carry their service to protect the company. He also found himself in charge of two guards who worked at the sanatorium. Of these eight men, he could rely entirely on the five whom he had personally selected and hired.
Young guys did not find their calling in life, and after the army began to work in security structures. Almost all of them were thinking of continuing their careers in the police or contracting with the army. The guards of the sanatorium were still dark horses.
But the last of the eight guards was an outspoken protégé of Olga Viktorovna. It was on her patronage that he had been hired. He was the son of some acquaintance of hers.
Without wisecracking, Oleg by his personal authority forced the guards this night to serve, and not sleep. He personally chose places for them and arranged for a post in the huts that were closest to their sentry points, if the need arose. As might be expected, only the son of an acquaintance was a problem.
The boy even in normal conditions was characterized by a bad temper, and even here he did anything only from under the stick. Even Olga Viktorovna's shouts had little effect on him. Oleg had to threaten him with physical violence to force him to go out on patrol.
The guards came in handy. Attracted by the smell of meat, nocturnal predators came to the camp several times. All were caught and consumed by the vigilant guards. Without additional food at night remained only "son", as Oleg dubbed him. The chief of guards himself climbed out of the dugout several times during the night, but never intervened in the situation.
The morning brought bad news. With the beginning of dawn there was still hope for another cloudy day and the sky, covered with dense clouds, but as soon as the morning fog dissipated, the clouds disappeared with it. The light cutting into his eyes was unpleasant. Fortunately, the low-hanging Demur had not yet penetrated the dense tree crowns with its rays, and the bright slit in his eyes was the biggest inconvenience so far.
The vampires, having come out of their hiding places and realizing that a sunny day lay ahead of them, hurriedly checked their dwellings and did essential chores.
- Nobody come out of their hiding places. Nobody come out. Yes, I realize you're uncomfortable, but try to hold out until dark, or at least until we're sure the sun isn't dangerous.
Alexander ran around the camp like a madman, exhorting, coaxing, threatening, and simply warning.
- Yes, I'll warn you if it's okay to go out.
He himself was wearing exactly the same outfit he had chosen on the first day. But today he had added gloves and a hat. Unfortunately, there were no wide-brimmed hats on the road, so first a hare skin was put on his head and the back of his neck, and only then a regular hat was put on and pulled low over his eyes - to create some darkness and to give his eyes some relief from the bright light. Besides him, all the guards were dressed today, as well as Sergei, Oleg and Eugene.
Before the sun rose above the trees, people had time to do all the basic things and lurked in their shelters. If someone needed something - he just had to shout loudly, stating his desire and he would be approached. No one knew if all these preparations were necessary or if they were panicking for nothing. But in a matter as life and death as this, it's always better to be a little reassured.
- The legends didn't lie," Sergei, sitting in the anteroom of their dugout, showed his hand, for a moment exposed to the lone ray of light that shone through the foliage.
The hand was burned.
- The sun is dangerous! - he shouted at the top of his lungs, "The sun is dangerous! Don't come out of your hiding places!
A couple of seconds later his shout was supported by Alexander, who was in the center of the camp, at the "headquarters" tent, along with a bear skin and a spare set of clothes.
Putting the glove on his already healed hand, Sergei put it under the light again. This time it was fine. The fabric served as a reliable barrier to the demur rays and prevented the light from reaching the surface of the skin. He did not experience any burns or discomfort. Then the man took off his glove again and with a noisy exhalation, held his open palm out to the beam.
This time he did not pull his hand away, but gritted his teeth and endured the savage pain. The skin quickly charred and began to fall off, smelling of fallen meat. Only when flames appeared on his hand did he pull his hand away. Five seconds in the sun and his arm was burned to the bone. Grimacing in pain, he triggered the magical process of tissue regeneration, focusing on his healing. As fast as their natural regeneration was, helping her with something like this should have helped.
I've got more interesting stuff on patreon
patreon.com/Chill76