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Автор Джулия Филлипс
Julia Phillips
DISAPPEARING EARTH
Marina Alexandrovna, a journalist in the city of Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky
Alyona, her older daughter
Sophia, her younger daughter
Alla Innokentevna, head of a cultural center in the village of Esso
Natalia, called Natasha, her oldest daughter
Denis, her middle child and only son
Lilia, her youngest daughter
Revmira, her second cousin, a nurse
Lev and Yulia, called Yulka, Natasha’s children
Ksenia, called Ksyusha, a university student
Sergei, called Chegga, her brother, a photographer
Ruslan, Ksyusha’s boyfriend
Nadezhda, called Nadia, Chegga’s girlfriend
Ludmila, called Mila, Nadia’s daughter
Nikolai Danilovich, called Kolya, a police detective
Zoya, his wife, on maternity leave from her work at a national park
Alexandra, called Sasha, their baby
Oksana, a researcher at the volcanological institute
Maxim, called Max, a researcher at the volcanological institute
Ekaterina, called Katya, a customs officer for the city’s maritime container port
Yevgeny Pavlovich Kulik, the major general of the Kamchatka police force
Anfisa, an administrative assistant for the police
Valentina Nikolaevna, an office administrator for a city elementary school
Diana, Valentina Nikolaevna’s daughter
Lada, a receptionist at a city hotel
Olga, called Olya, a schoolgirl
MAP
Sophia, sandals off, was standing at the water’s edge. The bay snuck up to swallow her toes. Gray salt water over bright skin. “Don’t go out any farther,” Alyona said.
The water receded. Alyona could see, under her sister’s feet, the pebbles breaking the curves of Sophia’s arches, the sweep of grit left by little waves. Sophia bent to roll up her pant legs, and her ponytail flipped over the top of her head. Her calves showed flaking streaks of blood from scratched mosquito bites. Alyona knew from the firm line of her sister’s spine that Sophia was refusing to listen.
“You better not,” Alyona said.
Sophia stood to face the water.
It was calm, barely touched by ripples that made the bay look like a sheet of hammered tin. The current got stronger as it pulled into the Pacific, leaving Russia behind for open ocean, but here it was domesticated. It belonged to them. Hands propped on narrow hips, Sophia surveyed it, the width of the bay, the mountains on the horizon, the white lights of the military installation on the opposite shore.The gravel under the sisters was made of chips from bigger stones. Alyona leaned against a block the size of a hiking backpack, and a meter behind her was the crumbling cliff face of St. Nicholas Hill. Water on one side, rock wall on the other, they had walked along the coast this afternoon until they found this patch, free of bottles or feathers, to settle. When seagulls landed nearby, Alyona chased them away with a wave of her arm. The whole summer had been cool, drizzly, but this August afternoon was warm enough to wear short sleeves.
