Darkness had already enveloped the trees, and they began to merge into a single blackening array. The sky remained bright for the time being and retained the warmth of a summer day in subtle shades. The road was loaded. The cars were moving mostly in one direction and there were so many of them that the chain of brake lights merged into a red broken line. And if during the day on the Baikal highway a gray strip of asphalt went down, then sharply up the mountain, now it was a red arrow cutting through the twilight and striving into the bright firmament.