(Continued from the last post: "Miracle Short Story - Part I)
“I am an old man, I have nothing to fear,” replied Anatoly, now crouching over the block. It reached up to his shoulders, rough edges, rough sides, a smooth round hole opening into it. He traced hole's edges, feeling the thing’s heat through his glove.
Hastily, he withdrew his hand a second later. Some creature’s whiskered nose was timidly emerging. With mounting surprise (and no small amount of disbelief) he watched as a grey head and white-fur-socked paws came into view. A cat! An extremely tiny, white-grey kitten.
Padding weakly over his lead smock, into Anatoly’s lap, it stared up at him. Green eyes, flecked with gold.
“How is it possible?” one of the engineers behind him cried out.
“Nothing can live in this,” another said, a doctor this time. “Nothing at all, its, its …” he broke off. Quietly this time, “Look at its ears.”
Anatoly, still caught by the cat’s gaze, didn’t respond. With a now-ungloved, trembling hand, he traced the fur between its two left ears. One pair was smaller, set in front slightly of the other.
He whispered, “Chudoturnyi”: miracle. Surrounded by so much death, red sick trees, burnt houses, scattered concrete; still he stared into the cat’s eyes. “Miracle” he whispered again.
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