BLACK MIST

PART ONE. Chapter 1

- Quicker! Let's go! Began!

Cindy Scavello, overseer of the Chowchilla Women's Center of Central California*, grabbed Melinda Thores by the arm, pulling her off the chair she was sitting on, about to eat. In surprise, she dropped the sandwich, which fell to the floor and fell apart. Thores looked at him in annoyance, lowering her gaze.

- Faster! her companion called out. - I'll show you! It's a real horror, you've never seen anything like it!

As if to confirm her words, they heard a hoarse, pain-filled howl.

- That's her? Tores whispered incredulously, her blood running cold at the sound.

Scavello nodded and impatiently dragged her along as she darted out of the room. Thores obediently followed her, burning with curiosity. She got a job here recently, but she had already heard about a strange prisoner, a suicide bomber, who terrified the entire prison, both prisoners and guards. Some called her obsessed, others called her crazy. But few people believed in the latter, crazy people are not sentenced to death. She was said to talk to the dead.

She was held on death row, a two-story, nine-cell building isolated from other inmates, and was known throughout the prison for more than just being a suicide bomber. When a suicide bomber is brought to a prison, this is an event in itself. Women on death row are rare. In addition to her, two more suicide bombers were kept in prison, Cynthia Coffman, whose sentence was passed in 1989, and Maureen McDermon, convicted a year ago, in 1990.

Coffman** was a pretty, dark-eyed, brown-haired twenty-nine-year-old girl who, along with her boyfriend James Marlowe, was sentenced to death for the murders of four women in October and November 1986 (she was personally convicted of two of the four murders).

McDermott*** was convicted of hiring an orderly at the hospital where she worked to kill her roommate Stephen Eldridge. The motive was to get mortgage insurance on the house they co-owned. Eldridge's penis was severed after several stab wounds. The orderly testified that this was done at McDermott's urging to make it look like the murder was a "homosexual murder" because she felt that, in theory, the police were unlikely to investigate it thoroughly. And I was wrong.

Caroline Randall, sentenced for the brutal murders of five people, two men and three women, did not look like a terrible killer at all, tender and beautiful, like the lamb of God. She was quiet and did not give the guards any problems. No violence, tantrums, despair and tears. Calm and seemingly resigned to her fate. Cold-blooded, courageous. And only her eyes were filled with the endless pain of a dying creature. Pain doomed to death. But this look was not strange or unusual, on the contrary, it was the only thing about her that did not seem strange. Anyone sentenced to death should have that look.

Thores had already seen her - a very beautiful young woman with magnificent, but completely white curly hair. She was not yet thirty, but she was completely gray, to a single hair, and this gray hair did not even shimmer with silver, being just white as snow. They called her here - Snowflake. Sweet and harmless-looking Snowflake. But that was at first, when she first arrived here. Before they began to notice her oddities. Incredible, inexplicable and frightening. Because of these oddities, she was kept in the farthest cell, away from the other two suicide bombers, so that they could not see what was happening to her.

Everyone knew that she was the wife of the famous lawyer Jack Randall, who himself was accused and tried for murder and attempted murder. The sensation about how Randal went crazy right in court when his wife was sentenced to death thundered all over the country.

More than one month has passed, and the media continued to savor what happened, keeping their all-seeing eye on Jack Randal and not depriving him of their attention more than ever.

His trial was so high-profile that even all of his lawyers could not prevent publicity of this magnitude, although they tried to achieve confidentiality and a closed process. Perhaps they would have succeeded if they hadn't been on the scene of a journalist, as a result of which all the media exploded with a sensation that Jack Randall had cracked down on the lawyer who defended his wife, and also, for some still unclear reason, with his father, blaming them for what sentence his wife received. The bomb exploded, and all of his incredibly talented and toothy lawyers, led by Zach Riley, who furiously rushed the whole company to Randal's defense, could no longer stop this explosive wave. The whole country, perhaps the whole world, followed the process, which was already impossible to prevent. And this publicity, this scrutiny, terribly interfered with his lawyers,

And everyone forgot about the unfortunate wife of the famous lawyer, no one was interested in her anymore. Her fate was decided, and no one believed that Jack Randall's lawyers, bending over backwards, seeking appeals and trying to save the condemned woman, would achieve something, except that the unfortunate woman would sit behind bars for many years, while they will fight for it.

But in the prison itself they already knew that she would not last for many years. She was fading before our eyes, something was killing her, but no one could figure out what. The doctors threw up their hands. She herself was silent, but her look showed that she knew what was happening to her, but did not want to explain. Something definitely happened to her. Something was draining the life out of her, and it didn't feel like a disease.

They ran past Coffman's cell.

"Shut up that wicked one!" Again this unbearable stench will stand for a week, I will complain! Get her out of here! Coffman glared angrily at the guards, who didn't even spare her a glance. - Why does it always stink after her screams? What is happening there? Can someone please explain to me eventually? What did she do with Perez? I want to know! Stop, you fat-assed pigs... - she muttered quite quietly, moving away from the bars and returning to the bunk. - What the hell is going on here?

Running up to Randall's cell, the guards stopped.

On the bunk, clinging to the mattress with whitened fingers, a white-haired woman, thin to the point of exhaustion, was writhing in pain. Her pale face was twisted with pain, and she gritted her teeth in an attempt to bear it.

- What with her? Thores sighed.

- It hurts, - her partner answered with knowledge of the case. - Come on, I'll show you. Just don't touch her. It is forbidden.

"Wait..." Thores grabbed her hand as she unlocked the cell door. - Are you sure?

Instead of answering, she flung open the door and resolutely stepped inside. Thores hesitantly followed her, not taking her eyes off the prisoner, unconscious, tossing and turning on the bunk.

- Emily ... please ... faster ... - she suddenly groaned, almost audibly.

- Who is she talking to?

- Look, - Scavello pointed with a baton at the woman's hand, convulsively squeezing the mattress. A spot appeared on the skin, which quickly began to increase. Arching, the prisoner opened her mouth and screamed heart-rendingly from unbearable pain.

The stain appeared not only on the arm. On the chest, neck and even crawled onto the face. In place of the spots, some kind of wounds suddenly began to form, similar to ulcers, or something like that.

- Faster! Emily! the woman yelled, suddenly raising her oddly injured arm as if she were trying to grab someone.

"Wake her up," croaked Thores, numb with horror. - What are you standing for? Wake her up!

- No, don't touch!

But Scavello could not stop her when the frightened partner leaned over the prisoner and began to shake her violently, then beat her on the cheeks in an attempt to bring her to her senses.

- Wake up! Wake up, come on!

- No... no... - she groaned, weakly resisting, but then nevertheless opened her eyes, staring at the woman bent over her.

- Emily! she cried.

- There's no Emily here, wake up! You had a nightmare, - Tores blurted out and fell silent because her last words seemed ridiculous to her. Looking down at the stains on the prisoner's body, she was relieved to see that they had stopped spreading. And suddenly she jumped back with a cry, seeing how something was swarming in one of the fetid, some kind of rotting ulcers.

- Oh my God! What's this?

"It's a worm... if you hadn't woken her up, you wouldn't have seen it," said Scavello, involuntarily stepping back and grimacing in disgust. - To the exit. Fast.

- I don't understand... - Thores groaned, stunned by what was happening.

Following her gaze, the prisoner with trembling fingers picked up the white worm swarming in her flesh and threw it off her. Then she raised her large, bloodshot eyes, which suddenly flared with rage.

- I did not have time! I told you not to touch me! Because of you... I didn't have time because of you! Stupid fat bitches! I told you not to mess with me! - with some wild, inhuman growl, the prisoner jumped up and rushed at them.

Thores worked in prisons for many years, it was difficult to surprise or frighten her, but now she froze in a daze, looking at the distraught woman ... Or rather, not a woman, but something ... reminiscent of horror films about zombies or the walking dead. It wasn't a person who rushed at her... it couldn't be a person. It was a revived corpse, with cadaveric spots, decomposing flesh, in which worms swarm, with terrible eyes ... Thores remembered exactly that the prisoner's eyes were a transparent blue beautiful color, like sapphires, and she had never seen more beautiful than these eyes . But now, instead of a blue iris, there was something red, which at first seemed to Thores as if her eyes were bloodshot. Thores suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end...

"I don't want you to starve to death here. And your child. He is not to blame for anything, - Tores answered restrainedly and paused, watching the prisoner, who, helpless, sank onto the bed, removing the tray from it. - Can I ask one more question?

She just nodded.

- What happened this afternoon... is it killing you?

After a pause, Randall nodded again.

But can you stop it? Don't do what's killing you?

- Yes, but why? I'll die anyway. But before I die, I want to save everyone who has suffered through my fault. And others who I can. If I can. So don't wake me up. Please. Do not bother me.

- But what's happening to you... it's terrible! You're turning into a living, decaying corpse! It's... how can you stand it?

- It's going through. Disappears.

- But if you do not have time to wake up one day?

I won't die as long as I have a child in me. It is the continuation of my curse. Until he is born, it will not kill me.

- Who?

- Curse. Black mist.

The next day Thores, as promised, brought the prisoner a cheese pie and sweet rolls. Randall received them with tremulous joy, thanking them. Immediately taking a bite of the cake, she closed her eyes in pleasure. Chewed and bit off again.

- Well, is it holding up? - Thores asked with a smile, watching the woman rubbing on both cheeks. She nodded happily, smiling through her full mouth.

- Very tasty. Thank you!

- Okay. Feed the child so that it does not starve to death in your stomach. Cursed or not, you have to give birth to him. By the way, - she raised her hand and slipped a sheet of paper folded several times into the grate. - I have a pleasant surprise for you. Malyava to you from your husband.

Randall's smile and joyful expression vanished at the same moment, her gaze fixed on the piece of paper between the bars.

- Come on, take it! Not happy, right?

Clutching the plate of pie to her chest like a treasure, Randal walked slowly over and took the paper between two fingers. Putting it under her plate, she returned to the bunk and sat down.

- As you write the answer, you will say. I'll pass it on.

Turning around, Thores left. Being new here, she did not yet know that Randal had never written a response to her husband's numerous letters.

Putting her plate down on the bunk, Carol slowly unfolded the letter and stared down at the beautiful, neat handwriting. After reading, she sat motionless for a long time, then she got up heavily and threw the letter into the toilet.

From that day on, Thores sneaked her home-cooked meals every day. Scavello pretended not to notice. Secretly, Thores gave the prisoner pills for nausea, which, as she explained, helped her pregnant sister a lot with toxicosis.

Either the pills worked, or the homemade food was better, but Randal began to eat. The vomiting has almost stopped. With a friendly, grateful smile, she now always met Thores, marveling at her unexpected care and sympathy.

Thores asked every day if a letter was ready for her husband.

After two weeks, she lost patience.

"I take it you're not going to answer?" she asked forcefully.

Randall looked up at her with large eyes, which reflected bewilderment caused by such incomprehensible insistence.

"No," she answered quietly.

- Clear. Scavello told me that you never write to your husband. And he you - constantly.

An unspoken but obvious question hung in the air, but Randall said nothing.

"They say he loves you," Thores observed cautiously, never taking her eyes off her.

Randall smiled faintly, bitterly and unhappily.

- Is not it so? Thores asked even more cautiously.

- Not! - The answer sounded unexpectedly sharp and vicious.

Thores stepped back, realizing that the conversation was over and, no matter how curious she was, she did not want to share her relationship with her husband Randall, even with her. Turning away offendedly, Melinda left without another word. Walking up to the grate, Carol followed it with a sad look, then sighed and pressed her cheek against the cold metal. She didn't mean to be rude, but Thores was asking too many questions, and her curiosity was getting annoying and unsettling. Carol wondered if it was just curiosity... or not? This unexpected concern and concern, and this curiosity, began to seem suspicious to Carol.

- Well, how are you doing? Were you able to find out anything? What is with her husband? - asked Cindy Scavello over a cup of coffee, when they settled down to eat. Thores shrugged.

She's not going to answer him. It looks like she's offended.

- Well, it's not a secret, since I never wrote to him. He's probably angry that he couldn't get her off the hook. Did you read his little one? You can slip through. She does not have a heart - a stone.

- No, I haven't read it. What are you reading?

- Of course. Every note.

- And what's there?

- Love. Solid love. And promises that everything will be fine, that he will get her out, they will be together again, happy and all that. He asks for forgiveness all the time. She begs him to believe. He swears he didn't mean for it to happen. Ah, if only I could! So that a man loves me so! Yes, even such as Jack Randall. Do you think he can?

- What?

- Get her out?

Thores shrugged.

"Not likely," Cindy answered herself. - He's behind bars now. What can he do? He needs to pull his own ass out... He got himself up to his ears. He is accused of killing an official in retaliation for the performance of official duties. This crime is on the list of crimes for which the death penalty can be sentenced. Plus attempted murder with grievous bodily harm. His father survived, but it still won't help him - the charge of murder he committed is too serious. His lawyers could not even get him released on bail. No money helped. He's in the balance right now.

- But the prosecutor does not require the death penalty ... I have not heard anything like that.

- It doesn't matter... He can be sentenced to death after he is convicted. Capital murder differs from first-degree murder in that the death penalty can be imposed after conviction," Scavello busily assured, never missing an opportunity to demonstrate her knowledge, which she received at the Faculty of Law, where she studied in absentia, gathering in the near future become a criminal lawyer.

- He'll get out. It's Jack Randall, - Thores objected, confused and not very confident.

- It's hard to get out of such a mess when the whole world is watching you. If everything was sewn and covered, then, probably, he would have got out by now. They say he has a lot of money, a lot of connections, even among crime bosses.

- Come on... it's fiction. The press always said all sorts of nasty things about him ... they didn't accuse him of anything! What crime bosses? He's just a lawyer! I recently became a senator.

- Do you think the bandits do not need lawyers? Especially people like him... He's the best. And politicians are needed. As far as I remember, he was constantly accused of having links with bandits, although they could not prove it. And they also said about his father that he had authority in the criminal world ...

- It's all nonsense. His father is a judge. If he was connected with the bandits, he would be removed ...

- Oh-oh-oh, what naivety! What, were you born yesterday? Even a child knows that the mafia has long arms, it has its own people everywhere. From ordinary police officers to high-ranking politicians! So, quite possibly, it will turn out that even if Randall himself cannot get out, he will be pulled out of this ass by those who still really need him. If, of course, you need it. The scandal is terrible, and how this is possible, I can't even imagine, but ... It seems to me that all the excitement is not because of what Randal did, everyone is interested not in how he is tried and accused of, but in how he will be get out. That's all the salt! All excitement! This is a bomb - an invincible lawyer, pulling out dangerous criminals from behind bars, not knowing defeat, suddenly he himself finds himself in the dock! In addition, whatever one may say, but it is so touching - a husband distraught with grief cracks down on a vile lawyer, who betrayed and deceived him, through whose fault his wife is sentenced to death. They say that this lawyer replaced the forensic psychiatric examination, in which there was a conclusion that Snezhinka was insane and could not be tried on the charges against her, with another one, where there was a completely opposite conclusion. Only which of them is the real one is not yet known. If it is proved that the lawyer replaced the real examination with a fake, this will give the lawyers a chance not only to commute Randal's sentence, but also to get his wife's sentence overturned. Only which of them is the real one is not yet known. If it is proved that the lawyer replaced the real examination with a fake, this will give the lawyers a chance not only to commute Randal's sentence, but also to get his wife's sentence overturned. Only which of them is the real one is not yet known. If it is proved that the lawyer replaced the real examination with a fake, this will give the lawyers a chance not only to commute Randal's sentence, but also to get his wife's sentence overturned.

"Even so... Jack Randall still won't be acquitted, right?" Whatever this lawyer has committed, even a crime, thereby dooming an innocent, or rather, insane, to the death penalty, does not justify his murder?

- Of course not. Only self-defence, a threat to life, can justify murder. And then ... not always. They can justify him only if it is proved that he did not kill. But this is impossible.

- Why? I heard that there are no witnesses who saw that it was he who shot. There were two others next to him. This is his assistant Zach Riley and bodyguard. The gun that was fired belonged to the bodyguard. After the shots, it was the bodyguard who had the gun, and not Randall. And seized the weapon from the bodyguard.

- I heard it. So what? Randall just threw his gun at him, that's all. Took it out and then returned it. Quickly, so that no one had time to notice.

- But they say that Randall's fingerprints were not found on the weapon! Only the prints of his bodyguard! Randall pleads not guilty. As soon as it turned out that there were no witnesses, he declared his innocence. Refuses to shoot.

- Who then?

- His bodyguard. Randal claims that he started arguing with the lawyer when he left the courtroom, that in response to the words of the lawyer that his wife would get what she deserved, he shouted out that he would get it himself, and his bodyguard misunderstood what he meant, and fired.

- But this is absurd! snorted Scavello. - Who will believe it?

Thores shrugged.

- Maybe it's absurd, but his prints are not on the murder weapon, he had no gloves, and no one saw that it was he who shot. Except for the ones he shot. But one of them is dead and the other is in a coma.

"I missed that," Scavello gasped in surprise. - It is necessary, well, business! So Randall wants to push everything onto his bodyguard? Well, you bastard! Although, this will surprise no one. This is Randall. He always doesn't care. Just to get it.

"But why don't you admit that it really wasn't him who fired?" If he fired, there would be prints on the weapon, his prints, but they are not there!

- Think! Wiped quickly in a flurry. The weapons were seized last, after Randal had already been arrested. Or the bodyguard himself, or that Zach Riley... They say he's as bad as Randal! Two pair of boots, not for nothing his right hand! And what about the bodyguard?

- Not known. He disappeared. They can't find it, they've lost their feet. Like it fell through the ground.

- Escaped! Or they banged so that they would not open their mouths. Here's the deal! How did I miss it! Now it is clear what Randall is up to! No, well, this is unheard of, simply shocking impudence! Kill a person in plain sight and try to shove it onto another! - in the voice of Scavello condemnation mixed with delight. - Oh yes Randall, oh yes such a bastard! I knew that he would throw out something in this spirit, in his own spirit - striking with arrogance and unscrupulousness ... It's so easy to accuse another of your crime - it's not for nothing that he is famous for having no conscience.

"Maybe it's just not him," Thores didn't give up. - That's all.

What does Zach Riley say?

He confirmed Randall's words. Under oath, he testified that he saw with his own eyes how the bodyguard pulled out a pistol and fired two shots.

- Lie, you bastard! Lying under oath! Well, well ... let's assume. Why did the bodyguard shoot Randall's father?

"Neither Randal nor Zach Riley know that. You have to ask the bodyguard.

- And he disappeared - that's bad luck! Scavello laughed. - Randall will get out, too slippery, he will slip out, they won't hold him. Although I had no doubts. He always pulled other people's asses out of all sorts of shit, can't he really pull his own?

- Only his bodyguard's prints are on the murder weapon, there are no witnesses - it turns out that it can slip out. Although not a fact. There are no fools sitting in court, - Thores sighed sadly, clearly sympathizing with Randal.

- Fools are not fools, but proof is needed! No matter how crazy his story sounds, that it is not him, there is no evidence that it is him!

"Even if he didn't touch the weapon, he could be accused of ordering his bodyguard to shoot," Tores suggested.

- Blame? Can. But how can they prove it? No, - Scavello laughed again. - The only witness speaks for Randall. If a bodyguard shows up - which I doubt - or another witness appears, or George Randall wakes up and tells himself who shot him - and it's Randall, I'm sure - then he's dead. But if none of this happens - Randall can really get away with it! It turns out that his lawyers are already ruining the whole case against him, all the charges. Incredible! Really cool?

Thores shrugged.

- Not cool if he's not guilty.

- So the fact of the matter is that he is guilty - that's why it's cool!

- If guilty - also not cool. Then it's... it's... I don't even know what to call it.

- Oh, don't be a bore! I'm sure he slammed that lawyer for the case. His wife is really crazy, it is clear without any psychiatric examination. She needs to be treated, not executed. Well, or there to exorcise the devil from her, if she is obsessed, and not crazy. Possessed or crazy - all the same, insane, does not know what she is doing. So she was not judged fairly. They could not recognize her as sane, which means that this lawyer really did meanness, he replaced the real examination with a fake one. That's why Randal's roof was blown off. For Randall to be so stupid, crazy, out of his mind that right in the courthouse he killed a man - Randall, and not someone else - there had to be a reason out of the ordinary. For this to happen to Randall! For him to commit such a stupidity, such an imprudent act! It doesn't look like him, - Scavello shook her head, pursing his lips. - For me, so let him get out of all this shit. It doesn't matter how... I feel sorry for him. Such a man ... It was necessary to break loose like that! And all because of her. And she still pouts at him. Foolish women. Fools.

Thores didn't say anything to that, and quietly changed the subject.

Later, when Scavello began her evening round, since it was her turn today, Tores took a piece of paper from her pocket and dialed the number written on it on the phone.

- Hello. This is Thores. Has Mr. Randall arrived yet? We agreed on this time. Yes, thank you." She trailed off and cleared her throat, waiting. - Mr Randall! Good evening. Yes, it's all right. She's better. Started to eat. And the pills helped, she almost does not vomit. There are no problems with Scavello. She notices that I am bringing her food, but is silent. Thinks I'm feeding her to get her secrets. For her silence, I share with her information ... admissible. No, they do not offend, I did not notice. You know, they call her Snowflake here... because of her hair. So unusual, so young and so white... She is quiet and obedient... - Thores nervously cleared her throat and added embarrassedly. - Mostly.

She waited for Jack Randall to ask what it meant, but he didn't say anything to that, as if he hadn't heard anything unusual or new, and he knew why 'mostly'.

- Letter? Thores chuckled in embarrassment. - Eh, no. I gave it away two weeks ago, I assure you. And I ask every day. Today she said she wasn't going to answer. And she got mad when I asked why. She didn't answer. I said that they say that you love her, and she smiled so much ... I ask, "Isn't it?", And she snapped back so evilly, "No!". That's it, Mr. Randall... that's all for now. She is not very responsive, especially when I start asking her about something. She doesn't like it, she's nervous for some reason. I should be more careful. Need time. Good. I understood everything. Don't worry, I'll take care of her. She'll be fine now, I promise." She paused, listening. No, I didn't notice her crying. She's calm... for the most part. Stay young. Of course, I had no experience with suicide bombers before ... Sorry, Mr Randall. She doesn't moan, she doesn't complain, she doesn't fall into despair, she doesn't throw tantrums... You know, she even sings... Yes, I'm not joking, she really sings. Never heard? Weird...we're all pretty sure she loves to sing here. After all, she's good at it. And she mutters to herself all the time, "Here, sing, my girl, sing!" Maybe that makes it easier for her to endure. Everyone relieves stress in their own way... And such stress needs to be relieved somehow, or it won't take long to go crazy... The priest doesn't really help her with this. He's trying. But he is sure that she is possessed by some evil, afraid of her ... She refuses to talk to him. She says that he will not help her in any way, will not save her soul, because she is cursed and after her death neither salvation nor paradise awaits her ... She gives the impression of a resigned person. And her calmness... is the calmness of a person who has accepted his fate. She does not believe in her salvation, and does not hide it. As well as the fact that she has come to terms with it. No, it didn't break, it's different... I don't know how to explain it to you. It just needs to be seen, observed, to be understood. There was no strength left in her body at all, but in her eyes ... They burn so much, you should have seen it. Burning with such power... Supernatural. There is something else... strange. I don't know how to explain it in words... I described everything in a letter and already sent it to you. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication. that made peace with it. No, it didn't break, it's different... I don't know how to explain it to you. It just needs to be seen, observed, to be understood. There was no strength left in her body at all, but in her eyes ... They burn so much, you should have seen it. Burning with such power... Supernatural. There is something else... strange. I don't know how to explain it in words... I described everything in a letter and already sent it to you. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication. that made peace with it. No, it didn't break, it's different... I don't know how to explain it to you. It just needs to be seen, observed, to be understood. There was no strength left in her body at all, but in her eyes ... They burn so much, you should have seen it. Burning with such power... Supernatural. There is something else... strange. I don't know how to explain it in words... I described everything in a letter and already sent it to you. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication. There was no strength left in her body at all, but in her eyes ... They burn so much, you should have seen it. Burning with such power... Supernatural. There is something else... strange. I don't know how to explain it in words... I described everything in a letter and already sent it to you. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication. There was no strength left in her body at all, but in her eyes ... They burn so much, you should have seen it. Burning with such power... Supernatural. There is something else... strange. I don't know how to explain it in words... I described everything in a letter and already sent it to you. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication. I'll be waiting for your instructions on this. Just don't think I'm joking... Something very strange is going on here. Highly. Yes, with your wife, with her. They hide it. And I think that the problem with her health is precisely in this, and not in toxicosis. In general, everything is described in detail in the letter. Thank you Mr Randall, you are very generous. Until communication.