Metro 2034

By Dmitry Glukhovsky
Copyright 2009
Translated from the German version by:
Metro2033Artjom, Sigfried Muller & AndrewEDITS

Annotations:
This is the translation of the German version of Metro 2034 into English. This
translation is as close to the German Version as it gets. Some sentences had to be
changed so that the grammar would make sense. They still incorporate the message of the
sentence.
I didnt get paid translating this book and neither did I want to earn money with
this translation.
Dmitry Glukhovsky is the author of Metro 2034 and all rights are reserved to him.
No copyright abuse / infringement was intended.
Have fun reading.
Oh and before I forget, if something is written in brackets and is underlined than it is
one of my notes)

Further edits by a native English speaker Andrew:

I was ecstatic to see that someone had taken it upon themselves to translate this
book into English. Id been waiting a long time to read Metro 2034 after finishing 2033.
The work Metro2033Artjom did translating this was great and I take no credit for his
hard work, rather I wanted to expand on it and, hopefully, make the story flow more
naturally to a native speakers ear. I readily admit that I took some artistic license to
achieve this goal and accept any blame (or praise) that comes with it. Im sure I
butchered some passages where I couldnt quite make out what Metro2033Artjom was
attempting to say but in the end I think at the very least I smoothed this translation to
the point where confusing verbiage shouldnt dull the immersion. I arbitrarily decided to
remove most of notes from the translation and incorporate them directly into the writing.
I may have simplified things too much, but it was all in the name of better
comprehension. Please enjoy and join me in thanking Metro2033Artjom for his time and
dedication.

Prologue
It is the year 2034. The world lies in ruin. Humanity is on the brink of extinction.
Radiation has rendered the crumbling cities uninhabitable. Some say that beyond the city
limits lay wastelands and dense, mutated forests without end.
But no one truly knows what's out there. Civilization has all but faded away.
Memories of mankinds former greatness are now the stuff of fairy tales and legend.
Twenty years and more have passed since the last airplane roared to life. Rusted
train tracks trail off into emptiness. For perhaps the millionth time a radio operator listens
to the frequencies that were once home to voices from New York, Paris, Tokyo and
Buenos Aires, but as always he hears nothing beyond the lonely howling static.
Twenty years have passed since then. But mankind has already surrendered its rule
over the planet to other species radiated creatures far better adapted to life in this new
world.
 The age of man is over.
But those who survive wont admit it. Some ten thousand humans remain, for all
they know they could be the last of their kind.
They inhabit the Moscow metro, the largest atomic bunker ever built by human
hands the last sanctuary of humanity.
Almost everyone who survived was in the metro on that day. It saved their lives.
The stations hermetic security gates protect them from radiation and the terrible
creatures that roam the surface. Aging filters purify air and water. Clever men
constructed machines to generate electricity. Humans harvest mushrooms and breed pigs
in underground farms. The poor eat what they can get even if its rats.
There is no central government, not anymore. The stations have evolved into small
states where people gather around ideology, religion and water filters. Or simply unite in
common defense.
It is a world without a future. Dreams, plans, hopes these things no longer have a
place. Feelings gave way to instincts; the most important of these was the instinct to
survive. At all costs.
The events before this story are told in the book Metro 2033.
Chapter 1: The defense of the Sevastopolskaya

They hadnt returned when Tuesday rolled around, or by Wednesday or even

Thursday which was the latest they were expected back. The border post was manned
round the clock and if the guards heard even the faintest echo of a cry for help or saw the
weakest reflection of a lamp on the wet walls of the tunnels leading to the Nachimovski
prospect, they would have sent a strike team immediately.
Tensions grew with each passing hour. The guards excellently armed soldiers
who were specially trained for missions like this kept their eyes peeled. The stack of
playing cards, which usually helped kill time during guard shifts, had been collecting dust
for the last two days in the guardhouse drawer. Their casual conversations gave way to
short, nervous talks and finally to silence.
Everyone hoped to be the first to hear the distant, echoing steps of the returning
caravan. Too much depended on it.
All inhabitants of the Sevastopolskaya, whether a five year old boy or an old man,
knew how to handle weapons. They had transformed their station into an impenetrable
fortress.
 Even though they barricaded themselves behind machinegun-nests, barbed wire,
and tank-stoppers made from old tracks their fortress teetered on the edge of collapse.
Their Achilles heel was a shortage of ammunition.
Had the inhabitants of other stations experienced what the Sevastopolskaja had to
endure on a daily basis, they wouldnt have even thought about trying to defend
themselves, they wouldve fled like rats from a flooded tunnel. Even the powerful Hanza,
the federation of the stations at the ring line, wouldnt have sent in additional troops in
the even of an emergency it was too expensive. Sure, the strategic value of the
Sevastopolskaya was enormous. But the price was too high.
As was the price of electricity. It was so high that the inhabitants of the
Sevastopolskaya, who ran one of the biggest hydroelectric power stations in the metro,
bought ammunition from Hanza and still turned a profit. But the costs couldnt be
measured in bullets alone. Their lives were often short and crippled.
The underground river was both a blessing and a curse for the Sevastopolskaya.
Like the waters of the river Styx it flowed around the rotten boat of Charon. The whole
station was surrounded by water. The river provided a third of the ring line with light and
warmth by spinning the shovels of dozens of water wheels. These wheels were built from
scratch by the stations skilled engineers. They built the wheels in tunnels, caves,
underground creeks anywhere they could.
At the same time the water gnawed incessantly at the pillars, gradually eating
away at the cement and widening cracks. It past very close behind the walls of the
station, as if it was trying to lull the inhabitants to sleep. The river prevented them from
blowing up non-essential parts of the tunnels.
It was through these same non-essential tunnels that hordes of nightmarish
creatures crawled towards the Sevastopolskaya, like an endless, poison centipede
crawling its way into a grinder.
The residents of the station felt like the crew of a ghost ship on its way through
hell. They were damned to endlessly plug holes because the frigate never stopped
leaking. There was no safe harbor in sight.
 At the same time they had to fend off one attack after another, because monsters
came from the Tschertanovskaya in the south and the Nachimovski prospect to the north.
The monsters crawled through the vents, emerged from murky sewers or stormed in
through the tunnels. The whole world seemed to be against the Sevastopolskaya and it
was trying to wipe their home station off the metros map. But they fought for their
station with tooth and nail, as if it was their last hope in the universe.
But no matter how skilled the engineers were, how tough and resilient their
fighters were without bullets, without spotlight bulbs, without antibiotics and bandages
they wouldnt be able to hold the station. They delivered electricity and Hanza was
willing to pay a handsome price for it. But while the ring line had other suppliers, the
Sevastopolskaya couldnt survive a month without supplies from the outside. And their
supply of bullets had reached a dangerously low threshold.
Every week armed caravans were sent to the Serpuchovskaya to use their earned
credit to buy all the necessary supplies from Hanza merchants and return immediately. As
long as the world turned, as long as the underground rivers flowed and as long as the
metro held, nothing could change that routine.
But this time the caravan was late so late that there was only one explanation:
Something had gone wrong, something terrible, something that not even caravan
guards armed to the teeth or close ties with Hanzas leadership could have stopped.
It wouldnt have been so bad if they could only call ahead to the ring line
But something was wrong with the connection; theyd lost contact on Monday and
the squad they sent out to find the break had returned empty handed.

***

The green shaded lamp hung low over the round table. It cast a glow over
yellowed papers which were covered in pencil drawings and diagrams. The lamps bulb
was weak, maybe 40 watts, but this wasnt to conserve electricity that wasnt a problem
at the Sevastopolskaya - it was because the owner didnt like bright light. The ashtray was
full of cigarette butts all homemade and low quality. Biting, blue-gray smoke hovered
under the low ceiling.
The station head, Vladimir Ivanovitsch Istomin, wiped his forehead, raised his
hand and glanced at his watch with his one good eye for the fifth time in the last half
hour. He cracked his knuckles and stood up with slumped shoulders. We have to make a
decision. We can't wait any longer.
On the opposite side of the table sat an older but well-built man wearing a lined
camouflage jacket and a worn blue beret. He opened his mouth to say something, but
broke into a coughing fit. Grumpily he narrowed his eyes and waved away the smoke.
Then he said, Well, Vladimir Ivanovitsch, I'll say it again: We cant afford to take any
more men from the southern tunnel. The guards are already hard pressed they are barely
holding it together as it is. Last week alone there were three casualties, one of them
serious, even with our fortifications. I wont sit by while you undermine the southern
tunnel even further. Especially when we still need to have six scouts patrolling the vents
and connecting tunnels at all times. And in the north we have to secure the incoming
caravans, we cant spare a single fighter there. I'm sorry, but you'll have to find them
yourself.
You are the commander of the border guard! You find me some men! growled
Vladimir. Ill take care of my business. A group must be read to leave in an hour. We
may not see eye to eye, but this isnt just about us in the here and now! What if
something worse happens?
And I think, Vladimir Ivanovitsch, that you are overreacting. We still have two
unopened crates of 5.45 caliber in the armory which should last us at least a week and a
half. And even then I still have a little something at home under my pillow. The colonel
smiled, showing his big, yellow teeth. I can easily scrape together another crate. Bullets
arent our problem, people are.
I'll say it one more time. If we dont get any more shipments, we'll have to close
the southern gates because without bullets we cant hold the tunnels. That means we cant
run two thirds of our power plants. After a week the first one will break down and Hanza
doesnt like a drop in delivery, not at all. If they are lucky theyll find a new supplier
immediately, if not But what do I care about electricity! For the better part of five days
the tunnels have been dead and theres not a pig in sight. What if something collapsed?
Or broke through? What if were cut off?
Don't waste your breath. The power lines are fine. The meters are running so Id
say Hanza seems to be getting their electricity. We would have noticed a collapse. And if
it was sabotage, then the power line would have been cut and not the telephone line. As
far as the tunnel goes what are you afraid of? Even in the best of times nobody uses
those tunnels, not even by accident. If you start out by yourself at the Nachimovski
prospect theres no getting through without an escort. Foreign merchants havent risked
coming our way for a long time. And the bandits already know better after all, we
always let one of them go alive. So quit panicking.
Easy for you to say, growled Vladimir Ivanovitsch, lifting the patch from his
empty eye socket and wiping sweat from his forehead.
Ill give you three men, said the colonel, slightly subdued. I cant spare any
more than that, all things considered. And you should quit smoking. The smoke isnt
good for me and youre just poisoning yourself! I would rather have some tea to be
honest
But of course, it would be my pleasure. Vladimir rubbed his hands together,
took the receiver and barked, Istomin here, tea for me and the colonel.
Tell the officer on duty to come in as well. The colonel said as he took off his
beret.
"After this well clear up the matter of a search party.
At Istomins you were always served a special tea, there was a fine selection from
the VDNCh. Hanza taxed Vladimir's favorite tea three separate times on its way across
the metro. That made it so expensive that Istomin wouldnt have permitted his weakness
for the tea if it werent for his connections with the Dobryninskaya. He had served there
in the war with someone and whenever the caravan leader returned from Hanza, there
was always a nice package waiting for him.
 Istomin always picked it up personally. A year ago marked the first occasion when
a delivery hadnt come. This sparked alarmist rumors that the entire orange line was
under attack by unknown mutants from the surface. They were said to be almost
invisible, practically invulnerable and could even read your mind. People said the station
had fallen and Hanza had blown the tunnels beyond Prospect Mira to head off an
invasion. The price of tea went through the roof and it became impossible to find for a
while, which deeply worried Istomin. But a few weeks later the waters calmed and the
caravans resumed delivery of the famous tea along with bullets and light bulbs to the
Sevastopolskaya. That was all that really mattered, wasnt it?
As Istomin poured the colonels tea into a cracked, porcelain cup, he closed his
eyes and breathed in the aromatic steam for a moment. Then he poured himself a cup,
sank heavily into his chair and started to stir a Saccharin pill into the tea with a silver
spoon.
The men were silent, and for a moment the melancholic sound of the spoon hitting
the cup was the only sound in the dark, tobacco clouded office.
But it was suddenly drowned out by a shrill ringing bell, followed by a message
coming out of the loudspeakers and tunnel: Alert!
The commander jumped from his seat with surprising agility and stormed out of
the room.
At first a lone rifle shot sounded off in the distance, then a Kalashnikov joined in
one, two and finally three.
Heavy boots hammered along the train platform and the deep voice of the colonel
could be heard shouting orders even from some distance away.
Istomin reached for the shiny Militia-machine-pistol hanging from his cupboard,
but then he pulled his hand back, sighed, sat back at the table and took another sip of tea.
On the opposite side of the table the colonels tea steamed quietly and next to it sat his
beret he had forgotten it in his haste. The station head frowned and began the argument
again, only half aloud this time, with no one to voice the absent colonels part. The
debate was still about the same topic but this time he formed new arguments, ones he
hadnt thought of in the heat of the moment.

***

At Sevastopolskaya more than one dark joke made the rounds about why the
neighboring station was called Tschertanovskaya; you could read the word Tschort
(devil) all too clearly in its name. The wheels of the hydroelectric plants extended far into
tunnels in Tschertanovskaya's direction and, although it was supposedly abandoned,
nobody in their right mind even thought about staying there, let alone claiming it. The
teams of technicians that built and regularly maintained the outer generators were always
careful to get no closer than a few hundred meters to Tschertanovskaya.
Almost everyone who had to journey to those tunnels, and who wasnt a fanatic
atheist, secretly made the sign of the cross some even told their families goodbye.
The Tschertanovskaya was an evil station; everyone who came within half a
kilometer felt that. At first, in their naivety, the inhabitants of the Sevastopolskaya sent in
heavily armed scouting parties in the hopes of expanding their borders.
The parties came back with heavy casualties and their numbers cut in half if they
came back at all. Theyd sit stuttering and sniffling around the fire, so close to the flames
that their clothes almost caught fire but the heat was never enough to stop their trembling.
They struggled to recall their experiences and no two reports were ever alike.
It was said that ground beyond the main path of the Tschertanovskaya side tunnels
plunged down into an enormous labyrinth of natural caves that allegedly swarmed with
monsters. The people of the Sevastopolskaya called the place the gate it was an
arbitrary name as nobody in the metro had entered this place and lived to talk about it.
Although there was a story from the times before the line was built supposedly a
large recon unit passed through the Tschertanovskaya and discovered the gate.
 Over a transmitter the radio operator reported that the tunnel went down, almost
vertically at the end of a small corridor. They got no further. In the minutes that followed
the leaders of the Sevastopolskaya heard shrill screams full of horror and pain.
The strange thing was that the recon team hadnt fired a single shot maybe
theyd known that conventional weapons wouldnt protect them. The last voice to be
silenced was that of a cold hearted mercenary from the Kitai-Gorod station. He was
known to cut the pinky fingers off of fallen enemies as grim souvenirs.
He seemed to be far away from the microphone, which had fallen from the radio
operator's hand, so you couldnt hear his words very clearly.
But after listening closely the station head understood what the man was sobbing
as he fought for his life:
A simple prayer. One of those simplistic, naive prayers that religious parents
taught their children. Then the connection broke off. After this incident all further
attempts to reach the Tschertanovskaya were aborted. There had even been plans to
abandon the Sevastopolskaya and return to Hanza. This cursed station seemed to be one
of the borders that marked the end of human rule in the metro. The creatures that pushed
against such borders caused the inhabitants of the Sevastopolskaya many problems. But
the creatures werent invulnerable and an organized defense could fend off the attacks
with few to no casualties as long as there was enough ammunition. Some of these
monsters could only be stopped with high-explosives or high-voltage traps. But usually
the guards had to deal with less terrible though still dangerous creatures.

***

There's another one! Up there, in the third pipe!

The top searchlight had broken off the frame and dangled like a hanged man on its
cable, waving a harsh light over the fortifications. Sometimes it cast cowering silhouettes
of creeping mutants, other times it hid them in darkness or blinded the guards with its
glaring light. Treacherous shadows raced around, becoming bigger and smaller, faces
were distorted so badly that you couldnt tell the humans from the mutants.
The guard post was in a good position, it occupied a choke point where two
tunnels merged. Right before the apocalypse the Metrostroi (metro workers) began their
repairs, but they never finished. The residents of the Sevastopolskaya had transformed
the junction into a fortress: Two heavy machine gun-nests, one and a half meter thick
walls made from sand bags, tank-stopped, high-voltage traps and a clever alarm system.
But when the mutants came in massive waves, as they did this day, it seemed inevitable
that the fortress would fall.
The machine-gunner mumbled to himself monotonously. Bloody bubbles came
from his nostrils and he looked surprised at the shiny red liquid covering the palms of his
hands. The air around the Petscheng (heavy machine gun) shimmered with heat but the
damned thing had jammed.
The gunner made a grunting noise and leaned against his neighbors shoulder and
quieted down. His neighbor was a colossal fighter with a closed metal helmet. A second
later they heard a bloodcurdling scream. A creature attacked.
The man with the helmet pushed the blood-smeared machine gunner off of him,
stood up, raised his Kalashnikov and fired a short burst. The disgusting, sinewy, gray-
skinned animal had already leapt into the air; spread its claws and flight membranes and
flew at them, shrieking all the while. A hail of bullets ended the scream and the dead
animal's momentum carried it forward in the same direction. The 150-kilo (300 lbs) body
slammed into the sand bags, kicking up a thick cloud of dust.
Thats it.
The seemingly endless onslaught of creatures pouring from the sawed-off pipes
that jutted from the tunnel ceiling had stopped. The guards emerged from cover warily.
I need a stretcher! A doctor! Get him to the station, now!
The colossal man who had killed the last animal attached a bayonet to his assault
rifle and leisurely approached the dead and injured creatures strewn about the battlefield.
He stepped on the first animals head and jammed his bayonet right through its eye; he
repeated this process until he was sure that every creature was dead. Finally he leaned
against the sandbags, looked into the tunnel, lifted the visor of his helmet and took a sip
from his canteen.
Reinforcements arrived from the station after everything was already over. Even
the commander came limping, breathing heavily, and cursing his injury. Where do I get
three men now? Am I supposed to conjure them from thin air?
What are you talking about Denis Michailovitsch?" asked one of the guards.
Istomin wants to send a recon team to the Serpuchovskaya. Hes afraid
somethings happened to the caravan. So where do I get three men now? Especially now

Still no word? asked the man with the canteen, his back still turned.
Nothing, affirmed the old man. But it hasn't been that long. What would be
more dangerous? If we weaken the south now, there might be not be anyone left to greet
the caravan when it arrives.
The other man shook his head and was silent. He didnt move when the colonel
asked if any of the guards wanted to volunteer for the three man team.
There were enough volunteers, though. Most of the guards had had enough of
sitting around and couldnt imagine anything more dangerous than guarding the southern
tunnels as they did now.
From the six volunteers, the colonel choose those he thought were the most
expendable. It was a reasonable precaution. None of the three ever returned to the station.

***

It had been three days since they'd sent the recon team on the railcar. The
commander thought everyone was whispering behind his back and their faces all
harbored distrust. Even the most animated conversations ceased when he entered a room
and the tense silence that followed seemed to be a silent accusation: How could you send
those men to their death?
But he was only doing his job ensuring the security of the Sevastopolskayas
borders. He was a tactician, a strategist. They didnt have enough soldiers as it was. What
right did he have to waste them on doomed and senseless expeditions?
Three days ago he had been absolutely convinced. But now every fearful,
disapproving, and doubtful look wore at his resolve, he was beginning to second guess
himself.
A recon team with light weapons didnt need more than a day to get to Hanza and
back even if there were firefights and delays through the independent stations.
The commander ordered privacy and closed the door to his small office, pressed
his hot forehead against the cold wall and began mumbling. For the hundredth time he
went through everything in his head. What happened to the merchants? What happened to
the recon team?
The people of the Sevastopolskaya werent afraid of humans except maybe
Hanzas army. The station had a bad reputation, the exaggerated stories told by a few eye
witnesses about how dearly the inhabitants paid for survival those had all been spread
by merchants throughout the metro by word of mouth.
And those stories didnt take long to produce results. The stations leaders quickly
realized the advantages a reputation like theirs could bring and took fortifications into
their own hands. Informants, merchants, travelers and diplomats were allowed, with
official permission, to spread the most outrageous lies about the Sevastopolskaya and its
neighboring stations.
Only a few were able to see beyond the veil of smoke and lies and see the station
for what it really was.
In some isolated cases during the last few years bandits, in their ignorance, had
tried to break through the border posts, but the war machine of the Sevastopolskaya, led
by former generals, destroyed them without issue.
 The recon team on the railcar had received clear orders. If they encountered any
threat they were to avoid confrontation and return immediately.
Of course there was also the Nagornaya on their route it was not as terrible as
Tschertanovskaya but still dangerous and potentially fatal. And then there was
Nachimovski prospect whose doors to the surface couldnt be closed and had been
overrun by monsters. Blowing up the entrance was not an option for the Sevastopolskaya
because stalkers used them for their expeditions. Nobody dared pass through the station
on their own but, until now, railcars had been able to deal with the creatures that
occasionally lurked there.
Was it a cave in? A flood? An act of sabotage? A sudden raid by Hanza? It was
the colonel, not Istomin, that had to answer to the wives of the missing recon team
members as they looked into his eyes, unsettled and asking, hoping to find promise or
consolation. He had to explain it to the soldiers in the garrison. At least they didnt ask
any uncomfortable questions and were until now loyal to him. In the end he had to
calm everyone who gathered at the station's clock after work and demanded to know how
long the caravan had been gone. Istomin was asked why the station's lights were dimmed.
Sometimes they even asked him to turn the lights back up to full power.
Contrary to what people thought, the lighting was already set to maximum. It
wasnt the station but the hearts of the people that had grown darker and even mercury
lamps couldnt help that.
The telephone line to the Serpuchovskaya was still dead. That took away a feeling
from the colonel that was already rare for the rest of the metro, the feeling of being close
to other humans. As long as communications were functioning, as long as caravans came
and went regularly, as long as Hanza was only a days journey away, all residents were
free to come and go as they pleased.
Everyone knew that just five tunnels down the real metro began, civilization
humanity.
Arctic scientists probably felt the same when they agreed out of scientific
interest or because of the pay to endure the fight against the cold and loneliness for
months at a time. They were thousands of miles away from the mainland, but the radio
remained at their sides at all times and once a month they heard the sound of an airplane
dropping off canned meat.
The ice floe, on which the Sevastopolskaya sat, had broken loose and every hour
drove it further into an icy storm, a dark ocean, into emptiness and uncertainty.
The wait went on and the colonel's concerns hardened into dark certainty. He'd
never see the three men again.
Pulling another three fighters off the outer post just to send them against the same
uncertain dangers was unthinkable. He couldnt afford their certain death; it would just
trap them as well. He thought it was still too early to close the southern tunnels, open the
hermetic doors and form a massive strike team. Why was it his responsibility to make the
decision? It was a decision that would be wrong no matter what he did.
The colonel sighed, opened the door slightly, looked around quickly and called a
guard over.
Can I have a cigarette? This is the last one, next time dont give me one, no
matter how much I beg. And dont tell anyone.

***

When Nadia brought the pot of meat and vegetables the guards came back to life.
Potatoes, cucumbers and tomatoes were considered a delicacy and except for some
markets at the Sevastopolskaya, the ring line, and Polis nobody offered them anymore. It
wasnt just the complex hydro cultures and the seed cultivation, but the high amount of
electricity needed, all just to spice up the soldiers' menu. Almost nobody in the metro had
enough electricity to do it.
Even the station's leaders didnt get vegetables except on holidays because it was
mostly for the children. Istomin had to argue long and hard with the cooks to convince
them to add a few grams of potatoes and tomatoes to improve moral.
 As a matter of fact, when Nadia laid down her combat rifle and raised the pots lid,
the wrinkles on the guards' faces smoothed immediately. Nobody wanted to talk about
the missing caravan or the lost recon team it would have ruined their appetite.
An older man in a wool jacket with a small metro emblem stirred the potatoes in
his bowl and said with a smile, I thought about the Komsomolskaya for the entire day
today. I would really like to see it again. Those mosaics! It's the most beautiful station in
all of Moscow, I think.
Oh stop it, Homer, said an unshaven fat man with a wool hat. You lived there
and its obvious that youre partial to it. But what about the stained glass at the
Novoslobodskaya? And the wonderful pillars and the ceiling fresco at the
Mayakowskaya?
I always liked the Ploschtschad Revolyuzii, admitted a shy sniper, just past his
youth. I know it's stupid, but I liked those dark sailors and the pilots, the border patrols
with their dogs Ever since I was a child.
I dont think it's stupid at all, agreed Nadya as she collected the dregs of the
stew. Especially some of the male statues, they were very handsome. Hey brigadier! Get
over here or you wont get anything!
The tall, broad-shouldered fighter had been sitting alone. He approached the
campfire with leisurely steps, took his rations and returned to his normal place if
possible that was close to the tunnel and as far away from people as he could get.
The fat man pointed his head at the broad back of the man receding into the
darkness and whispered: Does he ever go to the station?
No, hes been sitting out here for over a week," answered the sharpshooter just as
quietly.
He spends his nights in a sleeping bag Maybe he needs to be out here to sleep
through the night.
Three days ago, when the creatures almost devoured Rinat, he killed every last of
them. With his bare hands. It took fifteen minutes. When he came back, his boots and
rifle were covered in blood and he looked happy about it.
 Thats not a man, thats a machine, said the thin machine-gunner. I wouldnt
want to sleep near him. Did you see what happened to his face?
The old man, the one they called Homer, shrugged and said, Strange, I really only
feel safe when hes around. What do you want from him? The guy is alright, he just got
beat up. What do we need beauty for? That is for the stations. And by the way, your
Novoslobodskaya is just the tip of a whole mountain of bad taste. I cant even look at
those stained windows when Im sober Stained glass, laughable!
And a Kolcho-mosaic over half the ceiling is good taste?
Oh? Please, tell me where you saw a Kolcho-mosaic at the Komsomolskaya?
Now the fat man was on a roll, The whole of soviet art only has one damned
theme: Life on a collective farm and our heroic pilots!
Seryoscha, leave the pilots out of this, the sniper warned the fat man.
Suddenly a deep, hollow voice said: The Komsomolskaya is shit and so is the
Novoslobodskaya .
The fat man was so surprised that he couldnt think of a single thing to say, so he
just stared at the brigadier who still sat in the dark. The others stopped talking now as
well. The stranger almost never participated in any of their conversations.
Even when someone asked him something, he rarely answered and if he did it was
with a single word.
He still had his back to them, staring into the mouth of the tunnel. The ceiling is
too high at the Komsomolskaya and the pillars are too thin, the whole station sits out in
the open. Its almost impossible to barricade all passageways. And all the walls have
cracks at the Novoslobodskaya, it doesnt matter how often theyre repaired. You could
destroy the entire station with a single grenade. And the stained windows are as good as
broken already. Way too brittle.
You could easily argue with this kind of criticism, but nobody dared voice their
objections. The brigadier was quiet for a while before casually adding, Im going to the
station. Come with me, Homer. Shift change in an hour. Arthur youre in command.
 The sharpshooter stood up quickly and nodded, even though the brigadier couldnt
see. The old man stood up and gathered his possessions despite the fact that he hadnt
finished eating. When the brawler returned to the campfire he was already dressed in full
gear and carrying his enormous bag.
The snipers gaze followed the unlikely duo the colossal brigadier and thin
Homer as they entered the lit part of the tunnel. Then he rubbed his cold hands together
and realized he was shaking.
Ive got a chill. Put some more coals on the fire.

***

As they walked the brigadier didnt say a single word.

He only asked if Homer really used to work in the metro driving a train. The old
man looked at him suspiciously at first, but then nodded.
At the Sevastopolskaya he always said he drove trains, but he never mentioned
that he used to work on the tracks before that, he was a little embarrassed about it.
The brigadier greeted the station guards with a military salute.
They stepped out of his way and he entered the station heads office without
knocking. Istomin and the colonel stood up from their chairs in surprise and walked in his
direction. Both looked ragged somehow, tired and lost.
While Homer remained shyly at the entrance, shifting from one leg to the other,
the brigadier took off his helmet, put it down on top of Istomins papers and scratched his
clean-shaven head. You could see again how badly mutilated his face was. The left cheek
puckered as if it had been badly burned, the eye above it was a thin slit and a large violet
scar ran from his mouth to his ear. Although Homer was used to the sight; it still sent
shivers down his spine, as if he were seeing it again for the first time.
I will go to the ring line personally, said the brigadier.
He hadnt bothered greeting either of them. A profound silence followed. Homer
already knew the man was an extraordinary fighter, thats what had earned him his
special reputation with the stations leaders. But it wasnt until now that he realized that,
unlike the other inhabitants of the Sevastopolskaya, the brigadier didnt follow orders. He
wasnt waiting for permission from two old, exhausted men; it almost seemed like he was
giving orders and expected them to be followed. Homer asked himself again how many
times now? Who was this man?
The colonel looked to Istomin. His face darkened as if he wanted to argue, but he
didnt. Whatever you want, Hunter, he said. Nobody could talk you out of it anyway.

Chapter 2: Return

Homer listened. Hunter. He had never heard that name spoken at the
Sevastopolskaya before. It sounded like a nickname like his own, of course he wasnt
actually named Homer; his name was Nikolai Ivanovitsch. They named him after the
creator of the Greek epics because he loved stories and rumors of all kind.
Your new brigadier, the colonel had said to the guards in the southern tunnel
two months ago. Theyd looked with suspicion and curiosity at the broad-shouldered man
in Kevlar armor and heavy helmet. He simply looked at them with indifference and
returned to the fortifications as if he cared more about them than the men he commanded.
He shook the hands of those who introduced themselves but didnt say a word. He
nodded silently, remembered their names and puffed blue smoke in their faces as if he
wanted to keep them at a distance. His lifeless eye shimmered in the shadow of his raised
visor. Not then or since had the guards dared to ask for his name and so he remained the
brigadier.
It seemed the station had hired a mercenary that didnt need a name of his own.
Hunter.
As Homer stood in the entrance of Istomins office he formed the strange name
silently with his lips. It wasnt fit for a human more for a Middle Asian Shepherd
hound. He couldnt suppress a smile. Thered actually been a few dogs of that breed here.
How had his thoughts wandered here?
Middle Asian Shepherd hounds, they were a militant race, with docked tails and
ears directly on top of their head nothing superfluous.
But the more often he said the name, the more he thought he knew it. Where had
he heard it? It had probably gotten stuck in his head from one of the endless stream of
legends and rumors he heard. Meanwhile a thick layer of names, facts, rumors and
numbers had appeared in his mind all that useless data about the lives of other people
that Homer always listened to eagerly and memorized.
Hunter A criminal with a Hanza bounty on his head? Homer threw a stone into
the murky lake of his mind and listened. No. A stalker? Didnt match his appearance. A
field commander? Closer. Apparently a legend as well. Homer studied the brigadiers
face in secret. A dogs name suited him surprisingly well.
 I still need two men. Homer comes with me, he knows the tunnels. The
brigadier didnt ask for Homers approval or even look at him.
And a runner, a courier. Ill leave today. Istomin nodded, but then looked
askance at the colonel.
The colonel mumbled his approval even though hed fought the commander and
resisted giving up men for the last few days. Homers opinion didnt seem to interest
anyone, but he didnt think of protesting. Despite his age hed never refuse a mission like
this. He had his reasons.
The brigadier took his helmet from the table and moved towards the exit. He held
the door for a moment and said in Homers direction, Say goodbye to your family.
Supply yourself for a long march. Dont take any ammunition with you; youll get that
from me.
Then he disappeared.
Homer ran behind him. He wanted to at least find out what awaited him on this
expedition. But when he stepped onto the platform he saw that Hunter had already left
him far behind. It was pointless to try and catch up with him. Homer watched him go and
shook his head.
Strangely the brigadier hadnt put on his helmet. Maybe he was lost in thought or
needed some air. He passed a few young girls sitting on the platform. They were pig
shepherds on a break. Suddenly one of them whispered, Look at the zombie, girls.

***

Where did you dig him up? asked Istomin. He sank into his chair with relief and
reached for a packet of rolling paper.
The plant that the stations inhabitants smoked with such relish had allegedly been
found by a stalker near the Bitzewski Place.
Once the colonel had held a Geiger-counter over the package of tobacco and it
started ticking up a storm.
 Hed decided to stop smoking then and there. The coughing that haunted his nights
with visions of lung cancer abated. Istomin, on the other hand, took the radiation story
with a grain of salt. He wasnt crazy to ignore it in the Metro everything was more or
less radioactive.
Weve known him for a long time, replied the colonel reluctantly. After a short
pause he added, Back then he was different. Something must have happened to him.
Just look at his face, of course something happened to him. Istomin coughed and
looked nervously at the door as if he feared Hunter could hear his words.
The commander didnt want to complain about the brigadiers sudden return from
the past; hed transformed himself into the pillar of the southern guard post in no time at
all. But Denis Michailovitsch still couldnt quite believe his old friends return.
The news of Hunters strange and terrible death had spread like an echo through
the tunnels last year. And when he appeared on the colonels doorstep without warning,
the colonel had made the sign of the cross. How had Hunter passed the guard posts
without being seen it was as if he had walked right through the men. This only stoked
the colonels fears that something supernatural was going on.
The silhouette, which he saw through the peephole, had looked familiar: Broad
shoulders, a shaved head and a slightly dented nose. But the late night guest remained
where he was; his head titled oddly and turned slightly to the side. He didnt try to break
the tense silence. The colonel looked at the bottle of sweet wine on his table with regret,
sighed deeply and unlocked the door. His creed demanded that he help his own kind it
didnt matter if they were supposed to be dead.
Hunter only looked up after hed stepped through the door. It quickly became
apparent why hed hidden the other side of his face. Hed probably been afraid that the
colonel wouldnt recognize him otherwise. Denis Michailovitsch had seen much during
his years commanding the garrison, protecting his station seemed like an honorable
pursuit but Hunters wound gave him pause.
Then he laughed uneasily, as if to excuse his undisciplined behavior.
 His guest didnt show so much as a hint of a smile. He wouldnt smile once that
night. His terrible wounds healed over the next few months, but the man had nothing in
common with the Hunter that Denis Michailovitsch remembered.
He didnt say a word about his miraculous rescue or his long absence and he
turned a deaf ear to the colonels questions. Instead he asked Denis Michailovitsch to tell
no one of his return. If the colonel had listened to his common sense he would have
informed the elders immediately but there was an old debt he owed to Hunter and so he
kept Hunters return to himself.
Even so, Denis Michailovitsch started researching in secret. Without exception
everyone thought that his guest was dead.
Hunter wasnt involved in any crimes and no one was looking for him. Theyd
never found Hunters body, but people thought he had to be dead, otherwise he would
have tried to contact someone. The colonel agreed.
But Hunter, or rather his vague shadow, appeared in at least a dozen half true
myths and stories. It seemed he liked this role and let his companions continue believing
that he was dead.
Denis Michailovitsch remembered his old debt and came to the only possible
conclusion: Relax and play the game.
When others were around he never used Hunters real name. He shared Hunters
secret only with Istomin, but he didnt go into detail. Few cared about the brigadiers
origins, hed earned his daily soup ration many times over. He guarded the posts in the
southern tunnel day and night; he only showed up at the station once a week, and that was
bath day. Even if he only came to this hell hole to hide, Istomin didnt care. Hed learned
to appreciate the service of legionnaires, even those with dark pasts. The only thing that
he asked of them was to fight and in Hunters case that wasnt a problem.
The guards that complained about the brigadiers condescending nature were silent
after the first battle. When they saw the methodical way he destroyed everything in his
path, they reached their own conclusions.
 Nobody wanted to be his friend, but everyone followed his orders without
complaint. He never had to raise his dull, broken voice. There was something in his
voice, something like the hypnotizing hiss of a snake that made even Istomin nod
obediently whenever Hunter talked to him and even when Hunter hadnt finished
talking, just in case.

***

For the first time in ages the air in Istomins office felt lighter as if a silent
thunderstorm of tension had finally passed. There was no reason left to argue because
there was no better fighter than Hunter. If even Hunter died in the tunnels there would be
no other options left for the Sevastopolskaya.
Shall I order the preparations for the operation? asked Denis Michailovitsch.
Youve got three days. There should be enough time. Istomin closed his lighter
and his eyes. We cant wait for them any longer. How many people do we need?
The strike team is ready. I will take care of the second one, which will be about
another twenty men. If we havent heard from them the day after tomorrow. He pointed
his head at the exit. Then you have to get everyone ready to leave. We will try to break
through.
Istomin raised his eyebrows but didnt answer; he just kept smoking his cigarette.
Denis Michailovitsch picked up some of the papers and started circling names using a
system that only he understood.
To break through? The colonel looked past Istomins gray neck and through the
tobacco smoke at the map of the Metro that hung on the wall. Yellow, dirty and covered
with small signs this map was a chronicle of the last decade. Arrows for recon missions,
circles for sieges, stars for guard posts and exclamations marks for forbidden zones.
Ten years had been documented on this map, ten years, and not a single day of it
without blood spilled.
 Under the Sevastopolskaya, right behind the station called Juschnaya the markings
stopped. As far as Istomin knew nobody had ever returned from that place. The line ran
down a lot of white areas, like one of the old maps that the first Spanish conquerors had
when they arrived on the shores of what they supposed to be India. The line looked like a
branched root. Subduing the entire line was too big a conquest for the people of the
Sevastopolskaya no effort would have been enough.
And now a fog of uncertainty covered the godforsaken line that led to Hanza to
humanity. When the colonel delivered his imminent order for the people to arm
themselves, nobody would refuse his command. The war for mankinds destruction,
which had been going on for nearly two decades, had never stopped for a minute at the
Sevastopolskaya. If you live long enough in the face of death, fear makes way for
fatalism, talismans, beliefs and instincts.
Who knew what waited for them between the Nachimovski prospect and the
Serpuchovskaya? Who knew if you could break through such a mysterious obstacle or if
there was still something behind it worth getting to?
Istomin thought about his last trip to the Serpuchovskaya. The markets, homeless
people sleeping on benches and those who still had something slept behind curtains. The
station didnt produce anything; they didnt have any animal farms or greenhouses. The
residents of the Serpuchovskaya were thieves, but they were smart thieves. They lived on
speculation, they sold expired goods that they bought from delayed caravans for next to
nothing. They also offered the ring lines inhabitants services that would have gotten
them arrested in Hanza. The station was a parasite, a fungus, a tumor growing inside the
powerful Hanza.
It was the last union of rich trade stations, appropriately named after the medieval
German model, a stronghold for civilization in the Metro. Everything else sank into
barbarism and poverty. There was a real army in Hanza, electric lighting and even a piece
of bread for everyone that had earned the much sought after stamp of citizenship, no
matter how poor they were.
 Even on the black market passports cost a fortune and if the border patrol caught
somebody with a fake it would cost them their head.
Hanza owed its wealth and power to its extraordinary location. The ring line
united all the lines of the star shaped metro complex and allowed people to move from
one line to another. Traveling merchants who brought tea from the VDNCh, trolleys that
brought ammunition from the weapon forges of Baumskaya they all unloaded their
cargo at the nearest Hanza toll station and went home. It was always easier for them to
sell their goods a little cheaper than to chase higher profits through the Metro. It was a
potentially fatal quest.
Hanza sometimes affiliated with neighboring stations but mostly it left them to
their own devices they were a tolerated gray area, where deals were made that Hanzas
leaders didnt want to get involved in. Of course those Radial stations were filled with
Hanzas spies and to be honest the stations had already been bought a long time ago by
Hanzas businessmen. But they remained formally independent. So it was with the
Serpuchovskaya.
In one of the tunnels between the Serpuchovskaya and the Tulskaya a train had
broken down on that day long ago. Istomin had marked that spot on the map with a cross
because the train car that stood in the middle of the tunnel was inhabited by members of a
religious sect. They had transformed that lifeless span of tunnel into an oasis in a black
desert.
Istomin had nothing against the sect. Their missionaries lingered in neighboring
stations, trying to save fallen souls but these shepherds never came to the
Sevastopolskaya nor did they hinder passing travelers except maybe with their
preaching. The clean and empty tunnel between Tulskaya and Serpuchovskaya was the
preferred route of the caravans.
Once again Istomins gaze followed the line. The Tulskaya? Their residents lived
off of what the convoys that bypassed the Sevastopolskaya and the smart merchants from
Serpuchovskaya left behind. They salvaged every piece of scrap metal they could and
many searched for day jobs. For days theyd sit and wait for one of the foremen to offer
what was effectively slave labor. They were poor too, but at least they didnt have the
greasy criminal look in their eyes like the people from the Serpuchovskaya. And at this
station there was order, danger brought you together.
The next station was the Nagatinskaya. On Istomins map it was marked with a
short line, meaning it was uninhabited. But that was only half true. Nobody stayed there
very long but there were shady folk living there like animals.
Total darkness reigned and small groups hid from strangers. Only rarely did the
dim light of a campfire show through the pillars and outline dark figures holding secret
meetings. You had to be ignorant or brave to stay the night not all of the stations
inhabitants were human. In the whispering darkness of the Nagatinskaya you could
sometimes see the grotesque silhouettes of creatures prowling in the dark. And
sometimes the shrill screams of a homeless person filled the remaining inhabitants with
fear until the victim was dragged into a cave and devoured.
No one dared go further than the Nagatinskaya, so the area between this station
and the stronghold of the Sevastopolskaya was an empty wasteland. It wasnt completely
empty though and the Sevastopolskayas scouts tried not to run into the creatures that
lurked there.
But something new had come out of the tunnels. Something unknown. Something
that had devoured everyone who tried to pass through this supposedly established route.
How could Istomin know if his station, even with every able-bodied resident armed,
would form an army big enough to deal with that? He stood up with slumped shoulders,
walked to the map and marked the area between the Serpuchovskaya and the
Nachimovskaya prospect with a pen. Right next to it he placed a big question mark. Hed
wanted to place it next to the word prospect but somehow it landed next to the
Sevastopolskaya.

***
 At first glance you might think the Sevastopolskaya was uninhabited. There was
no trace of the army tents that served as homes in most stations.
Instead they had sandbag barricades, which looked like large ant hills in the weak
lamplight. The barricades were never manned and the pillars were coated with a thick
layer of dust. Everything was built so that a stranger passing through would think the
station was abandoned.
But as soon as the unwanted guest so much as thought about staying he risked
staying forever. The machine-gun teams and snipers, who stayed at the neighboring
Kavochskaya, manned their posts in mere seconds and the dim lamps were replaced with
powerful mercury searchlights that hung from the ceiling. The intense light burned the
eyes of all invaders, humans and monsters alike. Neither were used to such glare.
The train station was the last line of defense for the Sevastopolskaya. Their homes
were located in the belly of the deceptively arranged station. Under the enormous granite
platform, invisible to strangers eyes, there was another floor only a little smaller than the
platform above, but it was divided into smaller cells. There were the warm, dry, and lit
apartments, the steady hum of air filters and water purifiers, hydroponic greenhouses It
seemed that the stations residents only felt safe and sound when they retreated even
further underground.

***

Homer knew that the ultimate battle wouldnt be in the tunnel, but at home. As he
walked through the narrow hallway past the half open doors of the former service rooms
which were now homes for the Sevastopolskayas families his steps slowed more and
more. He should reconsider his approach, go over his answers once more, time was
running out.
 What am I supposed to do? Orders are orders. You know how things are. They
didnt even ask me.
Dont make such a big deal out of it youre being ridiculous! No I didnt
volunteer. Refuse? Out of the question. That would be desertion, understand?
He mumbled on and on, sometimes outraged and determined, sometimes gentle
and pleading.
At his apartments doorstep he went over everything again. It seemed a
confrontation couldnt be avoided, but he wouldnt back down. He hardened his
expression and opened the door, ready for a fight.
The nine and a half square meter apartment which was very luxurious, hed
waited four years to get one while living in a tent was occupied by a military bunk bed,
a small dining table and three big stacks of newspapers that reached the ceiling. If he
were an old bachelor that mountain of paper would have grown fit to bury him already.
But fifteen years ago hed met Yelena, who tolerated the dusty old paper in their small
apartment and kept them in order and away from the stove; otherwise the mountain
would have transformed itself into to a papery Pompeii long ago.
She tolerated so many things. The endless alarming newspaper clippings with
headlines like The arms race continues, Americans test anti-rocket system, Our
rocket shield grows, Farewell to peace and The time for patience is over that
covered the walls like wallpaper; his staying up all night hovering over a stack of
notebooks, a gnawed pen in his hand using electric light instead of candles which were
not an option with all the newspaper around; the joke of a nickname that he carried with
pride, but that evoked a mocking smile from everyone else that used it.
She tolerated much, but not everything. She didnt tolerate his childlike eagerness,
which often got him into trouble and at almost sixty years old! Nor the ease with which
he accepted orders from above, without a moments consideration of how the last
expedition had almost cost his life.
If hed died he didnt want to think about it.
 When Homer left for guard duty once a week she never stayed at home. She took
her troubled thoughts and fled to the neighbors or went to work even if she wasnt
scheduled it didnt matter where, anywhere was fine so long as it distracted her from
wondering if her husband was already dead, laying on the ground, cold and stiff. She
thought his typical male nonchalance about death was stupid, egotistical, and perhaps
even criminal.
Fate had brought her home from work early shed come back to change her
clothes. She had just put her arms through the sleeves of her patched jacket when he
walked in. Her dark, slightly graying hair she wasnt even 50 was tousled and there
was fear in her brown eyes. Kolya has something happened? I thought you were on
guard duty until late tonight?
His courage to begin the argument broke immediately. Of course it wasnt his fault
this time, he could say that they forced him with a clear conscience.
He hesitated. Maybe he should calm her down first and mention it later casually
during dinner?
I ask you for this one thing: Dont lie to me, she warned him, after seeing his
shifting eyes.
Lena, he began. I have to tell you something
Did somebody she asked the most important, most feared question right
away. Did somebody die, but she didnt say it out loud, as if she feared that her words
would make it true.
No! No Homer shook his head and added, They let me off from guard duty.
They are sending me to the Serpuchovskaya. I dont think itll be dangerous.
But Yelena didnt know what to say. But that is Did they already return,
the
The stories are all nonsense, he interrupted her quickly. There is nothing to
worry about. The conversation had turned in an unexpected direction. Instead of dealing
with curses, accusations of trying to play the hero and waiting for a chance to make up,
he faced a much more difficult test.
 Yelena turned away, stepped to the table, moved the salt shaker and smoothed a
wrinkle in the tablecloth. I had a dream she stopped and cleared her throat.
You always have dreams.
It was a bad one, she said stubbornly. Then she started to cry.
What? What can I Its an order, he stuttered and stroked her fingers. He
realized that his rehearsed lines were worthless now.
The cyclops should go by himself! she yelled angrily and pulled her hand back.
That devil with his beret! He can only order others around What does he have to lose?
He is married to his gun! What does he know?
When you make a women cry the only thing you can do is hold her in your arms.
Homer was ashamed of himself and he was truly sorry. But it would be all too easy to
give in now, to swear that he wouldnt go on that mission, to calm her down and dry her
tears and to remember this missed opportunity forever. This was, perhaps, the last
chance in his long life.
So he remained silent.

***

It was time to gather the officers and give them further instructions. But the
colonel was still sitting in his office. The cigarette smoke didnt bother him anymore but
it did tempt him.
While the commander moved his finger along the line of the Sevastopolskaya on
his metro map and whispered to himself thoughtfully, Denis Michailovitsch tried to
understand what was behind Hunters mysterious return to the Sevastopolskaya. Why had
he decided to settle down here and why did he always wear his helmet in public? It all
meant that Istomin was right. Hunter was hiding from something and he had chosen the
southern guard post as his hiding place. There he was worth an entire brigade by himself
and had become irreplaceable. It didnt matter who wanted his head or how much they
were willing to pay for it, neither Istomin nor the colonel would turn him over.
 His hiding place was brilliant. There were no strangers at the Sevastopolskaya and
compared to other caravans that traveled to the big Metro everyone passing through the
station kept their mouths shut. In this little Sparta, which desperately clung to its small
piece of earth at the end of the world, the most important thing was to be reliable and
relentless in battle. Secrets still meant something here.
But why was Hunter giving this all up again? Why was he traveling to Hanza of
his own free will and risking someone recognizing him? Hed volunteered for this
operation; Istomin wouldnt have dared order him. It probably wasnt the fate of the
recon unit that interested the brigadier. He didnt fight for the Sevastopolskaya because
he loved the station, but for his own private reasons.
Maybe it was part of a mission? That would explain a lot of things: His sudden
appearance, his secrecy, the stamina with which he held the guard post and of course his
decision to leave for the Serpuchovskaya.
But why did he forbid the colonel to inform the others?
Who could have sent Hunter besides them?
No, it was impossible. He was one of the Order. A man whod saved dozens, if not
hundreds of people including Denis Michailovitsch wouldnt be able to commit
treason.
But was this Hunter who had appeared out of thin air the same? If he worked for
somebody had he received a signal?
Did that mean that the disappearance of the recon unit was not an accident but part
of a well-planned operation? And what part did the brigadier play in all of this?
The colonel shook his head forcefully, as if to shake away the suspicions that
clung to him like leeches, getting bigger and bigger. How could he think this about a man
who had saved his live? Hunter had served the station without incident and hed never
given the slightest reason to doubt him. Thus Denis Michailovitsch forbade himself to
think of the brigadier as a deserter, a spy or something worse.
Hed made his decision. One more tea and then Ill go see the boys, he said a bit
too energetically and snapped his fingers.
 Istomin rose from his metro map and smiled tiredly. He went to dial the number
for the adjutant when the telephone rang. Both were startled and looked at each other.
They hadnt heard that sound in a week. If the officer on duty wanted something he
knocked on the door and there was no one else in the station that could call the foreman
directly.
Istomin here, he answered carefully.
Vladimir Ivanowitsch! The Tulskaya is on the phone. He heard the quick talking
voice of the adjutant. But the connection is very bad Probably our man But the
connection
Put me through already! Istomin screamed into the receiver and hammered a fist
on the table with such force that the telephone clanged.
The adjutant stopped talking immediately. Istomin could hear a ringing sound,
then static and then a distant, almost unrecognizable voice.

***

Yelena turned her face toward the wall to hide her tears. What could she do to
keep him here? Why did he always grasp at any opportunity to leave the station?
His miserable excuses: Orders from above. and Desertion. Shed heard them a
hundred times. What wouldnt she give, what hadnt she tried to rid him of such nonsense
over the last fifteen years? But once again he was drawn to the tunnels, as if he thought
hed find something other than darkness, emptiness and doom in them. What was he
searching for?
Homer knew exactly what she was thinking, as if shed spoken it out loud. He felt
miserable, but it was too late to retreat. He opened his mouth to say something
comforting, something warm but he remained silent, each and every word would only add
fuel to the fire.
Over Yelenas head Moscow cried. A carefully framed color-picture of the
Tverskaya Uliza, shining through a translucent midsummer rain, cut from a shiny
almanac, hung on the wall. A long time ago, when Homer could move through the Metro
freely, his entire fortune consisted of his clothes and this picture. Others carried crumpled
pages torn from mens magazines in their pockets.
But that wasnt a replacement for Homer. This picture reminded him of something
beautiful beyond words something that was forever lost.
Helplessly he whispered, Forgive me. He stepped out into the hallway, closed
the door carefully behind him and sat in front of his apartment. The door of the
neighboring apartment was open and two sickly, pale children played on the doorstep a
boy and a girl. When they saw Homer they stopped. The patched up teddy bear that the
children had argued over just a second ago fell to the ground.
Uncle Kolya, uncle Kolya! Tell us a story! You promised to tell us one when you
came back!
Homer couldnt hold back a smile. He forgot the argument with Yelena
immediately. A story about what?
Headless mutants! screamed the boy excitedly.
No! I dont want mutants! the girl said in a shocked tone. They are so terrible,
they scare me!
Homer sighed, What story do you want, Tanyuscha?
But the boy answered first, Then the one about the fascists! Or the partisans!
I want the story about the Emerald city! said Tanya and she smiled.
But I told you that one yesterday. How about Hanzas war against the Reds?
The Emerald city, the Emerald city! both yelled.
Okay, conceded Homer. Somewhere, behind the end of the Sokolnitscheskaya
line, behind the seven abandoned stations, three destroyed bridges and a thousand times a
thousand doorways, there lies a mysterious, secret city. It is magical so humans cant
enter. Wizards live there and only they can enter and leave the city through their portals.
Above it, on the surface, there is a castle with towers where the wizards once lived. The
name of the castle was
Virsity! Yelled the small boy and looked at his sister triumphantly.
 University, Homer nodded in agreement. When the war began and the atomic
bombs were dropped, the wizards retreated into the castle and laid a spell on the entrance
so that the bad humans, who started the war, wouldnt be able to reach them. And then
they lived
Homer cleared his throat and stopped.
Yelena was leaning in the doorway, shed been listening.
He hadnt seen her step into the hallway.
Ill pack your things, she said thickly. Homer walked over to her and took her
hand. She clumsily laid his arms back at his sides, she was too embarrassed to show
affection in front of the children. She asked quietly, Youll come back soon? Nothing
will happen to you, right?
For the thousandth time in his long life he realized how badly women wanted
promises it didnt matter if he could keep them or not. Everything is going to be
alright.
You are so old and you still kiss like you just got married, said the girl with a
grimace.
The boy yelled cockily after them, Daddy says nothing about that story is true.
That there is no Emerald city.
Maybe, Homer shrugged. Its a fairy tale. What would we do without fairy
tales?

***

The connection was awful. A vaguely familiar voice fought against terrible static.
It seemed to be a member of the recon team that theyd sent to the Serpuchovskaya on the
rail car.
At the Tulskaya We can Tulskaya. He tried to give their position.
Understood, you are at the Tulskaya, Istomin yelled into the receiver. What
happened? Why havent you returned?
 Tulskaya Here You cant Everything but
Pieces of his sentence were swallowed by the static again and again.
What cant we do? Repeat, what cant we do?
Dont storm the station! Anything but storming the station! came the reply,
clearly for once.
Why? asked Istomin What the hell is going on?
But the voice could no longer be heard. The static grew louder and louder and then
the line was dead. Istomin didnt want to believe it at first and kept the phone in his hand.
What is going on out there? he whispered.

Chapter 3: Afterlife

The look that the guards at the northern post gave him Homer would never
forget it as long as he lived. A look filled with admiration and sadness, a look for a fallen
hero.
He could hear the salutary shots of the honor guard in the background. Like a final
farewell.
The living didnt get those looks. Homer felt like he was climbing a shaky ladder
into a small plane cabin; a plane that couldnt land; a plane the Japanese engineers had
modified into a machine from hell. The emperors red striped flag fluttered in the salty
wind, mechanics ran around on the airfield, motors roared and a heavyset general raised
his hand in a military salute, his eyes wet, his heart filled envy for the pilots samurai
spirit
Why are you so excited? Achmed grimly asked the dreaming old man. He
wasnt in a rush to find out what had happened at the Sevastopolskaya.
His wife stood near the tracks, his oldest son at one hand, a screaming bundle held
carefully in the other.
Its like a banzai attack: You stand up and run right at the machine guns, Homer
tried to explain. Courage from fear. Before us is a deadly fire
No wonder you call it a suicide attack, growled Achmed, looking back at the
tiny, bright light at the end of the tunnel. Thats the right kind for somebody as crazy as
you. A normal human doesnt run straight at a machine gun. Those kinds of heroics dont
get anyone very far.
The old man didnt answer right away. Well, thats the thing. When you feel like
your time is up you start to think: Whats left when Im gone? What have I
accomplished?
Hm, well I dont know about you, but I have my children. They wont forget
me. After a short pause he added, At least not my oldest.
Homer wanted to protest but Achmeds last sentence took the wind from his sails.
Of course it was easier for him to risk his old and childless hide. That boy, on the other
hand, had his entire life in front of him and didnt need to think about achieving
immortality yet.
Theyd passed the last lamp; a glass case with a weak light bulb and a steel cage
around it, full of burned flies and winged roaches. The chitin-mass moved almost
imperceptibly. Some insects were still alive, trying to crawl out of the pit like wounded
death row prisoners trying to crawl out of a mass grave.
For a second Homers gaze hung on the trembling, reaching, yellowish light
looking like something cast from a graveyards lamp. Then he took a deep breath and
dove into the pitch black darkness that reached from the Sevastopolskaja to the Tulskaya
if the Tulskaya was still there.
 ***

It looked like the sad woman and her children had fused with the granite platform.
They werent the only ones. A little further on a one-eyed man with the shoulders of a
wrestler watched a group vanish into the darkness. Behind him a thin old man in a
military jacket was quietly talking to the adjutant.
Our only option is to wait, said Istomin as he stubbed out his cigarette.
Maybe you can wait, the colonel answered edgily. Im going to do what I have
to.
The voice was Andrey. The lead officer of the rail car we sent. Vladimir
Ivanovitsch could hear the voice from the phone again he couldnt get it out of his head.
And? The colonel arched his eyebrows. Maybe he was tortured and forced to
talk. There are specialists that have developed very effective methods.
I dont think so. You didnt hear his voice. Theres something else going on.
Something strange. A surprise attack wont help
I can explain the whole situation, Denis Michailovitsch assured him. There
were bandits at the Tulskaya. They took over the station, killed some of our men and took
the rest hostage. They didnt cut the power, they need it too plus they didnt want to
make Hanza nervous. They probably just turned off the telephone. How else would you
explain it going in and out?
But his voice was so mumbled Istomin as if he hadnt even heard the colonel.
Well how do you explain it? exploded the colonel. The adjutant took a few
careful steps back. If I drove a nail under your fingernail then youd scream differently
too! Give me a pair of pliers and I could turn a bass into a soprano for life! He knew
what he had to do, hed made his choice. After overcoming his doubts he was on a new
high and his trigger finger was itchy. Istomin could complain as much as he wanted.
 Istomin didnt answer right away. He wanted to give the colonel time to blow off
steam. We are going to wait, he said finally. It sounded kind, but left no room for
argument.
Denis Michailovitsch crossed his arms and said, Two days.
Two days, Istomin agreed, nodding.
The colonel turned on his heel and went back to the barracks. He had no intention
of losing valuable time. The commanding officers of the strike teams had been waiting at
the long table for almost an hour. Only two chairs were empty:
His and Istomins. But this time theyd have to start without their leaders.

***

The commander hadnt realized the colonel had left. Its strange how our roles
have been reversed, isnt it? said Istomin, deep in thought.
When no answer came he turned around and saw the helpless face of the adjutant.
He made a gesture of dismissal. He didnt know the colonel anymore, he thought.
Normally the colonel refused to give up even a single fighter. The old wolf smelled
something coming. But could he rely on his nose this time?
Istomins instincts said something completely different: Remain calm. Wait. The
heavy infantry of the Sevastopolskaya would only find some mysterious and invincible
enemy at the Tulskaya.
Vladimir Ivanovitsch searched his pockets, found his lighter and lit a cigarette.
Smoke rings rose above him and he looked directly into the mouth of the tunnel.
Hypnotized like a rabbit looking into the beckoning mouth of a snake.
When he finished his smoke, he shook his head and strolled back to his office. The
adjutant broke free from the shadow of a pillar and followed him at a distance.

***
 There was a dull, rattling sound a beam of light illuminated the first fifty meters
of the ribbed tunnel; Hunters lamp was large and high-powered almost a search light.
Homer exhaled quietly.
Hed begun to think that the brigadier wouldnt turn the thing on, that his eyes
didnt need it.
Since theyd struck out into the darkness Hunter had shed any pretense of being a
normal person. His movements were fluid and fast, like a predator. It seemed that hed
only turned the light on for his followers he only trusted his own senses. Hed put down
his helmet and listened to the sounds of the tunnel. He did this repeatedly. From time to
time he inhaled the stale air as if he could smell something something that only
confirmed his suspicions.
Hunter stepped through the tunnel soundlessly and he never looked back. It
seemed hed forgotten their existence. Achmed, who only occasionally had duty at the
southern guard post and, as a result, wasnt familiar with the brigadiers habits, poked the
old man in the side, Whats up with him? Homer spread his arms. How was he
supposed to put such an answer into words?
Why did Hunter even need them? He seemed to feel far safer in these tunnels than
Homer did. Homer had thought he was supposed to be the groups guide. If Hunter had
asked, the old man could have told him much about this region. Legends, but true
legends, that were more terrible and bizarre than the tales the guards told each other
around their lonely fire when they were bored.
Homer had a different metro map in his head Istomins map was nothing
compared to it. Homer could have filled all the blank spots with his own markings and
notes.
Vertical shafts, open ones, even some operational service rooms and connecting
lines that spread out like spider webs. For example, on his map there was a junction
between the Sevastopolskaya and the Juschnaya, just one station to the south, it ended at
a massive train depot the Warschavskoye which was the meeting point of dozens of side
tunnels.
 Homer held trains in an almost holy awe, so he saw this depot as a dark but also
mysterious place, like some kind of elephant graveyard; he could talk about it for hours,
if anyone were willing to listen.
Homer thought the section between the Sevastopolskaya and the Nachimovski
prospect was especially treacherous. Caution and sanity demanded that they stick
together, move slowly, carefully, and keep watch on the walls and floor at all times.
They couldnt even take their eyes off the tunnel theyd entered through, even
though all vents and cracks had been bricked up and sealed by the Sevastopolskayas
construction teams.
The darkness was only been ripped open by their light for a short time and quickly
grew together again. The echo of their footsteps was thrown back from the cracks in the
tunnel segments and somewhere in the distance a lonely wind howled through the vents.
Big, heavy drops gathered in the cracks on the ceiling and fell down. Maybe they were
only made of water but Homer preferred to get out of their way. Just in case.

***

In the old times when the bloated monster city lived its feverishly paced life and
the metro was nothing but a soulless traffic system for the citys restless inhabitants, a
young Homer, who everybody just called Kolya, already walked the tunnels with his
flashlight and iron toolbox.
The way into the tunnels was prohibited to mere mortals. The only things meant
for them were the one hundred and fifty polished marble pillars and cramped train cars
that were covered with colorful advertisements. Even though they spent around two or
three hours a day in the rocking trains of the metro, millions of people werent aware that
they only saw a tenth of this unimaginably large underground kingdom. And to keep
them from wondering about its true extent or about where the inconspicuous doors, iron
blockades, dark side tunnels and overpasses, that had been closed for months due to
repairs, led they deflected attention with conspicuous posters, led them away with catchy
slogans and even chased them up the escalators with dull advertising announcements over
the loud speakers.
At least it had seemed that way to Kolya after hed begun dealing with secrets of
this state within a state.
The colorful map of the metro could convince curious minds that they dealt with a
civilian structure. But in reality these lines in their happy colors were crossed by the
invisible lines of military tunnels which led to government bunkers and military depots.
Some lanes were even connected by a labyrinth of catacombs from the citys pagan past.
When Kolya was very young and his country too poor to compete with the
ambitions of others, the bunkers and air raid shelters, which had been built for judgment
day, collected dust. But with money people came back, and with them their bad
intentions. Rusted doors, which weighed several tons, creaked opened, food and medical
supplies were renewed and air and water filters were upgraded to the latest technology.
Just in time too.
A job in the metro was like a welcome into the society of the Freemasons. He felt
that way because he was from a small town. Once hed been an unemployed loner, now
he was a member of one of the most powerful organizations, one that rewarded his
humble service generously and gave him a view of the world orders deepest secrets. He
also liked the pay; they didnt ask much of future service men.
It took him a while to figure out, through his colleagues hesitant explanations, why
the metro organization had to lure employees with high wages and hazard pay. It wasnt
because of the long shifts and voluntary sacrifice of daylight. It was due to totally
different dangers.
Homer, a skeptical man, never paid much attention to the never ending rumors and
dark stories of devils work in the tunnels. But one day a colleague of his didnt return
from a site inspection of the service tunnels. Like the man, all documents vanished hed
suddenly never worked in the metro.
Only Kolya, still young and naive, didnt want to let go of his friends
disappearance. Finally one of the older employees took him aside and, looking around
quickly, whispered they had taken his friend. Kolya realized all too well that something
sinister was going on in the Moscow underground and that was long before Armageddon
broke over the huge city, destroying all life on the surface with its flaming breath.
The loss of his friend and his initiation into this forbidden knowledge should have
scared Kolya. He should have left his job and found a new one. But his arranged marriage
with the metro had progressed into a passionate affair. When he was fed up with
endlessly wandering through tunnels he allowed himself to be trained as a substitute train
driver and secured a firm place in the complex metro hierarchy.
The better he came to know this ignored world wonder, the more kinship he felt as
he looked upon the bizarre labyrinth, this untamed, myopic city, Moscows upside down
reflection and fell in love with it. This Tartarus created by human hands was worthy of a
real Homer, or at least the quill of an old master it would have impressed him more
than the island Laputa But it was only Kolya that honored the metro in secret and sang
clumsily of its greatness. Nikolai Ivanovitsch Nikolayev. Preposterous.
It was possible to love the Mistress of Copper Mountain, but Copper Mountain
itself? (a Russian fable)
But this relationship was mutually based on love and envy. It would rob Kolya
of his family and save his life.

***

Hunter stopped suddenly and Homer wasnt able to leave the soft bed of his
memories quickly enough he ran right into the brigadiers back without slowing down.
Without a word Hunter pushed the old man back and stopped again, he lowered his head
and tilted his mutilated ear towards the tunnel.
Much as a blind bat forms an image of its surroundings, it seemed that Hunter too
perceived invisible sound waves.
Homer, on the other hand, felt something different: The smell of the Nachimovski
prospect, a smell that couldnt be mistaken for anything else. How fast theyd gotten
through the tunnel Hopefully there wasnt a price to pay for being allowed to pass so
freely
As if hed heard Homers thoughts, Achmed swung his assault rifle from his
shoulder and switched the safety off.
Whos there? Hunter suddenly whispered to Homer.
Homer smiled to himself, who knew what the devil had brought them? Through
the wide open doors of the Nachimovski prospect horrible creatures poured in as if
through a funnel. But there were also permanent residents in the station. Even though
they werent seen as dangerous Homer had a certain feeling about them a sticky
mixture of fear and disgust.
Small Hairless, the brigadier tried to describe the creatures.
That was enough for Homer, he knew what these were. Corpse-eaters, he cursed
quietly.
Between the Sevastopolskaya and the Tulskaya, and perhaps in other regions of
the metro, this curse had achieved a new literal meaning in the last few years.
They feed on flesh? asked Hunter.
Mostly on dead flesh, answered the old man, not entirely certain.
These disgusting creatures spider-like primates didnt attack humans; they fed
on dead flesh that they dragged down from the surface. A big clan had made their nest at
the Nachimovski prospect, which was the reason you could smell the sickly sweet smell
of rotting flesh in the neighboring tunnels. In the station it was so heavy that it made your
head spin. It was there they gathered dead bodies for food. Some people put on gas masks
before entering to try and dampen the smell.
Homer, who remembered this unique feature of the Nachimovski quite vividly,
reached quickly for his gas mask and put it over his face.
Achmed, who hadnt had enough time to pack, looked at the mask with envy and
covered his nose with his arm. The miasma that grew in this station covered them,
surrounded them and chased them forward.
Hunter didnt seem to be affected as they were. Is it toxic? Spores? he asked.
 The smell, said Homer from beneath his mask.
The brigadier looked at Homer to make sure that he wasnt making some sort of a
bad joke. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders and said, So just the usual. He held his
assault rifle more comfortably, made it clear that they should follow him and continued
on with soft steps.
After another fifty meters an almost imperceptible whispering joined the
horrendous smell. Homer wiped the warm sweat from his head and tried to keep his
hammering heart under control. They were close.
Finally the beam of the lamp found something, the broken lights of a train that had
fought long and hard against rust, its headlights stared blindly into the darkness; its
windshield shattered In front of them was the first car of a train that blocked the tunnel
like a giant cork.
The train had lain hopelessly dead for a long time, but every time Homer saw it he
had the childish wish to climb into the dusty drivers cabin, touch the panel buttons, close
his eyes and imagine that he was rushing through the tunnel, a garland of brightly lit cars
trailing behind him, full of people that read, slept, stared at advertisements and tried to
hold conversations over the sound of the rushing train.
When the alarm signal atom is given, you should go to the next station. There
you should man the station. The doors should be opened. The civilian teams have to help
with the evacuation of wounded and the hermetic closure of the metro stations.
Hed gotten clear and easy orders for judgment day. Where possible these orders
were followed. Most of the trains broke down on the tracks and fell into a lethargic sleep;
then there were the survivors that now had to stay in the metro forever, instead of the few
weeks that theyd been promised. Most of the trains were completely dismantled for
inventory and spare parts.
In some places they were used as homes, but Homer, who saw them as living
beings, thought that that was akin to vandalizing a corpse it was as if theyd stuffed his
favorite cat.
 In uninhabitable places like the Nachimovski prospect time and vandals had left
their mark on the train, but it remained intact.
Homer couldnt look away. The rustling and hissing that came from the station
faded into the background and once more he heard the ghostly howling alarm siren and
then the train signal spread the unheard message, once long, twice short: Atom!
Brakes squealed and a confusing message played through the speakers: Dear
passengers, due to technical difficulties this train cannot continue to its destination
Neither the train driver whispering into his microphone or his assistant Homer
knew the full extent of overwhelming hopelessness carried in this formal message. The
exhausted creaking sound of the hermetic gates The gates had separated the living
from the dead, once and for all. Protocol demanded that the doors be closed six minutes
after the alarm was sounded and they had to stay closed forever, it didnt matter how
many people were still on the other side.
Those who resisted closing the gates were to be shot immediately.
Would a soldier from a tiny militia that normally chased homeless people and
drunks out of the station be capable of shooting a man in the stomach because he stood in
the way of the heavy machinery to let his wife, with her broken heel, slip through? Would
the feisty women in her uniform and cap, who checked tickets and had only perfected two
things in her thirty years of service getting in your way and getting people in line stop
the gasping old man as he tried to hobble through the closing gates?
These orders created six minutes for people to become machines. Or monsters.
The screaming of the women and the screams of the men, the unrestrained crying
of children, the sounds of pistol and machine gun fire Every speaker blasted the
request to remain calm in a voice that sounded metallic and emotionless.
Someone ignorant of what went on must have read the message because nobody
that knew could be so controlled and indifferent, repeating the same sentence over and
over again: Please remain calm! Crying, pleading More shots.
And exactly six minutes after the alarm, one minute before Armageddon the
doors closed. The sound of the bolts locking in place.
 Silence.
Like a coffin.

***

To get around the train they had to slide along the wall. The driver had hit the
brakes too late, maybe hed been distracted by something on the tracks. They climbed
upward over an iron ladder and found themselves in a large hall. It had no pillars but a
half rounded ceiling with egg shaped holes for lamps. The hall was big; it encompassed
the train station and both tracks. An unbelievably elegant construction, simple and
laconic.
Just dont look down, not under your feet or around you.
Dont look at what the station had become.
A grotesque meadow of corpses, where no one ever found peace, a terrible field of
flesh, covered with gnawed off bones, rotting bodies and torn body parts. Grotesque
creatures greedily dragged down everything they could find in their small kingdom, far
more than they could eat, as reserves. These reserves decayed and dissolved but the piles
continued growing despite this.
The mounds of rotting flesh moved, ignoring the laws of nature, as if they
breathed and a disgusting scraping sound came from all directions. The beam of the
flashlight caught one of the strange creatures: Long nodular arms and legs, slack,
wrinkled, hanging, hairless gray skin and a bent back. The dim eyes stared half blind
around the room and the big ears moved as if they had a life of their own.
The creature made a hoarse scream and retreated slowly on all fours through the
open train door. Just as sluggishly as this one the other corpse eaters started to climb
down from their mountains of bodies. They bared their teeth in anger and growled at the
group.
Standing up straight they wouldnt have come up to Homers chest and he knew
the cowardly creatures wouldnt attack a strong, healthy human. But the irrational horror
he felt for these creatures came from his nightmares. Weak and alone he lay in an empty
station, the monsters came closer and closer. As a drop of blood in the ocean attracted
countless sharks these creatures could feel the approaching death of a stranger and rushed
to find him.
The fear of getting old, Homer berated himself. In his time hed read books about
psychology. If they could only help him now.
The corpse eaters, on the other hand, werent afraid of humans. To waste a single
bullet on one of the harmless corpse eaters would have been considered a criminal waste
at the Sevastopolskaya. The passing caravans tried to ignore them even though the
creatures liked to provoke them.
At this station they had bred prolifically and the further the group went, bones
breaking under their boots with a sickening crunch, the more corpse eaters unwillingly
abandoned their meals and slowly scuttled back to their dwellings. Their nests were
inside the train cars.
Homer hated them even more for that.
The hermetic gates of the Nachimovski prospect were open. It was said that when
you passed through the station quickly you only got a small dose of radiation, but you
couldnt stay for long. Because of this some of the trains were well preserved. The
windshields and windows were intact, through the open doors you could see the solid, if
dirty, seats and even the blue paint of the train was still there. In the middle of the hall
was a true mountain of twisted bodies made up of unrecognizable creatures. When
Hunter reached them he stopped suddenly.
Achmed and Homer looked at each other in concern and tried to see the source of
the implied danger.
But the reason for the delay was something else. On the edge of the mountain of
bodies two little corpse eaters gnawed on the skeleton of a dog you could hear how they
croaked and growled pleasurably. They werent able to hide in time. Maybe they hadnt
finished their meal or didnt understand their elders signals or perhaps their greed had
gotten the better of them.
 Blinded by the glare of the lamp, still cowering, they started their slow retreat to
the next car when they both suddenly fell over with a thudding sound and hit the ground
like two bowel filled sacks.
Homer looked at Hunter in surprise as he holstered his heavy army pistol with its
long silencer. The brigadiers face was as impenetrable and lifeless as always.
Seems like they were pretty hungry, whispered Achmed. He stared with a mix
of disgust and curiosity at the dark puddles where the pulpy remains creatures skulls
sat...
Me too, answered Hunter in a muffled voice and Homer winced.
Without turning around Hunter continued walking and Homer seemed to hear
silent, greedy growling. It exhausted him, trying not to put a bullet in the heads these
creatures! He talked reassuringly to himself until he was under control. He had to prove
to himself that he was a grown man that could control his nightmares and wouldnt do
something crazy. Hunter didnt seem to feel the need to control his desires.
But what was it he actually desired?
The silent demise of the two corpse eaters brought movement from the rest of the
pack. The smell of fresh death chased the boldest and slowest away from the train tracks.
Slowly, croaking and whining they retreated to the two cars, pressed themselves
against the windows or gathered at the doors and waited, but they didnt move.
The creatures didnt seem to feel anger and there werent any recognizable
intentions to avenge their murdered brethren or to fend off this incursion. As soon as the
group left the station the creatures would eat their fallen comrades without hesitation.
Aggression is a trait of hunters, thought Homer. Those who lived on dead bodies
didnt need it because they didnt have to kill. Everything that lives must die some day
and then it became food. They just had to wait.
In the light of the lamp they could see monstrous faces looking through the dirty,
greenish windows, the strangely hunched bodies, their long clawed hands; it was like
looking into a satanic aquarium. In absolute silence hundreds of eyes watched the small
groups every step, the creatures heads turned as one with each human movement. The
small fetuses in their formaldehyde glasses might have looked at the visitors of
Petersburgs art gallery the same way, if their eyes hadnt been sewn shut as a precaution.
Even though the final hour of Homers godless life came closer and closer, he
couldnt bring himself to believe in god or the devil. If there was a purgatory then he was
headed straight for it.
Sisyphus was damned to fight gravity, Tantalus sentenced to endure eternal thirst.
For Homer, in his wrinkled train conductor uniform, there was a dead station waiting for
him, with this monstrous ghost train, filled with its inhabitants that reminded him of
medieval gargoyles, and the mocking laughter of all the gods that sought revenge. And
when the train left the station the tunnel would transform itself, just like in the old metro-
legends, into a mobius band, like a dragon eating its own tail.

***

Hunter had lost all interest in the station and its inhabitants. He left the rest of the
hall behind him with quick steps. Achmed and Homer had trouble keeping up with the
fast moving brigadier.
The old man wanted to turn around, to scream and shoot to do anything that
would scare this bold spawn away and with them his heavy thoughts. But he just
followed with his head held low and tried not to step on any rotting body parts. Achmed
did the same. As they fled the Nachimovski prospect nobody thought of looking back.
The beam of light from Hunters lamp flew from one spot to the next as if it
followed an invisible acrobat through a deadly circus but even the brigadier no longer
paid attention to what the light fell on.
In the light you could see fresh bones and what had certainly been a gnawed
human head for a second and then they disappeared into darkness.
Right next to it, like an abandoned shell, was a steel helmet and Kevlar vest.
You could still see the white word printed on the vest: SEVASTOPOLSKAYA.
Chapter 4: Ties

Dad dad! Its me, Sasha! She loosened the straps of her fathers helmet from
his swollen chin. Then she reached for the rubber of the gasmask, pulled it from his
sweaty hair and threw it away like a wrinkled, deathly-gray skin.
His chest rose and fell heavily, his fingers scraped over the concrete and his
watery eyes looked at her without blinking. He didnt answer.
Sasha laid a bag under his head and ran to the gate. She pushed her thin shoulder
against the metal, took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. The mountain of iron
reluctantly retreated, turned around and fell groaning into its lock. Sasha looked at it
again and sank to the ground. Just a minute, he just needed a minute to catch his breath
Then he would come back to her.
 Every expedition cost her father more of his strength. It was almost hopeless in the
face of their weak harvest. Every expedition shortened his life not by days, but by weeks,
perhaps even months. But their need forced him to go.
When they had nothing left to sell, there was only one thing left to do, eat Sashas
pet rat the only edible thing in this hostile station and then shoot themselves. If hed
have let her she would have taken his place and gone to the surface. How many times she
had asked him for his gas mask so she could go up on her own, but he stubbornly refused.
He probably knew his hole-ridden piece of rubber with its old filters was no better
than a talisman but hed never admit it. He lied and told her that he knew how to clean
the filters, even after hours on surface he acted like he felt fine. When he didnt want her
to see him vomiting blood hed send her away.
There was nothing Sasha could do to change things. Theyd driven Sasha and her
father into this abandoned part of the metro, theyd let them live, not out of mercy, but
out of sadistic curiosity. They hadnt been expected to live through the first week, but her
fathers will and stamina had provided them with what they needed and theyd survived
for years. They were hated, despised, but they were still brought food for a price.
In the down time between expeditions, in those rare moments when the two sat
around a sparsely lit fire, her father loved to talk about the old times. Years ago hed
realized he could stop fooling himself about his future, but even if he didnt have a
future; at least no one could take away his past.
Back then my eyes were the same color as yours, hed told her. The color of the
sky And Sasha believed she could remember those days, days when the tumor hadnt
bloated his head and when his eyes hadnt faded, but shone like hers did now.
When her father said the color of the sky of course he meant azure-blue and not
the glowing red clouds of dust that reached overhead when he climbed to the surface
now.
He hadnt seen real daylight in over twenty years and Sasha had never known it at
all. He only saw it in his dreams, but he wasnt sure if what he saw was real. What did
people that were blind from birth experience, did they dream of a world that is similar to
ours? Do they even see anything in a dream?

***

When young children close their eyes, they think the entire world has sunken into
darkness; they think that everyone around them is as blind as they are. In the tunnels
humans are as naive as children, Homer thought. He imagined that light conquered
darkness every time he turned on his flashlight and turned it off again. Even the most
impenetrable darkness could be filled with seeing eyes.
Since the encounter with the corpse eaters he couldnt think about anything else. A
distraction. He needed a distraction.
It was strange that Hunter hadnt known what awaited them at the Nachimovski
prospect. When the brigadier turned up at the Sevastopolskaya two months ago, none of
the guards could explain how a man with such an extraordinary stature was able to pass
through every single one of the northern guard posts unnoticed. They were lucky the
commander hadnt wanted an explanation of how Hunter got through.
But if he hadnt gotten to the Sevastopolskaya through the Nachimovski prospect,
then how? All the other paths to the wider metro had been severed. There was the
abandoned Kachovskaya line, but they hadnt seen a single living thing in its tunnels for
years. Impossible. The Tschertanovskaya? Ridiculous. Not even a skilled and relentless
fighter like Hunter could fight his way through that cursed station. Plus it was impossible
to get there without going through the Sevastopolskaya first.
So north, south and east were out of the question.
That left Homer with one hypothesis: Their mysterious guest came from the
surface. All known entrances and exits to the station had, of course, been carefully
barricaded and guarded at all times, but He could have come in through one of the
vents. The inhabitants of the Sevastopolskaya didnt think there was anybody left with the
knowledge needed to trick their alarm system in the burned concrete ruins. The ruins
were an endless chess board made from three story tall apartment complexes that had
been torn down by shrapnel from the warheads. The last players on the board had given
up playing decades ago and left only the scarred and distorted figures crawling around on
the surface. They played their own game now, with their own rules. Looking at it from
humanitys point of view, a rematch wasnt even possible.
Short expeditions looking for anything useful that hadnt decayed quickly in the
last twenty years; shameful raids through their own houses were the only thing they were
still capable of. Wearing rubber suits to protect themselves from radiation, the stalkers
climbed up to search the remains of their former buildings for the hundredth time, but
nobody dared fight the current inhabitants savagely enough to wipe them out.
You might fire burst from a machine-pistol at them, retreat to the closest dirty
apartment and run straight back to the waiting arms of the metro when the danger had
passed, but that was it.
The old maps of the capitol city had lost all connection with reality. In places
where cars had been stuck in traffic for miles back then, there were now canyons covered
in impenetrable black brushwood. Where houses once stood there were now swamps or
just empty wasteland.
Only the boldest stalkers dared to venture further than a mile from their metro
entrances, most were happy with less.
The stations past the Nachimovski prospect the Nagornaya, Nagatinskaya and
Tulskaya had no open entrances and the people there didnt even think about venturing
to the surface.
So where in this wasteland Hunter could have come from was a complete mystery
to Homer.
But there was one last place the brigadier could have come from. The idea made it
hard for the old atheist to breathe. He followed Hunters dark silhouette as it moved
through the darkness, it looked as if it never touched the ground.
Hed come from under the metro the gate.
 I have a bad feeling about this, said Achmed hesitantly and so quietly that
Homer barely heard him.
This isnt the right time to be here. Believe me; Ive traveled with many caravans.
There is something brewing at the Nagornaya
The small groups of bandits always retreated as far back from the ring line as
possible immediately after each raid.
They spent this time lying low in dark stations, but they never dared attack the
caravans of the Sevastopolskaya.
The instant they heard the heavy stamp of studded boots, which announced the
arrival of Sevastopolskayas elite infantry, they got out of the way fast.
It wasnt because of the bandits or the corpse eaters that the caravans were so well
protected.
Their rock solid training, fearlessness, their ability to form themselves into an iron
fist in an instant to eliminate all potential threats with a hail of gunfire, all these things
could have made the convoys of the Sevastopolskaya the undisputed rulers of the tunnels
up to the Serpuchovskaya if it hadnt been for the Nagornaya.
The horrors of the Nachimovski prospect lay behind them, but neither Homer nor
Achmed felt any relief. The seemingly inconspicuous, slightly ugly Nagornaya became
the final destination of many who hadnt treated her with caution. The unfortunate
schmucks who happened to end up in the neighboring Nagatinskaya tried to stay as far
away from the greedy mouth of the Nagornayas tunnels as possible.
As if that would save them. As if what crawled out of the tunnels in its search for
prey was too sluggish to crawl a little further and choose a tasty victim
As soon as you entered the Nagornaya you could only rely on your luck, the
station didnt play by the rules. Sometimes it let you pass unmolested and travelers
looked with horror at the bloody marks on the walls and pillars where someone had tried
to climb in their desperation.
And only moments later the station could give the next group such a welcome that
losing half its members was considered a victory.
 The station always hungered. It favored no one. It let no one explore it. For the
inhabitants of the neighboring stations the Nagornaya embodied the pure fickleness of
fate. It was the most difficult challenge for all that traveled from the Sevastopolskaya to
the ring line and vice versa.
So many missing people The Nagornaya alone couldnt have done it,
Achmed said superstitiously, like many of the Sevastopolskayas residents he spoke of
the Nagornaya as if it was a living creature.
Homer knew what Achmed meant. Hed thought about it many times, it could
have been the Nagornaya that was responsible for the missing recon team. He nodded and
said, If it was I hope it choked on them
What did you just say? hissed Achmed angrily. His hand twitched in Homers
direction, as if hed wanted to strike the old man, but he didnt.
She wouldnt choke on you, thats for sure!
Homer bore the insult quietly. He didnt believe the Nagornaya could hear them or
that it was angry with them. At least not at this distance
Superstition! Nothing but superstition! It was impossible to count all the idols of
the underground you always stepped on one of their toes. Homer didnt think about
them anymore. Achmed thought differently.
Achmed took a rosary from his jacket pocket. It was made from empty makarov
cartridges. He started to slide the lead idols through his dirty fingers. At the same time his
lips moved silently in his own language, he was probably asking the Nagornaya to
forgive Homers sins.
Hunter had detected something with his supernatural senses. He gave them a
signal, slowed down and knelt.
Theres fog, mumbled Hunter and inhaled the cold air through his nose. What
is it?
Homer and Achmed looked at each other. They both knew what it meant: It was
open season. Theyd need a lot of luck to get to the Nagornayas northern border alive.
 I dont even know how to explain it, Achmed answered unwillingly. Its the
breath
Whose breath? Hunter asked, clearly unimpressed, and dropped his bag on the
ground so he could choose the right weapon for the job.
Achmed whispered, The breath of the Nagornaya
Well see about that, Hunter said contemptuously and frowned. It looked like his
mutilated face had sprung to life; in reality it was as motionless as always it was only
the light that fell differently across it.
They could see it now too, a few hundred meters further down. A thick, pale white
fog crawled toward them along the ground, danced around their feet, crawled up their
legs and finally filled the tunnel waist deep It seemed as though they were climbing
into an icy and hostile ocean. They stepped deeper and deeper along the slanting ground,
until the murky water finally submerged their heads.
They couldnt see anything. The beams of their flashlights stuck in the fog like
flies in a spider web. After theyd finally fought off the wave of emptiness that tried to
overwhelm them they felt exhausted and defeated. Noise, muffled as if by a pillow, came
through the fog. Every move cost them a surprising amount of strength, as if they walked
not on concrete but thick mud.
Breathing grew harder, not because of the humidity but because of the bitter
stench in the air. They had to force themselves to breathe the air and they couldnt shake
the feeling that they were really breathing in a strange, giant creatures breath, a creature
that sucked the oxygen from the air and replaced it with toxic fumes.
Homer put on his gas mask, just to be safe. Hunter gave him a quick look, reached
into his bag and put on his own rubber mask. Only Achmed was left exposed to the ill
wind.
The brigadier stopped and listened to the Nagornaya with his shredded ear, but the
soupy white fog kept him from deciphering the stations noises and forming a clear
picture of their situation. It sounded like something heavy had fallen on the ground far
away, this was followed by a long sigh, in a pitch that was too low for a human, or any
other creature they knew.
Then they heard something frantically screaming and shrieking as if a giant hand
had bent the thick iron ceiling pipes into a knot.
Hunter twitched with his head, as if trying to shake something off. Instead of a
short machine pistol he now carried an army-Kalashnikov with a double magazine and a
mounted grenade-launcher. Finally, he said.
At first they didnt realize theyd entered the station; the fog in the Nagornaya was
as thick as soup. As Homer looked through the glass of his gas mask he felt like a diver
aboard a sunken cruise liner.
You could only see the mosaic through the fog for a few seconds at a time before
it swallowed them again: There were metal seagulls in the mosaic that had been pressed
with crude soviet molds. Fossils, Homer thought, the fate of humanity and their
creations Will somebody dig us up some day?
The fog around them was alive, it floated in different directions, twitching.
Sometimes dark shapes emerged from the fog, a dented train car and a rusted cabin, a
scaly body or the head of a mythological creature. Homer shuddered while thinking of
who had filled the trains seats all these years.
Hed heard much about what happened at the Nagornaya but he had never seen
anything with his own eyes
There it is, to the right! screamed Achmed, tearing at the old mans sleeve. He
fired a shot through his home-made silencer.
Homer turned around with a speed no one would think his rheumatic body still
capable of, but the blurred beam from his light showed only a patch of metal covered
pillar.
Behind! Behind us! Achmed fired another burst. But his bullets only shredded
the remaining marble plates that had once decorated the stations walls. Whatever hed
seen through the hazy, dim lights had already vanished, seemingly unharmed.
 He must have breathed in too much of the unfiltered air, Homer thought. But a
second later he saw something from the corner of his eye Something huge, it had to
crouch because the four meter high ceiling of the station was too low for its stature and it
was unbelievably agile. For an instant it would emerge from the fog and then disappeared
long before the old man could point his rifle at it.
Homer looked around desperately for the brigadier but couldnt spot him
anywhere.

***

Its okay. Dont be afraid, he repeated to himself. He tried to catch his breath
and calm Sasha down. You know... There are people far worse off than us He tried
to smile, but only managed a horrible grimace, as if his lower jaw had come unhinged.
Sasha smiled back at him and a salty tear crawled down her pointed, dirty cheek.
At least her father had regained consciousness, hed been out for a few hours, enough
time for her to think things through.
I didnt find anything this time, he croaked. Forgive me. I even tried the
garages. It was further than I thought. But I found one still standing. The lock was rust
free, it had even been oiled. It was impossible to break, so I used the last demolition
charge. I thought maybe there was a car in there, with spare parts and everything. I set off
the charge and went in: Empty. Why had they locked it then, the bastards? All that noise,
I prayed nobody heard me.
But when I got out of the garage there were all these dogs. I thought thats it
Thats it. He closed his eyes and was quiet.
Sasha took his hand worriedly, but he shook his head imperceptibly without
opening his eyes: Dont be afraid, everything is fine. He didnt even have the strength to
talk anymore but he wanted tell her everything, why he had returned empty-handed, why
they had to starve for the next week while he regained some of his strength.
But before he could begin he fell into a deep sleep.
 Sasha checked the bandages on his shredded leg, wet with black blood, and laid a
fresh compress on it. She stood up and went to the rats cage and opened the small door.
The animal looked out of its cage with distrust, it seemed like it was trying to hide
at first and then it did what Sasha wanted and jumped onto the train track and ran around.
You could rely on a rats instincts: There was no danger in the tunnel. Somewhat
reassured, the young woman returned to the stretcher.
Youll feel better again. Youll be able to walk again, she whispered to her
father. And youll find a garage with a new car in it. Well get in it and drive away from
here. Ten, maybe fifteen stations away. Somewhere new where they dont know us,
where we are strangers. Where nobody hates us. If a place like that even exists
Now it was Sasha telling the magical stories that shed heard him tell so many
times. She repeated them word for word and now that she repeated her fathers old
mantra she believed it with a renewed passion. She would nurse him back to health, heal
him. Somewhere in this world there had to be a place where they didnt matter.
A place where they could be happy.

***

There it is! Its looking at me! Achmed shrieked as if it had grabbed ahold him.
Hed never screamed like that before. He fired his rifle until it jammed. Achmed had lost
any semblance of discipline. He tried to load a new clip with trembling fingers.
Its going to get me going to get me
Suddenly there was the rattling of another rifle. It stayed quiet for a second before
going off again, this time each shot was almost indistinguishable in the burst. Hunter was
still alive, there was still hope.
The slamming sound went further away and then came back again, it was
impossible to say if the bullets found their mark.
 Homer expected angry screams from an injured monster, but the station enveloped
itself in a mysterious silence; its inhabitants seemed to have no bodies, that or they were
invincible.
The brigadier continued his strange fight at the other end of the station, from time
to time glowing tracer rounds cut through the fog. Hed left his companions alone he
was caught up in his fight against the Nagornayas ghost.
Homer took a deep breath and leaned his head back. For a while now hed felt
something watching him cold and heavy. Hed felt the gaze with his skin, his head, his
hair and his back. He couldnt shake the feeling anymore.
Directly under the ceiling, far above their heads, a huge face floated in the fog, it
was so big that Homer didnt realize what he was seeing at first. The rest of the giants
body remained hidden in the darkness of the station. Its huge face hung above the tiny
humans that scrambled to defend themselves with their useless weapons. It wasnt in a
hurry it gave them a few moments before it attacked.
Frozen with terror, Homer sank to his knees. His rifle fell from his hands and
clattered to the floor. Achmed screamed like he was being tortured. The creature
approached without haste and filled the entire room before them with its dark body,
massive as a mountain. Homer closed his eyes, prepared himself, and said goodbye. Only
one thing went through his mind, a regretful, bitter thought drilling into his
consciousness: He hadnt made it
Hunters grenade launcher spat flames, the shock wave made their ears ring and
left them with nothing but a thin humming sound as burning bits of shredded flesh rained
down on them.
Achmed was the first to snap out of it, he helped Homer to his feet and dragged
him forward.
They ran, stumbled over the tracks, and got back up without feeling any pain.
They held on to each other in the milky soup you couldnt see your hand in front of
your face. They ran as if they were being threatened not just with death, but with
something even more terrible: The utter, final, unchangeable embodiment of absolute
physical and mental destruction.
Invisible and almost inaudible, but only a step behind them, the demons followed,
harrying them but not attacking. The demons seemed to toy with them by giving them the
illusion of a possible escape.
Then they both saw the patchwork marble walls that came after the tunnel
segments. Theyd made it out of the Nagornaya! The guardians of the station fell back as
if they were chained to the station. But it was too early to stop moving.
Achmed ran ahead, searched for the pipes on the wall with his hands and pushed
Homer along in front of him, who stumbled and tried to sit down several times.
What about the brigadier? Homer croaked after hed ripped off his sticky gas
mask.
As soon as we get out of this fog well stop and wait. It has to end soon, maybe
two hundred more steps Out of the fog. Anything to get out of the fog, Achmed
repeated, Ill count the steps
But the fog didnt end, not after two hundred steps or even three hundred. What if
it had spread to the Nagatinskaya? What if it had swallowed the Tulskaya and the
Nachimovski too?
That cant be it has to only a bit mumbled Achmed for the hundredth
time and then came to an abrupt halt. Homer bumped into him and they both fell to the
ground.
The wall ends here, Achmed said and he stepped over the tracks and onto the
wet concrete floor as if he thought that the ground would vanish beneath his feet.
What are you talking about? Homer asked. He had grabbed hold of the slanting
tunnel segment and stood up carefully.
Sorry, Achmed replied quietly. Back at the station I thought Id never get
out. The way it looked at me Me, do you understand? It had decided to take me. I
thought I would be trapped there forever. You dont even get a real burial, he spoke
carefully to keep himself from crying.
 He tried to justify his jumbled thoughts and speech, but he didnt have to.
Homer shook his head. Its alright. I think I shit my pants back there too. It
doesnt matter. Lets go, we cant be far now.
The hunt was over, they could breathe again, and even if it wasnt they couldnt
run anymore. So they kept walking slowly, feeling their way along the wall with their
hands, half blind. Step by step they moved toward salvation. The worst part was behind
them and even though the fog hadnt dispersed, the air from the tunnel would soon rip it
apart and carry it away through the vents. Soon they would get to humanity and wait for
their commanding officer.
They arrived sooner than they thought. Did space and time bend in the fog too?
An iron staircase crawled up the wall the round tunnel became square and ahead
you could see the indent in the tracks that had saved a lot of lives.
Look! whispered Homer, It looks like a station, a station!
Hey! Is anybody there? Achmed screamed at the top of his lungs.
Friends, is anybody here? he fell into a pointless, triumphant laugh.
The dim lamplight revealed what the darkness had hidden, marble walls that had
been marked by man and time. It seemed that none of the colorful mosaics, which had
been the pride of the Nagatinskaya, had survived.
And what had happened to the marble around the pillars? This couldnt be
Even though Achmed heard no answer he kept shouting and laughing. Theyd
been afraid of the fog and had run through it like mad, but he didnt care about that
anymore.
Homer, on the other hand, was still worried and searched the wall with the
weakening beam of his flashlight. If what he suspected was true... it sent chills down his
spine.
Finally he found what he was looking for: Iron letters screwed on busted marble.
NAGORNAYA.

******
 You never came back to the same place by chance.
Her father had always told her that. You came back to change something, to
apologize for something. Sometimes god grabs us and brings us back to the place where
he last forgot us. God does that to judge or to give us a second chance.
Her father had explained why he could never return to his home station. He no
longer had the strength for revenge, to fight or prove something. He no longer wanted
forgiveness.
It was an old story that had almost cost him his life. But he was certain that
everybody had gotten what they deserved.
Now they lived in eternal exile, because Sashas father had nothing to make up or
fix and god hadnt shown up at the station.
Their rescue plan, to find a car on the surface that hadnt rotted, to repair it, get
enough gas and break out of this vicious cycle that fate had created, had become a
bedtime story a long time ago.
For Sasha there was another way to the larger metro.
When she traded half broken machines, old jewelry or decaying books for food
and bullets there were days when the merchants offered to buy a lot more than just her
cargo.
They shone their rail car lights on her, revealing her thin, young frame. They
winked at each other, tried to talk to her and promised her all sorts of things. The girl
looked wild. She remained silent and looked at them with suspicion, ready to strike with
the knife she hid behind her back. Her jacket was baggy but it didnt hide her size. The
dirt and oil on her face only made her blue eyes glow brighter. They were so bright that
some of the merchants couldnt bear to look at them.
Her blond hair, unevenly cut with the very knife she was holding, didnt even
reach her ears. Her lips never smiled.
 The men on the rail car knew they couldnt tame the wolf with riches, so they tried
using freedom instead. She still didnt answer them. Thats why they thought she was
mute which made things easier.
Sasha knew one thing. No matter what she did she wouldnt be able to buy two
seats on the rail car.
Her father had a history with these people that she could never change.
The way they stood in front of her, faceless in their black gasmasks, they looked
more like enemies to her.
They didnt have anything with them that shed have dreamed of, not even while
sleeping.
She put the telephones, irons and tea kettles on the tracks, stepped back 10 paces
and waited until the merchants gathered up the goods.
With the goods packed away, they threw a few packets of dried pork and a handful
of bullets on the tracks, just to watch Sasha and her father crawl around to pick it all up.
Then the rail cart slowly left and vanished back into the real world.
Sasha turned and went back home where a mountain of broken machines, a screw
driver, a blowtorch and a generator repurposed as a bicycle, were waiting for her. She sat
on the saddle, closed her eyes and rode far, far away. She almost forgot that she wasnt
actually moving. The fact that she had refused to take the easy way out gave her strength.

***

What the hell? How had they ended up here again? As if in a fever, Homer tried to
come up with an explanation.
Achmed suddenly quieted down. Hed seen what Homers lamp had found. It
will never let me go He whispered, barely making a sound.
The fog around them grew thicker, they could barely see each other. Without
humans the Nagornaya slumbered, but now it awoke once more, to new life. The fog
reacted to their words, it moved with almost imperceptible fluctuations and vague
shadows stirred in its depths.
There was no trace of Hunter A being of flesh and blood couldnt win a fight
against these phantoms. As soon as the station had toyed with them enough it would
swallow them whole.
Go, said Achmed. It wants me. It doesnt know you. You havent been here as
often as I have.
Knock it off! Homer yelled, surprised by the volume of his voice. We just got
lost in the fog. Lets double back.
We cant go back. You can run as much as you want, youll just end up back here
again and again if you stay with me. Youll get through on your own. Go, please, I beg
you!
Enough! Homer grabbed Achmeds hand and dragged him on into the tunnel.
An hour from now youll be thanking me, youll see!
Tell my wife
An incredibly powerful force ripped Achmeds hand from Homers grasp.
Achmed vanished upward into the fog into the void.
He didnt even get a chance to scream, he was simply gone, as if from one instant
to the next hed been vaporized and ceased to exist.
Homer screamed, turned around and fired his precious bullets, clip after clip.
Suddenly he felt a sharp blow on his back, it was so strong it had to have been one
of the demons, and his universe crumpled.
Chapter 5: Memories

Sasha ran to the window and threw it open. Fresh air and soft light spread into the
room. The window hung over an abyss full of soft morning fog. With the first rays of
sunlight it would disappear and theyd be able to see hills covered in fir trees, and behind
those lay green meadows, matchbox buildings and onion shaped bell towers.
Early morning was their time. She felt the approaching dawn and got up half an
hour early so she could get to the top of the mountains in time. Behind their simple but
clean hut lay a rocky path that went up the hill. The path was surrounded by bright yellow
flowers. Sasha had slipped on her way up this path many times.
Lost in thought she used her sleeve to wipe the windowsill which was still wet
with morning dew. She had dreamt about something dark and disastrous that had intruded
on her happy life, but the rest of the nightmare vanished immediately as the cold wind
blew over her skin. Now she no longer wanted to think about what had darkened her
dream. She had to hurry to get to the mountain top in time to greet the sun and then slide
down the path, return to the hut, make breakfast, wake her father and pack his provisions.
 Then Sasha would be by herself for the whole day while her father hunted. She
would stalk the slow dragonflies and flying roaches between the flowers that were as
yellow as the linkrusta-wallpaper in the trains.
She tiptoed over the creaking planks, opened the door slightly and giggled to
herself.

***

It had been several years since Sashas father seen a happy smile on his daughters
face. He didnt want to wake her. His leg, which was swollen and numb, hadnt stop
bleeding. It was said that a stray dogs bite never healed
Should he call to her? But he hadnt even been back for 24 hours. Before hed left
for the garages hed entered a type of apartment complex theyd dubbed a termite hill,
located two blocks from the station, he climbed to the fifteenth floor and passed out for a
while. Sasha probably hadnt closed an eye the entire time his daughter never slept
while he was away She deserved her rest. They all told their lies.
Nothing is going to happen to me.
He really would have liked to know what she dreamt of. He couldnt even relax in
his dreams. Only rarely did his consciousness let him revisit his happy youth. Normally
in his dreams he wandered between the familiar dead houses with their barren innards, a
good dream was when he found an untouched apartment, full of miraculously preserved
machines and books.
Every time he fell asleep he hoped to dream about the past. The time when hed
just met Sashas mother. When he had become the stations garrison commander, a real
honor for a young man of twenty. Back then the inhabitants thought of the metro as a
provisional home and not as a collective prison where they served out a life sentence.
Instead he always ended up in the recent past, with events that had occurred within
the last five years. The day that had determined his fate and, even worse, the fate of his
daughter
 Once again he stood at the head of his fighters.
He held his Kalashnikov ready to fire, with his officer-makarov he only would
have managed to put a bullet in his own head. Apart from his two dozen military police
there wasnt a single loyal human left in the station.
The mob raged, swelled in size and shook the barricade with dozens of hands. The
first chaotic voices had transformed themselves into a rhythmic choir controlled by an
invisible director. They still voiced a demand that he step down but that would soon give
way to calls for his head.
This was not a spontaneous demonstration. This was the work of revolutionaries.
He could have tried to identify and liquidate every single one of them, but it was too late
for that. When he decided to stop the rebellion and stay in power there was only one thing
left to do: Open fire on the group. It wasnt too late for that
His fingers gripped an invisible stock, under his swollen eye lids his pupils
twitched restless from side to side, his lips moved and formed silent orders. The black
puddle he lay in grew larger by the minute. And the bigger it got the less life he had left
in him.

***

Where are they?

Something ripped Homer from the dark sea of unconsciousness. He tried to
wriggle free like a fish on a hook. He gasped for air and stared at the brigadier with a
wild look in his eye. The dark colossus still towered over him, the Nagornayas guardians
reached for him with their long fingers. Theyd rip off his legs or crush his ribs with ease.
They appeared before Homers closed eyes and disappeared slowly, reluctantly when he
opened them again.
He tried to jump to his feet but the hand that held his shoulder tightened its grip
like the iron hook that had pulled him out of his nightmares.
 He started breathing normally and concentrated on the oil-covered face and its
shiny eyes Hunter, he was still alive?
Homer carefully turned his head to the left, then to the right. Were they still in the
cursed station?
No, this was a clean and empty tunnel. You could barely see the fog from the
Nagornaya that had hidden the exits. Hunter must have carried him over a kilometer.
Relief overcame Homer. He asked again, just to be sure, Where are they?
Nobody is here. You are safe.
The creatures Did they knock me out? He wondered and rubbed the back of
his head.
No, that was me. I had to, otherwise I wouldnt have been able get you out of
there, you were panicking.
You could have hurt me.
Finally Hunter loosened his grip, stood up stiffly and moved his hand to the belt
where his pistol hung. On the other side hung a leather box, Homer had no idea what it
was for. The brigadier opened it and took out a flask. He shook it, unscrewed the lid and
took a deep sip without offering Homer any. The way hed closed his eyes, it sent chills
down Homers spine: His left eye hadnt closed all the way.
Wheres Achmed? What happened to him? Homer had suddenly remembered
and felt cold.
Hes dead. Hunters answer sounded almost indifferent.
Dead, Homer echoed mechanically.
The moment the giant had ripped his comrades hand from his he knew: No living
thing could escape its grip. Homer had just been lucky the Nagornaya hadnt chosen him.
The old man turned around again. He couldnt believe that Achmed was gone forever. He
stared at his hand, it was scraped and bloody. He hadnt been able to hold on. He wasnt
strong enough...
He knew he was going to die, he said quietly. Why did they take him, why not
me?
 There was still life in him, answered the brigadier. They feed on human life.
Homer shook his head. That isnt fair. He had children. So many things that hold
him here Well, held him here Ive been looking for those things forever
Would you rather lie down and die? Hunter cut Homer off and ended the
conversation by pulling Homer to his feet. Weve got to keep moving. Were late.
While Homer ran behind Hunter he tried to figure out how he and Achmed had
ended up back at the Nagornaya. Like a flesh eating orchid the station had clouded their
mind with its miasma and lured them back in. But they hadnt turned around once,
Homer was sure of it. So he started to think that space was distorted in the tunnels, just
like his simple minded comrades from guard duty. But the solution was much simpler. He
stopped and slapped his forehead: The connecting track! Some hundred meters behind the
Nagornaya there was a track for trains to turn around. It turned at a sharp angle and thats
why they had reached the parallel track while blindly following the wall and when the
wall suddenly disappeared, ran back to the station.
So much for magic! But there was still another thing that needed explaining.
Wait! he yelled after Hunter.
But Hunter continued marching forward as if deaf, so the old man had to catch up
to him, breathing heavily. When hed caught up he tried to look the brigadier in the eye
and asked, Why did you abandon us?
Me, abandon you two? There was a sarcastic tone in his emotionless, metallic
voice. Homer bit his tongue. True, it had been he and Achmed that ran from the station
and left the brigadier alone with the demons
The more Homer thought about the raging and helpless way Hunter had fought at
the Nagornaya the more he thought that the stations inhabitants hadnt accepted the
challenge that Hunter tried to force on them. Out of fear? Or had they seen him as one of
their own?
Homer gathered his courage there was only one question left, the hardest one of
all. At the Nagornaya Why did they ignore you?
 Several minutes passed. Homer didnt dare ask again. Finally Hunter gave him a
short, almost inaudible and grumpy answer, Would you eat tainted meat?

******

The beauty of the world will redeem you. Her father had once jokingly said.
Sasha put a colorful teabag back in her jacket pocket and blushed. The small
plastic bag still had the faint aroma of green tea, it was her greatest treasure. And a
reminder that the universe wasnt just the body of this station and its four tunnels some
twenty meters below the graveyard that had once been Moscow. The tea bag was a kind
of magic portal that moved Sasha back through decades and thousands of kilometers. It
was so much more, something enormously important.
In the humid climate of the metro paper decayed quickly.
Decay and mold didnt just eat books and brochures they destroyed humanitys
past. Without pictures and chronicles the already limping human mind stumbled and ran
in the wrong direction like a wounded man without his crutches.
The body of the tea bag was made from a material that mold and time couldnt
harm. Sashas father had once said that it would take thousands of years before the
material fell apart. So even their descendents would one day inherit this teabag, she
thought.
It had, even though it was a miniature, a picture of a real painting on it. There was
a golden frame that, still as bright as the day it came off the assembly line, surrounded a
view that stole Sashas breath away. Steep walls of stone, covered in a dreamlike mist, a
far reaching pine forest that clung to the almost vertical mountains, roaring waterfalls that
fell from the highest mountain peak into an abyss, a purple haze above that spoke of the
coming dawn In her entire life she had never seen anything so beautiful.
She could sit for hours with the teabag in her hand and just admire it. The morning
mist covering the mountains magically held her gaze. And even though shed read all the
books that her father had brought back from his expeditions before they were sold, the
words shed read did not suffice to describe what she felt as she looked at the one
centimeter tall mountains and breathed in the smell of pine needles. It was a world so far
from their reality but so alluring
The sweet longing and the eternal expectation of what the sunlight would first
touch The endless speculation about what lay behind the sign with the teas brand
name: A strange tree? An eagles nest? One of those houses that clung to the mountain
slope which she longed to live in with her father?
He was the one that had given her the tea bag when she was five years old. Back
then it still had something in it it was a real rarity.
Hed wanted to surprise her with real tea and it had taken all her courage to drink,
as if it were some kind of medicine.
But the plastic body had fascinated her from the very start. Back then hed
explained that it wasnt a very talented painting: A conventional Chinese province, just
good enough for the cover of a teabag. But ten years later Sasha still saw it with the same
eyes as the day shed gotten the gift from her father.
Her father, on the other hand, thought the tea bag was just a shabby replacement
for the world at large. And every time she fell into this trance and looked at the badly
drawn fantasy he felt the unspoken accusation, blaming him for their mutilated, bloodless
life. He tried to stop her every time, without success. Almost angry hed asked her for the
hundredth time what she liked so much about this old packaging for a gram of tea. For
the hundredth time she put it back into her pocket and answered, a little embarrassed,
Father I think its beautiful!

******

If Homer hadnt been there Hunter wouldnt have stopped for a second, but Homer
needed to rest three times, it was a long journey. He could never have moved so securely
and confidently through the tunnel. For the trip through the Nagornaya the group had
paid a terrible price, but at least two of the three had made it. And all three could have
survived if they hadnt been lost in the fog. The price was no higher than usual. Nothing
had happened there that hadnt happened before, neither at the Nachimovski prospect nor
at the Nagornaya.
So maybe the trouble hadnt been caused by the tunnels that led to the Tulskaya?
Now they were completely silent, but it was a disastrous and tense silence. Even in a
totally foreign station Hunter could feel dangers that awaited them hundreds of meters in
advance. But was it possible that his intuition would abandon him here, where at least a
dozen experienced fighters had suffered the same fate?
Approaching the Nagatinskaya he hoped hed have the answer to all these
questions Homer struggled to keep his thoughts together as they raced through his
head.
He tried to think about what waited for them at the station he had once loved so
dearly. The myth gatherer imagined that the legendary satanic legation had appeared at
the Nagatinskaya or that the inhabitants had been eaten by migrating rats searching for
food through tunnels that humans couldnt pass through. Even if Homer had been alone
he wouldnt turn back for anything in the world. In all his years at the Sevastopolskaya he
had forgotten the fear of death. When he embarked on this journey hed known that it
could be his last and he was ready to sacrifice his remaining time for it.
A mere half hour after the encounter with the monsters of the Nagornaya they had
become the terrors of his memories.
As he listened to his thoughts he felt faint movement in the depths of his soul.
Somewhere deep down inside him something had been created or awakened, the thing
hed wanted so badly. That which hed searched for on his dangerous adventures, that
which hed never been able to find at home
Now he had a real reason to fight to stay alive. He would go quietly after his work
was done.

***
 The last war had been more brutal than all those that had come before it combined
and it had only spanned a few days. Since the World War II three generations had passed,
the last veterans had died and the living didnt fear war anymore. The collective insanity
that had robbed millions of people of their humanity had once again become a simple
political instrument.
The lethal game had become more routine with every passing day and in the end
there was not enough time to make the right decision. The ban on atomic weapons was
thrown off the table in the heat of battle.
In the first act of the drama theyd hung their rifles on the wall and in second to
last theyd actually fired warheads. It no longer mattered whod pulled the trigger first.
All major cities on earth were turned to ash and rubble in the same moment. Even
the few that had anti-rocket shields were destroyed; they remained intact on the outside
but radiation, chemical and biological weapons killed the majority of the population
instantly. The irregular radio transmissions between the few survivors ended after a few
years. From that point on the larger world had ended for the metros inhabitants and
neighboring lines.
Before the earth was explored and colonized, now it had returned to the borderless
ocean of chaos and oblivion from ancient times. Small islands of civilization sank into
the depths, one after another, without oil or electricity humanity returned to the Stone
Age.
An age of terror began.
For centuries scientists had tried to restore history from nearly destroyed papyri
and parchments. With the invention of the printing press newspapers have continued
weaving the fabric of history. The chronicles of the last few centuries hardly had any
gaps in it. Almost every gesture, every move of those who controlled the world had been
carefully documented.
Now the printing presses of the world had all been destroyed in a single blow, that
or theyd been abandoned. The looms of history stood still. In a world without a future
they were no longer needed. The shreds of this fabric were held together by a single, thin
thread.
In the first years after the disaster Nikolai Ivanowitsch tried to find his family in
the overcrowded stations. It had been in vain. Hed abandoned all hope already. He was
lost and alone, he now stumbled through the darkness of the underground in this kind of
afterlife he didnt know what to do with himself. The thread of Arianne the sense of life
that could have shown him the exit to this never ending maze had fallen from his grasp.
In his longing for the past he began to collect newspapers, to remember and
dream.
He searched the articles and reports to see if they could have prevented the
apocalypse. One day he started writing the events in his station into some kind of article.
And so it came to be that Nikolai Ivanowitsch had started a new thread. Hed
decided to become chronicler of the metro, author of the youngest history, from the end
of the world to his own. His disorganized, aimless collection now had a purpose: To
restore the damaged fabric of history and continue weaving it.
The others saw Nikolai Ivanowitschs passion as harmless nonsense. He willingly
sacrificed his own pay for old newspapers and turned every corner of his personal space
into an archive. He volunteered for guard duty, because there around the fire, at meter
three hundred, wild men told each other the craziest stories like they were little boys. He
gleaned every nugget of truth about the rest of the metro. Out of the myriad rumors he
filtered out the facts and wrote them down in his books.
Even though his work provided him with a distraction he knew how useless it was.
After his death all the reports would turn to dust and no one would care. The day he
didnt come home they would be nothing more than kindling.
From the yellowed paper only smoke and ash would remain, the atoms would
form new bonds and shapes. In short: You couldnt destroy the matter. But what he really
wanted to preserve all the unimaginable, ethereal stories on these pages would be lost
forever.
 Humans worked that way. What was taught in school books remained in their
heads until graduation. And when they forgot their learning afterward they did it with a
true sense of relief. The memories of men were like the sands of the desert. Numbers,
dates and the names of unimportant people disappeared in it without a trace, like
throwing a stick in a dune.
Something only remains if it stirs mankinds passion, makes their hearts beat
faster, moves them, and makes them feel something. A gripping story of a hero or a great
love could outlast an entire civilization because its remembered and passed down from
generation to generation.
When he came to that realization hed transformed himself from a quasi-scientist
into an alchemist and from Nikolai Ivanowitsch into Homer.
From then on he no longer spent his nights creating chronicles but searching for
the formula for immortality. For a story that would be as long-lived as Gilgamesh and a
hero that was as tough as Odysseus. It was on the thread of this story that he would attach
all his accumulated knowledge. And in a world where paper was used mostly for warmth,
where you carelessly sacrificed the past for a brief moment in the here and now, the
legend of this hero would have to storm the hearts and minds of the people and redeem
them in collective amnesty.
But the sought after formula eluded him, the hero didnt want to step onto the
stage. Copying newspaper articles hadnt taught Homer how to create myths, to breathe
life into his golem or make this fictional story more interesting than reality. His work
table felt like Frankensteins laboratory: Crumpled pages with fragments of the first
chapters of his saga, whose characters werent convincing and couldnt survive. The only
things that hed gotten from his nightly sittings were dark rings under his eyes and a sore
lip from constant chewing.
Homer hadnt given up on his new destiny so easily though. He chased away his
doubts about his abilities, that he hadnt been born with the skill needed to create such
imaginary worlds.
 He simply had to wait for inspiration he told himself And where would it come
from? From the stations humid air perhaps? During his tea time at home or his turn
farming? Or maybe while he was on guard duty, which was becoming a rarity for him at
his age?
No, he needed excitement, adventure and a whirlwind of passion. Maybe then the
dams of his mind would burst forth and he could begin his creation

***

Even in the worst of times the Nagatinskaya had never been completely
abandoned. It was in no way an ideal place to live. Nothing grew here and the exits were
sealed.
But many people used the station to go off the grid for a while or find some alone
time with their lovers.
But now the station stood truly empty.
Hunter moved quietly up the stairs, on to the tracks, and there he stopped. Homer
followed him, breathing heavily, his eyes darting nervously in all directions. The station
was dark, only the dust that hung in the air glittered in the light of their lamps. The sparse
hills of shredded cardboard, which the Nagatinskayas inhabitants slept on, were spread
out all across the floor. Homer leaned back against a pillar and slid slowly to the ground.
The Nagatinskaya used to be one of his favorite stations because of its elegant, colorful
marble mosaics. Now the station was dark and lifeless. The Nagatinskaya was nothing
like he remembered.
It was like the picture of a dead man over his grave, taken from an old passport
photo in an instant of time when he hadnt known that he wasnt just looking into a
camera but into eternity.
There isnt a soul here, Homer said hesitantly in confusion.
Except one, said Hunter and nodded in Homers direction.
I meant Homer began but Hunter cut him off with a gesture.
 At the end of the station, where the row of pillars ended and even the brigadiers
search light couldnt reach, something crawled slowly onto the platform
Homer toppled from his sitting position in surprise, broke his fall with his arms
and stood up clumsily. Hunters lamp was turned off and hed vanished into thin air.
Sweating with fear, Homer switched his rifle to auto-fire and pressed the stock against his
shoulder with trembling hands.
In the distance he heard two silenced shots.
Encouraged he looked past the pillar and sprinted forward. Hunter stood upright in
the middle of the platform. At his feet lay a sorry sight, a skinny and pitiful figure. It
seemed to be made of boxes and rags and only had a slight resemblance to a human
being. But it was human. You couldnt tell its age or gender you could only see the eyes
in its dirty face. It made almost inaudible, sighing sounds and tried to crawl away from
the brigadier. It looked like Hunter had shot both its legs.
Where is everyone? Why isnt anyone here? Hunter put his foot on the stinking
bundle of torn rags the homeless person wore.
Theyre all gone Left me alone. Left me all by myself, it croaked. At the same
time its hands scraped over the granite without making any forward progress.
Where did they go?
To the Tulskaya
Homer had reached them and joined the conversation immediately, Whats going
on there?
How should I know? The homeless person grimaced. Everybody that went
there also died there. Go and ask them. I didnt have the strength to move around in those
tunnels. Id rather die here.
The brigadier persisted, Why did they leave?
They were afraid, boss. The station kept getting emptier as time went on. So they
decided to make a break for it in a final push. Nobody came back.
Not a single person? Hunter raised his pistol.
Nobody... Well, only one, the man corrected himself.
 When he realized that the barrel of the gun was still pointed at him he floundered
around like an ant under a magnifying glass.
He went to the Nagornaya. Id been sleeping. I might have just imagined it.
When?
The homeless man shook his head. I dont have a watch. Maybe yesterday,
maybe last week
No more questions came but the barrel of the pistol still pointed at the mans
forehead.
Hunter said nothing. Strangely he was breathing heavily you might have thought
the conversation with the bum had taxed him.
Can I asked the homeless man.
Here, eat this! Growled the brigadier and before Homer knew what was
happening Hunter had pulled the trigger twice. The dark blood coming from the hole in
the unfortunate mans forehead splattered over his wide eyes. He fell to the ground
once again nothing but rags and cardboard. Without looking up Hunter loaded four more
bullets into the clip of the Stetschkin pistol and jumped down to the tracks. Well find
out whats going on for ourselves soon enough! he yelled at the old man.
Homer lowered himself reluctantly over the body, took a piece cloth and laid it
over the ruins of homeless mans head. His hands wouldnt stop shaking.
Why did you kill him? he asked weakly.
You tell me, Hunter answered in a distant voice.

***

Even when he gathered all his strength the only thing he could do was open and
close his eyes. It was a wonder that hed woken at all Hed been lying unconscious for
about an hour and his body had felt as numb as if it had been covered with a layer of ice.
His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth and a heavy weight lay on his chest. He
couldnt even say goodbye to his daughter, it would have been the only thing worth
delaying the end of his eternal fight for survival.
Sasha no longer smiled. It seemed she dreamed uneasily, curled up on her camp
bed, her arms crossed over her chest. Even when she was a child hed always woken her
when shed been tormented by nightmares, but now he only had enough strength to
slowly move his eyelids.
And even that was becoming harder and harder. He wanted hold on until Sasha
woke up, he would have to continue the fight. It had lasted for over twenty years now,
every minute of every day, and he was damned tired of it. Tired of fighting, hiding,
hunting, providing, hoping and lying.
While his mind grew dark he only had two wishes: To see Sashas eyes one last
time and then To finally find peace. But he couldnt do it. Once again images of the
past rose up in front of his minds eye and mixed with reality.
He had to make a decision. To break others or be broken himself. To punish or be
punished
The guardsmen closed ranks. Every one of them was loyal to him and him alone.
Ready to die here and now, to let themselves be torn apart by the masses or to shoot the
innocent. He was the commander of the last unbreakable metro station, president of a
non-existent confederation. His soldiers ensured his authority was unquestioned and
understood. Every single one of his orders was executed immediately, without question.
He would take full responsibility for them as he always did.
If he retreated now the station would sink into anarchy at first and then it would be
swallowed by the swarming red empire that swelled beyond its original borders and
continued to annex more and more territories. If he opened fire on the demonstrators,
power would remain in his hands at least for a little while. And if he didnt shy away
from mass executions and torture maybe even longer.
He aimed his rifle. An instant later the entire unit did the same.
In front of them the crowd raged, not just a few hundred demonstrators but a giant,
faceless mass of humans: Bared teeth, wide eyes, raised fists.
 He turned the safety off on his rifle. His unit responded with an echo of the same
clicking sound.
It was time take fate into his own hands.
He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. Dust fell from the ceiling. For a moment
the masses were silent. He signaled his fighters to lower their weapons and took a step
towards the demonstrators. Hed made his decision.
And finally the memory left him in peace.
Sasha still slept. He took his final breath, tried to look at her one last time but
wasnt strong enough to raise his eyelids Instead of eternal, impenetrable darkness he
saw an unimaginably blue sky clear and bright, like the eyes of his daughter.

******

Halt!
Homer almost jumped and raised his hands, he was that surprised. But he kept it
together. The voice probably from a megaphone that came from the depths of the
tunnel had caught him unaware. The brigadier wasnt surprised at all. Tense as a cobra
poised to strike, he grabbed the heavy rifle from his back in a quick, fluid motion.
Hunter hadnt just refused to answer any of the old mans questions he hadnt
uttered a single word. The one and a half kilometer trip from the Nagatinskaya to the
Tulskaya felt as endless as the journey to Golgatha. He feared that death waited at the
end of the tunnel and it was getting hard for him to him to keep pace with Hunter.
At least he had time to prepare and think about the old times. He thought of
Yelena, cursed himself for his egotism and begged her for forgiveness. For a moment he
saw the magical, soft, and sad light on that drizzly summer day at the Tverskaya. He
regretted not telling her what to do his newspapers before he left.
Hed been ready to die to be ripped apart by monsters, eaten by giant rats,
poisoned by toxic fumes What other explanation could there be for the Tulskaya
transforming into a black hole that swallowed everything and let nothing go?
 When he heard the mysterious but familiar human voice he didnt know what to
think anymore. Had the Tulskaya simply been captured? But who could destroy all the
members Sevastopolskayas recon team, vagabonds that traveled the tunnels? So vicious
they wouldnt even spare women or the elderly?
Thirty steps forward! said the distant voice.
It sounded vaguely familiar and if hed had a moment to think about it he could
have figured out who it was.
Wasnt it someone from Sevastopolskaya?
Hunter held his Kalashnikov in one hand and carefully counted his steps. For
Hunters thirty Homer needed fifty. In front of them was a hazy barricade that had been
made out of random objects. Strangely the defenders didnt have any lights
Lights out! commanded somebody from behind the barricade. One of you,
come twenty steps closer.
Hunter turned the safety off on his rifle and moved forward.
Homer remained behind on his own again. He didnt dare refuse the order. In the
deep darkness that reigned here he carefully sat on the ground, reached for the wall and
leaned against it.
The steps of the brigadier fell silent at the stated distance. Somebody asked him
something inaudibly and he gave a growling reply. Then the situation grew tense. Instead
of the initial neutral mood you could now hear curses and insults. It seemed Hunter had
demanded something that the invisible guardians denied him.
Now they were almost screaming at each other, Homer could almost make out
single words He only managed to catch one word: Punishment!
Then the sound of a Kalashnikov ended the conversation and a heavy burst from a
machine gun came in reply. Homer threw himself to the ground, flicked off the saftey on
his rifle but didnt fire he didnt know if he should shoot or not, or even at whom.
But it was over before it started. Homer didnt even have time to aim his rifle.
 In the brief pauses between machine gun fire, that almost sounded like Morse
code, the belly of the tunnel made long shrieking sounds that Homer couldnt mistake for
anything else.
The hermetic gates were closing! Tons of steel slammed against each other and
muffled the screams and machine gun fire.
Their only entrance to the metro was sealed.
There was no hope left for the Sevastopolskaya.

Chapter 6: From the Other Side

For a moment after that Homer almost believed that hed imagined everything:
The vague outline of the barricades at the end of the tunnel, the strangely familiar,
distorted voice When the light went out all other sounds faded as well. He felt like a
convict with a sack over his head, moments before execution. In the absolute darkness
and sudden silence the whole world seemed to have disappeared. Homer touched his
face to reassure himself that he hadnt vanished into this cosmic blackness as well. Then
he calmed down, tried to find his lamp and held the trembling beam of light in front of
him where a few seconds ago the invisible battle had taken place. About thirty meters
from where he had taken cover during the fight the tunnel ended. A steel door cut through
the tunnel like the blade of a guillotine. So hed heard right. Somebody had really
activated the hermetic gate. Homer knew it was there but he hadnt thought it still
worked. Apparently it did. His eyes, weakened from a lifetime of reading, didnt
immediately recognize the human figure leaning on the iron wall. Homer pointed his rifle
forward and took a step back. At first he thought that one of the men from the station had
gotten stuck outside in the confusion, but then he recognized Hunter.
The brigadier didnt move. Homer started sweating.
Slowly he approached Hunter. Hed probably see blood on the wall But no.
Even though theyd fired a machine gun at Hunter in an otherwise empty tunnel he was
completely unharmed. He stood with his mutilated ear pressed against the metal and
listened for sounds only he could hear.
What happened? Homer asked carefully as he drew closer.
The brigadier didnt pay any attention to him. He whispered something to himself,
repeating the words that were spoken on the other side of the closed door. Several
minutes passed until he moved away from the door, turned to Homer and said, We go
back.
What happened?
Bandits. We need reinforcements.
Bandits? asked the old man in confusion. That voice back there seemed
The entire Tulskaya is in the hand of the enemy. Well have to storm it. To do
that we need reinforcements and flamethrowers.
Why flamethrowers? Homer was beside himself.
 To be safe. Were going back. Hunter turned around and moved away from
Homer.
Before Homer followed he looked closely at the door, he even pressed his own ear
against the cold metal in hopes of hearing part of the conversation as well. But he only
heard silence.
And suddenly Homer realized that he didnt believe a word of Hunters story.
Whoever this enemy was that had captured the station behaved completely
incomprehensibly. Why had they activated the hermetic gate? To save themselves from
two people? What kind of bandits negotiated with a couple armed men instead of mowing
them down as soon as they got close enough?
Also, what had the word punishment meant that the hauntingly familiar guardian
had mentioned?

******

Nothing is more valuable than human life, Sashas father had once said.
For him those werent just empty words, not just a saying. Thered been a time
when he thought differently, he hadnt become the youngest military commander in the
whole line for nothing.
At twenty you dont think much of murder and death. Your whole life seems like a
game and in the worst case you just start over again. It wasnt a coincidence that the
worlds armies recruited young men fresh out of school. And those boys that played at
war were only blue and red arrows to the man that commanded thousands. One man that
didnt think about severed legs, spilling entrails or crushed skulls when he decided to
sacrifice a regiment.
There had been a time when her father had hated his enemies as much as he hated
himself. Back then hed think nothing of jobs that put him in danger. But he never
foolishly moved forward without strict planning. Smart, driven and fearless he didnt see
reality, didnt waste a thought on consequences and had no regrets. Hed never shot at
women and children but hed executed deserters with his own hands and was always been
the first to storm enemy fortifications. Pain didnt faze him. Most of the time he just
didnt care.
That is, until he met Sashas mother.
She defeated him, he who was so accustomed to winning, with her indifference.
His only weakness, his ambition that once drove him against machine guns, was now
channeled into a desperate attack that transformed itself into a long siege.
Hed never had to try when it came to women. Theyd always come to him.
Spoiled by their compliance hed always satisfied his urges at the first opportunity so the
objects of his seductions lost all interest for him before he could find something beyond
physical satisfaction. His stormy nature and fame clouded girls minds and none of them
used the tried and true strategy of making the man wait until they knew each other better.
He couldnt impress Sashas mother with his awards, his rank and his triumphs on
the battlefield, neither real nor the battlefield of love. She didnt fawn over his looks and
his jokes only made her shake her head. Winning this young woman would be a
challenge. A challenge more important than the conquest of a neighboring station.
She should have just been another notch in his rifle stock. But he soon came to
understand, the less likely it seemed hed get her into bed, the more important she
became to him. Being with her for an hour a day felt like a victory to him. But it seemed
like she only allowed this to torment him. She doubted his service, laughed at his
principles, cursed his coldness and shook his conscience until he was at the end of his
rope.
He endured it all. He even grew to like it. With her he started to think. To
question. And then to feel: Helplessness, when he didnt know how to approach her,
regret for all the minutes he couldnt spend with her, even fear to lose what hed never
won. Love. Then she rewarded him with a sign, a silver ring.
Only when he couldnt go on without her did she give in.
One year later Sasha was born.
 He could never abandon these two lives and he couldnt put himself in mortal
danger anymore.
When you command the strongest army in your part of the world at the age of
twenty-five it is very hard to get rid of the notion that the earth would stop turning if you
commanded it to. But taking a human life didnt require much power. Bringing
somebody back from the dead wasnt a power anyone had.
He knew that all too well. Tuberculosis killed his wife and there was nothing he
could do to save her. In that moment something inside him broke.
Sasha had just turned four but she could still remember her mother very well. She
remembered the horrible emptiness of the tunnels after her mother died. The recent loss
had opened a bottomless abyss in her small world and shed looked straight into it. The
edges of the abyss only receded slowly two or three years passed until she no longer
yelled for her mother in her sleep.
Her father still did that to this day.

***

Maybe Homer hadnt approached it from the right angle.

If the hero of his epos refused to appear then perhaps he should create the heros
lover first? Maybe he could find his hero hiding in her beauty and youth?
If Homer sketched her outline would his hero simply step forward from nowhere?
For their love to be complete those two figures had to complement each other ideally and
completely. Therefore the hero of Homers poem had to appear as a completed, finished
character.
In their thoughts and the facets of their character they would match each other like
the shards of the glass mosaics at the Novoslobodskaya. Then when they were whole
once, they would be determined to become one again Homer didnt see anything
wrong with stealing that plot from the classics.
 It was easier said than done. To form a young woman from ink and paper was a
task that Homer didnt think he was capable of. He doubted that he could describe such
feelings convincingly either.
His relationship with Yelena was one of softness. Hed learned too late to love
with abandon. At their age it was no longer about satisfying their passion but coming
together, leaving the shadows of their pasts behind them and easing their loneliness.
Nikolai Ivanovitsch had left his one and only true love up there. But the facets of
her personality had faded over the decades so that there was no template for his novel.
Plus there had been nothing heroic about his relationship with his wife.
On the day the atomic thunderstorm broke over Moscow theyd offered to let
Nikolai take the place of the train driver Serov, whod retired shortly before. That meant
twice the pay. Before he started the new position he was supposed to take a few days off.
Hed called his wife and shed said that she would bake an apple pie, then go out to buy
some champagne and take a stroll with their children.
But before he could go on vacation he had to put one more shift behind him. When
Nikolai Ivanovitsch entered the drivers cabin of the train he knew that he would be its
new captain, happily married, at the beginning of a tunnel that lead to a beautiful, bright
future. Half an hour later hed aged twenty years. When he got to the end of the tunnel,
Nikolai was a broken, poor and lonely man. Maybe that was why every time he stumbled
onto a remarkably preserved train he felt the strange need to take the place of the train
driver, letting his hands glide over the instruments on the dashboard, to look through the
front windshield into the network of tunnels. To imagine starting the vehicle again
And putting it in reverse

***

It was as if the brigadier emitted some kind of field that shielded them from all
danger. And he seemed to know it.
It took them less than an hour to get back to the Nagornaya.
 This time the line didnt resist them.
Homer felt it again: Whether a scout, a Sevastopolskaya merchant, or any other
human as soon as they ventured into the tunnels they became foreign bodies in the
bloodstream of the metro. As soon as they left their station the air around them went up in
flames, reality fractured and unearthly creatures emerged from nowhere and threw
themselves against the humans of the metro.
Hunter, on the other hand, was no stranger to the dark tunnels and he didnt seem
to bother the leviathan in whose veins they moved. He even turned off his light to make
himself one with the darkness that filled the tunnels. Then it felt like he was caught in an
invisible current and flew twice as fast. Even though Homer followed with all his
strength he fell behind and had to shout to get Hunter to wait.
On their way back they passed the Nagornaya without incident. The fog had
disappeared and the station slept.
Now you could see clearly from one end of the station to the other. Where those
ghostly giants hid themselves was a riddle that Homer couldnt solve. It was a normal,
abandoned station. Salt had gathered on the wet ceiling, a soft layer of dust lay on the
platform; here and there somebody had written indecent things on the walls with charcoal
and the walls were blackened with smoke. Only on your second look you did you see the
strange markings on the ground, doing a kind of strange dance through the station and the
dried brown stains on the pillars and the ceiling which were cracked and broken as if
something had scratched them.
But even the Nagornaya flicked by and then was left behind. They flew on. As
long as Homer followed the brigadier the magical cocoon of invincibility seemed to
surround him as well. The old man began to wonder, where was he getting the strength
for this long march?
But he didnt have enough breath to speak and Hunter probably wouldnt have
answered. For the hundredth time Homer asked himself why hed joined the silent,
merciless brigadier who seemed to forget about him time and again.
 ***

The numbing smell of the Nachimovski prospect approached. Homer would have
liked to put the station behind him as quickly as possible but the brigadier slowed down.
While the old man was only able to stand the smell through his gas mask Hunter sniffed
around as if he could discern something in the thick, fetid air.
Again the corpse eaters retreated from them in respect, threw away their half
gnawed bones and spit shreds of flesh onto the ground. Hunter climbed the mountain in
the middle of the station, sinking into the rotting body parts up to his ankles and looked
around for quite some time. He didnt find whatever he was looking for. He made a
gesture in Homers direction and continued marching.
Homer, on the other hand, had found something. Hed tripped and fallen to the
ground; scaring away a young corpse eater that had just disemboweled a wet bulletproof
vest.
Homer saw a helmet from the Sevastopolskaya that had rolled off to the side. A
moment after that the glass of his gas mask steamed up he was covered in cold sweat.
He desperately tried to fight his nausea, crawled to the bones and started fishing
for dog tags. Instead he found a small, scarlet smudged notebook. The first page he
opened was the last entry: Do not storm the station, under any circumstance!

******

Even when she was just a child her father had taught her not to cry but now she
had nothing left to throw against fate. Tears flowed down her face and a thin, painful
whining came from her chest. Shed realized immediately what happened and now shed
been trying to cope with it for hours.
Had he yelled for her to help him? Had he wanted to tell her something important?
She couldnt remember when exactly shed fallen asleep and she didnt know if she was
actually awake now. Maybe there was a world where her father was still alive. Where she
hadnt killed him by falling asleep killed him with her weakness and selfishness. Sasha
held her fathers cold but still soft hand to warm it and spoke to herself, Youre going to
find a car. Well go up there, get in it and drive away. Youll laugh again like that time
you brought the recorder with the music CDs
Her fathers body had sat upright at first, leaning against the pillar with his chin
pressed against his chest so that you might have thought that he was just sleeping. But
then his body slipped into the puddle of blood. As if hed grown tired of pretending to be
alive and no longer wanted to put on a show for her.
The wrinkles that ran through her fathers face had smoothed.
She let go of his hand, helped him sit more comfortably and covered him from
head to toe in a torn blanket.
There was no way to bury him. She could have left him on the surface where he
could see the sky when it brightened one day. But long before that his body would have
been desecrated by the creatures that lurked there.
Nobody would disturb him here in their station. There was no danger from the lost
southern tunnels the only creatures that lived there were flying roaches. The northern
tunnel ended in a rusted, half broken metro bridge. Past the bridge humans lived but they
would have never bother crossing the bridge just to satisfy their curiosity. Everybody
knew there was nothing on the other side but burned wasteland.
And on the edge of this wasteland there was a guard station where two castaways
served out their prolonged death sentence.
Her father would never have allowed her to stay here on her own and now it was
completely pointless. Also Sasha knew, It didnt matter how far she ran, it didnt matter
how desperately she tried to escape, she knew that she would never be able to free herself
from this cursed dungeon. Not anymore.
Papa Forgive me, she sobbed. There was nothing she could do now to earn his
forgiveness.
 She pulled the silver ring from his finger and dropped it into the pocket of her
overalls. Then she took the cage with the rat, which was still uneasy, and started walking
slowly to the north.
Her boots left bloody prints on the granite.
Shed already stepped onto the rails and entered the tunnel when suddenly; in the
empty station, something astonishing happened. A long flame reached toward her fathers
body.
But it couldnt quite reach him and it retreated reluctantly back into the deep
darkness, as if it grudgingly respected his right to his final slumber.

***

Theyre coming back! Theyre coming back! sounded the loudspeaker.

Istomin put down the receiver and looked at the colonel in disbelief.
Who are they? Denis Michailovitsch jumped up from his chair and spilled his
tea. A dark stain spread on his pants. He cursed the tea and repeated his question.
Who are they? asked Istomin again mechanically.
The brigadier and Homer, Achmed is dead, came the reply through the static.
Vladimir Ivanovitsch wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and
scratched under the black rubber of his pirate-like eye patch. Whenever a fighter died it
fell to him to inform their family.
Without allowing himself be put through again he put his head out the door and
called for the adjutant, Bring both of them to me, immediately! I want the table ready!
He went into his office, straightened the pictures on the wall for no reason,
stopped at the map of the metro, whispered something to himself and then turned to
Denis Michailovitsch. He had his arms crossed and there was a broad smile on his face.
Wolodya, youre as nervous as a girl getting ready for her first date, the colonel
said grinning.
 And youre not nervous at all? answered the station leader and nodded at the
colonels wet trousers.
Me? Im ready. Both the strike teams are ready. Just another day and we can go.
Dennis moved his finger over the blue beret, stood up and put it on his head. He looked
more official that way.
They heard quick steps from the hallway; the adjutant looked at them
questioningly as he held a dim glass bottle with something alcoholic in it through the
almost closed door.
Istomin made a gesture: Later, Later!
Then they could finally hear the familiar, mournful voice, the door sprang open
and a broad figure entered. Behind the brigadiers back was the old storyteller that Hunter
had taken with for some odd reason.
Welcome back! Istomin sat in his chair, stood up and sat down again.
Now, what is it? asked the colonel. The brigadier looked from one man to the
other and turned to Istomin.
The Tulskaya has been captured by a wandering group of bandits. Theyve killed
everyone.
Dennis Michailovitsch raised his bushy eyebrows. Our men too?
As far as I can tell. We only got to the stations door. Then it turned into a fire
fight and they closed the hermetic gate.
The hermetic gate? Istomin gripped the edge of the table and stood up. What
are we supposed to do now?
Storm the station, both the brigadier and the colonel answered in unison.
No we cant storm the station. This was Homers voice coming from the
background.

******
 She just had to wait for the right hour. If she hadnt confused the days, the railcar
would soon emerge from the wet mist of the night. Every minute she remained in this
place, this abyss, where the tunnel stuck out of the earth like an open vein, increased her
sense of doom. There was nothing to do but wait. On the other side of this never ending
bridge she would find a closed hermetic door that could only be opened from the other
side and that happened once a week on market day.
Today Sasha had nothing to offer, but she had to buy more than ever before. She
didnt care what the people on the railcar wanted in return for her passage into the world
of the living the cold indifference and lack of emotion had passed from her father to
her.
How often shed dreamt of one day going to another station, to be surrounded by
other people, make friends and meet someone special
Shed asked her father about his life when he was younger, not just to imagine his
brightly lit childhood but because instead of her mother she saw herself and instead of her
father she saw the blurry image of a beautiful young man in her own naive imagining of
love. She doubted that she would be able to get along with other people if she ever got
back to the metro. What would she talk about?
But now, mere hours before the arrival of the ferry, maybe even minutes, the other
men and women didnt matter to her. Even thinking that another worthwhile human being
existed felt like a betrayal of her father. She would have agreed to spend the rest of her
days in this station without a moments hesitation if that could have saved him.
When the candle stump in the glass started to fight its final battle she put the flame
on a new wick. On one of his expeditions her father had found a whole chest full of wax
candles and she always carried one of them in her overalls pocket. Sasha enjoyed
imagining that their bodies were exactly like the candles and that a part of her father had
passed to her when he faded.
Would the people on the rail car see her signal through the mist?
Until now shed only looked outside from time to time, to stay outside as little as
possible. Her father had prohibited her from going out and his swollen head was warning
enough for her. On the slope Sasha always felt uneasy, like a trapped mole, looking
around restlessly and only daring to venture to the beginning of the bridge to look down
into the black river. But now she had too much time. Leaning forward and trembling in
the wet, cold wind Sasha took a few steps forward. Through the dawn and trees she saw
the fallen skyscrapers; in the oily, thick waters of the rivers something massive swam
around and in the distance she heard an inhuman scream. Suddenly a familiar sound came
to her, the squeaking of a rail car.
Sasha jumped up, holding the glass with the candle high and a small ray of light
answered from the bridge.
The old rail car approached, struggling against the thick fog. The weak shine of
the spotlight cut through the night and Sasha took a step back. It wasnt the same rail car
as usual. It moved slowly, as if every turn of the wheels took its toll on the people
pushing the levers.
Finally it stopped ten feet in front of Sasha. A fat giant in a crude radiation suit
jumped off the rail car and landed on the gravel. The diabolically dancing flame of her
candle was reflected in the glass of his gas mask so that Sasha couldnt see his eyes. In
one hand he held an army Kalashnikov with a wooden stock.
I want to get away from here, Sasha explained and raised her head.
A-way, echoed the scarecrow and stretched the sound out in surprise and
sarcasm simultaneously. And what do you offer in return?
I have nothing left, she stood up under his gaze and stared directly into the glass
of the gasmask.
Theres always something. Especially with women.
The ferryman groaned then he was silent. Youd leave your father alone out
here?
I have nothing left, she repeated and looked at the ground.
So he did die, the mans voice sounded both relieved and disappointed through
the mask.
Its better this way. He wouldnt have liked this right here.
 The barrel of the gun slowly unzipped her overalls.
Stop it! she screamed and took a step back.
The glass with the candle fell onto the track, shards flew and everything plunged
into darkness.
Dont you get it? Nobody comes back from this place, the scarecrow looked at
her indifferently through the dark, dead glass. Your body isnt even worth the trip, but it
may just cover your fathers debt.
The assault rifle twirled in his hands so that the stock of the gun pointed forward.
Sasha felt a heavy blow to her forehead. Her consciousness took pity and left her.

******

Since the Nachimovski prospect Hunter hadnt let Homer out of his sight, so he
hadnt been able to get a closer look at the notebook. Suddenly the brigadier cared, he
tried to keep Homer from falling behind and matched Homers pace. To do that he had to
slow down quite a bit. Several times hed stopped and turned around to see if anyone was
following them. But the blinding light of his lamp was always pointed at Homers face so
he felt like he was being interrogated.
He cursed, blinked and tried to stay calm. The penetrating gaze of the brigadier
moved over his entire body, searching for the item hed found at the Nachimovski
prospect. Nonsense! Of course Hunter hadnt seen anything. Hed been too far away at
the time. Hed probably noticed a change in Homers behavior and suspected something.
But every time their eyes met the old man started to sweat.
The few things hed been able to read made him question the brigadiers
intentions.
It was a diary. Sections of the pages were stuck together with dried blood. Homer
left those alone, his tired, numb fingers would have just ripped them apart. The entries on
the first pages were confusing, as if the author no longer knew which letters meant what
and his thoughts ran all over the place in a way that you could barely follow.
 Passed the Nagornaya without casualties. An entry revealed in the notebook and
continued on immediately: Chaos at the Tulskaya. No way to the metro. Hanza isnt
letting anybody through. We cant go back either.
Homer continued to read. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the brigadier
stepping down from the mound and walk toward him. He couldnt let the diary fall into
the brigadiers hands. Before he let the notebook disappear into his backpack he read:
Have the situation under control. The station is sealed and we have a new commander.
And then: Who will die next?
Over the question was the date. The yellowed pages of the notebook made him
think that it had been written a century ago, but the entry was only a couple of days old.
Homers old brain put together the pieces of this mosaic with an almost forgotten
speed. The mysterious wanderer, the pitiful homeless man at the Nagatinskaya, the
hauntingly familiar voice of the guard at the door and the sentence: We cant go back
either. In his minds eye he arranged it into a single image. Maybe the pages that were
stuck together held all the answers to these mysterious events?
At least one thing was certain there had been no attack on the Tulskaya. What
happened there was far more complex and strange. And Hunter, who had questioned the
guards fifteen minutes ago, knew that as well as Homer did.
That was why he couldnt show the notebook to Hunter. And that was why he had
risked disagreeing with him in Istomins office.
No we cant storm the station, he repeated.
Hunter slowly turned his head, like a battleship readying its main cannon.
Istomin pushed back his chair and came out from behind the table.
The colonel made a tired grimace.
We cant blow the door, Homer continued. Because there is a river, we would
flood the entire line. The Tulskaya barely holds it back, every day they pray that the water
doesnt break through. And you know that for at least ten years now the parallel tunnel
has been
 Are we supposed to just knock and wait until they open up? the colonel
interrupted.
We can still go around, said Istomin.
The colonel was so surprised that he started to cough. Then he argued with
Istomin, accused him of wanting to turn his best men into cripples, maybe even send
them to their graves. But the brigadier interrupted them before they could go any further.
The Tulskaya has to be cleansed. This situation demands the total destruction of
everyone there. Not one of your people is still alive there. They are all dead. If you want
to prevent any more casualties this is the only way. I have all the information we need.
His last words were aimed at Homer.
The old man felt like a small dog that had been shaken to stop it from barking.
Istomin straightened his jacket and said, If the way is blocked from the other then
there is only one way to get to the Tulskaya. From the other side. From Hanza. But that
also means that we cant send armed men. That is out of the question.
Hunter made a reassuring gesture and said, Ill find a way.
The colonel winced.
But if you want to get to Hanza by going around you have to cross two stations
over the Kaschovkaya line to the Kaschirskaya, Istomin said.
The brigadier crossed his arms, And?
There are very high levels of radiation in the area near the Kaschirskaya. A
fragment of a warhead went down not far from there. There was no detonation but the
radiation is still dangerously high nonetheless. One out of every two that get a dose of
radiation like that dies in a month or so. Even after all these years.
The group turned silent. Homer used the lull to make an inconspicuous, tactical
retreat from Istomins office.
Then Vladimir Ivanovitsch spoke again. It seemed that he feared the
uncontrollable brigadier would still try and blow the hermetic door at the Tulskaya.
We have radiation suits. Two of them. You can take one of our best fighters with
you. Well wait. He looked at the colonel. What else can we do?
 Dennis Michailovitsch sighed. Lets go see the boys. Well talk about it and you
can choose your companion.
Not necessary, Hunter shook his head. I need Homer.

Chapter 7: Limits

The rail car drove over the wide, bright-yellow stripe that ran along the ground
and the ceiling. The driver could no longer ignore the clicking of the Geiger counter as it
sped up. He reached for the brake and mumbled an excuse, Colonel sir Without
protection we cant proceed
Just another hundred meters, said Denis Michailovitsch. Well give you a week
off to recover from the radiation exposure. For us its just a two minute drive but to two
people in suits would take half an hour.
This is the boundary right here, grumbled the helmsman but he didnt dare slow
down.
Stop, ordered Hunter. Well continue on foot. The radiation is far too high.
The brakes squealed, the search light attached to the vehicles frame began to
shake back and forth and the rail car came to a halt. The brigadier and Homer, who had
let their feet hang over the edge of the rail car, jumped onto the tracks. In their heavy
suits, made from lead soaked material, they looked like cosmonauts.
The suits were unimaginably rare and expensive. In the whole of the metro there
were maybe three dozen of them.
 At the Sevastopolskaya theyd rarely been used they were saved for more
important missions.
They withstood the highest levels of radiation but even the smallest movement
was an arduous task. At least it was for Homer.
Denis Michailovitsch left the rail car behind and walked with them for a few
minutes. He and Hunter exchanged a few sentences intentionally fragmented so that
Homer wouldnt be able to decipher them.
Where are you going to get them? the colonel asked the brigadier grumpily.
Theyre going to give me some. They dont have a choice, answered the other
hollowly.
Nobody is waiting for you. To them youre dead. Dead, you understand?
Hunter stood still for a moment and spoke quietly, more to himself than to the
colonel, If only it were that simple.
Deserting the order is worse than dying, growled Denis Michailovitsch.
The brigadier made a surly gesture, as if he saluted the colonel but at the same
time cut an invisible rope attached to an anchor. Denis Michailovitsch understood the
gesture and remained at the pier, as the other two distanced themselves from the shore,
slowly but steadily continuing their journey into an ocean of darkness.
The colonel took his hand from his forehead and gave the helmsman of the rail car
the signal to start the motor.
He felt empty. There was nobody he could give an ultimatum to anymore. Nobody
he could fight against anymore.
As the commander of his lonely island in the sea he could now only hope that the
small expedition didnt sink, and would one day return from the other side as proof that
the earth was still round.

***
 The last guard post in the tunnel had been directly behind the Kachovskaya which
had been abandoned by all human souls. As long as Homer could remember the
inhabitants of the Sevastopolskaya had never been attacked from the east.
The yellow line seemed to not only separate two parts of the metro but connect
two planets that were hundreds of light-years apart. Beyond this line the living area of the
earth had changed almost imperceptibly into a dead, lunar landscape and both were
strangely similar. While Homer concentrated on not tripping over his heavy boots he
heard how his breath squeezed through the complex system of tubes and filters and he
imagined that he was an astronaut that somebody had abandoned on the far reaches of a
distant planet. He allowed himself this childish fantasy because it was easier to deal with
the suit that way, because on this moon there was more gravity and the comforting
knowledge that, for many kilometers, they would be the only living things.
Neither scientist, nor science fiction writers had been able to foresee this future,
thought the old man. In the year 2034 mankind was supposed to have conquered half the
galaxy, or at least the neighboring solar systems, they had promised Homer this when he
was young. But the authors of science fiction novels and the scientist had always believed
that humanity would act rationally. As if it wasnt made up of a few billion slow, careless
and thrill seeking individuals but some kind of bee hive with collective reasoning and a
focused will. As if they ever had the intentions of conquering space. Instead they had
become bored with the game and abandoned their goal halfway through and turned to
electronics at first then to biotechnology without getting any halfway impressive results
in any of those areas. Except, perhaps, for nuclear physics.
And now he was here, a flightless astronaut, surviving only because of this space
suit, a stranger on his own planet. Ready to conquer the tunnel between the Kachovskaya
Nad and the Kaschirskaya. He could forget about all the others and the survivors. He
could no longer see the stars anyway.
Strange, here past the yellow line his body moaned under the gravity but his heart
was weightless. Days before the march to the Tulskaya when hed said goodbye to
Yelena he knew that he had to return. But when Hunter had chosen him as a companion
the second time he knew this time it was serious.
So hed prayed for a challenge, enlightenment and hed finally been heard. To be
too afraid to go would have been stupid and beneath him. He knew that he wouldnt be
able to do his lifes work as a hobby. But fate wouldnt be denied. A proverb said that
fate will come, maybe later, maybe one last time There would probably be no last time
and if he didnt choose now then what was he living for? Should he spend the time he
still had left as Nikolai Ivanovitsch, the fool of the station, an old, slobbering storyteller
with a stupid grin?
But to transform himself from a caricature of the real Homer to his inheritor, to
transform himself from a lover of the myths to their creator, to rise from the ashes as a
new man he first had to burn his old image. He believed that if he continued to doubt, to
give in to his longing for his wife and home, constantly looking back at the past he would
overlook something very important in the end. Something that had been sitting in front of
him the whole time. He had to cut it all loose.
From this new expedition he would not return unharmed, if he returned at all. Of
course he felt bad for Yelena. At first she hadnt believed that her Homer had returned
alive and healthy after only a day. Shed tried to keep him from embarking on this second
voyage, but it was in vain.
When theyd parted ways in tears once more he hadnt promised anything this
time. He pressed her against him and looked over her shoulder at the clock. It was time to
go. He knew that. But he couldnt just cut off ten years of his life so easily and hed
probably get phantom pains afterward.
Hed believed that hed want to look back forever. But as soon as he crossed the
yellow strip it was if hed actually died and his soul had fled the heavy and unmoving suit
and ascended. He was free.

***
 The suit didnt seem to slow Hunter down. The clothing had transformed his
muscular, wolf-like figure into a shapeless mountain but it hadnt limited his movement.
He walked alongside the breathless Homer but only because he hadnt let Homer out of
his sight since the Nachimovski prospect.
After all hed seen at the Nagatinskaya, the Nagornaya and the Tulaskaya it hadnt
been easy for Homer to agree to another journey with Hunter. But there was one thing
that convinced him. The brigadiers presence had started his long awaited
metamorphoses, the one that promised his reincarnation. The old man didnt care why
Hunter had chosen to drag him along again, be it as a guide or pack mule.
The main thing was to not let this moment pass, to use it as long as it lasted, to
imagine something and write it down.
When Hunter called for him, he got the feeling that the brigadier wanted
something from him. It wasnt because Homer showed him the way through the tunnels
or protected him from danger. Maybe the brigadier was taking something from the old
man without asking and at the same time unloading what he didnt want?
But what would he need?
Hunters lack of emotion could no longer deceive Homer. Behind the crust of the
paralyzed face, magma boiled and it sometimes flowed over the craters of his eternally
open eyes. He was uneasy. He was looking for something too.
Hunter seemed to be perfect for the role of Homers epic hero. At first the old man
had hesitated but after a while he finally acknowledged Hunter. Even if many
characteristics of the brigadier his passion for killing, his silence and sparse gestures
made Homer wary. Hunter was like a murderer that left the police cryptic messages so he
could ensure his own eventual capture. Homer didnt know if the brigadier saw a priest
waiting for a confession, a biographer or some kind of donor in him, but he felt that the
bond was mutual. And that it would soon become stronger than his fear.
Actually Homer couldnt shake the feeling that Hunter was putting off an
important conversation. From time to time the brigadier looked at him as if he wanted to
ask something but he remained silent. But maybe the old man had confused wishful
thinking with reality once more and he was simply an unfortunate witness that Hunter
would throttle somewhere in a dark tunnel.
More and more frequently the brigadiers gaze fell on the old mans backpack
where the mysterious diary lay. He seemed to feel Homers thoughts circling around a
certain object and he was homing in on it, approaching slowly but steadily
Homer tried not to think about the diary, in vain. He hadnt had much time to pack
and had only spent a few minutes with it. Of course that hadnt been enough to wet all the
blood-glued pages and separate them but hed been able to read some of them They were
disjointed, the writing fragmented and events werent in order, as if the author had to
pause to gather his thoughts and only written them down while in grave danger at some
point. To make sense of them Homer had to put them in the right order.
No contact. The telephone is silent. Probably sabotage. Someone whos been
exiled? For revenge? Still in front of us.
The situation is hopeless. No help is coming. If we demand more men from the
Sevastopolskaya well only lead them to their doom. There is nothing to do but wait here
But for how long?
We cant get out... They went crazy. If not them then who? Flee!
And then there was something else. Immediately after the last entry that warned
about storming the Tulskaya there was a signature, almost illegible, stamped with the
brown seal of a bloody fingerprint. Homer had heard the name before, hed even said it.
This diary belonged to the radio operator that had left with the caravan for the
Tulskaya a week ago.

***

They passed the tunnel to another metro depot that hadnt been emptied out.
Without a doubt it would have been picked clean if it hadnt been hit by so much
radiation. The black tunnels which lead there had been barricaded with welded metal of
all kinds. There was a metal sign that hung down from a piece of wire which was
attached to one of the bars, it had a dull smiling skull which stared at them and under it
were the remains of a warning in red paint. It had now fallen off or been removed
intentionally.
This barred-off tunnel held Homers eyes hypnotically and when he was finally
able to pull his gaze from it he thought that this line wasnt so lifeless as many people at
the Sevastopolskaya thought.
Then they passed the Warschavskaya, a horribly rusted and fungus-covered station
that looked like a water-bloated corpse. The tile-covered walls sweated some kind of
murky fluid and through the half open hermetic gate a cold wind blew in from the surface
as if a giant creature was trying to breathe air into the rotten station. The hysterical
ticking sound of the Geiger counter exhorted them to leave this place as quickly as
possible.
They were already approaching the Kaschirskaya when the counters needle
pegged at the red end of the scale. Homer felt a bitter taste on his tongue.
Where did it come down? Hunter asked.
The brigadiers voice was hard to hear, as if Homer had dunked his head in a
bathtub. He stopped. He finally had an excuse for a short but welcome pause and pointed
with his glove to the southeast. At the Kantemirovskaya. We think that the ceiling and
the airshaft went down with it. Nobody knows for certain.
So the Kantemirowvskaya is abandoned?
Always has been. Past the Kolomenskaya you wont find a single soul.
Somebody once told me started Hunter but then he trailed off and made a
gesture for Homer to be silent.
He seemed to feel some kind of invisible wave. Finally he asked, Does anybody
know what happened at the Kaschirskaya?
How would they? Homer didnt know if his sarcasm made it through the suits
filters.
Then Im going to tell you. The radiation is so high there that well be cooked in
a matter of minutes. With or without radiation suits. Were going back.
 Back? To the Sevastopolskaya?
Yes, from there Ill go to the surface. Maybe I can get through from there,
Hunter said thoughtfully. He seemed to be planning his route already.
Homer couldnt find the right words, You want to go alone?
I cant always look after you. I have to watch out for myself too. We wont get
through together anyway. Its not even certain that Ill make it alone.
Dont you understand? I have to go with you, I want
Homer desperately searched for a reason, an excuse.
To do something useful before you die? the brigadier ended Homers
sentence. His tone sounded indifferent, though Homer knew the gas masks filters
removed any fumes so only tasteless, sterile air came in and mechanical, soulless voices
came out.
The old man closed his eyes and tried desperately to remember what he knew
about the short stub that was the Kachochskaya line, about the irradiated
Samoskvorezkaya line, about the way from the Sevastopolskaya to the Serpuchovskaya
Anything but turning back, he couldnt return to his empty life, his life had nothing to
offer him anymore but false hope for great stories and legends.
Follow me! he croaked and suddenly walked to the east with a speed that
surprised even him. They walked east, into the Kaschirskaya, into the heart of hell.

***

She dreamt that she was using a saw on the iron ring which chained her to the
wall, the tool shrieked and slipped repeatedly but every time she cut a millimeter into the
steel the thin scratch repaired itself before her eyes.
But Sasha didnt give up. She took the saw in her bloody hands again and
continued to work on the unyielding metal.
The most important thing was to keep trying, to show no weakness, to not stop
working and to not rest.
 Her chained feet were swollen and numb. Sasha knew even if she succeeded and
beat the iron she wouldnt be able to flee because she could no longer make her legs
move
She awoke and opened her eyes.
The chains hadnt been a dream. Sashas hands were chained. She was lying on
the dirty loading area of the mining rail car that shrieked monotonously as it moved
tortuously forward. In her mouth was a dirty piece of cloth and her forehead hurt and
bled.
He didnt kill me, she thought. Why?
From the loading area she could only see a part of the tunnels ceiling. In the
randomly shifting light the welds of the tunnel supports flickered out of the darkness.
Suddenly the tunnel segments disappeared and cracked white paint could be seen.
What kind of station was this?
This was a bad place. Not just quiet but deathly quiet, not just empty of people but
empty of life and light. She had always thought that the station on the other side of the
bridge would be full of people and noise. Could she have been mistaken?
The blanket over Sasha didnt move anymore. The kidnapper climbed on the
platform, cursing, and his iron-spiked boots made a strange sound. He seemed to scan his
surroundings. Hed already taken off his gas mask because suddenly she could hear him
mumble, There you are. Its been a while. He breathed out with relief and hit
something no kicked something lifeless, heavy. A sack filled something?
Sasha knew. She bit the stinking rag and started to moan dully, her muscles
cramped. Now she knew where the fat man in the radiation suit had brought her and to
whom his words were directed.

******

Even the thought of leaving Hunter behind was absurd.

 With a few predator-like jumps Hunter had caught up to Homer, grabbed his
shoulder and shook him painfully.
What is wrong with you?
Just a little further croaked the old man. I remember, theres still a tunnel
that leads directly to the
Samoskvorezkaya line, before the Kaschirskaya. If we pass through there well get
directly into the tunnel and dont have to run through the station. We can circle it and end
up directly at the Kolomenskaya. It cant be far. Please
Homer used Hunters hesitation to tear himself free but one of his legs got caught
up in the suit and he fell onto the tracks. He stood up immediately and continued to set
one foot in front of the other. Hunter caught the old man with ease, as if he were a rat,
turned him so they were face to face so that the windows of their gas masks were level.
For a few seconds he clutched at Homer but then he eased his grip. Okay, he growled
From then on it was Homer dragging the brigadier behind without pause. The
sound of his pulse in his ears drowned out the clicking sound of the Geiger counter, his
stiff legs were barely under his control and his lungs seemed ready to explode in their
struggle to get enough air.
He almost overlooked the deep, dark stain of the hole that was the tunnels
entrance. They squeezed through and ran for another few minutes until they entered
another new tunnel. The brigadier looked around quickly, went back into the tunnel and
angrily asked the old man, Where are you leading me? Have you even been here
before?
About another thirty meters to left, in the direction they were headed, the tunnel
was filled from floor to ceiling with something that vaguely reminded him of spiderwebs.
Homer didnt have enough breath so he just shook his head. It was the truth, hed never
been here. Everything else hed heard about this place he wasnt going to tell Hunter.
The brigadier held his assault rifle in his left hand and pulled a long, straight knife
out of his backpack with his right; it was some kind of homemade machete. He started to
hack at the sticky white mass. The dried shells of flying roaches that hung in the web
started to shiver and made a sound like rusted bells.
The edges of the wounds started to grow back together immediately. The brigadier
raised a semi-transparent piece of spider web, put his search light through and lit the side
tunnel. They would need hours to cut their way through. The sticky web had grown over
the tunnel in many layers.
Hunter looked at the Geiger counter, made a strange and disappointed noise and
started to rip through the web between the walls. The web gave way reluctantly.
It was taking too long. In about ten minutes theyd only gotten thirty feet further
and the webs were only getting denser, they seemed to be blocking the entrance like a big
piece of cotton. When they finally passed an overgrown vent, near which an ugly, two-
headed skeleton lay on the ground, the brigadier threw his knife down.
They hung in the web like the roaches. Even if the creature that made these giant
webs was already dead the radiation would finish the job.
While Hunter looked for an exit Homer suddenly remembered what hed heard
about this place. He dropped to his knees, shook a few bullets from his reserve clip,
turned them around, opened them with his knife and shook the gunpowder in to his hand.
Hunter understood immediately. A few moments later they stood at the entrance of
the side tunnel again, covered a piece of cotton with the coarse gray powder and held a
lighter to it.
The powder hissed and started to smoke and suddenly something unbelievable
happened, the small flame began to shoot off into all direction at once, reached the
ceiling, wandered along the walls and filled the entire tunnel.
It ravenously devoured the web and rushed off into the depths.
Like a roaring ball of fire it moved forwards, lit the dark tunnel segments and left
burned pieces of web wafting from the ceiling.
On its way to the Kolomenskaya the fire became narrower and sucked all the air
along with it. Then the tunnel turned a corner and the flame could no longer be seen.
 In the distance Homer believed he could hear an inhuman, desperate shrieking
over of the deafening sound of the fire.
But the old man was still hypnotized by what he had seen so he didnt entirely
trust his senses.
Hunter put his knife back in his backpack and pulled out two new, sealed filter-
boxes for their gas masks. They were meant for the way back. He changed his filter and
gave the other box to Homer. After that fire the radiation is now as high as it was back
there.
The old man nodded. The flame had thrown up radioactive particles that had been
deposited in the web. In the black vacuum of these tunnels there had to be millions of
death bringing particles. Innumerable small, underwater mines hung in the empty room
and blocked their way. They couldnt go another way, this was the only way, directly
through the threat.

******

If your father could only see you now, the fat man mocked her.
Sasha sat directly in front of her fathers corpse which lay face down in its puddle
of blood.
The kidnapper had opened his overalls; he was wearing a bleached t-shirt with
some kind of happy laughing animal on it.
Every time she raised her eyes her kidnapper blinded her with his flashlight so that
she couldnt see his face. He had pulled the cloth out of her mouth but Sahsa didnt even
think of begging for anything.
You dont look like your mother. Too bad, I was hoping The elephant-sized
legs in the high, stained rubber boots wandered for a second time around the pillars.
Sasha leaned back against the pillars so she didnt know what was going on. Now his
voice came from behind. Your father must have thought that theyd eventually forgive
him. But there are some crimes that are never forgotten Like slander and treason. His
obscure silhouette emerged from the darkness on the other side. He stopped in front of
her fathers corpse, kicked at it with his boot and spit out thick phlegm. Too bad the old
man died before I got here.
The fat man moved the beam of light through the murky, faceless station with its
mountains of useless scrap strewn around.
At the bicycle the light stopped. Youve got a nice place here. I think if it werent
for you, your father would have already hung himself.
While he looked around the station Sasha tried to crawl away but a second later
the ray of light caught her.
I can relate. With one jump her kidnapper stood next to her. He had a nice
daughter. But like I said, too bad that she doesnt look like her mother. It probably
bothered him too. Well, too bad. He kicked her side so hard she fell over. After all, I
crossed the entire metro to get here.
Sasha winced and shook her head.
You see, Petya, I was right, remember? Once again hed turned to her father.
Back then you always brought your rivals in front of the tribunal. And I cant
thank you enough for lifelong exile instead of an execution! Well, life is long and things
change. And not always in your favor. I am back even though it took me ten years longer
than Id planned.
You never came back to the same place by chance. She whispered her fathers
words.
Too true, the fat man answered sarcastically. Hey! Whos there?
At the other end of the platform she could hear a scraping sound, then something
heavy fell to the ground.
A kind of hissing sound could be heard and another sound like the steps of a large
animal. The silence that followed was deceptive but Sasha and her kidnapper both felt
something approaching.
The fat man readied his weapon loudly and got to his knees beside her. Hed
pressed the stock against his shoulder and sent the flickering spot of light over the pillars.
 The southern tunnels had been abandoned for decades. The thought of something
moving out there was scarier than imagining all the marble statues in the central station
suddenly springing to life.
In the wandering ray of light a blurred shadow appeared for a second, it was
definitely not human neither its silhouette nor its speed. When the light flicked back,
there was no trace of the strange creature. A few seconds later the panicky, searching
beam caught it again, now only six meters away.
A bear? whispered the fat man, doubting what hed just seen but pulling the
trigger anyway.
The bullets rushed to the pillars and struck the walls but the animal had vanished
into thin air in that same instant, not one of the shots found its mark. Then the fat man
started firing jerkily before dropping the Kalashnikov and pressing his hands to his
stomach. The flashlight rolled to the side so that its light fell on the heavy, hunched
figure.
Without haste a human emerged from the twilight, with astonishingly soft and
almost inaudible steps, despite his heavy boots. The radiation suit was too big for even
his colossal stature, so much so that you might actually think that he was a bear.
He wasnt wearing a gas mask. The cleanly shaven head full of scars reminded
Sasha of a dry desert. One half of his face had a brave look. If it hadnt been so rough and
unmoving you could have called it handsome. It sent chills down Sashas spine when she
saw him. The other half was simply outrageously wounded, a complex network of scar
tissue that made his face a mask of pure ugliness. Still, his appearance would merely been
repulsive, not scary if it werent for his eyes. An ever wandering, half insane stare was
the only thing that kept the unmoving face alive. Alive without a soul.
The fat man tried to get to his feet but slipped on the ground and screamed in pain.
The colossal man crouched and slowly pointed the long barrel of the silenced pistol
against the back of the fat mans head and pulled the trigger. The screaming stopped
instantly, but the echo wandered through the tomb of the station for a moment longer,
like a lost creature without a body.
 The shot had ripped his lower jaw from his head. The kidnapper lay with his face
toward her, which was now a slimy red funnel. Sasha lowered her head and started to cry.
The terrible man pointed the barrel of the gun at her, slowly and deliberately. Then
he turned around and seemed to decide against pulling the trigger. The pistol returned to
his shoulder holster and he stepped back as if he wanted to distance himself from the
scene. He opened a flask and put it to his lips.
Now another character stepped onto the small stage that was lit by the fat mans
fading flashlight: An old man. He was breathing heavily and had a hand pressed against
his ribs. He wore the same type of suit as the killer but moved far more clumsily in it. As
soon as hed caught up to his leader he fell to the ground. He didnt even realize
everything was covered in blood. Only after hed rested and opened his eyes again did he
see the two mutilated corpses and the thoroughly scared girl.

***

He had just slowed his pulse and now it was hammering away again. Before
Homer could find the words for it he knew. Hed found her. After all his abortive
attempts hed found the heroine for the novel which had begun to take shape in his
minds eye at night, her lips, hands, her clothing, her smell, her movement and thoughts
of the person he had tried to create were now suddenly standing directly in front of him.
In flesh and blood. Directly from his imagination.
But no, honestly he had imagined her differently, more elegant, with smoother
edges And definitely older. She had too many hard lines and her eyes werent filled
with warmth but splinters of hard ice. But he knew that it had been he who was mistaken,
he hadnt been able to foresee what she would be like. Her haunted look, the scared face,
and the cuffed hands it all fascinated him. Of course he knew how to tell extraordinary
stories but to write a tragedy the likes of which had happened to this young woman was
not in his power. Her helplessness, being exposed to the cruel world, her wonderful
rescue and the way fate had woven hers, his and Hunters stories together, all that could
only mean that he was on the right path.
He trusted her before shed said a single word.
It was because, aside from everything else, this girl possessed a kind of beauty in
her confused, blond, sloppily-cut hair, pointy ears, dirt-covered cheeks, fragile, exposed,
astonishingly white shoulders and her childish lips. So much so that an immediate
affection joined his curiosity and pity.
Homer approached her and crouched down. She lowered her head and closed her
eyes. She probably hadnt had a lot of contact with other people, he thought. Because he
didnt know what to say he just softly held on to her shoulder.
We need to go, growled Hunter.
What about... Homer pointed at the girl with a questioning look.
No, shes none of our business.
We cant leave her here alone!
Then we give her a bullet, answered the brigadier harshly.
I dont want to go with you, said the girl in a surprisingly clear voice. Just get
these handcuffs off of me. He probably has the keys. She pointed at the faceless body on
the ground.
With a few moves of his hand Hunter fished the iron keys out of the fat mans
pocket and threw them to the girl. Happy?
The old man stalled for time. What did that pig do to you? He asked the little
one.
Nothing, she replied as she fumbled at the lock. He didnt get far. Hes no
monster. Just a normal human being. Horrible, stupid and unforgiving. Like all the rest.
Not all, the old man replied but it didnt sound very convincing.
All, repeated the girl. She grimaced but she managed to stand up on her swollen
feet. Well, it isnt always easy to remain human.
How fast she had overcome her fear! Now her eyes were no longer looking at the
ground but looking at the two men as if she was up for a challenge. She fell to her knees
next to one of the bodies, carefully turned it on its back, straightened its arms and kissed
the forehead of the dead man. Then she turned to Hunter, closed her eyes and said,
Thank you.
She took neither weapons nor anything else with her. She climbed down to the
rails and walked with a slight limp towards the tunnel.
The brigadier followed her with a dark look. His hand wandered undecidedly from
his flask to his knife. Finally he made a decision, stood up and yelled, Wait!
Chapter 8: Masks

The cage still lay where the fat man had knocked Sasha unconscious. The door
was open and the rat was gone Well, she thought, even a rat has a right to be free.
It didnt matter. Sasha had to wear her kidnappers suit and gasmask. She thought
she could smell the last of his foul breath, but she was at least happy that the fat man
hadnt been wearing the mask when he was shot.
In the middle of the bridge the radiation levels suddenly jumped higher again.
It was a miracle that she could even move in the giant suit. She bounced around in
it like a roach larva in its cocoon. The gas mask had been stretched by the broad visage of
the fat man, but it still stuck to her face. Sasha tried to breathe in as forcefully as she
could to suck air through the tubes and filters, but as she looked through the round glass
of the gas mask she couldnt shake the feeling that she had slipped into a strangers body.
Just an hour ago the gray demon that had haunted her had been in this suit and now to get
over this bridge she had to enter his world. See the world with his eyes.
With his eyes and those of the people that had banished her father to the
Kolomenskaya, who had let them live for all these years because their greed was stronger
than their hatred. Would Sasha, if she wanted to blend in with the human masses, keep
wearing this black rubber mask? Would she have to act like she was somebody else,
somebody without a face or feelings? Maybe it would at least help her change the person
inside the suit: All that she had suffered through, to forget and to truly believe that she
could start over again!
Sasha wished that these two hadnt just found her by chance but had been sent just
for her, but she knew that it wasnt true. She didnt understand why they had brought her
along.
 Maybe for pleasure, out of pity or to prove something to each other. The few
words that the old man had lain before her, a certain sympathy had been in them, but
whatever he did now, he was following his companion, he spoke little and seemed
determined not to appear too humane.
The other one hadnt looked at the girl once since hed allowed her to accompany
them to the next inhabited station. Sasha had fallen behind intentionally, so that she could
at least observe them from a distance, but it seemed that hed felt her gaze because
immediately he tensed and twitched his head but didnt quite turn it. Perhaps this was in
response to her girlish curiosity or maybe so she would think that he hadnt noticed her.
The powerfully built physique of the bold man, with his animal behavior, which
the fat man had mistaken for a bear, marked him as a warrior. But the picture wasnt just
of his physical power. He emitted a certain strength that you would have felt even if hed
been thin and wiry. A man the likes of him could get anybody to follow orders and if
someone dared refuse he would eliminate them without hesitation.
Long before Sasha could bring her fear of other humans under control, before she
could make out her feelings about him, an unknown voice, that of her feminine side, told
her that she would follow him.

***

The rail car moved with astonishing speed. Homer hardly had to push the lever
because the brigadier did all the work. The old man went through the motions too, out of
decency, but it didnt tax him.
The compact metro bridge, with its numerous pillars, waded through the dark,
thick water. The concrete had fallen off the iron skeleton in places, its legs stood so awry
that one of the two lanes had bent and fallen down.
It had once been a fully functional bridge, a standard model, short lived like the
new buildings in the outer areas of the capitol which had been designed on a whiteboard.
There was nothing, nothing at all, beautiful about it.
 Still, Homer had to think of the magically retractable bridges of Petersburg or the
elegant bridge constructions of the Krymski Most, with its cast iron chains, as he looked
all around.
In the twenty years that hed lived in the metro, Homer had only been on the
surface three times. Every time he had tried to see as much as he could in the short break
from his cell. To refresh his memory, to point his weakening eyes at the outlines of the
city, to push the rusty triggers of his visual memory and to gather as many impressions as
possible for the future. Maybe he would never get the chance to see the beautiful places
on the surface, like the Kolomenskaya, the Retschnoi Woksal or the Tjoply Stan, all three
were stations that lay far away from lines he knew. Back then, like many other
inhabitants of Moscow, hed looked on them with scorn.
Through the years Moscow aged, fell apart, withered away. Homer felt the urge to
touch the crumbling bridge again like the girl from the Kolomenskaya had touched the
dead man. The bridge, the gray edges of the factories and the abandoned beehives of the
apartments. To dwell in their sights. To touch them, to feel that they really existed, that
everything here wasnt a dream. And to say goodbye, just in case.
Their line of sight was bad, the little bit of silvery moonlight that filtered through
the clouds was barely perceptible, the old man more sensed his surroundings than saw
them. But that wasnt a problem. He was used to layering his imagination over reality.
Homer just visualized what he thought he should see. Forgotten legends that hed
taken it upon himself to create and the mysterious disappearance of daylight that had set
his imagination spinning for the past few hours. He felt like a child on a field trip. He
soaked in the sights and the obscure silhouettes of the skyscrapers. His head swiveling
from one side to the other and he talked loudly to himself.
The others didnt enjoy the journey nearly so much. The brigadier, who silently
stared in the direction they drove, only looked up from time to time when he heard a
sound from beneath the bridge. His attention was directed at the point where the rails
descended back into the ground.
 The girl behind them held her scavenged gas mask with both hands. He could tell
she wasnt feeling comfortable on the surface. In the tunnel Homer had thought she was
tall, but the moment that they stepped outside she was shrank as if she had retreated into
her shell, even the oversized radiation suit didnt counter the effect. The fascinating
things you could see from the bridge held no interest for her and she spent most of the
time staring at the ground.
They passed the ruins of the station Technopark. It had been built hastily, not long
before the war. Its dilapidated condition was not the doing of bombs but the teeth of time.
Finally they approached the tunnel.
Compared to the bleak darkness of night the tunnel entrance was pitch black.
Homers suit seemed like real armor and he felt like a medieval knight entering the cave
of a legendary dragon.
The nighttime sounds of the city remained at the entrance. It was at exactly this
point that Hunter ordered them off the rail car. Now only the three companions careful
steps and the echoes of their few words could be heard. The tunnel sounded strange.
Homer could tell how small the space was by the way his voice echoed back to him, it
felt like hed climbed into a glass bottle.
Its closed off ahead, Hunter seemed to want to keep them on their toes. The
light of the lamp exposed what barred their path: A hermetic gate that towered in front of
them like an impenetrable wall. Where the door met the rails were shiny, massive hinges
protruding from brown clumps of old oil. Old planks lay on a hill. Dried firewood and
pieces of wood burnt to charcoal lay there as if there had been a campfire recently. The
door saw regular use, without a doubt, but only as an exit it seemed. No bell or other
signal could be seen from this side.
The brigadier turned to the girl, Is it always like this?
Sometimes they come out and drive over to us on the opposite shore. To trade. I
thought today She seemed to want to put recent events behind her. Had she known
that there was no entrance or had she been keeping this from them?
 Hunter hammered the grip of his machete against the door as if it were a giant
metal gong. But the steel was too thick and instead of a dull, echoing sound it only
created a quiet clank. It was doubtful anybody could have heard it from the other side,
assuming somebody was alive in there.
No answer. No miracle occurred.

***

Beyond all reason Sasha had hoped that the two would somehow get the door
open. Shed been too afraid to tell them that the entrance the big metro was closed off.
They might have just gone another way and left her back where theyd found her.
But nobody waited for them at the big metro and they had no way to break
through. The bold one searched the door for a weak point or bent key holes, but Sasha
already knew that it could only be opened from the other side.
You stay here, he commanded them grimly. Ill inspect the door in the next
tunnel and look for vents.
He was quiet for a moment and then added, Ill be back. With that he vanished.
The old man gathered a few twigs and pieces of wood and started a small fire.
Then he sat down at the doorstep and started fumbling with his backpack. Sasha sat down
next to him and watched him out of the corner of her eye.
Hed pulled a torn, dirty notebook from his backpack and cast a suspicious look at
Sasha, inched away from her and lowered his head into the pages.
Immediately he jumped up with surprising speed and checked to make sure the
bold one was really gone. Slowly he tiptoed ten steps to the exit of the tunnel and only
after he saw no one did he lean against the door, put the backpack between himself and
Sasha and ease back into the book.
He read restlessly, mumbling something she couldnt understand, removed his
gloves, reached for his water bottle and put a few drops onto the pages. Then he
continued reading.
 After a little while he suddenly started wiping his hands on his legs, angrily put his
hand to his forehead, touched his gas mask for some reason and continued on reading.
His excitement was infectious. Sasha allowed herself to be distracted from her thoughts
and moved closer, the old man was too distracted to notice.
Through the glass of his gas mask she could see his bleak green eyes sparkling
with reflected firelight. From time to time he looked up from the book as if to catch his
breath. He abandoned the book, stared fearfully at the tunnel-framed night sky, but
nothing had changed. The bold one had vanished indefinitely. As soon as he came to that
realization he powered on through the book.
Now she saw why he put water on it. He was trying to loosen the pages that were
stuck together.
He succeeded in separating the pages, but only at great peril. Once he screamed as
if hed cut himself. One of the pages had torn.
He cursed himself and then realized how carefully she was watching him. He
straightened his gas mask in embarrassment but he didnt say a word until hed finished
reading.
Then he ran to the fire and hurled the notebook into it.
He didnt look at Sasha and she instinctively knew there was no use asking about
it. He would just lie to her or say nothing at all.
There were other things that caught her attention. She guessed that the bold one
had been gone for a full hour now.
Had he dumped them here like unnecessary ballast? Sasha sat down next to the old
man and said quietly, The second tunnel is closed too. All the vents are walled off. This
is the only entrance.
The man looked at her but his thoughts were elsewhere. He seemed to have
difficulty concentrating on what shed just told him. Hell find a way. He feels it. He
was silent for a minute and then asked, more out of politeness than interest, Whats your
name?
Alexandra, she answered seriously, And yours?
 Nikolai He started, and gave her his hand, but before she could shake it he
pulled it back again, his body tensed. Hed changed his mind. Homer. Im Homer.
Homer. Strange nickname, Sasha answered thoughtfully.
Its my name, said Homer stiffly and firmly.
Should she tell him that as long as she was with them this gate would never open?
If the two men had gone alone the it might have been open when they arrived.
The Kolomenskaya wouldnt let Sasha go. It was punishing her for how shed
treated her father. Shed tried to flee but now the chain was pulled taut and she couldnt
break free. The station had pulled her back once and it would do so again.
How hard she had tried to chase away her thoughts and the images that emerged
like bloodsucking insects. They always returned, circling her and crawling into her ears
and eyes.
The old man had asked Sasha something but she hadnt answered. Tears welled up
in her eyes and once again she heard the voice of her father: Nothing is more valuable
than a human life.
Now she knew what hed meant.

******

What had happened at the Tulskaya was no longer a mystery to him. The
explanation was much simpler and more terrible than hed thought. And now that hed
deciphered the notebook entries a story emerged that was worse than hed thought.
The diary led him down a path of no return. Now that hed held it in his hands he
wouldnt be able to get rid of it, he could burn it as many times as he liked.
His distrust for Hunter was now fueled by the irrefutable evidence. But Homer had
no idea what he should do. What hed read in the diary contradicted everything the
brigadier had told him. Hed lied and he knew it. Now Homer had to find out why he was
lying and if the lies even made sense. It all hinged on whether following Hunter to the
end of this journey would end with a heroic epic or with a massacre.
 ***

The first entries in the diary had dated back to the day the caravan had
uneventfully passed through the Nagornaya and then closed in on the Tulskaya without
encountering any resistance.
Were at the Tulskaya now. The tunnel is quiet and empty. Reported the radio
operator. Were covering a lot of ground, which is a good sign. The commander expects
well be back by tomorrow. A few hours after that he wrote worriedly: The Tulskaya is
unguarded. We sent a scout. He disappeared. The commander has decided that were
going to enter the station as a team. Were readying ourselves to storm the station.
Later still he wrote: Its difficult to understand whats going on We talked to one of
the residents. Its bad. Some kind of disease. Then he elaborated: Some inhabitants of
the station are infected with something Some kind of unknown sickness
It seemed the members of the caravan had tried to help the infected at first: The
medic doesnt know how to treat it. He says its something like rabies Unimaginable
pain, people lose their minds and attack others. Right after that: Once weakened by the
disease theyre more or less harmless. The worst thing is At exactly that point the
pages were stuck together and Homer tried to wet them with water so he could pull them
apart. The light hurts. Nausea. Blood in their mouths. Coughing. Then they bloat and
turn into The last word had been painted over carefully.
We dont know how its transmitted. Through the air? Through contact? This
entry was already from the next day. The group had been delayed.
Why hadnt they reported what theyd found? Homer wondered. Instantly he
remembered that hed already read the answer. He riffled back through the pages No
connection. The telephone is dead. Maybe sabotage. Someone whos been exiled? For
revenge? Theyd realized it before we arrived. At first theyd chased the sick into the
tunnels. Maybe one of them cut the cable?
 At that point Homer tore himself away from the pages and stared into the darkness
without seeing anything.
If the cable had been cut, why hadnt they returned to the Sevastopolskaya?
Even worse. It takes a week for symptoms to show. What if more? From there
it takes another week or two before death. Nobody knows whos sick, nobody knows
whos healthy. There is no cure. The disease has a one hundred percent fatality rate. On
the same page the radio operator had made another entry which Homer already knew by
heart: Chaos at the Tulskaya. No way to the metro. Hanza isnt letting anybody through.
We cant go back either.
Two pages ahead he continued: The healthy shoot at the sick, especially the
aggressive ones. Theyve herded the infected into a cage They resist, want out. Then
the most horrible sentence: They are tearing each other to pieces
The radio operator had been afraid, but the groups iron discipline had prevented
them from panicking.
Even in the midst of a deadly epidemic the Sevastopolskaya brigade held their
ground.
Have the situation under control. The station is sealed and we have a new
commander. And then. Who will die next? Homer read. Were all alright but it
hasnt been long enough to hope itll stay that way.
The search party from the Sevastopolskaya had reached the Tulskaya but had been
stuck there as well. Our orders are to stay here until the incubation period has passed
so that we dont endanger Or forever. The radio operator noted darkly: The situation
is hopeless. No help is coming. If we demand more men from the Sevastopolskaya well
only lead them to their doom. There is nothing to do but wait here But for how long?
So the guard at the hermetic gate of the Tulskaya had been put there by the
Sevastopolskaya troop. Thats why the voices had sounded familiar to Homer. It had been
people with whom hed freed the Tschertanovskaya from monsters just a few days ago!
By voluntarily giving up any hope of returning they hoped to spare their own
station the epidemic
 Mostly it passes from human to human but apparently also through the air. Some
seem immune to it. It started a few weeks ago and some are still not sick But more and
more are getting sick. We are living in a morgue. Who will die next?
The haunted writing looked like a hysterical scream by the last sentence. But then
the radio operator had calmed down and continued normally. We have to do something.
To warn the others. I am going to volunteer. Not to the Sevastopolskaya but to repair the
broken part of the cable. We have to reach them.
Another day passed, during which the author had probably argued with the
caravan commander and other soldiers.
A day when his despair had grown stronger. What the radio operator had tried to
explain to them, after he had calmed down again, hed written down in the diary: They
dont understand! The blockade has lasted a whole week. The Sevastopolskaya is going
to send new troops and they wont come back either. Then theyre going to mobilize and
storm the station. But whoever gets to the Tulskaya enters the hot zone. Someone is going
to get infected and run back home. That will be the end. We have to keep them from
storming the station! Why dont they understand?
Another chance to convince the leader had ended in failure, like the rest: They
wont let me go. They have gone mad. If not me then who? I must flee.
I now pretend to agree with them, that we should wait here longer.
Then a day later he wrote: I let them assign me guard duty at the gate. At some
point I decided that Id find the place where the break in the cable and just started
running. They shot me in the back. The bullet is still inside me.
Homer turned the page: I didnt do it for me. Did it for Natasha and
Seryoschka Here the pen had fallen out of the authors weakened fingers. Maybe hed
added it later because there was no more room or because it made no difference where he
wrote it. Then the chronological order resumed: At the Nagornaya they let me pass, for
which Im grateful! I have no strength left. I walk and walk. Passed out. How long did I
sleep? Dont know. Blood in my lungs? From the bullet, or am I sick? I The curve of
the last letters stretched itself to a straight line like a dying mans last breath. But then he
seemed to have come back to his senses again and continued the sentence to its end:
Cant find the break.
What now flowed in red lines over the paper had no more connection to the earlier
writing: The Nachimovski. I have arrived. I know where the telephone is. I am going to
warn them Anything but! Rescue Miss you Got through. Did they hear me? The
end is near. Strange, I am so tired. No more bullets. I want to sleep, before those
Standing there waiting. Go away! I am still alive.
Hed probably written the end of the diary before this entry. With formal, straight
writing he repeated the warning not to storm the Tulskaya, added his name, the name of
the man who had given his life to stop that from happening.
But Homer knew. The last thing the radio operator had written, before his signal
had been silenced was the sentence: Go away! I am still alive.

******

A heavy silence hung over the two people cowering around the fire. Homer
stopped bothering to try and get the girl to talk. Silently he poked at the ashes of the fire
with a stick, where the damp notebook burned reluctantly, like a heretic waiting for a
storm to snuff out the flames.
Fate mocked him. How hed longed to decipher the mystery of the Tulskaya. How
proud hed been when hed discovered the notebook. How hed hoped to weave the
threads of history all by himself. Now? Now that hed found the answers to all the
questions he cursed his curiosity.
Granted when hed taken the notebook from the Nachimovski hed worn a mask
and even now he wore a suit. But nobody knew how the disease was transmitted!
Hed been an idiot to convince himself that he didnt have much time left. At least
the overreaction had helped him get over his complacency and fear. But death had a will
of its own and didnt like being ordered around. And now the diary had given him a
definitive ultimatum: From infection to death there were only a few weeks. Maybe a
whole month how much he had left to do in those puny thirty days!
What should he do? He could confess all this to his companions that he was sick
and should remain at the Kolomenskaya so he could die there, if not from the disease then
hunger and radiation?
On the other hand, if he carried the terrible disease inside him so did Hunter and
the girl whod breathed the same air he had. And more than anyone else, the brigadier,
hed talked with the guardsmen at the Tulskaya, hed been especially close to the hot
zone.
Or should he hope that he was immune, keep it to himself and wait? Not just wait,
but continue on the journey with Hunter. Then the storm of events that had swept him
away wouldnt stop and he could continue on this path to inspiration.
Because Nikolai Ivanovitsch, this common, useless inhabitant of the
Sevastopolskaya, this former assistant train operator, this gravity-bound caterpillar had to
die through the discovery of this cursed diary so that Homer the creator of myths and
chronicles would come to light as a beautiful butterfly. If even just for a short while.
Maybe hed been destined to pen a tragedy that was worthy of the quills of the great
masters, but everything depended on what hed be able to put on a piece of paper in the
next thirty days.
Did he have the right to let this chance go? Did he have the right to turn into a
hermit, to forget his legends, to willingly pass up true immortality and rob all those
around him of it as well? What was the bigger crime, the bigger idiocy to carry the
disease through half the metro or to bury his manuscript alongside his body? He was
seeking fame and didnt have much courage.
Homer had already made his decision. He was just looking for ways to justify it.
What good would it do him to lie down beside the two corpses at the Kolomenskaya, to
let himself be slowly mummified while he still lived? He wasnt cut out for heroics.
When the Sevastopolskayas fighters were ready to face their certain death at the
Tulskaya it had been their decision. At least they wouldnt die alone.
 But what was the point in sacrificing himself?
He couldnt stop Hunter no matter what he did. The old man had carried the
epidemic around with him unwittingly but Hunter knew exactly what was going on at
the Tulskaya. No wonder he had ordered the complete destruction of all the stations
inhabitants, including the Sevastopolskayas caravan. And no wonder hed insisted on
flamethrowers.
But if both of them had already been infected they wouldnt be able to avoid an
epidemic hitting the Sevastopolskaya. And the first people to be hit would be all those
whod been near him. Yelena. The station head. The commander of the border guard. The
adjutants. So in three weeks the station would have no leadership. Chaos would ensue
and then the epidemic would kill the rest.
But why had Hunter gone back when he knew that they were infected? Gradually
it dawned on Homer that the brigadier hadnt acted on intuition but was following a plan,
step by step. But the old man had thrown a wrench into the works.
Was the Sevastopolskaya doomed to fall and his expedition meaningless? Even if
Homer wanted to go home and be with Yelena for what time they had left, it wouldnt be
possible. The journey from the Kachovskaya to the Kaschirskaya alone had been enough
to render their gas masks useless and the suits had been exposed to dozens if not
hundreds of rads theyd have to be disposed of very soon. What was he supposed to do
now?
The girl curled up and slept. The campfire had finally consumed the infected diary
and the last few twigs before snuffing itself out. To save the batteries in his lamp Homer
decided to wait in the dark as long as possible.
He would continue to follow the brigadier! If he avoided contact he could reduce
the risk of infecting others. He could leave the backpack and his things here, destroy his
clothes, hope fate was merciful and keep an eye on the thirty day countdown. Every day
he had left hed work on his book.
Somehow everything would work out, he told himself. The important thing was
that he kept following Hunter.
 If Hunter came back.
It had been over an hour since hed vanished through the shadowy tunnel exit.
Homer had reassured the girl to calm her down but he wasnt entirely convinced that the
brigadier would return.
The more he found out about Hunter the less he understood. It was possible to
doubt the brigadier and yet still believe him at the same time. He didnt follow a pattern,
didnt show any normal human personality traits. When he entrusted himself to Hunter he
exposed himself to a force of nature. But for Homer it was too late, hed already done it.
Regret was pointless.
In the darkness the silence seemed impenetrable. He could hear a strange
whispering, a distant howling and a rustling
Homer thought it sounded like the staggering walk of a corpse eater, and the giant
ghost from the Nagornaya and the screams of the dying.
After less than ten minutes he gave up.
He switched his lamp back on and winced. Two steps away Hunter stood with his
arms crossed, looking down at the sleeping girl. He shaded his eyes from the blinding ray
of light and said calmly, Theyre going to open the door very soon.

***

Sasha dreamed She was alone at the Kolomenskaya waiting for her fathers
return from his latest expedition. He was late and she was determined to be here, ready to
help him out of the radiation suit, pull off the gas mask and help him eat. The table was
already set and she didnt know what else to do to keep herself occupied. She wanted to
get away from the surface door but what if he came back while she was away? Who
would take off his suit? So she sat on the cold ground near the exit hours passed, days
went by and he didnt come. But she wouldnt leave her place until the door
 The dull beating of sliding bars woke her up. It was the same sound shed heard at
the Kolomenskaya. She smiled, her father had arrived. Then she looked around and
remembered everything.
The only thing that was real about her dream was the groaning of the heavy bars
on the iron gate. Just a few moments later the giant door began to vibrate and slowly
open. A ray of light fell through the widening space and it smelled of burnt diesel. The
entrance to the big metro
The door itself opened without a sound and allowed them to look inside the tunnel
that lead to the Avtosavodskaya Nad and, further on, to the ring. A big car with a smoking
motor occupied the tracks. It had a searchlight mounted in front and a large crew of men.
Through the sights of machine guns the men looked down at the blinking wanderers
shielding their eyes.
Put your hands where I can see them! came the order.
Sasha followed the old mans example and they both complied and raised their
hands. It was the same rail car that came over the bridge on market days. These people
knew about Sasha the old man, with his strange name, probably regretted taking the
bound girl with them without so much as asking how shed ended up in that godforsaken
station.
Gas masks down, IDs out, commanded one of the men on the rail car. As Sasha
took off her mask she cursed her stupidity. Nobody could free them. The sentence that
hung over her father and her was still in effect. How could she have been so naive as to
think that these two men could get her into the metro? That nobody would recognize her
at the border?
The men recognized her instantly. Hey, youre not allowed in here! You have ten
seconds to leave. And who is that? Is that your
Whats going on? the old man asked in confusion.
Leave him alone! Its not him! screamed Sasha.
Leave! the voice behind the assault rifle was as cold as ice. Or we will
Shoot at a girl? asked a second voice doubtfully.
 Hey, didnt you hear us?
Shed definitely heard how they readied their rifles.
Sasha stepped back and closed her eyes. For the third time in a few hours she
stared death in the face.
Then she heard a quiet whistling. In the silence that followed she waited for the
order to fire. It never came.
Finally she couldnt stand it any longer and opened an eye. The motor was still
smoking. Blue-gray clouds swam around the white ray of the search light that lay on its
side now for some reason. Now that the light wasnt blinding her Sasha recognized the
people on the rail car.
They lay like marionettes with cut strings, draped on the rail car and tracks.
Mindlessly hanging arms, unnaturally twisted necks and crumpled torsos.
Sasha turned around. Behind her stood the bold one. Hed lowered his pistol and
watched the rail car carefully. It now looked like a butchers counter. Then he raised the
barrel and pulled the trigger again.
Thats it, he said, detached but satisfied. Take their uniforms and gas masks.
Why? the old mans face was unrecognizable with fear.
We have to change clothes. We are taking their rail car to the Avtosvodskaya!
Sasha stared at the killer. Fear and admiration battled inside her. Disgust mixed
with appreciation. Hed just eliminated three men in one blow and violated her fathers
most important rule. But hed done it to save her well, her and the old man, of course.
Was it a mere coincidence that hed saved her a second time? Could it be that shed
mistaken his discipline for cruelty?
One thing was clear, the mans fearlessness made her forget about his scars
The bold one was the first to walk to the rail car and begin stripping off the
enemies rubber scalps. Suddenly he tumbled back and screamed as if hed seen the devil
himself. He put both hands before him and repeated several times: A dark one!
Chapter 9: Air
 Fear and terror are not at all the same thing. Fear pushes you and forces you to act,
makes you intervene. Terror paralyzes your body and mind, it steals humanity from
humans.
Homer had seen enough in his life to know the difference between the two.
The brigadier knew no fear, but terror could apparently master him. But that
wasnt what Homer wondered about at the moment he wanted to know what had
triggered such a reaction.
The body in the gas mask had an inhuman look.
Under the black rubber lay a dark, shimmering skin, full lips and a broad, slightly
concave nose.
Homer hadnt seen any people with dark skin in the two decades since music
television had ceased to exist. But he realized immediately that the dead man had African
ancestry. A rarity in the metro for sure. But what was so terrifying about him?
The brigadier had already calmed down. The strange fit hadnt even lasted for a
full minute. He shone his light on the flat face, groaned something incomprehensible and
started to strip the stiff body. Homer could swear he heard some of the bodys finger
bones snap.
They mock me With friendly greetings, for what? And this is supposed to
be humane? Such a punishment Hunter mumbled quietly.
Had he mistaken the body for someone else? Did he maim the dead man in
revenge for the humiliation hed just suffered, or was there an older, more serious score
to settle? While Homer pushed down his disgust, removing the clothes of a more generic
looking body, he stole furtive glances at the brigadier.
The girl didnt participate in the scavenging and Hunter left her alone. She sat a
distance down the rail, her face in her hands, Homer thought she was crying.
Finally Hunter piled the bodies outside the gate. In less than twenty-four hours
thered be nothing left of them. By day the city was ruled by such terrible creatures that
even the most dangerous creature of the night retreated into its cave and waited for its
hour to come again.
 The strange, but still fresh, blood on the dark uniform couldnt be seen, but it
clung to belly and chest cold as if it sought to find a new living host. It caused the flesh
to crawl and the mind to reel.
And Homer asked himself if this masquerade was even necessary. He reassured
himself that at least the suits could help prevent more infections at the Avtosavodskaya. If
Hunters plan worked they would pass through freely, everyone would think they were
one the same side But what if it didnt work? Did he have any intention of leaving
witnesses behind?
The brigadiers blood lust repulsed Homer but fascinated him at the same time. A
third of his murders could be justified with self-defense but still there was more sadism
behind them than was warranted. A more important question tormented the old man. Had
Hunter simply volunteered to go to the Tulskaya to sate his blood lust?
The unfortunate people whod ambushed them hadnt found a cure for the
mysterious sickness but that didnt mean there wasnt one. Here in the underground there
were still places where scientific thinking prevailed, where people researched, developed
new medicines and mixed serums. For example, Polis, the heart of the metro where all
four arteries converged, was closest thing to a city that remained. It stretched over the
labyrinth of stations from the Arabatskaya, Borovizkaya, sad Alexandrovski and
Biblioteca Imeni Linian.
And that was true even before all the doctors and scientist had settled down. There
was also the giant bunker next to the Taganskaya the secret city of science at Hanza.
The Tulskaya may not have been the only station where the epidemic struck.
Maybe others had fought it off successfully? How could you abandon hope for rescue so
easily? Of course now that Homer carried a time bomb inside him he only cared about his
own selfish interests. His mind had made peace with the death that awaited him, but his
instincts resisted and ordered him to find a way out. Maybe if he found a way to rescue
the Tulskaya he could save his own station from oblivion and perhaps even himself
Hunter, on the other hand, seemed to believe that there was only one cure for the
disease...
 The few words that hed exchanged with the guards at the Tulskaya had been
enough to condemn them to death and make himself judge, jury and executioner. First
hed led the commander of the Sevastopolskaya on a wild goose chase, then hed secured
the decision he wanted and now he readied his uncompromising execution of it. The
Tulskaya would go down in flames.
Maybe he knew something about what was going on at the station that would turn
everything on its head once more? Something that nobody else knew, not Homer or the
man that had left his diary at the Nachimovski Prospect
After he finished with the bodies the brigadier tore the flask from its holder and
gulped down the rest of its contents. What had been in it? Alcohol? Was it a potion or
was he just trying to get rid of a bad aftertaste? Did he revel in the moment or seek to
forget or hope to dull something inside with alcohol?

******

The old, smoking rail car was somewhat like a time machine for Sasha, right out
of the fairy tales her father used to tell her.
It didnt just transport her from the Kolomenskaya to the Avtosavodskaya but
transported her from the present into the past. Though she didnt know if she could really
call her years in this stone prison, this worm tunnel, the past and where she was now
the present.
She remembered the whole journey there. Her father had been bound and set down
next to her, a sack over his head and a gag in his mouth. Shed only been a little girl and
had cried the whole way. One of the soldiers from the execution squad had made animal
shapes with his fingers. Their shadows had danced over a small yellow stage on the
ceiling. The shadows had tried to outrun the rail car.
When theyd reached the other side theyd told her father his sentence. The
revolutionary tribunal had pardoned him. The death sentence had been replaced with
lifelong exile. Theyd pushed her father onto the tracks, at knife-point, given him an
assault rifle with a spare clip and an old gas mask and set Sasha down next to him. The
soldier whod shown her the horse and dog shapes waved at her. Had he been one of the
men Hunter shot?
When she put on the black gas mask from one of the dead soldiers, the feeling
came on even stronger that she was breathing a dead mans air. Every inch of her journey
had been paid for with someone's life. The bold one would probably have shot them no
matter what but now Sasha thought of herself as an accomplice just by her presence.
Her fathers refusal to return home wasnt because hed tired of fighting. Hed said
that his humiliation and deprivation wasnt worth another strangers life, so he preferred
to suffer rather than cause anyone else harm. Sasha hadnt known the scale of life was
tipped so heavily to his side, with all the people her father had on his conscience he had
tried to bring it back into balance.
The bold one could have acted sooner, could have scared the people on the rail car
with his presence alone and had them lay down their weapons without a fight. None of
those men had been his equal.
Why had he done all this?

******

Her childhood station approached sooner than she expected. It was less than ten
minutes before the lights began to flicker. The tunnel to the Avtosavodskaya wasnt
guarded. It seemed that the inhabitants trusted the hermetic gates to keep them safe.
About fifty meters before the train platform began the bold one slowed the motor,
commanded the old man to take over the steering wheel and stood next to the machine
gun.
The rail car rolled almost silently and very slowly into the station. Or was it time
itself that slowed for Sasha as she gazed at the station, remembering her childhood?
 It was the day that her father had ordered the adjutant to hide until everything was
over. The man had led her deep into the work offices in the belly of the station, but even
there you could hear the screams from hundreds of throats shouting at once. Her
companion had told her to stay put and immediately rushed back to his commander.
Sasha had followed him, out into the main hall of the station
While they slithered over the train platform Sasha saw the roomy family tents and
the two train wagons that had been converted into offices, children played catch, old men
put their heads together, cranky women cleaned guns And she saw her father behind a
small troop of grim, slightly-scary looking men, how they tried to keep the endless, angry
mob at bay. She ran to him and pressed herself against his back. In surprise he shook her
away, turned around and punched the surprised adjutant angrily in the face. But
something had happened. The formation that stood with their rifles readied, waiting for
the firing order got the all-clear.
There was only one shot fired, and it was into the air, her father explained that he
was ready to hand over the station to the revolutionaries peacefully and negotiate.
Her father always firmly believed that mankind received signs. You had to
recognize them and interpret them correctly.
But time hadnt just slowed down so that Sasha could relive the last days of her
childhood. She saw the armed man rise to stop the rail car before the others. She saw how
the bold one appeared behind the heavy machine gun in a single fluid motion and how he
pointed the heavy barrel at the surprised guards.
Like the crack of a whip the order to stop the rail car came to her ears. She knew,
in a few short seconds so many people would die that she would feel like she was living
on borrowed time until the end of days.
She could prevent a bloodbath. She could rescue these people, herself and another
human being from something terrible.
The guardsmen were already readying their assault rifles, but they took too long.
The bold one was quicker to the draw
She did the only thing she could think of.
 She jumped up and hugged the iron hard back, crossed her hands in front his
unmoving chest. The bold one winced as if hed been struck, but he hesitated. The
soldiers on the other side, that held their rifles ready, froze as well.
The old man understood immediately.
The rail car spat out bitter black clouds and rushed on, the Avtosavodskaya fell
away behind them.
In the past.
During their drive to the Pavelezkaya nobody said a word. Hunter had freed
himself from the surprise hug. Hed bent her arms away from him like an iron cuff thatd
been too tight.
They rushed past a single guard post at full speed.
The bullets the guards sent from behind the car went right over their heads and
into the ceiling. The brigadier was just quick enough to pull out his pistol and fire three
silent shots in reply. He managed to kill one of the guards, it seemed, but the others
ducked behind the flat tunnel segments and escaped with their lives.
I dont believe this, thought Homer and he looked at the girl cowering on the
ground. He had hoped that the arrival of his female protagonist would have created some
kind of love story but this was developing far too quickly. He didnt even have time to
understand what it meant, let alone write it down.
Only when they had reached the Pavelezkaya did they slow down.
The old man was familiar with the station. It looked like it came straight out of a
horror novel. While the tombs of the newer stations in Moscows outer regions rested on
normal pillars, the Pavelezkaya rested on an array of tall, rounded arches that were taller
than any human. As was expected in a horror novel, there was a curse on the
Pavelezkaya. At exactly eight o clock in the evening the station, where only minutes
before people busily brokered deals, emptied. Of all the busy, sly inhabitants only a few
daredevils remained on the platform.
All the others disappeared with their children, furniture, and bags full of wares
not even the benches and stretchers remained.
 They crawled into their bunker, the nearly kilometer long tunnel to the ring line,
shivered there for the entire night because there, where the Pavelezkaya station was,
terrible creatures awoke on the surface and roamed. It was said that the entire region was
under these creatures unchallenged rule and even when those creature slept others didnt
dare go near them. The inhabitants of the Pavelezkaya were at these creatures mercy
because the hermetic gates that protected other stations, and the escalators that led to
them, were missing the entrance to the surface was always open.
In Homers opinion they couldnt have picked a worse place to make camp for the
night but Hunter seemed to think otherwise. He brought the railcar to a halt at the end of
the station, took off his gas mask and pointed at the train platform. Well stay here until
morning. Look for a place to sleep.
Then he left. The girl watched him go and curled up on the hard floor of the rail
car. Homer tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. It was an effort made in
vain. Once again his thoughts wandered to the disease and how he would carry it to all
the healthy stations. The girl was silent too, but awake.
Thank you, she said abruptly. I thought you were just like him at first.
I dont think theres another person alive just like him, Homer said.
Are you two friends?
Like a shark and its pilot fish. He smiled sadly at just how fitting that picture
was. True, it was Hunter that killed all those humans, but a few bloody shreds of it were
his doing.
She sat up. What do you mean?
Where he goes, I go. I dont think I can go anywhere without him and he Well
maybe he thinks that I perform some useful function like one of the pilot fish. I dont
really know what goes on in his head.
The girl sat close to the old man, And what do you want from him?
I have a feeling that as long as I stay near him I stay inspired.
What does inspired mean?
It actually means to breathe something in.
 What do you want to breathe in? What good does it do you?
Homer shrugged. Its not really something that we breathe in. It whats breathed
into us.
The girl drew something on the dirty floor of the rail car. As long as you breathe
in death nobody will want to touch your lips. Everybody will back away from the smell
of corpses.
When you see death you think about a lot things, Homer said shortly.
That doesnt give you the right to cause death whenever you want something to
think about, she said.
Its not like that! the old man said defensively. Im just following him. For me
its not about death well, not just about it. Its about shaking me awake, clearing my
head.
Was your life that bad? the girl asked with genuine empathy.
It was boring. When one day is like the next, they fly by so fast that you can see
the last one speeding towards you. Homer tried to explain. Youre afraid youll never
finish things anymore. And every day is filled with thousands of small things. After you
finish with one you catch your breath and go on to the next. In the end you dont have the
strength or time to do whats really important. You tell yourself: its okay, Ill just start it
tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes and its always today.
Have you seen many stations? She didnt really seem to be listening to him.
I dont know, Homer answered in surprise. Probably all of them.
Ive only seen two, sighed the girl. At first my father and I lived at the
Avtosavodskaya and then they chased us away, to the Kolomenskaya. Ive always wished
that I could see at least one more. But this one is so strange. Her gaze wandered along
the array of round arches. Like thousands of entrances without any walls between them.
Now all the stations are open to me, but I dont want to go anywhere. Im afraid.
The second body Was that your father? Homer hesitated. Was he
murdered?
The girl retreated inside herself and was quiet for a while before saying, Yes.
 Homer took a deep breath. Stay with us. Im going to tell to Hunter that I need
you, to He spread his arms but he didnt know how he could explain to the girl that
she would be his muse.
Tell him that he needs me. She jumped down onto the tracks and walked away
from the car. As she walked she glanced at every single arch she passed.
She wasnt flirting and she wasnt playing around. She wasnt interested in guns
and she felt indifferent about using her feminine arsenal, with all its striking looks and
lovely gestures. She didnt understand how a single look could create a storm of passion
or that some people were ready to sacrifice or kill for even a hint of a smile.
Or perhaps she just didnt know how to use these weapons?
Whatever, she didnt need such an arsenal. With her hard, direct approach shed
forced Hunter to change his course of action, with a single move shed thrown her net
over him and stopped him from committing another murder.

***

Had she broken his armor? Had she found his soft core? Or did he need her for
something? Probably the latter. The thought of the brigadier having a weakness that
didnt make him vulnerable was too much for Homer.
He just couldnt sleep. Even though hed exchanged the heavy, sticky gas mask
with a lighter one he still had trouble breathing. It felt like somebody had stuck his head
in a vice.
Homer had left all his possessions in the tunnel. Hed cleaned his hands with a
piece of gray soap, washed away the dirt with foul water from a canister and decided to
wear a gasmask at all times. What else could he do protect the people he came in contact
with?
Nothing. Truly nothing, not anymore. Not even exiling himself, fighting through
the tunnels and becoming a rotten pile of shreds would help. But now that he was so close
to death it brought him back more than twenty years, into his prime, when hed just lost
the people hed loved. And this gave his plans a new and true purpose.
If it had been within Homers power he would have given them a memorial. They
had earned at least a common tombstone. They had been born decades apart, but all had
died on the same day: His wife, his children and his parents.
And his classmates and friends from school. The actors and musicians hed
worshipped. All those whod still been at work, and those already at home or stuck in
traffic.
Those whod died and those who lingered for days in the irradiated, half-destroyed
city. Those whod tried to survive and weakly scraped at the metros closed security
gates.
Those whod been instantly vaporized into their base elements and those that had
bloated and fallen to pieces, eaten alive by radiation sickness.
The scouts whod been the first to go to the surface had trouble getting any sleep
for days after coming back. Homer had met some of them at the campfire near the
transfer station. In their eyes there had still had been the indelible impression that the city
left on them, they were like frozen rivers that spilled over with dead fish. Thousands of
still cars, with their lifeless passengers, blocked the prospects and exits of Moscow.
Bodies were everywhere. Nobody was there to get rid of them until finally new creatures
took ownership of the city.
To keep their sanity stalkers avoided schools and daycare centers. But it was
enough to lose your mind if you happened to catch a vacant stare through a dusty window
from the backseat of a family car.
Millions of lives had simply stopped. Millions of words left unspoken, millions of
dreams left unfulfilled and millions of arguments left unforgiven. Nikolais youngest son
had been asking for a big package of colored, felt-tip pens for a while. His daughter had
been afraid of ice skating lessons and his wife had described a short vacation they should
go on, just the two of them beside the ocean, before going to bed
 When hed realized that these small wishes and passions had been their last theyd
become far more important to him.
He would have liked to engrave a memorial plate for every one of them, but an
engraving on the giant mass grave of humanity was also a worthy cause. And now that
his time was running out he thought that he now knew how to find the words.
He didnt know what order he should put them in yet, how he could fix them in
place, or how he would decorate them, but he felt it. In the story that played out before
his eyes he would find a place for all the restless souls, all the feelings and grains of truth
that hed gathered so meticulously. And in the end, it was also a place for himself. This
was the best plot for it, better than anything else.
As soon as he woke it would be bright and the merchants would venture back to
their station and he would try to find a clean notebook and a pen. He had to hurry, if he
didnt commit the mirage of his novel floating before his eyes to paper soon it could
vanish into thin air again and he didnt know how long he would have to sit atop a dune
and stare at the horizon in the hopes that the tiny grains of sand and shimmering air
would form a personal ivory tower once more.
He may not even have enough time left to wait.
An ironic smile crossed his lips, he thought: No matter what the girl said, it was
the look in her empty eyes that forced Hunter to act. Then he had to think about the
curved eyebrows, the two bright discs in her dark, dirty face, the chewed lips, the shaggy
blond hair and he smiled again.
Tomorrow at the market he would have to find something for her too he thought as
he nodded off to sleep.

***

At the Pavelezkaya the nights were always restless. The light of the foul-smelling
torches flickered across the marble walls, the tunnel stirred restlessly. At the foot of the
escalator only a few silhouettes could be seen and if they talked to each other it was
nearly inaudible. The station looked like it was dead. Everyone hoped the wild creatures
on the surface werent searching for corpses.
But sometimes the curious animals discovered the deeply recessed entrance and
smelled the fresh sweat, heard the steady beat of human hearts and felt the warm blood
running through their veins.
Sometimes they even ventured down.
Homer had finally fallen into a half sleep-like state and an excited voice on the
other side of the train platform only got through to his conscience with difficulty and lost
its meaning along the way. But then the sound of a machine gun tore him from his
slumber. The old man jumped up and searched the cars floor for his weapon.
The ear-numbing heavy machine gun fire was joined by shots from assault rifles.
The shouts from the guards werent just nervous but also frightened. Whatever it was that
they were shooting at didnt seem to take any damage. There was no organized defense to
speak of against this moving target, people fired wildly and only thought of saving their
own hides.
Finally Homer found his Kalashnikov but he didnt dare step onto the platform. He
resisted the temptation to start the motor and flee, the destination wouldnt have mattered.
He stayed on the rail car and stuck his head between the pillars to watch the fighting.
Suddenly a penetrating scream came from nearby where guards were yelling and
cursing. The heavy machine gun fire ebbed, somebody screamed terribly before going
silent. The silence was abrupt, as if something had torn the screamers head off.
Again the assault rifles sounded, but only occasionally and even then in short
bursts. Again screaming, it seemed further away now And suddenly the creature made
a sound and there was an echo near the car.
Homer counted to ten and started the motor with shaking hands. Any moment now
his companions would return or he would leave, he did this for them not for himself
The railcar vibrated, started to smoke, the motor overheated and something
jumped through the pillars with blinding speed. Fast as lighting it disappeared from his
field of view, so quick that he wasnt able to form any impression of the creatures shape
or appearance.
The old man held on to the side rails, put his foot on the accelerator and took a
deep breath. If they didnt come back in ten seconds hed leave them and
Before he realized what he was doing hed stepped onto the train platform and
held his useless assault rifle ready. He just wanted to make sure that his companions
didnt need his help.
He pressed himself against a pillar and cast a look at the middle platform
He wanted to scream but he didnt seem to have enough air in his lungs.

***

Sasha had always known that the world was bigger than the two stations shed
lived in up until now. But shed never known that the world was so beautiful. Even the
boring, slightly dreary Kolomenskaya had been a comfortable home and shed known
every inch of it. The Avtosavodskaya, roomy and cold, had arrogantly turned away from
her father, exiled him, and shed never forget that.
Her relationship with the Pavelezkaya, on the other hand, had no such emotional
baggage and Sasha felt like she was falling in love with the station. The soft, wide-
reaching pillars, the big, inviting arches, the noble marble, the fine veins on the walls that
made it look like the soft skin of a human
If the Kolomenskaya been dreary and poor, and the Avtosavodskaya dark, then this
station was female it had a calm and playful nature. The Pavelezkaya had retained her
former beauty through the decades.
The humans here couldnt be merciless or evil, Sasha thought. She and her father
only had to get past the two hostile stations to get to this magical place Hed only
needed to hold on for one more day to escape from exile and find freedom She would
have forced the bold one to take them both along
 In the distance a campfire flickered by itself where only moments before a
guardsman had been sitting. The beam of a search light climbed up to the high ceiling but
Sashas attention wasnt drawn to it. How many years she had believed that she just had
to escape the Kolomenskaya to meet other people and be happy! But now she only
wanted one human to share her company, her awe that the earth was at least a whole third
bigger than shed known and her hope that she could fix it. But who needed her, Sasha?
No one needed her, no matter what she and the old man said.
And so the girl walked in the other direction, where a derelict train, with smashed
windows and an open door, stood in the right half of the tunnel. She stepped into the car,
from that one to the next, inspected the first, the second and then the third. In the last one
she discovered a miraculously unharmed seat and laid down on it. She looked up and
imagined that the train would start driving to the next station any second now where
bright and loud human voices were. But she didnt have enough strength to imagine this
mound of steel scrap moving from its place.
With her bicycle it had been a lot easier.
Then the game of hide and seek came to an end. The sound of a fight echoed from
one wagon to the next and finally reached her.
Again?
She jumped up and ran to the train platform, the only place where she could still
do something.

***

The shredded corpses of the guards lay next to the glass cabin with its immobile
search light over the smoldering fire in the middle of the hall. Other fighters had
apparently given up and started running for cover in the passageway, but death had
caught up to them halfway there.
Over one of the bodies a terrible and unnatural figure crouched down. Even
though it was only barely visible from this distance, Homer recognized smooth white
skin, a powerful, twitching jaw and the impatiently jerking legs with many strongly bent
joints.
The battle was lost.
Where was Hunter? Homer leaned forward again and froze Maybe ten steps
from him, mirroring Homer leaning around the pillar, as if it wanted to lure or play with
him, a terrible visage stared down from a height of two meters. From its lower jaw
dripped red liquid and it was gnawing on a chunk of flesh. The gnawing seemed to go on
forever.
Under the flat forehead there was nothing, the creature had no eyes, but that didnt
seem to keep it from sensing other beings or moving and attacking.
Homer turned and pulled the trigger but the rifle remained silent. The chimera
made a long ear-numbing scream and jumped to the middle of the hall. Panicking, Homer
fumbled with the safety though he knew that it was pointless
But the creature suddenly lost interest in him and turned its attention to the train
platform. Homer followed the blind gaze of the creature and his heart skipped a beat.
There stood the girl, scared and searching for something.
Run! yelled Homer in a voice that was a hoarse, painful croak.
The white chimera covered the distance in a single leap and stood directly in front
of the young women. She pulled out a knife, which wasnt good for much more than
cooking, and made a threatening move to the side.
In response the creature swung its front claws at the girl and she fell to the ground.
The blade was flung to the floor.
Homer stood next to the rail car but he didnt think of fleeing. Rasping, he waved
his assault rifle and tried to get the white, dancing silhouette in his sights.
He failed. The creature had reached the girl.
The guards, who might have been a threat to this creature, had been torn to shreds
in the first few minutes and these two helpless beings were the only ones left, backed into
a corner.
It seemed to want to play with them for a while before it killed them.
 It hovered over Sasha, blocking his view, so the old man couldnt see anything.
Was it turning her inside out?
But then it winced and moved back, scratched at a growing spot on its back with
its claws, turned around roaring, ready to eat its attacker.
Hunter stumbled towards the creature.
In one hand he carried an automatic assault rifle and the other hung limply at his
side. You could tell that every step hurt.
The brigadier shot another burst at the creature but it was surprisingly resilient, it
staggered for a moment, found its balance again and bounded forward.
Hunters bullets ran out but he was able to bury his machete into the massive chest
of the creature. The chimera fell on him, buried him under its broad form, and suffocated
him with its weight.
As if things werent bad enough, a second creature leapt down next to the first. It
stared at the twitching body of its fallen kin, put a claw on the white skin as if trying to
wake it and then turned its eyeless visage on Homer
He couldnt miss this opportunity. The large caliber rifle shredded the chimeras
chest, split open its head and, when the animal had finally fallen to the ground, tore the
marble plates to splinters and dust. It took a moment for Homers heart to still and his
finger to let go of the trigger.
Then he closed his eyes, ripped the mask from his face and breathed in the cold air
that was heavy with the scent of fresh blood.
All the heroes had fallen and hed been left alone on the battlefield.
His book was over before it had even started.
Chapter 10: After Death

Whats left of the dead? Whats left of all of us? Tombstones sink into the ground,
moss covers them, and after a few centuries the inscription are illegible.
Even in earlier times a grave that nobody cared about anymore would be
reassigned to the recently deceased. Most graves only saw their children visit, or the
parents of the dead, grandchildren came less often and great-grandchildren almost
never.
What was called everlasting peace only lasted half a century in big cities, and then
the bones were disinterred, to increase the density of the graveyard, because they wanted
to transform the graveyard into a suburb. The earth had become too small, for both the
living and the dead.
In half a century burial had become a luxury that only a few could afford who died
before judgment day. But who cares about a single body when the whole planet is dying.
None of the inhabitants of the metro had the honor of a funeral; nobody could
hope that the rats would spare their bodies.
Before the remains of humans only had the right to remain as long as the living
remembered them. A human being remembers their relatives, their friends and
colleagues. But human memory reached back only three generations. Just over fifty
years.
With the same ease you let the picture of your grandfather or your school friend
slip from your conscience and into absolute nothingness. The memories of a human can
last longer than the bones, but as soon as the last one who remembers us passes, we
dissolve with time.
Photographs who makes them anymore? And how many of them were kept when
anybody could still make them?
Back then there was almost no more space in the thick family albums for old and
faded pictures, but almost nobody who looked through it could say for sure who was in
the photos. The photographs of the past can be interpreted as a kind of death mask, but
not as an imprint of their souls when they were living.
And the photographs only decay a little slower than the body whose image they
captured.
Whats left?
Our children?
Homer snuffed the flame of the candle with his fingers. The answer wasnt easy
for him to find, Achmeds words still pained him. Hed been damned to a life without
children, unable to achieve that kind of immortality, so he couldnt do anything but
choose his current path.
Again he reached for his pen.
 They may look like us. In their reflection we mirror ourselves in a strange way.
United with those wed loved. In their gestures, their culture we happily, or sadly, see
ourselves.
Friends confirm that our sons and daughters are just like us. Maybe that gives us
a certain continuation of ourselves when we are no more.
We werent the first. Weve been made from countless copies that came before us,
just another chimera, always half from our fathers and half from our mothers who were
again the halves of their parents. So is there nothing unique in us are we just an endless
mixture of small, mosaic parts that endlessly exist inside us? Have we been formed from
millions of small pieces to form a complete picture that has no individual worth and is
doomed to disperse into its base elements once more?
Does it even make sense to be happy if we see ourselves in our children that a
certain line that traveled through our bodies for millions of years continues on?
What will remain of me?
Homer had it harder than the rest. Hed always envied those who put faith in life
after death. Whenever hed come to this conversation about the afterlife his thoughts
always turned to the Nachimovski prospect almost immediately, with its disgusting,
corpse-eating creatures.
Maybe he was made of something more than flesh and blood, flesh which would
sooner or later be eaten by corpse eaters and digested.
But if there was something in him then it existed as a part of his body.
What remained of the Egyptian pharaohs? What of Greeces heroes? The
renaissance artists? Was something left of them and did it exist inside their bodies or in
what theyd left behind?
What kind of immortality was left for mankind?
Homer reread what hed written, thought about it for a little while, ripped the
pages out of the notebook carefully, crumpled them up and put them on an iron plate and
set them on fire. After a minute, there was nothing left of the work hed done over the last
three hours but a handful of ash.
 ******

Shed died.
Sasha had always imagined death like that the last ray of light extinguished, all
sounds silenced, her body numb and nothing but darkness.
Humanity had emerged from darkness and silence. It was inevitable that they
would return to it. Sasha knew all the fables of heaven and hell, but the underworld
sounded harmless to her. Eternity in absolute darkness, silence and being able to do
absolutely nothing was a hundred times more terrible than some cauldrons with cooking
oil in them.
But then a small shivering ray of light appeared.
Sasha reached for it but couldnt touch it. The dancing ray of light flew away from
her, came back, beckoned her, and flew away once more. She knew instantly what it was
a tunnel wisp.
When a human died in the metro, her father said, his or her soul was lost and had
to wander the dark labyrinth of tunnels that lead nowhere. It didnt realize that it wasnt
bound to a body anymore, its earthly life had ended and so it had to wander for a long
time before finally someday in the distant future it saw the shine of a ghostly fire. So it
would guide her there, because this little fire had been sent to lead her soul to find its cold
rest. But sometimes the fire took pity on a soul and brought it back its lost body. You
could say that these people had returned from the beyond. It was more accurate to say
that darkness had let them go again.
The tunnel wisp beckoned Sasha, again and again; in the end she couldnt resist
and accepted her fate. She couldnt feel her legs anymore, but she wouldnt need them.
To follow the spot of light she just had to keep it in sight. She had to fix her eyes on it as
if she sought to capture and tame it.
 Sasha caught the light in her gaze and it pulled her through the darkness, through
the labyrinth of tunnels which she never could have left if shed been on her own. They
went on until they reached the last station of the life line.
And then she saw it there in front of her her guide seemed to sketch the contours
of a faraway room where they waited for her.
Sasha! a voice suddenly called after her. She realized with some surprise that
she knew the voice, but she didnt know who it belonged to anymore. The voice had a
full, wise, and caring tone to it.
Father? she asked in disbelief.
They had come. The ghostly tunnel wisp stood still, turned into a common fire,
jumped onto the wick of a candle and made itself comfortable like a cat that had just
returned home
A cold, wrinkled hand covered hers. Slowly Sasha loosened her gaze from the
flame because she feared that she could sink into the ground at any moment. As soon as
she woke she felt the stinging pain in her forearm and her forehead. Simple furniture
appeared out of the darkness: A few chairs, a dresser Sasha was lying on a stretcher
that was so soft that she couldnt feel her back.
She felt like her body only came back to her gradually.
Sasha? repeated the voice.
She looked at the person that was speaking and quickly pulled her hand back. At
her bedside sat the old man whod been with her on the rail car. His touch had not been a
claim it was neither harsh nor indecent. Shame and disappointment had made her pull
back her hand. How could she have mistaken the voice of a stranger for that of her
father? Why had the tunnel wisp led her back here of all places?
The old man smiled softly. He seemed to be pleased that shed woken up. Only
now did she recognize the warm shine in his eyes which shed only seen in one other
human. No, she knew she must be mistaken
She was ashamed of herself.
 Forgive me, she said. In a flash her last minutes at the Pavelezkaya came back to
her. She sat bolt upright. Hows your friend?

***

She didnt know if she should be crying or laughing. Maybe she just didnt have
the strength for it.
Luckily the chimeras razor sharp claws had missed her. Only its paw had hit her.
But she had been unconscious for a whole day. The doctor had assured Homer that her
life was in no danger. He hadnt spoken of his own problems with the doctor.
While Sasha was unconscious Homer had gotten used to calling her by that name.
He sank back into his chair and she leaned against her pillow. The old man returned to
the table, where an opened notebook with ninety-six pages of writing awaited him. He
turned the pen around in his hand and continued where hed been interrupted by the
feverish girl.
But this time the caravan was late so late that there was only one
explanation:
Something had gone wrong, something terrible, something that not even caravan
guards armed to the teeth or close ties with Hanzas leadership could have stopped.
It wouldnt have been so bad if they could only call ahead to the ring line
But something was wrong with the connection; theyd lost contact on Monday and
the squad they sent out to find the break had returned empty handed.
Homer raised his eyes and winced. The girl stood directly behind him and was
looking over his shoulder at what hed been scribbling down. Her curiosity seemed to be
the only thing that kept her on her feet.
Embarrassed, the old man turned the notebook to an empty page.
Are you still waiting for inspiration? she asked him.
Im only at the very beginning, Homer mumbled.
And what happened to the caravan?
 I dont know, he carefully framed the title with his pen. The story wont be
over for a long time yet. Lie down, you need to rest.
But you get to figure out how your book ends.
Nothing in this book is decided by me. I just write down everything that
happens.
Then its even more your decision than it would be otherwise, the girl said
thoughtfully. Am I in it too?
Homer smiled, I wanted to ask your permission before I added you.
Ill think about it, she answered seriously. Why are you writing this book?
Homer stood up so he could talk to her at eye level.
Hed already realized after his last conversation with Sasha that her youth and
inexperience had created a false image in her mind. At the strange station where theyd
found her, a year must have seemed as long as two. She didnt answer the questions he
spoke out loud, but the ones that he left unspoken. And she only asked questions which
he had no answers for.
He was counting on her honesty, how else could she ever be his books heroine?
He had to be honest too, he couldnt treat her like a child and he couldnt answer her with
silence. He couldnt say anything less than what hed already admitted to himself.
He said, I want people to remember me. Me and those who were close to me.
They dont know how the world used to be or the ones that I have loved. I want them to
hear the most important things I witnessed and discovered. That my life wasnt in vain.
That something is left of me.
You are putting your soul into it? She tilted her head. But its just a notebook.
It could be burned or lost. An uncertain place to store your soul, isnt it?
Homer sighed, No, I only need this notebook to put everything in the right order.
And to make sure that I dont forget anything important before the story is finished.
When its finished you just have to tell it to someone. The way I imagine it, hopefully,
you dont need paper or a body to spread the story.
 Youve surely seen a lot that shouldnt be forgotten. The girl shrugged. I dont
have anything that would be worth writing down. Leave me out of the book. Dont waste
paper on me.
But you have your whole life ahead of you Homer started and realized he
wouldnt live to see it.
The girl didnt react and Homer already feared that she would shut him out again.
He searched for the right words, to try and take everything back, but he tripped over his
sorrows time and again.
Whats the most beautiful thing you can remember? she suddenly asked.
The most beautiful? Homer hesitated. It was a strange thing to tell a person who
hed only known for the last two days his deepest thoughts. He hadnt even told Yelena
everything. Shed always thought that the picture on the wall of their apartment was just
a normal landscape of the city. Could a girl whod been underground her whole life
possibly understand what he was about to tell her?
He decided that he would let things happen as they would. Summer rain, he
said.
Sashas forehead wrinkled in thought, which looked strange on her young face,
What is so beautiful about it?
Have you ever seen rain?
No, the girl shook her head. Father didnt want me to go outside. I climbed up
two or three times anyways, but I didnt like it up there at all. Its terrible when there are
no walls around you. Then she explained it to make sure that they were talking about the
same thing. Rain is when water falls from the sky, right?
Homer wasnt listening anymore. Again that day emerged from the distant past.
Like a medium his body let the summoned ghost possess it, he stared into the distance
and kept speaking
The whole month had been dry and hot. My wife was pregnant, shed always had
trouble breathing and when it got this hot There was only one fan in the entire clinic
and she complained about how hot it was. I couldnt breathe very well either and I felt
terrible for her. It was bad for years wed been trying to have children and now the
doctors scared us by telling us we were in danger of a miscarriage.
She was under constant observation then, but it wouldve been better for her to
stay at home. The due date had already passed but the contractions hadnt started. I
couldnt take every day off work, of course. Somebody told me that if you carry a child
too long the risk of a miscarriage increases. I didnt know what to do. As soon as I got off
work I ran to the clinic and kept watch outside her window. In the tunnels there was no
cell phone reception so every time I got to a station I checked to see if I had missed any
calls. And then suddenly there was a message from the doctor: Please call me back right
away. Until I found a quiet place to think Id already had visions of burying my wife and
child old, fearful idiot that I was.
Homer was quiet, as if he was listening to the ring back tone from a phone,
waiting for somebody to pick up.
The girl didnt interrupt him. She saved her questions for later.
Then a strangers voice said Congratulations, its a boy. It sounds so simple,
Its a boy. Theyd brought my wife back from the dead and then this miracle I ran up
the stations escalator and it was raining. A cool rain. The air had grown so light, so clear.
As if the city had lain under a dusty, plastic foil and suddenly somebody had taken it
away. The leaves shined, finally the sky started moving once more and the houses looked
so fresh. I ran along the Tverskaya, to the flower booth and cried because I was so happy.
I had an umbrella but I didnt open it,
I wanted to get wet, wanted to feel the rain. I cant explain it It was like Id just
been born and was seeing the world for the first time. And the world was fresh and new,
as if they had just cut its umbilical cord and bathed it for the first time.
It was like everything had been made anew and the world was trying to make up
for all the bad things that had happened. Id have a second chance at life now what I
hadnt been able to accomplish, my son would accomplish. Everything here was just for
us. In front of us
 Again Homer was quiet. He saw the ten story tall Stalin houses, the sinking,
evening fog gradually turning pink, heard the busy noises of the Tverskaya, breathed in
the sweet, polluted air, closed his eyes and put his face into the summertime monsoon.
When he came back to himself, small raindrops shimmered on his cheeks and eyes.
He quickly wiped them off with his sleeve.
You know, said the girl, not in the least embarrassed by this display of emotion.
Maybe rain is something beautiful. I dont have memories like that. Can you spare some
for me? If you want to. She smiled at him. You can put me in your book. Somebody
has to be in charge of how it all ends.

***

Its still too soon, the doctor said sternly.

Sasha didnt know how to explain to this dictator the importance of what she was
asking him. She took a deep breath and readied another attack, but instead made a surly
gesture and turned around.
You are going to have to be patient. But since youre already on your feet, and
apparently feeling well, you can go for a walk. The doctor packed his instruments into
an old plastic bag and shook Homers hand. Ill be back in an hour. Im on orders from
up high to be extra thorough in treating you. After all, were all in your debt.
Homer threw a dirty military jacket to Sasha. She stepped out of the room,
followed the doctor through the other areas of the hospital, past a row of rooms and
chambers full of desks and stretchers, then up two stories, through an inconspicuous, low
door and then out into an enormously long hall. Sasha froze at the doorstep, unable to
move.
Shed never seen anything like this. It was beyond her how so many people could
live in one place like this.
 Thousands of faces without masks! And so different from one another! There were
humans of all ages, from old men to babies. Innumerable men: Some with beards, clean-
shaven, tall, small, tired, awake, emaciated and muscled.
Some whod been disfigured in battle, some with birth defects, bright beauties and
some that were unattractive but strangely alluring. And there were just as many women:
Some with big butts, red faced women, but also thin, pale girls with unbelievably colorful
dresses and interlacing necklaces.
Would they notice that Sasha was different?
Would she, hoping to blend into this crowd, act like she was one of them or would
they gang up on her and tear her to pieces, like a horde of rats might do to a strange
albino? At first it felt like all eyes were on her and every new look made her face feel
warmer and warmer. But after fifteen minutes she got used to it: Some looked at her with
hostility, some curiosity, some too intrusively, but most just ignored her. They passed
Sasha with indifference in their eyes and kept on going without a second glance.
It seemed like the scattered and blurry looks were the oil that lubricated the gears
of this convoluted mechanism. If the people became too interested in each other the
friction would grow too strong and the whole spectacle would grind to a halt.
To go undercover in this group you didnt need a disguise or a new haircut. It was
enough if you didnt look too deeply into others eyes and broke eye contact after a brief
moment. Every time she did it she still shivered. When Sasha got used to this indifference
it would be easy to pass through the crowds in the station without getting stuck.
At first the mix of human smells had confounded her nose but she quickly learned
to filter out the important scents and ignore everything else. Through the sour smell of
unclean bodies she smelled an alluring, young, and perhaps even pleasant aroma that
wafted through the group like a wave. It was a womans perfume. The smell of grilled
meat and the miasma of the trash pit mingled together. For Sasha the smell of the
Pavelezkayas was the smell of life and the longer she breathed it in, the sweeter it became
to her.
 To completely explore this long corridor shed probably need a whole month.
Everything here was so overwhelming There were places you could buy jewelry made
from dozens of yellow, pressed metal discs that she could stare at for hours. There was a
giant selection of books that had more secret knowledge in them than she would ever be
able to gather.
A shopkeeper attracted passing people with a stand that had the word
FLOWERS across it. He had a giant selection of get better soon cards that had
different bouquets of flowers printed on them. As a child shed once received a card like
that, but the sheer number of them here!
She saw infants suckling on their mothers breasts and older children playing with
real cats. Couples that touched each other with their eyes and others that did the same
with their hands.
Men tried to touch her. They could have mistaken her interest for some kind of
invitation or as an intent to buy something from them, but a certain tone in their voices
was unpleasant to her, it even disgusted her. What did they want from her? Werent there
enough women here? There were many beauties around them, covered in colorful dresses
they looked like the blooming flowers on the cards. Sasha thought these men were
making fun of her.
Could she even catch a mans interest? Suddenly doubts began biting in deeper
places than she even knew she had. Maybe she didnt understand But why should this
be any different? Something rose painfully in her chest, under her ribs, in that place shed
only discovered inside herself a short while ago.
To rid herself of these feelings she wandered through the shops again, there were
all kinds of items for sale: bulletproof vests, normal clothing, machines, but she took no
notice of them. Her inner voice had pushed the noisy crowd into the background and the
picture her memories painted was more plastic-looking than the living humans around
her.
 Had she been worth his life? Did they still judge him for what hed done? And
above all: What sense did all these stupid thoughts make now? Now that she couldnt
help him anymore
Suddenly, before Sasha even knew why, all her doubts faded and her unsteady
heart calmed. She listened to herself and heard It was a faint echo of a distant melody
that came from a place where a large group of people had gathered.
It was music that Sasha remembered. The people sung one of the first lullabies her
mother had ever sung for her. Shed had to be content with her mothers songs for years:
Her father had no time for music and only rarely sang, even wandering musicians and
jesters hadnt been welcome at the Avtosvodskaya.
And when the guardsmen at their campfires grunted their heavy hearted and fiery
military songs neither the badly-tuned guitars nor Sashas inner rhythm had been on key
with the melody.
But what she heard now was no boring jingle. It sounded like the soft voice of a
young woman, maybe a girl, but it was an unreachably high pitch for a human throat. It
sounded uncompromising and powerful at the same time. But what could she even
compare this miraculous sound to?
The song of the unknown instrument cast a spell over the people whod gathered
around, raised them high and carried them into to a timeless place, into worlds which no
one born in the metro had ever seen and which theyd never have guessed existed. The
music let people dream and made them believe that all dreams could become reality. It
awoke an incomprehensible longing and promised to fulfill it at the same time. And it
gave Sasha the feeling that she had been wandering through an abandoned station for a
long time and had suddenly found a lamp and in the light of the lamp, the exit.
She was standing in front of the weapon smith. Directly in front of her was a plank
of wood with assorted knives bolted to it everything from small pocket knives to
murderously long daggers. Sasha gazed at them, fixated, as if the blades had cast a spell
on her.
 Inside of her a wild battle took place. A small but tempting urge came forward.
The old man had given her a handful of bullets, just enough for the giant black knife with
the wickedly jagged edge, a wide, sharp archetype, which was better suited for her plan
than any of the others.
After a minute Sasha made her decision. She hid her new treasure in the chest
pocket of her overalls, as close as possible to the place she wanted to fight back the pain.
When she stepped back into the hospital she didnt feel the weight of the military jacket
or the pounding in her forehead.
The crowd towered over the girl. The musician that produced these wonderful
sounds in the distance remained invisible to her. The melody, on the other hand, caught
up to her and tried to made her turn back, as if it wanted to talk her down.
It was an effort made in vain.

***

Again there was a knock on the door.

Homer rose, groaning, from his knees, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and pulled
the chain to flush. On the dirty green fabric of his jacket a brown stain remained.
It was the fifth time hed thrown up today even though he hadnt actually eaten
anything.
The symptoms could have caused by something else, he told himself. Why had the
sickness sped up in him? Maybe it was because
Are you going to be finished soon? Yelled an impatient voice. It was the voice
of a woman.
Oh! Had he misread the letters on the door in his haste? Homer wiped the dirty
sleeve over his sweat-covered face, put on a straight face and pushed the bar to the side.
Typical drunk! A smartly dressed woman pushed him aside and shut the door
behind her.
 Okay, thought Homer. They could think he was a drunk. It was a lot better than
the truth. He stepped in front of the mirror, which hung over the sink, and pressed his hot
forehead against it. After a little while he could breathe again, he watched as the glass
steamed up and winced: His gaskmask slid down and hung under his chin.
Quickly he pushed it back over his face and closed his eyes. No, he couldnt
consciously think about bringing death to all the humans he met. Turning back was
impossible if he was infected, if he hadnt misread the symptoms, this whole station
was going to die anyway. Starting with the woman whose only crime had been needing to
go to the little girls room at the wrong moment. What would she do if he told her that
she only had a month to live at most?
How foolish, Homer thought. Foolish and stupid. Hed wanted to immortalize all
that crossed his path. Now fate had transformed him into an angel of death one that was
foolish and powerless. He felt like somebody had clipped his wings and told him that an
ultimatum to act in thirty days had been placed upon him. That was all the time he had.
Was that the punishment for overestimating himself and for his pride?
No he could not stay silent. And there was only one person which he could open
up to. He couldnt deceive him for long and it would be easier for both of them if they
laid their cards on the table.
With unsteady steps he made his way to the hospital. The room was at the end of
the hall and usually a nurse sat in front of it but now that place was empty. Through the
door slit he could hear broken moaning. He could only make out single words and no
matter how long Homer listened he couldnt put them together into sentences that made
sense.
Stronger Fighting Must ... Still sense Resistance Remember Still
able Mistake Punishment
The words were now a barking, as if the pain had become unbearable and kept the
speaker from catching his racing thoughts. Homer entered the room.
Hunter lay unconscious, his limbs spread and turned from one side to the other on
a sweat-soaked blanket. The bandage that wrapped around the brigadiers head had
slipped down over his eyes, the bony cheeks were streaked in sweat and his unshaven jaw
hung limply.
His broad chest rose and fell, struggling like a forge bellows that struggled to keep
the fire burning in the big body.
At the head of the bed stood the girl, her back to him, her small hands behind her.
Only after a closer look did he notice the silhouette of a knife which she held tightly
through the fabric of her overalls.

***

It rang.
Again and again.
2,235
2,236
2,237
Artyom counted the number of rings not because he wanted to report them to the
commander but because he wanted to feel some kind of progress. If he distanced himself
from the point in time when hed started counting, it meant that every ring brought him
closer to the point when this madness would end.
Self-deception? Yes, probably. But listening to the ringing, knowing that it would
never stop was unbearable. At first it had been the same as his very first shift like a
metronome it had brought order to the cacophony of his thoughts with its monotonous
sound, it had emptied his head and calmed his racing heart.
The ringing counted down the minutes of his shift and Artyom felt like he was in a
time trap he couldnt escape. In medieval times there had been a torture like this. Theyd
undressed a criminal and set him under a barrel which endlessly dripped water onto the
victims forehead. The end result was that the unfortunate man slowly lost his mind.
Where the torture wrack failed, ordinary water produced extraordinary results
 Bound to the telephone cord, Artyom didnt dare walk away even for a second.
His whole shift hed tried not to drink so that no biological imperative could lure him
from the phone. Days before he hadnt been able to take it anymore. Hed slipped out of
room, hastily run to the exit before catching himself and heading back. Even as he stood
on the doorstep hed listened and it had sent chills down his spine. The frequency wasnt
right. The signal was faster than before. The dial tone That could only mean one thing:
The moment hed been waiting for had come while hed been away.
Fearfully he looked to the door to see if somebody had been watching him and
quickly dialed the number again, pressing his ear against the telephone.
From the receiver came the same clicking sound, the ringing started anew - in its
normal rhythm.
From that moment the busy signal hadnt returned and nobody picked up. But
Artyom didnt dare put the telephone down ever again. He only occasionally moved it
from one ear to the other tense and trying not to lose count.
He hadnt said anything to the leaders and he wasnt sure if hed really heard
anything but the eternal rhythm. His orders were: Call. For a week thered been only this
task. Any violation would bring him in front of the tribunal and they made no distinction
between mistake and sabotage.
The telephone helped him gauge how long he still had to sit here. Artyom didnt
have his own watch, but the commander had told him, looking at his watch, that the
signal repeated itself every five seconds. Twelve sounds were one minute, 720 an hour,
13,680 for a whole shift. Like grains of sand they dropped from one part of a giant
hourglass into another bottomless container. And between the two glasses, directly in
bottleneck, Artyom was stuck listening to time itself passing.
He couldnt put down the receiver because the commander could return at any
moment to check on him.
Otherwise What he did was absolutely pointless. On the other end of the line
nobody seemed to be alive.
 He saw the barricaded office of the stations head and the leader himself pressing
his face against the surface of the table, the makarov still in his hand. With bullet-ridden
ears he could no longer hear the ringing. The people on the other side of the door hadnt
been able to break through, but through the keyhole and the door slit the desperate
ringing crawled over the train platform where all the bloated bodies lay For a while
you couldnt hear the ringing, the noise of the crowd, the footsteps, the crying of the
children had been too loud, but now it only disturbed the rest of the dead. The gradually
dying emergency systems still spread their blinking red light.
It rang.
Again.
2,563
2,564.
No answer.
Chapter 11: Gifts

You could say what you wanted the commander was always up for a surprise.
Throughout the garrison they told tales about him. Once a mercenary he was quick with a
knife and it was said that nothing could break his concentration. Back then, before hed
settled down at the Sevastopolskaya, hed massacred an enemy stations border post all
by himself, exploiting the tiny mistakes made by the guards there.
Artyom jumped up, pressed the receiver to his ear with his shoulder, saluted and
regretfully let the count slip away. The commander approached the duty schedule, looked
at his watch and put his thumb next to the third of November and the numbers 9:22,
signed it and turned to Artyom.
My report: Nothing. That is, nobody picked up.
Silence? The commander cracked his jaw and loosened his neck. I just cant
believe it.
What? Artyom asked worriedly.
That its already hit the Dobryninskaya. Could the epidemic have already hit
Hanza? Do you understand what will happen if it hits the ring line?
But we dont know anything for sure, Artyom answered. Maybe its already
started. We havent heard from them.
What if the line is damaged? The commander lowered his head and started to
drum on the table.
But then theres still a line to the base, Artyom nodded in the direction of the
tunnel that lead to the Sevastopolskaya. That one is completely dead. Here we get
ringing at least. That means the line is still working.
Only the base doesnt seem to need us anymore, the commander said calmly.
You cant see anybody at the door. Maybe the base is gone. And no more
Dobryninskaya. Listen to me, Popov, when everyone there is gone were next and
everyone else too. Nobody is going to come to our rescue. Why keep the quarantine up?
Maybe we should forget about all this shit, what do you think? Again his jaw moved.
Artyom was shocked. This was practically heresy! He didnt want to, but he had to
think about the commanders habit of shooting deserters in the stomach before reading
their sentence.
No commander, the quarantine is necessary.
What you fail to consider is Just today three more people have come down
with the sickness. Two from this station and one of us. Akopov is dead.
Akopov? Artyom swallowed and closed his eyes. His mouth felt dry.
He beat his own head in on the track, continued the commander with the same
calm voice. Hed said that he couldnt take the pain anymore. Not the first case either. It
has got to hurt like hell trying to bash in your own skull for half an hour, right?
Yes, sir. Artyom turned his head away.
And what about you? Nausea? Weakness? the commander asked worriedly as
he shined his small flashlight in Artyoms face. Open your mouth and say Ahhh.
Good. Listen up, Popov. Youll see, someone will pick up sooner or later. Someone has
to pick up, Popov, at the Dobryninskaya and theyll tell us that Hanza has a vaccine and
theyre readying sanitary brigades wholl be here soon. And that theyre going to
evacuate the healthy people and heal the sick. And that we dont have to stay in this hell
hole forever. That we will get back to our wives. You to your Galya and me to my
Alyona and Vera, you understood?
Yes, sir! Artyom nodded stiffly.
At ease.

***

His long knife hadnt been able to withstand the weight of the falling beast and it
had snapped right at the handle. The blade plunged deep into the chest of the creature, so
deep that they hadnt even tried to retrieve it.
 The bold one, whod been scarred by the beasts claws, had been unconscious for
almost three days.
Sasha couldnt help him but she still had to see him. At least to talk to him, even if
he couldnt hear her. But the doctors wouldnt let her near him. They said the injured man
needed rest more than anything else.
She didnt know why the bold one had killed the people on the rail car. But if hed
shot them to save her then that was a good enough reason for her. She wanted to believe
that but she couldnt. There was probably another explanation:
Hed rather kill than talk.
At the Pavelezkaya it had been different. Hed followed Sasha and was ready to
die for her. Was there a connection between them?
Back at the Kolomenskaya when hed called after her, shed been waiting for a
bullet, not an order to accompany them. But when shed turned around shed seen a
change in him, even though his scarred face was as still as ever. It was his eyes
suddenly shed seen someone else through the black pupils that gazed at her.
Someone who had an interest in her.
Someone she owed her life to.
Should she give him a silver ring, the same gesture her mother had given her
father? What if the bold one couldnt comprehend gesture like that? But how else could
she thank him?
Giving him a knife, as a replacement for the one hed lost in her defense, was
something at least.
Shed been so enchanted by this simple thought, standing in front of the weapon
smith and imagining how shed give him the blade, how hed look at her, what hed say,
she completely forgot that shed be buying a murderer another tool which he could use to
slit throats and stomachs.
No she decided, at the moment he wasnt a bandit in her eyes, he was a hero, not a
killer but a warrior and above all a man. And there was another obscure thought
floating through her head: Since his blade broke, he hadnt woken up. Maybe he would
wake up if he had a whole blade once more Like an amulet So shed bought it for
him.
And now that she stood in front of his bed, with the present hidden behind her
back, she hoped that he would react to it or at least sense the presence of the blade. The
bold one twitched from one side to the other, made grunting sounds, muttered words,
moaned, but didnt awake.
Darkness held him firmly in its grasp.
Up until now Sasha hadnt said his name once, not out loud or to herself. Now she
whispered it to him.
Hunter!
The bold one went silent, he seemed to listen, as if he was unimaginably far away
and her voice was a nearly inaudible echo to his ear, but he didnt answer. Sasha repeated
it again, louder. She wouldnt stop until he opened his eyes. She would be his tunnel
wisp.
From the hallway she heard someone scream in surprise, boots hammered on the
floor. She knelt down quickly and put the knife on the small table at the head of the
stretcher.
Thats for you, she said.
Suddenly fingers held her hand in an iron grip, so strong that they could have
snapped all her bones. The injured mans eyes were open, his gaze wandered aimlessly.
Thanks, he mumbled.
The girl had no intention of trying to get away.
What are you doing in here? A thin boy with a dirty white coat came in and slid
a needle into the bold mans arm which sent him to sleep again. Then the nurse grabbed
Sasha by the shoulders and said through clenched teeth, Dont you get it? In his
condition The doctor has forbidden
Youre the one who doesnt understand! He needs something to hold on to. Your
needles are just making him weaker The nurse tried to push Sasha towards the exit,
but shed already walked there on her own and shot him an angry glare.
 I dont want to see you in here again! And what is this? Hed found the knife.
Thats His, mumbled Sasha. I brought it with me. If he hadnt been there
Those things would have torn me to pieces.
And the doctor is going to tear me to pieces when he finds out, growled the
nurse. Now get out!
Sasha hesitated for a moment and then turned to Hunter, who was still sleeping
heavily sedated, and ended what shed wanted to say: Thank you... for saving me.
As she was leaving the room she suddenly heard his rasping voice: I just wanted
to kill it That beast
The door slammed in her face and the lock slid into place.

******

The knife had meant something. Homer had understood that right away when hed
heard how she called the name of the feverish brigadier, softly and sorrowfully at the
same time. At first he hadnt wanted to get involved but then he thought about it from
another perspective. He turned away this wasnt somebody that needed protecting. All
he could do was retreat as quickly as possible so he wouldnt scare Sasha off.
Maybe she was right. At the Nagatinskya Hunter had totally forgotten his
companions. Hed thrown them to the ghostly giants as a snack. But this time
Maybe the girl meant something to him?
Lost in thought Homer strolled along the hallway and went to his room at the
hospital. A nurse bumped into him, but the old man didnt even realize it.
It was time to give Sasha what hed bought for her.
It seemed she would need it very soon.
From the desk drawer he brought out a package and held it into the light, turning it
over in his hands. After a few minutes the girl stormed into the room, nervous, confused
and angry. She sat on the bed, pulled her legs up and stared into the corner.
 Homer waited to see if the storm would break or pass. Sasha was silent and started
gnawing at her fingernails.
It was time to intervene.
I got you something. The old man came forward from behind the table and put
the package next to the girl on the blanket.
Why? she asked, without coming out of her shell.
Why do people ever give each other gifts? the old man responded.
To repay good deeds, she said, convinced she was right. For what youve
gotten or hope to get.
Then lets say that I am repaying you for all the good things that youve already
given me. I dont need anything else.
I didnt give you anything, answered Sasha.
What about my book? He gave a look of mock offense. Youre already in it. I
dont like owing anyone. Now come on, open it.
I dont like to owe anyone either, Sasha said and tore the wrapping from the
package. Whats this? Oh!
In her hand was a red plastic disk, a small box that could be opened from either
side. Back then it had been a cheap makeup box for traveling, but now both the
compartments for powder and rouge were already empty. The mirror on the inside had
survived.
You can see yourself better here than in a puddle of water. Sasha looked at her
reflection with large eyes. It looked strange. Why did you give me this?
Sometimes its better to see yourself from the outside. Homer grinned. Youll
understand yourself better.
What is that supposed to mean? Sashas voice became more guarded.
There are people whove never seen their own reflection in their entire lives and
because of that they think that they are someone entirely different. And if they stand in
front of their reflection they often cant believe theyre seeing themselves.
And what am I seeing?
 You tell me. He crossed his arms.
Myself. Well A girl To be sure she turned the mirror from one cheek to the
other.
A young woman, corrected Homer. And a very unkempt one.
She looked from one side to the other a few times, blinked at Homer as if she
wanted to ask something, thought about it again, was quiet for a moment before gathering
all her courage and asking, Am I ugly?
The old man cleared his throat. He had to keep himself from laughing. Hard to
say. Under all that dirt you cant really tell.
Sasha raised her eyebrows. Whats the problem? Dont men know if a woman is
beautiful or not? Do you always have to stare and explain?
Seems like it. And women often use that to deceive us. Homer had to laugh.
Make-up can work wonders on a female face. But in your case its not about repairing a
portrait but freeing it. When you can only see the foot of an antique statue you cant
really tell what the rest looks like.
He added, Even though there is a good chance that its beautiful.
What does antique mean? Sasha asked, unsure.
Old. Homer was having fun with her.
Im only seventeen!
Well well know that for sure... after the excavation.
The old man leaned back toward his table, opened the notebook to the last page
hed written on and started reading through his notes again. Suddenly his face darkened.
What if someone digs us up one day The girl, himself and all the others. What if
thousands of years from now archaeologists explored the ruins of Moscow, whose name
wasnt even known, and suddenly found the entrance to this underground labyrinth?
Probably theyd think it was a giant mass grave. Nobody would believe that humans
could have lived in these dark catacombs. They would come to the conclusion that this
highly advanced culture had been reduced to nothing in its last days and theyd buried
their leaders with all of their possessions, weapons, servants and concubines.
 His book had a mere eighty pages free. Would that be enough to hold both worlds
the one on the surface and the one in the metro?
Cant you hear me? The girl shook his arm.
What? Sorry, I was day dreaming. He wiped his forehead.
Are antique statues really beautiful? I mean what people found beautiful back
then, can it still be beautiful today?
The old man shrugged. Sure.
And tomorrow too?
Its possible. As long as somebody is still left to look.
Sasha was quiet and thought about this. Homer didnt try to carry on the
conversation. He retreated to his own thoughts.
After some time she asked in a surprised tone, So that means if theres no people
theres no beauty?
Probably not, he answered, a bit confused. If nobody can see it Animals
cant
But if knowing the difference between beauty and ugliness is what separates
people from animals, can humans even exist without beauty?
The old man shook his head. Of course, certainly. There are plenty of people who
dont need it.
The girl took a strange item from her pocket:
A small, square piece of plastic with a drawing on it. Shy but proud, as if she was
displaying her greatest treasure, she held it out in Homers direction.
Whats that?
You tell me. A clever smile stole over her face.
Well... He took the square piece of plastic carefully from her, read the print and
gave it back to the girl. Thats the packaging from a teabag. With a picture on it.
A beautiful picture, she corrected him. If not for this, I would have become an
animal
 Homer looked at her. He felt his eyes fill with tears and his breath caught in his
throat. Sentimental idiot!
He cursed himself. He cleared his throat and sighed. Have you never been on the
surface, in the city? I mean aside from our journey?
No, why? Sasha put the packaging back in her pocket. Are you going to tell me
that it doesnt look like this picture out there? That theres nothing like it anymore? I
know that already. I know what the city looks like, the houses, the bridge and the river.
Destroyed and empty.
Not at all, answered Homer. Ive never seen anything more beautiful. You act
like you want to judge the entire metro by the one platform youve seen. How am I
supposed to describe it? Buildings higher than mountains, big streets flowing like a river
on the mountain. A sky that never darkened and shining fog A very ambitious, short-
lived city, just like every one of its millions of former inhabitants.
Crazy and chaotic. Influenced by an attempt to combine what cant be combined.
Built without a plan. But so alive!
His hands clenched into fists, as if he was angry at the world.
You wouldnt understand. You should have seen it with your own eyes At
that moment he was convinced that she had to go to the surface so she could see
everything as he had. He never realized that shed never seen the city in its old, living
condition.

******

Homer didnt talk to anyone as they led his group through the barricade to Hanza
and its neighboring stations. There were being brought to the offices where the baths
were. Under guard, as if they were being led to the headmans block.
The only thing that the two Pavelezkayas had in common was the name. They
were like sisters separated at birth where one had grown up with a rich family and the
other in a poor station, or maybe a tunnel.
 The rooms were dirty and run-down, but bright and roomy. The ring station gave a
cramped, edgy impression, but it was always lit and polished. They needed caravans and
merchants traveling through. Right now there was nothing going on, those who didnt
work seemed to favor the masses of the neighboring station compared to the ring lines
strictness.
Sasha was alone in the dressing room. The walls were covered in yellow tiles and
the floor in hexagonal, broken tiles. There were painted iron cabinets for shoes and
clothes, a light bulb hung on a cable, two benches covered in scratched artificial leather
She couldnt stop looking.
She took a blindingly white towel and a heavy, square piece of gray soap. She
locked the shower from the inside.
The small towel, the slightly disgusting smell of the soap, all of that was a
reminder of a distant past for Sasha. A past where shed been the loved and protected
commanders daughter. Shed already forgotten that all those things existed.
She quickly stripped off her dirt-covered clothes and jumped under the rusty pipe
of the improvised shower.
With a bit of effort she turned the valve and almost burned her hand, the water was
hot! She pressed herself against the wall so she could avoid the water and turned the other
valve. Finally when shed found the right mixture she stopped dancing around And
stepped into the water.
The water washed away the dust, ash, oil and blood, her own blood and that of
other people, tiredness, sorrow, guilt and doubts all down the drain. It took a while until
the water ran clean.
Was that enough to get the old man to stop making fun of her?
Sasha looked at her clean feet as if they were somebody elses, and then she
looked at the unusually white hands. Would that be enough to make men see her beauty?
Maybe Homer was right and it had been foolish to visit the injured man before
shed cleaned herself up. She probably still had much to learn.
 Would he recognize the change in her? She stopped the water, went back to the
dressing room and opened her new mirror No, there was no missing it!
Shed relaxed in the hot water and all her doubts had been washed away. What the
bold one had said about the beast hadnt been meant for her, itd been part of a fierce
struggle in his dream. He hadnt said no to her. She just had to wait until he woke again.
If she was with him at that point he would understand. And then? Why bother thinking
about it now? She knew enough that she could trust herself with him.
Again she thought about how the bold one had tossed and turned in his fever.
Without knowing why she knew that hed been searching for her. She could bring him
rest, peace and balance. She felt warm inside when she thought about him.
Theyd taken the dirty overalls from her and promised to wash them. Instead she
now wore bright blue jeans and a sweater that only had a few holes in it. The new clothes
felt too small for her and when she went back to the guard post she could feel the eyes of
all the men on her, it made her feel like shed need to take another shower before she
went to bed.
The old man wasnt in his room but she wasnt alone for long. After a few minutes
the door opened and the doctor stepped in.
You can visit now, he said Hes awake.

***

What day is it?

The brigadier rested on his elbow, moved his head back and forth and stared at
homer. The old man looked to his wrist, even though he hadnt worn a watch in years.
Then he spread his arms and shrugged.
The nurse intervened. Its the second. November.
Three days. Hunter fell back onto his pillow. Ive been laying here for three
days. Weve got to go or itll be too late.
You wont get far, said the nurse. You almost bled out.
 Weve got to go, repeated the brigadier. Time is running out The bandits
Suddenly he looked at the old man and stopped. Why are you wearing a gas mask?
Homer knew the question had to come sooner or later. Hed had three days to
build a defense and get ready to fight. Hunter being unconscious had delayed the
confrontation; now Homer had a well thought-out lie ready.
He lowered his head over the bed of the injured man and whispered. There are no
bandits. While you were sick Youve been talking the entire time. I know everything.
What do you know? Hunter grabbed him by the collar and dragged him close.
I know about the epidemic at the Tulskaya Its alright.
Homer waved away the nurse whod started to come to his aid. I can do this. I
have to talk to him. Would you be so kind
The nurse gave up reluctantly, put the cover back on the needle she held and left
them alone.
About the Tulskaya Hunter still had his red eyes fixed on Homer but his iron-
hard grip loosened slightly. Nothing else?
Only that some kind of unknown infection has broken out at the station. That it is
air-borne. And that our guys have put up a quarantine and are waiting for help.
If you say so. Fine The brigadier let go of him. Yes its an epidemic. And
youre afraid youll get infected?
God helps those who help themselves, Homer answered carefully.
Yes, yes. Its alright I wasnt that close and the air was moving in the other
direction Nothing should have gotten to me.
Homer found his courage again. Why the story with the bandits? Whats your
plan?
First to get to the Dobryninskaya, to make a deal. Then clear the Tulskaya. We
need flamethrowers. We cant do it without them
Burn down the entire station? Even with our own men there? Homer had hoped
that Hunters plan had just been another part of his ruse to lead the Sevastopolskayas
commanding officers astray.
 They are walking corpses already. Theres no way out. All who have contact with
the sick are infected themselves. All the air is infected. Ive heard of this disease
Hunter closed his eyes and licked his bloody lips. There is no cure. A few years ago we
had a similar outbreak. Two thousand people died.
But then it stopped?
There was a siege. Flamethrowers. The brigadier turned his scarred face to the
old man. There is no other way. If theres an outbreak and just one human gets
through Thats it for us. Yes, the story with the bandits was a lie. Otherwise Istomin
would never have agreed to kill them all. Hes too soft. Im going to bring people that
dont ask questions.
But what if there are people that are immune? What if there are still healthy
people there? I You said Maybe there is somebody who we can talk to
Theres no immunity, the brigadier cut him off. All that come in contact
become infected. There are no healthy people there, only those that last longer. And its
going to be worse for them. They will have to suffer longer. Believe me its better for
them if I If they are killed quickly.
What makes you want to do this, why? Homer stepped back from Hunters
stretcher and realized that the eye on the scarred side of the face didnt close all the way.
Hunter took so long with his answer that the old man was about to call the doctor again.
But then the brigadier spoke slowly, stretched, with clenched teeth, as if he was
under hypnosis and looking for lost memories from his past: I have to... To defend
humanity. Eliminate all threats. Thats the only thing Im here for.

******

Had he found the knife? Had he realized that it was from her? What if he hadnt
guessed and missed the promise it implied? She flew along the hallway and chased away
those angry thoughts. She had no idea what she would say to him Too bad she hadnt
been able to be at his side when he woke up
 Sasha heard almost the entire conversation.
Shed listened silently at the doorstep and winced when hed spoken of killing. Of
course she hadnt understood everything but she didnt have to. Shed heard the most
important parts there was no use waiting any longer. She knocked on the door.
When the old man turned around she could see the despair on his face. He almost
didnt move, as if itd been him theyd sedated this time and extinguished the fire in his
eyes. He nodded weakly at Sasha it looked like a hangmans rope being raised.
The girl sat on the edge of the chair, bit her lip and held her breath before she
entered this new and unexplored tunnel. Did you like my knife?
What knife? The bold one looked around and saw the black blade. His face
didnt move but looked at Sasha suspiciously. What is that supposed to be?
He might as well have struck her. Thats for you. Yours broke. When you
Thank
A few moments of uncomfortable silence hung in the air. Then the bold one said,
Strange gift. I wouldnt accept it from anyone. She thought she heard something like a
clue in his words, something with a hidden meaning left unspoken. She accepted the
game without knowing the rules and started to reach for appropriate words. What came
out was clumsy nonsense. Sashas tongue wasnt used to describing what went on inside
her.
Dont you feel like you carry a part of me inside you? That piece they ripped out
of you That you were searching for That Ive given back to you?
What are you talking about?
It was like somebody had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. Sasha was
shivering but she stood her ground. You feel it. That I complete you. That I can be near
you and that I have to be. Why else would you have agreed to take me with you?
I did my partner a favor. His look was empty.
Why did you defend me from the people on the rail car?
I would have killed them anyway.
Why did you save me from that beast?
 I have to kill them all.
It should have eaten me!
Youre not happy to be alive? he asked in surprise. Then all you have to do is
go up the escalator. There are plenty more where that one came from.
I You want me to
I dont want anything from you.
Im going to help you!
Youre smothering me.
Dont you feel anything, that
I dont feel anything. His words tasted like rusty water. Even the grotesque claw
of the pale monster couldnt have cut so deep. Sasha jumped up and ran from the room.
She looked into her room and saw it was empty. She threw herself down in the
corner, curled up, and looked through her pocket for her mirror, intending to throw it
away, but couldnt find it. It must have fallen out in the bold ones room.
When her tears had dried, she knew what she would do. There was no time to
pack. The old man would forgive her for taking his Kalashnikov, he would forgive her
for everything. In the room next to her she found her radiation suit hanging on a hook,
cleaned and decontaminated. It was as if a magician had purged the fat man from this
dead body which Sasha had to step into time and again.
She slipped into it, walked out of the room and into the corridor with heavy steps
and through the door onto the train platform. Somewhere she heard the faint echo of the
magical music. She hadnt had time to find its origin. Only for a second she stopped
But then she resisted the temptation and approached her goal.
During the day there was only one guard at the escalator. As long as it was bright
outside the creatures left the inhabitants of the station alone.
It took no time to explain her situation. The way to the surface was always open. It
was impossible to take the escalator back down, though. She gave half her magazine to
the willing guard and put her foot on the first step that would lead her to the sky.
Then she lifted her leg and began to climb.
Chapter 12: Signs
 At home in the Kolomenskaya it hadnt been a long journey to the surface: Exactly
56 flat steps. The Pavelezkaya was buried far deeper in the earth. As Sasha climbed the
escalator, which had been chewed up by machine guns, she couldnt see her goal. Her
lamp was just bright enough to cast the darkness off of broken glass and rusted signs with
darkened faces.
Why did she want to climb up here? Why die?
But who needed her down there? Who needed her, really, as a human and not as
an actor in a book?
Why should she keep lying to herself?
When Sasha had left her fathers body in the forsaken Kolomenskaya, she thought
shed achieved their escape. By carrying a small part of him in herself, she thought it
would help set him free.
But since then hed never appeared in her dreams and when she tried to summon
his image in her fantasies and tell him what shed lived through, hed only appeared
obscure and silent.
Her father couldnt forgive her for saving him that way.
Of all the books he had occasionally brought back, shed always read them if
possible before they were exchanged for food and ammunition, an old botany book was
her favorite. The illustrations werent very colorful, only bleached black and white
pictures and some pencil sketches, but all the other books shed gotten her hands on had
no pictures at all. She liked the climbing plants the most.
She felt like they were a part of her soul. Just like those flowers she needed
something that she could lean on. To grow along. Towards the light.
Above all shed needed a strong pole, to lean on and support her. Not to rob it of
light and warmth, not at all.
Without it she was just too soft, she lacked the spine to stand up straight. Standing
on her own would mean crawling on the ground.
Her father had told her that she shouldnt rely on anyone but herself. Outside of
him there had been no one in that god forsaken station and hed known that he wouldnt
live forever. He would rather have seen her grow like a tree, not like ivy. But hed been
blind to the fact that it wasnt part of her nature. Sasha had survived without him.
Without Hunter. But to be united with another human being had been the only thing she
had to look forward to. When shed hugged the brigadier on the rushing rail car her life
had gained new meaning. She reminded herself that it was dangerous to rely on others
and unworthy to be dependent.
That just made it harder work up the courage to talk to Hunter.
Sasha just wanted to lean, but hed thought she wanted to latch on. Now that there
was nobody to lean on and shed been kicked to the dirt, it seemed beneath her to keep
searching. Hed chased her away and said she should go to the surface, well fine, then
thats what shed do. When something happened to her up there it would be his fault,
only he could do something about it.
Finally her steps were at an end. Sasha stood at the edge of a giant marble room,
the chipped metal ceiling was held up by a few pillars. Through the holes in the distance
you could see bright rays of light. They were a surprising gray-white color and some of
them even shone on the spot where Sasha stood. She switched off her lamp, held her
breath and continued on silently.
Traces of bullets and splinters on the walls at the escalator exit pointed to human
passage. But just a few steps further other creatures ruled. Sticking out of the dried
mounds of dung that lay everywhere were bones and pieces of flesh, Sasha knew that she
was inside a cave that was inhabited by wild animals. She shielded her eyes from the
burning light and approached the exit. The closer she got to the source of the light the
deeper the darkness became in the farthest edges of the giant hall she stepped through.
She gradually got used to the light, but lost her feeling for the dark.
Collapsed kiosks, hills of unimaginable trash and old, stripped machines filled the
neighboring halls.
It seemed that the humans whod used this room at the Pavelezkaya had stored
things which might still be useful, until one day stronger creatures had chased them away.
 From time to time Sasha thought she could see nearly imperceptible movement in
the dark corners, but she attributed it to her worsening night blindness. The darkness was
already so thick that she completely missed the silhouettes of the sleeping monsters next
to the trash hills.
The air moved gradually over her head, it carried the sounds of heavy breathing
and Sasha realized that just a few meters back shed passed a slowly moving mound. She
stood still, listened and stared at the contours of the collapsed kiosks. There between the
rubble she saw a strange hump and froze.
The mound that lay buried in the little house was breathing. Almost all the other
hills moved in the same rhythm. Just to be sure Sasha switched on her lamp and shone it
on one of the hills. The weak light exposed wrinkled white skin which covered a gigantic
chest. It was one of the chimeras that had almost killed her, only much larger.
The creatures were in some kind of hibernation and didnt seem to notice her.
Suddenly the animal groaned, breathed out through the slanted slits of its snout and
started to move Frantically Sasha put the lamp away and hurried on. Those few steps
through the horrifying camp took all her strength. The further she got from the entrance
to the metro the more closely packed the chimeras lay and the harder it got to pick a path
through them.
It was too late to turn back. Right now Sasha didnt care about getting back to the
metro, all that mattered was that she got past these creature without being noticed. To
remain unseen If they just kept sleeping, if they let her pass She didnt need a way
back.
She almost didnt dare to breathe and didnt even try to think, she just slowly crept
toward the exit. A split tile on the ground made a sound under her boot. Another misstep
or incidental noise and they would wake and tear her to pieces at once.
Sasha couldnt shake the thought that just a short time ago, perhaps yesterday or
even earlier today she had wandered between sleeping monsters too, so at least it was
somewhat familiar to her. She stopped suddenly.
 Sasha felt it then there are times when you can feel a strangers gaze on your
back. Even though these creatures had no eyes, they were searching the room. She clearly
felt an intrusive gaze fall on her.
She didnt have to turn around to realize that one of the animals behind her had
woken up and pointed its heavy head in her direction.
She turned around anyway.

******

The girl was gone and Homer didnt feel like searching for her at the moment.
To be honest he didnt care about anything anymore.
The radio operators diary had left one small spark of hope that the disease would
spare the old man and Hunter had stomped that spark out with a merciless boot. Homer
started a well-rehearsed conversation, a kind of epitaph. But he hadnt wanted to pardon
Hunter and he wouldnt have been able to anyway. Homer was the only one responsible
for his inevitable fate.
Just a few more weeks, maybe less. Only ten pages were left in his small plastic-
covered book.
He still had so much to say. For Homer it wasnt just a wish but his duty.
He straightened the paper so he could continue from where hed left off when the
doctor interrupted him. But his hand only wrote that same sentence again: Whats left of
me?
And what of the unfortunate prisoners at the Tulskaya? Maybe theyd already lost
hope, maybe they were still waiting for help and in that case had a cruel end in front of
them. Their memories? There werent enough people that he still remembered.
Memories were not a fit tomb for the ages. If Homer died all those hed once
known would die with him. Even his own personal Moscow would dissolve into
nothingness.
 Where was he? At the Pavelezkaya? The garden ring was now empty and lifeless,
for the last few hours theyd been relocating heavy military gear so the paramedics and
police escorts could pass freely. Destroyed city villas stood down side streets like
decayed and rotting teeth Homer could imagine the landscape above him even though
hed never seen it himself.
Before the war hed been up there. Hed had an appointment with his fianc in a
caf, a rendezvous next to the metro and then later had gone to the matinee showing of a
movie at the cinema. He also remembered how hed gone under a costly and clumsy
medical examination for his drivers license test. He used to exit through this station with
his colleagues to have cookouts in the forest
Suddenly on the square paper of his notebook the railway station in the autumn
fog appeared and the two barely visible towers, one a new office building at the ring
where one of his friends had worked and the other the winding top of a new hotel with an
equally expensive concert hall beside it. He had once asked how much tickets cost and it
had been more than he made in two weeks.
He saw and heard the white and blue streetcars, filled with unsatisfied passengers,
the anger of this harmless crowd made him smile, the garden ring, magnificently lit by
thousands of search lights and blinking like one giant garland. There were timid
snowflakes that didnt fit the scenery, melting as they touched the dark asphalt and the
crowds, myriads of particles, bumping into each other, it was a chaotic and frantic but
everyone moved in a precise pattern.
He saw the lane between the Stalin monoliths, where the big river of the garden
ring slowly flowed onward toward the plaza.
Hundreds of windows shone like small aquariums along both sides of the broad
street. The neon fire of the signs and gigantic billboards where skyscrapers would one
day stand But nobody would ever finish them.
He saw all this and realized that he couldnt describe this beautiful picture. So in
the end was there nothing left of his Moscow but the graves of the business center and the
luxurious hotel?
 ******

An hour had passed and she hadnt come back, that hour stretched into three.
Homer began to worry and searched the entire station, questioning merchants, musicians
and even the guards at the Hanza entrance. Nothing. It was as if the ground had
swallowed her whole. The old man didnt know what to do.
Again he leaned against the door to the brigadiers room. He was the last person
Homer wanted to talk about the girls disappearance with, but what else could he do?
Hunter laid there breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. His right arm rested
on the blanket, his fist showed fresh wounds. Blood dripped onto the blanket from small
scratches but the brigadier didnt seem to notice.
When will you be ready to go? he asked Homer without turning his head.
If it was only me, immediately, the old man said hesitantly. Its just I cant
find the girl. And anyway how could you even walk in your condition? Youre still
totally
Ill manage, answered the brigadier. There are worse fates than death. Pack
your things. Im getting back on my feet in less than an hour and a half. Were going to
the Dobryninskaya.
An hour is enough for me, Homer said hastily. But before we go I have to find
her. I want her to come with us I need her, you know
Im leaving in an hour, said Hunter. With or without you. And without her.
I just dont understand, where could she have gone? Homer sighed dispiritedly.
If I only knew
I know where she went, the brigadier said indifferently. But you cant bring her
back. Go pack your things.
Homer retreated and blinked. He was used to relying on the brigadiers inhuman
abilities but now he refused to believe it. What if Hunter was lying again, this time to rid
himself of unwanted baggage?
 She said that youd need her
I need you. Hunter moved his head in Homers direction. And you need me.
For what? whispered Homer.
Much depends on you, the brigadier said.
He slowly closed his eyes and opened them again.
The bed squeaked as Hunter rose with gritted teeth. Go. Pack your things so
youll be ready when I leave.
Before he left the room Homer stopped for a moment and picked up the red
makeup box from the ground. The cover was broken and the hinges were bent and loose.
The mirror was shattered.
Homer turned around and said, I cant leave without her.

******

The chimera was almost twice Sashas size. Its head brushed against the ceiling.
The front claws almost touched the ground.
Sasha knew how lighting fast these animals moved and the unbelievable speed
they attacked with. To reach her it only had to take one bounding step forward. That
would have been enough.
But for some reason the animal hesitated. It was no use firing Sasha wouldnt
even able to raise her rifle before it got to her. She took one step back, towards the exit.
The chimera made a groaning sound and walked in her direction But nothing else
happened. The monster stood there and continued to stare with its blind face.
Sasha dared to take another step, and then another.
Without taking her eyes off the animal, without showing fear she backed to the
exit. The creature kept pace with her, staying a few meters in front of her. It was as if it
wanted to escort her to the door.
Finally when Sasha was only ten meters away from the bright opening she
couldnt take it anymore and turned to run. The creature screamed and rushed forward.
 Sasha almost flew outside and ran with her eyes closed. She ran until she stumbled
and slid on the rough, hard ground. The chimera would reach her any moment now and
tear her to shreds. But her follower hadnt pursued her. A long minute passed and then
another She could hear nothing but silence.
Sasha kept her eyes closed as she searched her pockets for the homemade glasses
shed bought from the guard. They were made from the bottoms of two dark-green glass
bottles. They were held together by a frame of iron rings and a bit of rubber. You could
put the glasses over the rounded windows of a gas mask.
Now she could open her eyes without being blinded by the light. Slowly she
opened them. At first hesitantly and with her head lowered but then with more courage.
She looked around the strange place shed ended up.

******

Over her head was the sky. Real sky, bright and vast. Here was more light than
any artificial source could ever produce.
Everything was tinted an even tone of green. In a few places there were low
hanging clouds but between them was a true abyss.
The sun! Through the thin layer of clouds she could see it: A circle as big as a
match box, white and so bright that it threatened to burn a hole through Sashas glasses at
any moment. Fearfully she looked away, waited for a moment and stole another look. It
was a bit disappointing: It was nothing but a bright hole in the sky, why all that idolatry?
Yet there was something about it that moved her.
When Sasha had crept through the dark cave where the creatures lived the exit had
shined almost as brightly. What if the sun was just another exit you could flee through to
a place where it was never dark? Perhaps she could escape the ground shed just climbed
out of? She felt a weak, almost imperceptible, warmth from the sun, like the touch of a
living being.
 Sasha stood in a desert of stone. All around her were dilapidated houses. The
yawning black openings where windows had once stood towered ten stories high. There
were so many of them, they covered each other and pressed into her field of vision.
Behind them were even taller buildings and behind those even taller buildings still,
these were towering giants.
It was unbelievable but Sasha could see all of them! They were tinted in the stupid
green color of the glasses but the earth under her feet, the air under this crazy bright and
bottomless sky was real. And they opened up to unimaginable vastness.
Even though her eyes had only ever known darkness, they werent made for it. In
the evening hours on the abyss of the metro bridge she had only seen the ugly buildings
in the area about a hundred meters up to the hermetic gate. Behind that had been
darkness, so thick that even Sasha, who had been born underground, couldnt see
through.
She had never really wondered how big the world she lived in was. For her there
had always been just this small, dark cocoon, a few hundred meters in every direction.
Behind the buildings there had only been an abyss, it had been the edge of the universe
for her, absolute darkness. And even though she knew that in reality the earth was much
bigger she had never been able to imagine it. Now she realized that it would have been
impossible for her to grasp.
Strangely she wasnt afraid in midst of this endless no-mans-land. When shed
climbed back into the metro before shed always felt like shed crawled back into her
armor, now it felt like coming out of her shell.
During the day you could see danger coming from a long way away and Sasha
would have more than enough time to hide and defend herself.
She felt the alien sensation of being at home.
The wind pushed round balls of thorny twigs over the plaza, howling
monotonously through the rows of destroyed houses, blew over her back, brought her
new courage and drove her on to explore this new world.
 She had no choice. To get back into the metro she had set foot in the building
where the cruel monsters lurked, but they no longer slept. From time to time their white
bodies appeared at the exits and disappeared just as quickly. They didnt seem to like the
daylight.
But what would happen when night fell? If Sasha wanted to see something before
her death, all that the old man had described to her, then she had to put as much distance
between her and this place as possible.
She started running.
Shed never felt so small. It seemed impossible that these giant buildings had been
created by humans her size. What had they needed them for? Were people naturally
suited for a hard life in narrow tunnels and stations?
These buildings, on the other hand, must have been built by the proud ancestors of
the small humans living beneath the surface. They must have been powerful, tall and
imposing, like the buildings in which theyd lived.
Now the buildings thinned and the earth was covered in a stony, gray and, in some
places, splintered crust.
In that one small moment the world had become even larger: Here the view
expanded for kilometers into the distance so that Sashas heart stopped and her head
spun.
She leaned against the moss covered wall of a building. It was a simple clock
tower that seemed to hold up the clouds themselves. She tried to imagine how the city
had looked when it was still alive
Over the street this was a street without a doubt tall, beautiful humans walked
in colorful clothes, which made even the most colorful dresses at the Pavelezkaya look
dull and laughable.
Through the glittering masses automobiles moved like the cars of the trains in the
metro, but they were smaller so only four passengers could fit in them.
The houses looked less dark. The windows were filled with clean glass and light.
Sasha saw small platforms that were attached to buildings at different heights.
 The sky hadnt been empty either: Planes of indescribable size flew through the
clouds and their bellies nearly touched the roofs of the houses. Her father had once
explained that while they were flying they didnt wiggle their wings but kept them still,
even so in Sashas imagination they had been like giant dragonflies, their wings almost
invisible, fluttering around and weakly reflecting the rays of the sun.
And it rained.
It was just water that fell from the sky, but the feeling was overwhelming. This
heavenly water didnt just wash away dirt and tiredness that could be done with the
water jets of a shower no this water cleansed the soul and granted forgiveness for all
your mistakes. It was a magical bath, which burned away all the bitterness from the
peoples hearts, renewed them and made them young again. It gave her the desire to live
and the power to do so at the same time. Just like the old man had said
Sasha believed so fervently in this world, she wished so desperately for it, wished
that she could finally see it. She could already hear the slight sound of the transparent
wings in the sky, the happy chatter of the masses, the gradual beating of iron wheels and
the rushing sound of the warm rain. And suddenly she remembered the distant melody
shed heard yesterday
She felt a painful sting in her chest. She jumped up and ran onto the street, towards
the stream of people, ran around the small cars that were stuck in the crowd and raised
her face into the heavy raindrops. The old man had been right. It was wonderful here,
almost like a fairy tale. You just had to scratch away the mold of time and the past started
to glitter and you could see the colorful mosaics and the bronze reliefs of the stations.
At the far shore of the green river she stopped. The bridge that had once spanned it
had collapsed, the far shore was out of her reach.
The magic disappeared.
The picture, which just a few moments ago had been so real and colorful, dimmed
and then vanished. The dried up, empty houses, the cracked pavement of the streets, the
tall grass at the edges, the wild, impenetrable grove, the rest of the street next to the river
bank, as far as her eye reached, it was all that was left of her beautiful phantom world.
 Sasha was pained at the thought that she would never see this world with her own
eyes. She only had a choice between death and the metro. Nowhere in the world would
she find one of those tall humans in their colorful clothes.
She was the only human soul on this broad street, which stretched on as far as she
could see until the sky and the deserted road met.
The weather was good. No rain.
Sasha couldnt even cry. Now she just wanted to lie down and die.
As if in answer to her wish, a black shadow unfurled its wings far above her.

******

What should he do? Would he let the brigadier go, give up on his book and stay at
the station until he found the girl? Or should he strike her from his novel forever, follow
Hunter and wait like a spider in its web until a new heroine became entwined in his
story?
Reason forbade Homer from separating himself from the brigadier. Why else had
he come this far? Why else had he been spreading the deadly plague throughout the
metro? He didnt have the right to risk his masterpiece, it was the only thing that gave
meaning to his sacrifices, the ones already made and those that lay ahead.
But when he picked up the broken mirror he realized something. If he left the
Pavelezkaya without knowing what befell the girl then he was betraying her. A betrayal
that would sooner or later seek revenge in his book. His memories would be forever
haunted by Sasha.
No matter what Hunter said, Homer had to do everything in his power to find the
girl, or at least convince himself that she was still alive.
The old man redoubled his efforts. The ring line?
Couldnt be, without documents they would never let her through to Hanza.
Through the gate? Homer searched the station from beginning to end, asking everybody
he passed if theyd seen a girl walk by. It seemed she had been wearing a radiation suit.
Homer couldnt believe his ears.
Finally hed retraced Sashas footsteps to the guard at the foot of the escalator.
Its not my problem, answered the guard tiredly from his post. She can go
wherever she wants. I even gave her some good glasses You cant go up now though,
I already got in trouble for letting her through. Up there is where our night time visitors
have their nest. Nobody goes there. When she asked me I almost started laughing. The
guards pupils were so dilated they looked like the barrels of two pistols staring into the
distance beyond Homer.
Go on, get out of here, old man, itll be dark soon.
So Hunter had known! But what had he meant when hed said that Homer
wouldnt be able to bring her back? Was she still alive?
In his haste he stumbled on the way back to the hospital. He dove under the low
hallway, climbed down the narrow staircase and opened the door without knocking
The room was empty. Neither Hunter nor his weapons were anywhere to be seen.
Only the bandages, brown with Hunters blood, lay on the ground. Next to those lay the
empty flask.
The decontaminated radiation suit in the next room was gone. The brigadier had
left Homer behind like a troublesome dog.

***

People were given omens. Her father had always believed that. You just had to see
and decipher them.
Sasha looked up and froze. If somebody was trying to give her a sign it couldnt
have been clearer.
Not far from the broken bridge, amid the thicket, stood an old round tower with a
strangely decorated dome. It was the tallest building in the entire area. She could see it
clearly. The walls were covered in deep cracks and the tower listed dangerously to one
side. It looked like it should have fallen to pieces already. It was a miracle that it still
stood How could she have missed it before?
Around the building grew a giant vine. Its stem was, of course, thinner than the
tower itself. But it seemed that its strength was enough to support the gradually decaying
building. The strange plant wrapped around the tower, thick branches ran from its trunk
and split into thinner twigs, forming a kind of web that held the building in place.
Surely this plant had once been a weak and supple sprout. But now it had climbed
to the edges and the towers balconies. If the tower hadnt been so tall the plant would
never have grown so large.
Spellbound, Sasha gazed at the plant and the building it supported. Everything
made sense again and her will to fight returned. It was strange but she was back where
she started. Against all odds this plant had broken through the gray crust of her despair.
Of course there were things that she could never fix. Things that had already
happened and words which could never be taken back. Still, there was much in this story
that she could change even if she didnt know how. The important thing was that her
strength had been renewed.
Sasha thought she now knew why the hungry chimera had let her go. Somebody
had dragged it back by its invisible chain so she could have a second chance.
Grateful, she was ready to forgive, ready to talk and ready to fight. She just needed
some sign from Hunter. Just a sign.
Suddenly the setting sun disappeared and flared up once more. Sasha raised her
head and from the corner of her eye she could see the black, lightning fast shadow that
had just dived above her. For a second the sun had been eclipsed.
A howling cut through the air, a deafening scream, the creature dropped like a
stone from the sky towards Sasha.
Acting on instinct alone she threw herself to the ground at the same instant and
that was the only thing that saved her. The shadow missed her by a hairs breadth. A
giant shape swooped over the ground with spread wings. It returned to the air with a
powerful thrust and started circling, waiting for the next opportunity to attack.
 Sasha reached for her rifle, but drew her hands back almost immediately. Even a
direct hit wouldnt stop this monster let alone kill it. And that was assuming she could
even hit such a fast target! She stumbled back to the plaza where shed started her short
expedition. She didnt waste a second wondering how shed get back to the metro.
The flying creature screamed and attacked again.
Sashas legs caught in the suit and she fell flat on her stomach but managed to roll
onto her back and fire a short burst at the creature. The bullets scared the monster off for
a few seconds, though it took no apparent damage.
These few hard-won seconds were used to get back on her feet and run for the next
building. Finally she knew how she could mount a defense against this attacker.
Another shadow circled the sky alongside the first. The figures kept themselves
aloft with their heavy, leathery wings. Sashas plan was simple: Keep close to the walls
of the houses where the big, cumbersome monsters couldnt dive at her. What shed do
after that Well she didnt have many options.
Now! She ran forward, pressed herself against the wall and hoped that the cruel
creatures would give up on their attack.
But it seemed the creatures had hunted cunning prey before. The first one landed,
followed closely by the second. They were about twenty meters away and approaching
slowly, dragging their wings along the ground.
Another burst from her rifle didnt scare them off this time, it only angered them.
The bullets seemed to stick in their thick hides. The animal nearest Sasha opened its jaws.
Under its large snout and black lips were angled, needle-like teeth which shown in the
sunlight.
Get down!
Sasha threw herself to the ground without wondering where the voice had come
from. Suddenly there was an explosion next to her and a blistering shock wave buffeted
her. Another one followed immediately, drowning out the wild screaming and distant
sound of wings.
 Hesitantly she raised her head, coughed dust from her lungs and looked around.
Not far from her there was a fresh crater in the street which was filled with dark red
blood. Next to it was a severed burnt wing and a few charred amorphous pieces of flesh.
Over the stony crater a strongly built man in a heavy radiation suit approached
with steady, straight steps.
Hunter!

Chapter 13: A Story

He took her hand, helped her up and pulled her along behind him. Then, as if hed
changed his mind, he let go of her. The visor of his helmet was made from tinted glass so
Sasha couldnt see his eyes.
Stay close behind me! It sounded dull through the filters of his mask. Its going
to be dark soon we need to get out of here.
Without giving her another look he started running.
Hunter! the girl yelled after him. Through the glass of her gasmask she tried to
identify her savior.
He acted like he hadnt heard her and Sasha couldnt do anything but run after him
as fast as she could. Of course he was angry at her. This was the third time hed had to
save the foolish girl. But hed come anyway, and this time there could only be one
explanation, how could she have doubted him
 The brigadier ignored the chimera den which Sasha had stumbled through earlier.
He knew other routes. He turned to the right, away from the main street, dove under an
arch, ran past a few flat rusted iron boxes, fired at a blurry shadow in a corner, and finally
stopped at a shed in front of a brick wall. There were iron bars covering windows. It
didnt look like much. He used a key to open a massive lock. A hideout? No the shed was
a hidden entrance behind the door a concrete staircase led down into the depths.
Hunter snapped the lock back in place from the inside, switched on his flashlight
and started climbing down. The white and green colored walls, which peeled heavily, had
been written on over and over again: In Out, In Out Sashas savior added a few bits
of indecipherable writing on one section. It seemed that everybody who used this secret
entrance had to note when he had gone out and when he had come back. A few names
were missing the numbers for their return.
The way down was shorter then she thought. Even though the steps continued
down lower, Hunter stopped at an almost hidden iron gate, beat his fist against it and after
a few seconds she could hear someone pulling a bolt out of the way. A disheveled man
with a sparse beard opened the gate. He was wearing blue pants.
Whos there? he asked in surprise.
Found him at the ring, said Hunter. The birds almost got him, if I hadnt been
there with the grenade launcher Hey, man, how did you even end up out there? He
slid back his hood and took off his gas mask
Before Sasha stood an unfamiliar man with a short, dark blond military haircut,
pale gray eyes and a dented nose that looked like it had been broken once or twice before.
She had started to suspected that he was moving far too quickly for an injured man, his
movement had been predatory, even his radiation suit hadnt looked the same but she
hadnt wanted to admit it. Shed lied to herself, to keep her fantasy alive.
She felt unbearably hot and ripped the gas mask off her face.

***
 Fifteen minutes later Sasha was on the other side of Hanzas border.
Sorry but without any documents you cant stay here. There was honest regret in
her saviors voice.
She nodded silently and smiled.
Where would she go now?
To him? There was enough time. Sasha couldnt help being disappointed that it
hadnt been Hunter who saved her. Still she had something else to do and it couldnt wait
any longer.
The soft and alluring tones of the wonderful music cut through the noise of the
crowd. It filtered over the sound of boots and the screams of merchants. It was the same
melody that had enchanted her the day before. As she followed the sound she had a
feeling that once again she was heading towards a door filled with unearthly light. Where
would it lead her this time?
Dozens of listeners clustered around the musician. To see him Sasha had to elbow
her way through the crowd. Finally she was standing directly in front of him. His melody
pulled the people to him like magic but kept them at a distance at the same time. It was
like fire, all flew toward it but nobody wanted to get burned.
Sasha wasnt afraid.
He was young, tall and surprisingly handsome.
Despite looking a bit weak, his well-groomed face wasnt soft and his green eyes
held no naivety. His long dark hair fell to his shoulders. His clothes were different than
those of the people in the crowd at the Pavelezkaya, they were simple but extraordinarily
clean.
His instrument was like a childs whistle, built from plastic piping, only larger,
black and with folds of copper. The flute was finely crafted and probably very expensive.
The sounds that he drew out of it seemed to be from another world and another time.
Much like the instrument and its owner.
 He caught Sashas gaze immediately, let it go for a moment and then caught it
again. She felt herself blush. His attention was not unpleasant but she was here for the
music.

***

There you are! Thank god!

It was Homer, he made his way to her, breathing heavily and sweating.
How is he? Sasha asked immediately.
He? started the old man but then said, He left.
What? Where did he go? Sasha felt like a hand had closed around her heart.
He ran away. Packed all his things. I think he went to the Dobryninskaya.
Did he leave anything? She asked carefully, anxiously awaiting the answer.
The old man shook his head. No, nothing.
Somebody in the crowd made an angry hissing sound.
Homer was quiet and listened to the music. He looked suspiciously between the
musician and the girl. But Sasha was lost in thought.
Hunter had chased her off and then run away, but she was beginning to understand
his strange rules.
If the bold one had taken everything he owned, truly everything He didnt want
her to give up or stray from her path. He wanted her to come find him. And she would do
it, even after everything that had happened. But only if The knife? she whispered.
Did he take it with him? The black one?
The old man shrugged. It wasnt in his room.
So he did take it!
That simple sign was all she needed.
The musician with the flute was talented without a doubt and he knew how to play
the instrument perfectly, as if hed been playing concerts just yesterday. The flute box in
front of him was filled with bullets, so many that he could have fed a small station or
wiped it from the face of the earth.
There it was. Acknowledgement, Homer thought and smiled sadly.
The old man wondered where he knew the melody from, but even after a few long
minutes of pondering he had no clue. Maybe from an old movie at the cinema, a concert
or the radio? He couldnt remember where hed heard it. The extraordinary thing was that
once the melody captured you, it didnt let you go. You were compelled to listen to the
end and then applaud until the musician started playing again.
Prokofjev? Schotakovitsch? Homers musical knowledge was too limited for him
to guess the composer.
But whoever wrote those notes, the musician played them not just as they were
read but gave them their own sound and a new meaning he breathed life into them.
Such was his skill that Homer forgave the young man the seductive looks he cast at
Sasha, like a paper ribbon to a kitten.
But now it was time to take the girl away. Homer waited until the music died and
the musician took in the crowds applause. Then he grabbed Sasha by her wet dress,
which smelled like chloride, and dragged her out of the circle.
My things are packed. Im going after him, he said as he put some distance
between them and the musician.
Me too, the girl answered quickly.
Do you even know what youd be doing? asked Homer.
I know everything. I heard you two talking. She looked at him defiantly. A
plague? Right? Hes going to burn everything. The living and the dead. The entire
station.
He looked at her and said, What do you want with him?
Sasha didnt answer and for a while they walked in silence next to each other
through the empty part of the station. Finally she answered slowly, searching for the right
words. My father died. Because of me its my fault. I cant do anything to bring him
back. But there are people that are still alive. I can save them. So Ive got to try. I owe
him that.
Save? Who or what are you going to save them from? The old man asked
bitterly. You cant cure this disease.
From your friend. Hes more terrible than the disease. More deadly. The girl
sighed. With a disease at least theres hope. Somebody will always survive. One in a
thousand.
Why do you think you can stop him when no one else can?
Ive done it before, she answered with complete confidence.
Was the girl overestimating her abilities? Was she deceiving herself in her belief
that the merciless brigadier felt anything for her? Homer didnt want to discourage Sasha
but he thought it was better to warn her.
Do you know what I found in his room? The old man passed the broken makeup
box to the girl and asked. Did you
Sasha shook her head.
Then it was Hunter.
The girl opened the box and looked at her reflection through the shattered glass.
She thought about her last conversation with the bold one and the words that hed spoken,
still half asleep, and when shed tried to give him the knife. She thought about Hunters
face, how hed charged, with powerful strides and covered in blood, at the chimera so
that it abandoned Sasha and went after him
He didnt do this because of me, she said. It was because of the mirror.
Homer raised his eyebrows. What does that have to do with anything?
You said it yourself. Sasha closed the box cover and tried to mimic Homers
mentor-like tone. Sometimes its better to see yourself from the outside. Youll
understand yourself better.
You think Hunter doesnt know who he is? Or that hes still haunted by his
appearance? And thats the reason he broke the mirror?
The girl leaned against a pillar. Its not about whats on the outside.
 Hunter knows exactly who he is. Obviously he doesnt like being reminded of it,
Homer said.
Maybe he forgot. I get the impression sometimes that hes trying to remember
something. Or that hes been chained to a mine cart thats rolling down into the darkness
and theres nobody there to stop it. I cant explain it. I just feel it when I see him.
Sashas brow furrowed. Nobody else sees it. Thats why I said he needed me.
Sure and thats why he left you.
I left him. And now I have to catch up to him, hopefully its not too late. Theyre
still alive. We can still save them. And Hunter too.
Homer raised his head, Who do you want to save him from?
She looked at him searchingly. Had the old man understood anything shed been
trying so hard to explain? She answered in a completely serious voice, From the man in
the mirror.

***

Is this seat taken?

Sasha, who was poking at her grilled meat and mushrooms, winced. Next to her
stood the green-eyed musician holding a tray. The old man had gone somewhere, his
place was empty.
Yes.
Well, every problem has a solution! He put his tray down, took an empty chair
from a neighboring table and sat next to Sasha before she could object.
If anything happens, I didnt invite you, she warned.
Is your grandfather going to be angry? He winked at her. Allow me to
introduce myself. My name is Leonid.
Sasha realized she was blushing again.
Hes not my grandfather.
Is that so? Leonid took another bite of his meal and raised an eyebrow.
 Youre very forward, she said.
He pointed his fork at her. Persistent.
Sasha had to smile. And a little too full of yourself for my tastes.
I put my trust in humanity, he mumbled as he chewed. But I trust myself above
all.
The old man returned, stood behind the braggart and frowned impatiently. Then he
sat in his chair. Sasha, isnt it a bit crowded in here? He was looking past her at the
musician, ready for a fight.
Sasha! Leonid repeated triumphantly and looked up from his bowl. Allow me.
As I said my name is Leonid
Nikolai Ivanovitsch, answered Homer grumpily and looked at him. What was
that melody you were playing back there? It sounded familiar.
Im not surprised. Ive been playing it for the last three days straight. He
emphasized the last word. I composed it myself.
You made it? Sasha put her fork down. What do you call it?
Leonid shrugged. It has no name. I never made one up. How could I try to
express such a thing in mere words? And why would I try?
Its beautiful, the girl said. Extraordinarily beautiful.
I could name it after you, said the musician without skipping a beat. Youd do
it justice.
No thank you. She shook her head. That melody should remain nameless.
Thats more fitting.
To name it after you would be fitting. Leonid started to laugh, but inhaled some
food and coughed instead.
You ready? Homer took Sashas tray and stood up. Weve got to go. Please
excuse us, young man.
No problem! Im finished too. Could I keep the young lady company for a
while?
Were about to leave, Homer said sharply.
 Wonderful! Me too. I need to get to the Dobryninskaya. The musician said this
with an expression of innocence. Could that possibly in the direction youre heading?
It is, Sasha confirmed in surprise. As she tried to avoid Homers gaze her eyes
fell on Leonid again and again.
He had a certain relaxed, somewhat sarcastic way about him. Like a little boy
lashing out with a twig he made small, harmless strikes that you couldnt really take
offense to, not even the old man. He made his innuendos in a casual and funny way so
that Sasha didnt even think about taking him seriously. And what was so wrong about
him liking her?
Shed fallen in love with his music long before shed met him. The temptation to
take the source of that magical music with them was just too great.

***

Of course it was the music. That young devil lured innocent souls like the pied
piper so that he could corrupt every girl who followed the sweet notes of his song. Now
he was trying to sink his fangs into Alexandra and Homer didnt know how to react.
In the beginning the old man ignored the cocky jokes but he soon found his temper
growing short. He was also angry at how easily Leonid got the Hanza guards, renowned
for their strictness, to let the three of them pass through to the ring line and onto the
Dobryninskaya and without any papers! The musician entered the station commanders
rooms with his box full of bullets. The commander was an intense old man with a
mustache. He came back smiling and his box a little lighter.
Homer had to be honest the young mans diplomatic skills were very useful. The
motorized railcar, which had brought them to the Pavelezkaya, had vanished along with
Hunter. A detour would have cost them at least a week.
But the carelessness with which the trickster left the station and how easily he
parted with his savings just to follow Sasha into the tunnel made Homer uneasy.
Normally you might think a person who did something like that was in love but Homer
knew the boy was not sincere. He was accustomed to easy conquests.
Homer felt like a grumpy old nanny. But there was a good reason for his vigilance
and envy. The last thing he needed was for his muse to run away with a traveling
musician! This musician was, to be honest, a totally unnecessary figure.
Homer hadnt prepared a place for him in the novel. Hed just taken a chair and
invited himself into their game.

***

Is there no one else left in the entire world?

The three travelers were already wandering in the direction of the Dobryninskaya,
accompanied by three guards.
When you shared your bullets with the right people your wildest dreams could come
true.
Sasha told a short story about her adventure on the surface, when shed stopped
her face had darkened.
Homer and the musician shared a look who would be the first to cheer her up?
The old man cleared his throat. Is there life past the MKAD? You youngsters
ever wonder about that?
Of course, explained Leonid with an air of confidence. It isnt true that no one
survived. Theres just no way to get to those people.
Not from what Ive heard, Homer said. I heard that somewhere behind the
Taganskaya theres a secret passage that leads to a certain tunnel. It looks like any other
tunnel, six meter wide, but it has no tracks. Its deep, maybe forty or fifty meters
underground. It leads to the east
You mean the tunnel that leads to the bunkers in the Ural Mountains? Leonid
cut him off. And that story about the man who accidentally found it and got a backpack
full of supplies before heading out into the tunnel
 He walked for a whole week, rarely stopping to rest, until finally his supplies
had almost run out and he had to turn back. There was no end to the tunnel. If you believe
the rumors its the way to the bunkers in the Ural Mountains. Maybe somebody is still
alive there.
Probably not, yawned the musician.
Homer ignored him and turned to Sasha. A friend at Polis told me that one of
their radio operators had once managed to contact some men in a tank. They must have
closed all the hatches in time and drove into no-mans-land where no one had thought to
drop bombs
Leonid nodded. Everybody knows that story. When they ran out of fuel they dug
the tank into a small hill and started a very small settlement. And for a few weeks they
called Polis every evening until
Until the transmitter broke down, Homer finished, getting irritated.
And what about the submarine? His rival was on a roll. One of our submarines
was away when the bombs struck. When it finally emerged everything was over. The
crew docked at Wladivostok
And its reactor still powers the place to this day. Homer recalled. Half a year
ago I met a man that claimed he had been the first officer on that vessel. He said that hed
crossed the entire country on a bicycle and finally got to Moscow. He must have travelled
for the better part of three years.
And you talked to him personally? Leonid asked in polite surprise.
Of course I did! Homer said. Legends had always been his hobby and he
couldnt resist lording it over the boy. He still had one important story up his sleeve.
Actually he wouldve liked to save it for a special occasion instead of wasting it in a
contest, but when he realized Sasha was hanging on this rogues every word ... He told
them the story. And what about the Polyarnyye Sori, do you know anything about it?
Polyarnyye-what? asked the musician, turning toward Homer.
Allow me. Homer was all smiles. In the north, on the Kola half island there is a
city called Polyarnyye Sori. A godforsaken nest. Its one and a half thousand kilometers
from there to Moscow, to Petersburg its at least a thousand. The closest place is
Murmansk, with its marine base, and even thats a long way away.
So basically a dump, Leonid commented with an oblique smile.
It lies far away from any of the big cities, secret factories or military bases all
the important targets. All those cities that our missile shield couldnt protect were turned
to dust and ashes. And the rest with shields and working missiles were Homer looked
up. Well we all know what happened to them. But there were places nobody was aiming
at. Those that posed no threat. Like Polyarnyye Sori.
No one cares about those places anymore, the musician said.
They should, Homer said. Because not far from Polyarnyye Sori there is a
nuclear reactor. One of the most powerful in the entire country. Back then it probably
supplied the entire northern half of Russia with electricity.
Millions of people. Hundreds of factories. I came from Archangelsk, so I know
what Im talking about. I went there once when I was a student. Its a real fortress, a state
inside a state. They had a small army there, their own farmers and factories. They were
totally self-sufficient. Why would anything have changed after the war? He smiled sadly.
You mean
Petersburg is gone, Murmansk and Archangelsk too. Millions of people
destroyed, factories and cities burned to the ground. Polyarnyye Sori survived. And the
reactor was left untouched. For kilometers around it theres nothing but snow. Snow and
fields of ice, wolves and polar bears. There was no connection to the central
administration. And they had enough fuel to keep a big city alive for quite a while. That
means they and the surrounding areas are taken care of for perhaps the next hundred
years. Theyll get through the winter easily.
An ark, whispered Leonid. And when the flood was over and the water had
retreated, he came from the mountain Ararat
Exactly. The old man nodded.
How do you know all this? The musician didnt sound sarcastic or bored
anymore.
 I used to work as a radio operator. Homer danced around the question. I wanted
to find survivors around my home.
Are they going to last, so high up in the north?
Im sure of it. The last time I heard from them was two years ago. But just think
about it, electricity and warmth for a hundred years. With medical machines, computers
and electronic libraries on CD-ROMs. Why would you know about it? In the entire
metro there are only two computers and they are just toys. And this is the capitol. He
smiled bitterly.
If people survived somewhere else, not just a few but entire communities, then
they are back in the 17th century, if not the stone age. Wood for fire, cattle and shamen.
One in every three children dies at birth. Abacuses and writing on tree bark. There is
nothing but a farm or two. A no-mans-land without people. Wolves, bears and mutants.
Our entire civilization is built on electricity. He cleared his throat and looked
around. If we run out the station dies and thats it. Millions of humans built our
civilization over hundreds of years and suddenly everything is gone. Homo sapiens can
start again. But who knows if wed make it this time around? And just imagine:
A handful of people get a hundred year reprieve!
Youre right, its Noahs ark. An almost unlimited supply of energy. Oil has to be
refined and gas needs to be dug up and pumped for kilometers. So back to steam powered
machines? Or even further?
He took Sashas hand. I tell you the people there arent in any danger. They are
as tough as roaches. But civilization You have to defend it.
Is there still civilization there?
No need to worry about that. Atomic power is our greatest technical achievement.
The conditions are better there than here. In two decades Polyarnyye Sori has grown
quite a bit. They had continuous radio broadcasts: To all survivors and their
coordinates. Rumors say some people still make the journey out there to join them.
Why have I never heard of it? mumbled the musician.
 Only a few people know of it. Its hard to pick up their wave length here. But you
could try it sometime when you have a day or two off. Homer was smiling. Codeword:
last harbor
I shouldve known that. I collect those stories. Has they really been left in peace
there?
How to explain it Theres nothing but snow and ice surrounding it and even if
there were any villages or towns they turned wild very soon after. Theyve been attacked
by barbarians before. And of course there are wild animals, if you can even call them
that. But they have enough weapons. A round the clock defense and guards posted
everywhere. Electric fences topped with barbed wire and watchtowers. Like I said, its a
fortress. In the last thirty years theyve built a palisade. Theyve explored their
surroundings. Theyve gotten as far as Murmansk, at least two hundred kilometers
away.
Now the city is nothing but a giant, smoking crater. They wanted to send an
expedition to the south, in the direction of Moscow but I talked them out of it. Why risk
it? As soon as the radiation dies down they can conquer other pieces of land. But at the
moment there is nothing to be gained by coming here. Its a graveyard and nothing else.
Homer sighed.
Its funny, said Leonid. Humanity has been saved by the very thing that
destroyed it: atomic energy. Its like Prometheus stealing fire. The gods had forbidden
mankind to wield fire. But he wanted to elevate humanity, out of darkness and the cold

Ive read it, Homer snapped. The myths and legends of ancient Greece.
A prophetic myth. The gods were against it for good reason. They knew how it
would end.
But it was fire that made mankind who they were.
Do you mean to say that without electricity humans are nothing more than
animals?
 I mean to say that without power we are thrown back in time two hundred years.
And if you imagine that only one in a thousand survived and everything has to be built
again, connected and explored, it will probably take more than five hundred years to get
back to the way things were. If we ever get back at all. Or do you have a better idea?
No, no, answered Leonid. But is it really just about electricity?
What else could it be about? Homer raised his arms over his head. The musician
gave him a long, strange look and then shrugged.
The silence stretched. Homer felt the end of the conversation was a victory.
Finally the girl had stopped devouring that boy with her eyes and was lost in thought.
They werent far from the station when Leonid said, Well, I think its my turn to tell a
story now.
Homer nodded wearily.
At the other end of the Sportivnaya, where the destroyed Sokolnitscheski bridge
lies, theres a line that splits off and leads to a dead end. Theres a grid and a security
door. Many times people have tried to open it but theyve never succeeded. Almost every
adventurer who went there never returned. Their bodies were found later in other parts of
the metro.
Homer frowned. The emerald city?
Everyone knows, continued Leonid unflustered, that the Sokolnitscheski metro
bridge went down on the first day of the war. That means that all the stations behind it
were cut off from the metro. Most people think nobody survived, but theres no
evidence.
Homer made a dismissive gesture. The emerald city.
Everyone also knows that Moscow University was built on marsh ground. That
huge building was only stable because giant machines cooled the cellar and kept the
swampy ground beneath it frozen solid. If not for that it would have slid down into the
river long ago.
Thats a far-fetched argument, the old man said. He knew what Leonid was
going to say next.
 Its been over twenty years but the abandoned building is still standing in the
same place.
Because its a fable, thats why!
Rumors say that under the university there isnt just a normal cellar but a gigantic
bunker that is ten stories deep. There are the cooling machines and, even more
importantly, a nuclear reactor, living quarters and connections to the nearest metro
stations even to the metro 2. Leonid looked at Sasha with wide, menacing eyes that
made her laugh.
Thats old-hat, commented Homer.
They say theres an entire city underground, continued the musician in his
dreamy voice. The inhabitants of this city survived and made it their job to gather all
knowledge and restore humanity to the former glory it knew before the war, when all was
beautiful. They endlessly mount expeditions to galleries, museums and libraries on the
surface. They raise their children with an appreciation for beauty. There is peace and
harmony there, their ideology is knowledge and their religion is art. Their walls arent
just covered in ugly oil colors but with colorful frescos. Their loud speakers dont sounds
orders or alarms but rather play Berlioz, Haydn and Tchaikovsky. Just imagine a place
where every inhabitant can quote Dante off the top of their heads.
Thats why the people of that city have stayed the same as before. Well not like
in the people in 21st century, more like olden times. Well, anyway, youve read Myths
and legends.
Leonid smiled at the old man as if he was a bit slow. Free, courageous, beautiful
and wise. Righteous and noble.
Ive never heard of it! Now he only hoped that the clever imp hadnt caught the
girl in his net already.
In the metro the place is called the emerald city. Its inhabitants call it by another
name.
And that would be? Homer asked angrily.
The ark.
 Nonsense! Complete nonsense! yelled the old man and he turned away.
Of course, said the musician. After all, its just a story.

***

At the Dobryninskaya chaos reigned. Homer looked from one side to the other,
surprised and fearful. Was this an illusion? Could something like this happen at the ring
line? It looked like somebody had declared war on Hanza. The transport railcar sat in the
tunnel. A few bodies lay on top of it.
Paramedics carried them down and put them on a piece of cloth, one was missing
its head, another had a mutilated face, intestines were spilling out of others
Homer held his hand in front of Sashas eyes.
Leonid was breathing heavily and turned away.
What happened? he asked one of the men guarding the paramedics.
Something hit our guards at the big distributor. All dead, to the last man. No
survivors. And nobody knows who did it. The paramedic wiped his hands on his coat.
You got a smoke? My hands are shaking.
The big distributor, so Hanzas shuttle, it was the web like system of tracks that
split from the radial station at the Pavelezkaya and connected four lines to each other:
The ring, the gray, the orange and the green line.
Homer guessed that Hunter would have taken that route. It was the shortest. But it
was always guarded by Hanza.
Why all this bloodshed? Had they opened fire first?
Or hadnt they seen him coming out of the darkness? Where was he now? Oh god,
there was another head Why had he done this?
Homer thought about the broken mirror and Sashas theory. Could she have been
right? Maybe the brigadier was fighting himself, maybe he wanted to avoid unnecessary
bloodshed, maybe he wasnt in control of himself And that was the reason hed broken
the mirror, to destroy the terrible man that hed become?
 No. Hunter hadnt seen a man in that reflection but a monster. Hed tried to
eliminate it but only broken the glass and one reflection had become a dozen.
But what if Homer looked at the paramedics who had just loaded the last of the
eight bodies onto the platform What if hed seen a desperate man starring back out of
the mirror? The old Hunter?
What if the other one, the monstrous one, had already arrived and taken control?
Chapter 14: What Else?

What made a human, human? More than a million years he journeyed through the
world. The magical transformation, which allowed this intelligent animal become
something totally new, had only happened in the last ten thousand years. You only had to
think: he spent 99 percent of his history cowering in caves and chewing raw meat, unable
to warm himself, develop tools or weapons and he couldnt even really talk. Even his
feelings werent that far from an apes or a wolfs: Hunger, fear, companionship,
pleasure
How had humanity learned to build in just a few centuries? To change its
surroundings and create something new?
Why had they suddenly started to paint and discover music? How did they bend
the earth to their will and change it to meet their needs? What was it that had made this
animal into something special in the last ten thousand years? Fire? It gave humans the
ability to tame light and warmth and carry it into uninhabitable, cold regions. But what
did that change? It was good that it made it possible for humans to extend their reach.
But rats had colonized the entire planet without fire. No it wasnt fire, well not just fire,
there the musician had been right. There had to be something else But what?
Speech? That was a difference between man and all other animals without a
doubt. When rough thoughts were polished to the brilliance of words theyd finally turned
into common currency. At the same time it wasnt about expressing yourself, or what was
happening in your head but more about the ability to create order from chaos, like
molten iron flowing into a solid form. To maintain a clear and sober mind and pass on
orders and knowledge accurately. It was the ability to organize, conquer, raise armies
and form states.
But ants didnt need words. On a far from humanely noticeable level they lived in
complex hierarchies, shared information and orders with high accuracy, and sent
thousands of fearless legions with iron discipline to wage unforgiving wars.
Perhaps it was letters? Without them would we have been able to save our
knowledge? The bricks that made up the sky-high tower of Babylon that was human
civilization?
Without them all the wisdom humanity had gathered would flow apart like
unbaked clay and the tower would crumble beneath its own weight. Turning all into dust.
Without letters every generation had to build the tower again, would work all their
lives in the ruins of their clay huts and finally die, without ever completing a single floor.
First letters and then writing made it possible for humanity to transport the gathered
knowledge from their small heads and store it accurately for their descendants. So it was
no longer their fate to discover the already discovered over and over again and they were
able to build something of their own on the stable foundation built by their ancestors.
Was that all?
If wolves could write, would their civilization be similar to that of humanity?
Would they even have a civilization? A full wolf no longer hungered. It got tired,
snuggled with its kin until its growling stomach drove it on once more. A full human, on
the other hand, gets a strange feeling:
He grows pensive and restless. The unexplained and unknowable questions set him
staring at the stars for hours, to paint the walls of his cave with ochre, to decorate the
front of his warship with a carved statue, building stone colossuses over centuries of hard
labor instead of strengthening the wall of his fortress and work his whole life perfecting
his poetic masterpiece instead of learning how to wield a sword.
 It was this tendency which led a former train conductors assistant to devote the
few years he had left to lecture and search and try to write something down
Something special. To be free of this longing, the common and poor people
listened to a skilled violinist, kings had kept their own troubadours and painters, and a
girl born underground gazed at the packaging of a painted tea bag. It is an obscure and
powerful calling which is able to drown out even the voice of hunger. Its a calling only
humans can hear.
Its not just the calling that goes beyond the spectrum of animals and gives a
human the ability to dream and hope for courage. Love and mercy, two emotions which
humans think are such a unique ability. They werent the first to find it. Even a dog is
able to love and feel mercy. If its master is sick, it doesnt stray from his side and
whimpers in sympathy. Even it can long for the future and see reason for other creatures
to live. Some dogs have lain down to die after the death of their master. Only so that they
could stay by their side.
But a dog cant dream.
What about the longing for something beautiful and the ability to value it? This
surprising ability to enjoy a composition of colors, arrays of sound, broken lines and
elegantly constructed sentences? To understand the sweet and simultaneously painful
sound of their soul, which purifies your heart, sick and scarred though it may be?
Maybe. But not just that.
To drown out the gun fire and desperate screams of naked prisoners, some
humans have played wonderful operas from Wagner at full volume. And that wasnt a
contradiction: One underscored the other.
What else?
Even if humanity survives this hell as a biological entity, will it keep that fragile
and barely noticeable, though very real, part of its nature? Will it protect that special
spark that morphed the hungry animal over ten thousand years into a creature of order?
To a creature who was tortured more by the hunger of the soul than hunger of the body?
A stumbling creature always torn between two sides between spiritual greatness and
lowness. Between a predatory nature that forbade mercy and an insectile and
unforgivable cruelty .
A creature that built wonderful castles and made paintings beyond that which
most could imagine. Whose ability to create beautiful things could measure up to the
creator itself and yet at the same time create gas chambers and nuclear weapons to
destroy and annihilate that which it created and exterminate its own kind. A creature that
built sand castles with such passion only to destroy them later. A creature that knew no
bounds, that was fearful and hateful, unable to sate its hunger but spending its entire life
attempting to do just that. A human
Will that essential spark remain?
Or will it disappear into the past, a blip on the diagram of history? Will humanity
be cast back after this strange series of events? It had been the timeless routine of
countless generations to keep their eyes fixed on the ground. Will the next ten, hundred,
or five hundred years pass without extinguishing that spark?
What else?

***

Is it true?
What? Leonid was smiling at her.
What you said about the emerald city? The ark? Can a place like that really exist
in the metro? Sashas voice sounded as though she were deep in thought as she stared at
her feet.
There are rumors.
I want to see it When I was walking around up there, I felt pity for humanity.
Because of one stupid mistake, it can never go back to the way it was before. But it was
so beautiful at least I think so.
Because of one stupid mistake? No, there wasnt just one. To destroy the world,
to kill six billion people, can you really call that one mistake?
 Regardless, havent we earned forgiveness? Everyone deserves a second chance,
to change and try again even if its our last chance. Sasha was quiet for a while and
finally said, I want to see how it really looks. I didnt get to appreciate it before. I was
just afraid and everything was so ugly...
Maybe I was just in the wrong place. How dumb The city up there is from a
past life. It has no future. Only memories and even those are alien to me. Just ghosts. I
realized something important while I was up there you know She searched for the
right words.
Hope is like the blood in your veins. As long as it flows youre alive. I want to
keep hoping.
Why do you want to see the emerald city? asked Leonid.
I want to see how life was back then. Youve said it yourself. The people there
are probably completely different. They havent forgotten our past and they will have a
future. They have to be so completely different, totally
They hastily walked along the Dobryninskaya. The guards still hadnt let them out
of their sight. Homer had gathered all his courage and left to speak with the stations
commander. He had been gone for a while now and there was still no sign of Hunter.
At the marble passageway of the Dobryninskaya Sasha realized something
strange. The big arches that led to the tracks were followed by smaller ones.
First a big arch and then a small one, a bigger one and a smaller one. Like a man
and a woman holding hands. A man and a woman, a man and a woman Suddenly she
wanted the broad, strong hand of a man. To hold hers...
You could start a new life here, Leonid said and winked at her. Sometimes you
just have to go somewhere else and search Sometimes its enough to look around.
And what is it Im seeing?
Me.
Ive already seen you. Already heard you play too. Finally Sasha smiled too. I
like your music a lot. Everybody does. Dont you need the bullets? Youve given so
many away to help us...
 I only need enough for food. I always have what I need. To play for money alone
is stupid.
Then why do you play?
For the music. He laughed. For the people. But not just for them. For what
music does to the people.
And what are you doing to the people?
Whatever I want. Now he was serious again. Ive got one song for love and
another for tears.
Sasha gave him a suspicious look. And the one that you played last time? The
one that doesnt have a name? What does it do?
That one? He whistled the song. Nothing. That one just takes away the pain.

***

Hey old man!

Homer closed his book and slid from one side of the uncomfortable bench to the
other. The officer on duty towered over a small desk that was almost completely covered
by three old black telephones with missing dials. On one of the devices a small red light
flashed.
Andrey Andreyevitsch is ready. Youve got two minutes, so dont dawdle, get
right to the point.
Homer sighed. Two minutes isnt enough time.
The officer shrugged. Make the best of them.
Even five minutes wouldnt have been long enough, Homer didnt know where to
start or where to end. Nor did he know what he should ask for. There was no one besides
the Dobryninskayas boss that he could turn to.
Andrey Andreyevitsch was a fat man who practically dripped with malice. He had
an open uniform and he didnt listen to the old man for long.
 Are you crazy? This station is on alert, eight of my men are dead and you come
here with your talk of plagues! There isnt one! Shut up already, youve wasted enough
of my time! You get out of here now or
Like a whale leaping from the ocean the commander of the station rose up and the
desk nearly tipped forward. The officer looked in through the door.
Homer stood up in confusion. Alright, Im going. But first tell me, why did you
send men to the Serpuchovskaya?
Why do you care?
They say at the station
What? Thats enough. Spreading panic Pavel, into the ape cage with him!
A moment later Homer was being dragged out of the room. The officer pulled the
struggling old man into a narrow corridor while ordering him to calm him down. He
punched Homer right in the face.
Homers gasmask flew away. He tried to hold his breath but the next punch got
him in the stomach so he started coughing despite himself.
The whale appeared on the doorstep of his office.
He filled the entire door. Well let him sit in there for a while. Well see you
later Then he barked at a new visitor. And who are you? You got an appointment?
Homer looked back at the stranger. Not three steps away stood Hunter, motionless,
his arms crossed. He wore a new uniform and you couldnt see his face under the shadow
of his visor. He didnt seem to recognize the old man or maybe he just didnt want to get
involved. Homer had assumed Hunter would be dripping with blood from head to toe like
a butcher but the only dark red stain on his clothes was the blood from his own wound.
Hunter looked at the commander with his stony gaze and suddenly he was moving
straight at him as if he were going plow straight through him into the office.
At first Andrey was angry and mumbled something but he still retreated and made
way for Hunter. The officer who still held on to Homers collar stopped, unsure of what
to do.
 Hunter followed the fat man into the office and silenced him with a predator-like
hissing sound. Then he whispered something into the mans ear which sounded like an
order.
The officer had let go of the old man and stepped through the doorway. A moment
later he sped back out, followed by curses and the nearly screaming voice of the
commander. And leave the rabble rouser alone! He sounded like hed been hypnotized.
Red faced, the officer retreated from the doorway, dragged himself into position
and hid his face behind a newspaper. When Homer approached the door, the man lowered
his face deeper into his newspaper, wanting nothing more to do with the situation.
He gave the guard-dog a triumphant smile and looked more closely at the
telephones. The one that constantly flashed had a small piece of paper taped to it.
Someone had written a word on it with a blue pen:
TULSKAYA

***

Were in contact with the order. The sweating commander cracked his knuckles
and didnt let the brigadier out of his sight for a moment. Nobody has told me about this
operation. I cant make this decision alone.
Then call them, answered the brigadier. Theres still time for them to vote on
it, though not much.
They wont approve. Such an operation endangers the stability of Hanza. You
know that that is more important than anything else. Anyway we have the situation under
control.
What the hell do you mean stability? If we sit back and do nothing
Andrey Andreyewitsch stubbornly shook his heavy head. The situation is under
control. I dont know what you want from me. All the exits are guarded. Not even a
mouse can slip through. We can wait it out. The problem will take care of itself.
 Nothing will take care of itself! yelled Hunter. Youll just force them to go to
the surface and get to another station that way. The station has to be cleansed. The only
thing I dont understand is why you havent done it already.
But there could still be healthy people there. What do you think is going to
happen? That Im going to order my boys to burn the Tulskaya to the ground? And the
people from the sect too just to be safe? Maybe the Serpuchovskaya while were at it?
Half of the men have their whores and bastards there! No, you know what? We are not
fascists. War is war, but this here this is slaughtering sick people An epidemic like
this broke out at Belorusskaya among their livestock, they put the pigs into different
corners of the station, so that the sick could be killed and the healthy could live on. They
didnt just kill them all.
Those were pigs. This is about humans, said the brigadier with indifference.
No, no, a thousand times no. The commander shook his head so hard that sweat
flew through the room. I cant. Its inhumane. How could I live with that on my
conscience? Think of the nightmares Id get.
You dont have to do anything. There are plenty of people that dont get
nightmares for that part of the job.
Ive sent messengers to Polis. Theyre looking for a vaccine. Andrey
Andreyewitsch wiped his forehead with his sleeve. We are hoping that
There is no vaccine. And no hope. Stop burying your head in the sand. Why
arent there any paramedics here? Why are you refusing to answer the telephone and give
the green light for the orders legions?
The commander said nothing. He tried to close the buttons of his coat, fumbled
around with his wet fingers and finally gave up. Then he stepped to his beat-up cupboard
and poured some strong smelling liquor into a small glass and drained it in one gulp
Hunter finally understood. You havent told anyone They have no idea! Your
neighboring station has an outbreak and the order doesnt know about it
 Theyd have my head! answered the commander thickly. An epidemic in a
neighboring station that would be the end of me. Because I let it happen Because I
didnt do anything to prevent it Because it endangered the stability of Hanza.
Neighboring station? You mean the Serpuchovskaya?
Until now everything has been quiet, but I reacted too late. How could I have
known
And what have you told your people? That youre sending military units to the
neighboring station? And to close the tunnel?
Bandits A riot That happens all the time. Its common enough.
The brigadier nodded. And now it is too late to tell them the truth.
Its not just about me stepping down. Andrey Andreyewitsch filled another glass
and drank it just as quickly as before. It would mean a death sentence.
And now?
I wait, said the commander and he leaned on the table. Maybe something will
happen
And why arent you answering the phone? Homer asked suddenly. The
telephone hasnt stopped ringing this whole time. Its the people at the Tulskaya. Who
knows whats going happening there.
No it doesnt ring. Not anymore, answered the commander. I switched off the
sound. Only the little light is still flashing. As long as it does that there are still people
alive there.
Why arent you picking up? repeated Homer angrily.
What am I supposed to tell them?! That they should be patient? Tell them to get
well soon? That help is on the way? That they should put a bullet in their heads? Talking
with the refugees was enough for me.
Shut up and listen to me, ordered Hunter. In twenty-four hours Im coming
back with a unit. Youre going to let us pass freely through all guard posts. Youll keep
the Serpuchovskaya closed. Well go to the Tulskaya and do our job. If necessary well
do the same thing at the Serpuchovskaya. Well wage a little war. You dont have to
contact Hanza. You dont have to do anything. Ill see to it that stability is restored.
The commander nodded weakly. Exhausted he sank into his chair like a flat
bicycle tire.
He filled another glass, sniffed it and before he drained the glass he asked quietly,
You are going to wade through blood up to your waist. Doesnt that scare you?
Blood washes off with water, answered the brigadier.

***

When they left the commanders office, he bellowed for the officer in a thundering
voice. The officer ran through the door and it closed behind him with a creaking sound.
Homer had been waiting for Hunter. He let brigadier take a few steps before
leaning over the officers desk, picking up the blinking phones receiver and putting it to
his ear. Hello! Hello! Can you hear me? he whispered.
Silence but the silence wasnt like that of a cut cable, it was more like
somebody had picked up the on the other end but the phone was sitting unattended.
Maybe the person on the other end had been waiting for a long time and run out of
patience. It felt like the old mans broken voice was falling on the ears of a dead man.
Hunter turned around in the doorway and gave Homer a disapproving glance.
Homer carefully replaced the receiver and followed the brigadier.

***

Popov! Popov! Get up! Quickly!

The commanders powerful lamp shined through his closed eyelids and blazed in
his mind. A strong hand shook Artyoms shoulder and slapped his unshaven face.
He struggled to open his eyes and rubbed at his burning cheek. But finally he
jumped up from the stretcher, straightened and saluted.
 Wheres your weapon? Get it quickly and follow me!
Hed been sleeping in his uniform for days.
Artyom took out his Kalashnikov, which hed wrapped in a piece of cloth and
used as a pillow, and tiredly walked behind the commander. How long had he been
asleep? An hour? Two? His head hurt and his throat felt dry.
Its started! yelled the commander over his shoulder. Artyom could smell his
breath.
What has? he asked fearfully.
Youll see soon enough. Good, you have a spare clip. Youre going to need it.
The wide open Tulskaya looked like the top of a big tunnel that had been plunged
into almost complete darkness. Only in a few places did weak rays of light hit the ground.
These rays moved senseless from side to side as if children or monkeys were playing
with the lamps. But how had monkeys gotten in here?
Suddenly Artyom was fully awake. He realized immediately what was going on
and started to ready his rifle. They hadnt been able to hold! Or was there still time?
Two husky and sleepy fighters emerged from the guards house and joined them.
The commander gathered all his reserves, everybody who could still stand and hold a
weapon. Some of them were already coughing.
Through the heavy, stale air a strange and terrible sound came to their ears. No
scream, no howling, no order, just the moaning of hundreds of throats tortured, filled
with despair and horror. The moaning was framed by a metallic sound that came from
two, three... no, ten different directions.
On the platform there was a giant barricade of ripped and broken tents, broken
cabins, railcar parts, wood and all kinds of furniture. The commander cleared a way
through this junkyard like an icebreaker.
Artyom and the others followed. On the right, out of the darkness, they could see
the incomplete train. The lights in both cars were missing; the open doors had been
hastily nailed shut with metal struts. Inside, behind the dark windows, was a broiling,
terrible crowd of people.
 Dozens of hands gripped the bars and tore at them, causing the noise theyd been
hearing. Snipers with gas masks had been posted at every door. From time to time the
doors yawned open and the snipers raised their rifles to threaten, but so far without
beating or shooting. In a few places the guards attempted to calm the masses. Did the
people in the railcar even understand what the soldiers were saying? They had
imprisoned the people in the train because someone had tried to escape the quarantine
and flee into the tunnel. There had just been too many, there were more sick people than
healthy. The commander ran past the first wagon and Artyom finally saw why he was in
such a hurry. The last door had burst open like an infection and strange creatures
scrambled out of the car. They could barely stand and their faces were covered in
tumors, making it impossible to recognize anyone. Their arms and legs were bloated and
sickly.
All the remaining soldiers were gathered at the door. The commander pushed
through the ring and stood before them. Patients! Return to your seats immediately!
Thats an order! In one swift movement he pulled the Stetschkin from his belt.
The sick people closest to him took a while to raise their heavy heads. Then one of
them ran his tongue over bloody lips and asked, Why are you doing this to us?
You know youve been infected by an unknown disease. We are still searching
for a cure You must have patience.
Youre searching for a cure, repeated the sick man. Dont make me laugh.
Return to your railcar immediately, the commander flicked the safety off on his
pistol. I am going to count to ten, after that we open fire. One
Youre just stringing us along so you can keep us under control. Until we die on
our own.
Two
Its been twenty-four hours since you last gave us water. Why would you give
water to dead men
The guards are afraid to go near the doors. Two of them were already infected
Three.
 The train is full of corpses. We are walking on human faces. Do you know what
it sounds like when a nose breaks? And if its a childs then
We have no place to put them, we cant burn them Four.
One part of the car is so packed that the dead are standing next to the living.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Five.
Just shoot already, damn it! I know there isnt a cure. At least this way will be
faster. It feels like somebody is tearing me open and pouring alcohol on the wound
Six.
Just burn me in the end. It feels like my head is full of worms that slowly
eating their way through my brain... my soul Nom, nom, crack, crack, crack,
Seven
You idiot! Just let us go already! Let us die like human beings! You dont have
the right to torture us this way! You know as well as I do that were all probably
Eight All of this is for our security. So that others may live. Im ready to die
but not one of you pestilent lepers are getting out of here. Rifles up! Take aim!
Artyom raised his rifle and aimed for the sick person closest to him. God in
heaven, was it a woman?
He looked into her eyes and shifted the barrel of his gun to point at an old,
stumbling man. The group of creatures retreated, moaning at first, trying to press back
into the wagon but a continuous stream of the sick kept forcing their way out, like pus
seeping from a wound. So much moaning and crying.
You sadistic son of a bitch, dont you see what youre doing to us? Were not
zombies!
Nine, the commanders voice was breaking. It sounded like a whisper.
Let us go! screamed the sick man as he reached out towards the commander. As
if following his lead the crowd all raised their arms as well.
Fire!
 ***

As soon as Leonid put his instrument to his lips the people began gathering
around. Even the first few short and imperfect notes brought smiles to the peoples faces.
They started to clap and were happy. And when the voice of the flute grew stronger their
faces transformed. It seemed like all the dirt was washed away.
This time Sasha had a place of honor, right next to the musician. Dozens of eyes
were on Leonid but a few them fell on her. At first shed felt uncomfortable, like she
didnt deserve their attention. The melody, like a good book that people couldnt put
down, had carried her away from the granite floor.
It was that same melody, Leonids creation, the nameless one that soared through
the white room. He started and ended all his performances with it. With it he smoothed
the wrinkles in his listeners faces, wiped the dust from their eyes and lit small fires in
their hearts.
Even though Sasha already knew the melody, Leonid could open small, secret
doors on his flute and change the music so that it never sounded exactly the same. She
felt like she had been staring at the sky for a long time and suddenly between the clouds
she had seen an endless green and distant land for a second. She felt a sting. She winced
and was deep beneath the earth once more. She turned around fearfully. There he was, a
head taller than all the people surrounding them. Just a little further down he stood with
his chin raised. Hunter.
His hard gaze fell on her and it only wavered to the musician briefly. Leonid
didnt even notice him. When he played he tuned everything else out.
Strangely Hunter didnt leave immediately and made no effort to drag her with
him or stop the concert. Only after the last notes had died did he retreat and disappear.
Sasha abruptly left Leonids side and made her way through the crowd, trying to
catch up to the bold one.
He hadnt gone far. He was sitting on a bench with Homer. His head was bowed.
 You heard everything then, the brigadier said with a thick voice. I have to keep
going. Are you coming with me?
Where? The old man tiredly smiled at the girl.
She knows. Hunter cast his hard gaze at Sasha once more and then nodded
silently and turned back to the old man.
Its not far from here. But he made a gesture with his head. I dont want to go
by myself.
Take me with you, Sasha yelled.
The bold one sighed. He balled his hand into a fist and then opened up again.
Thanks for the knife, he said finally. I made good use of it.
The girl stepped back in surprise. In the next moment shed regained her
composure and said, Its your knife. Do what you want with it.
I didnt have a choice.
She chewed her bottom lip. You always have a choice.
No, not even now. If you only knew... youd understand. If you truly
Understand what?
How important it is for me to get to the Tulskaya. Important for me. As fast as
possible
Sasha saw his fingers trembling slightly and the dark stain on his shoulder had
grown larger. She was afraid of this man but now she was more afraid for him. You
have to take me with you, she told him softly.
No way, he answered. It doesnt matter who does it. So why not me?
Youre killing yourself. She moved closer and carefully took his hand.
He pulled back as if shed bitten him. I have to do it. The people in command
here are all cowards. If I wait any longer, I kill the entire metro.
But what if there was another way? A cure? If you If you didnt have to do
this?
How many times do I have to say it? There is no cure! If there was I would
What would you choose? Sasha was still holding his hand.
 I have no choice. The brigadier took away his hand.
Lets go, he said to Homer.
Why wont you take me with you? Sasha yelled.
Quietly, almost in a whisper, he said, Because Im afraid.
He turned and left. As he passed he told Homer they were leaving in ten minutes.
Is this because of the plague? came a voice from behind her.
What? Sasha whirled around and bumped into Leonid.
The musician smiled innocently. If Im not mistaken somebody was talking about
the plague.
Youre mistaken. She did not want to talk about this right now.
And here I thought the rumors were true, Leonid said to himself in
contemplation.
Sashas forehead wrinkled, What rumors?
Oh, just something about a quarantine at the Serpuchovskaya. Theres this
disease thats apparently incurable. An epidemic Leonid looked at her, watching
every movement her lips and eyebrows made.
She blushed. How long have you been eavesdropping on us?
He spread his arms. I dont do it on purpose. I just have a musicians ears.
That was my friend, she explained and nodded in Hunters direction.
Great, answered Leonid.
Why did you say its apparently incurable?
Sasha! Homer rose from the bench and looked suspiciously at Leonid. Can I
talk to you for a second? We have to decide how we
Can I talk for a second? The young man left the old man standing there and
with a polite smile he stepped to the side and beckoned the girl to him.
Sasha reluctantly followed him. She didnt think shed lost the fight with the bold
one yet, if she just kept trying Hunter wouldnt dare chase her away again. Then she
could finally help him, though she wasnt sure how.
 Leonid leaned in and whispered, It could be that Ive heard about such a disease
before, you see? It could be that this isnt the first time that this disease has spread. And
whats more it could be that there is a magic pill for it.
He was looking into her eyes as he said this.
But he said there is no cure, Sasha said. He said that he has to
To destroy them all? He, your great friend? Thats not surprising. Im sure he
studied medicine, after all.
Are you saying?
What Im saying, the musician put a hand on Sashas shoulder, brought his
head close to hers and whispered in her ear, is that there is a cure.
Chapter 15: Just the Two

The old man angrily cleared his throat and took a step toward the girl. Sasha! I
have to talk to you!
Leonid winked in Sashas direction, let her go with exaggerated humility and
backed away. But Sasha couldnt focus on what was happening. As the old man tried to
convince her that they could still change Hunters mind, tried to talk some sense into her,
she just stared over his shoulder at the musician. He wasnt looking back at her but the
slight smile on his face told her that he felt her gaze. She nodded and told Homer that she
was ready to try anything if he would just give her a minute alone with Leonid. She had
to find out what he knew. She wanted to believe there was a cure.
Ill be back soon. She cut the old man off mid-sentence. She ran past him to the
musician.
You have to tell me! She was sick of these games. What is the cure?
 Thats the difficult part. I know that you can cure the disease. I know people that
have survived it. I can bring you to them.
But you said that you could fight it
He shrugged. You misunderstood me. How could I? I am just a flutist, a
wandering musician.
Who are these people?
If you want to meet them you can. But we have to take a little walk first.
Which station are they at?
Oh, one not far from here. Youll get to see them in no time.
I dont believe you.
But you want to. And because I dont trust you completely either I cant tell you
everything.
Sashas face darkened. Why do you want me to come with you?
Me? Leonid shook his head. I dont care. Youre the one that wants to come
with me. I dont need to save anyone, I couldnt if I tried. At least not that way.
She hesitated and then she asked, Can you promise me that you can take me to
meet these people? Promise that they can help?
Ill bring you to them, Leonid said in a serious tone.
Again an angry Homer joined the conversation. What are you plotting, Sasha?
Im not going with you, she said and turned to the musician. He says theres a
cure
Hes lying, Homer said, though he sounded unsure.
You seem to know an awful lot about viruses. Leonid tried to keep a respectful
tone. Have you studied them? Or learned about them from experience? Is that what
makes you think that mass murder is the best way to rid the metro of an epidemic?
How do you know all this? the old man asked in surprise and looked at Sasha.
Did you
 Ah and here is our other doctor, the musician said as he saw Hunter approach.
He took a step back, just to be safe. Well I think this completes your little medical
practice, Ill be on my way.
Wait, the girl pleaded.
Hes lying! Homer whispered. He just wants to With you Even if hes
telling the truth you wont make it. Hunter will be back with more men in twenty-four
hours. If you stay with me you may still be able to change his mind. And that one
Theres nothing I can do, Sasha said helplessly. I cant change anything, I just
know it. Theres only one thing I can do, I have to make him choose. I have to leave
Leave? Homer raised his eyebrows.
I wont need twenty-four hours, she said and disappeared.

***

Why had he let her go? Why had he been so weak and let that crazy musician steal
his heroine, his muse, his daughter? The more the old man thought about Leonid, the less
he liked him. He could see the lustful looks in the musicians big green eyes. When he
thought no one was looking dark shadows crossed his otherwise angelic face
What did he want with her? The best case scenario was that he found her attractive
and wanted to make her another mark on his list. The vanishing charm of her youth,
something that couldnt be captured in a photograph, it would float away like pollen on
the wind.
The girl, used and lied to, would shake it away herself. It might take a long time to
recover, but she would eventually forget the betrayal of this devil.
But why had he let her go? Because he was a coward.
Because Homer hadnt just avoided a confrontation with Hunter, he hadnt even
asked him the questions that kept awake at night. Sasha was in love, her courage and her
rashness could be forgiven. Would he have had as much patience with the brigadier if
hed asked?
 Homer kept calling him brigadier because he was used to it and it calmed him
his nerves. That name took away the cruelty. He was just the commander of the
Sevastopolskaya northern border guard But it was a lie. The person who cut through
the darkness of the tunnel next to him was no longer the same man. The old man began to
realize that his companion was beginning to transform.
Something terrible was going on inside of Hunter, it was foolish to turn a blind eye
to it or lie to himself.
Did Hunter move so quickly because he wanted to see the bloody end of this
drama sooner? Now he wasnt going to destroy just the Tulskaya but also the sect in the
neighboring tunnel and the Serpuchovskaya, with all its inhabitants, and the Hanzas
stationed guards. All because some of them might have gotten sick. And the
Sevastopolskaya could suffer the same fate next. The brigadier didnt need a reason to
kill. He just needed an excuse.
Homer couldnt run behind Hunter anymore and document all his nightmarish
crimes. Hunter kept a clear conscience by telling himself that everything hed done was
done to rescue the Tulskaya, that it had been a necessary evil. The merciless brigadier
was like a Moloch and Homer was too cowardly to fight fate.
The girl wanted to fight it. While Homer made peace with the Tulskaya and the
Serpuchovskaya becoming Sodom and Gomorrah, Sasha grasped at straws. Homer
couldnt make himself believe that there were pills or a vaccine that would stop Hunter
from putting the disease down with fire and sword. Sasha would look for a cure until the
bitter end.
Homer was no warrior and no doctor; he was too old to believe in miracles. A
secret place in his heart dreamed passionately of rescue and it was exactly that place he
had torn from his body and let go, along with Sasha.
Everything he couldnt bring himself to do hed pushed onto the girl. Hed made
peace with his helplessness. In twenty-four hours it would all be over. After that Homer
would desert and find a lonely cell to finish his book. Now he knew what it would be
about.
 It would be about a smart animal that found a magical star that had fallen from the
sky. The animal would eat that star and be transformed into a human.
It would be about humanity stealing fire but failing tame it and burning not only
themselves but the entire world. A hundred years later the star would be taken away again
and humans would be transformed back into something terrible and nameless.

***

The guard let the handful of bullets slip into his pocket and shook the musicians
hand enthusiastically to seal their bargain. For a token amount you can even ride with us
on the railcar.
Very kind, but I prefer a romantic stroll through the tunnel, answered Leonid.
The guard persisted and whispered to the musician, Look here, the two of you
cant just go through this tunnel without an escort. Youre going with us, no arguments.
Plus, your lady friend has no papers. I can get you where you want to go, and a whole lot
faster, you two could be alone.
We dont need to be alone, Sasha said.
The musician bowed to her. We shall act like they are our royal guard. The prince
and princess of Monaco are going for a stroll.
Which princess? asked Sasha.
From Monaco. At the Cote d Azur
Listen to me, the guard cut in. If youre determined to go on foot then go now.
You handed over your magazine in good faith but the boys have to return to the base.
Hey, Crutch! he yelled at one of the guards. Take these two to the Kievskaya. Tell the
patrol its a deportation. Get them to the radial line and then come back home. He turned
to Leonid.
Agreed?
Of course, he answered and jokingly saluted.
The guard captain blinked and said, Any time.
 How different Hanza was from the rest of the metro!
The entire line from the Pavelezkaya to the Oktyabrskaya didnt have a single spot
where it was completely dark. Every fifty steps, there was a cable crawling along the
wall, was an electric lamp whose light reached the next one. Even the secret and escape
tunnels that branched off were so well lit that they lost their horror.
If it had been up to Sasha they would have run the whole way to save time, but
Leonid convinced her that there was no need for haste. He refused to tell her where they
were going once they reached the Kievskaya. He plodded along and grew bored. It
seemed that he was a regular visitor to these tunnels through which normal mortals could
pass to the ring line.
Im glad your friend always does what he thinks is right, he said after a while.
Sashas forehead wrinkled, What are you talking about?
If civilians were as important to him as they are to you we wouldve had to take
him with us. Now weve separated into two groups and everybody gets to do what they
want. He kills, you heal
He doesnt want to kill anybody! she said sharply and a bit too loudly.
Of course, its just his job, after all, he sighed. Who am I to judge?
And what do you want to be when you grow up? Sasha asked sarcastically. An
actor?
Whatever I have to be to be near you. What else would I need to be happy?
She shook her head. Youre just saying that. You dont even know me. How
could I make you happy?
I know how. But its enough for me to look at a beautiful girl to make me happy.
And what
You think you know beauty when you see it? She looked at him.
He nodded. Its the only thing that Im good at. Suddenly the wrinkles on her
forehead smoothed.
Whats so extraordinary about me?
Youre glowing.
 This time his voice had almost sounded serious. But then the musician took a step
back and looked her up and down. Its just too bad that youre wearing those course
clothes.
Whats wrong with my clothes? She slowed down.
It was irritating the way his eyes moved across her back.
Your clothes let no light through and I am like a moth. He moved his hands as if
they were wings and made a stupid face. Always flying towards the fire.
A slight smile played across her face for a moment. She took part in the game. So
youre afraid of the dark?
Loneliness, Leonid made a sad face and crossed his arms. He shouldnt have
said that. He bantered like he tuned an instrument; he tested the resistance of each string,
only this string had been too soft, too weak. It had snapped with an ugly sound.
The slight movement of the air in the tunnel had blown away all serious thoughts
and made Sasha play with the musician. But now shed stopped. With one missed beat
the playful feeling created by Leonids was gone. Now she was sober once more and
asked herself why she had given in. Had she gone with him because of this feeling and
left the old man and Hunter?
Loneliness. You dont know anything about it.

***

The Serpuchovskaya sank into darkness and fear. Soldiers with army issue
gasmasks blocked the entrance to the tunnel and the passageway to the ring line. The
station was humming with the premonition of a catastrophe, like an angry hornets nest.
Hunter and Homer were brought through the hall under guard. Here the inhabitants of the
Serpuchovskaya tried to find their fate by looking into their eyes. Homer looked at the
ground. He didnt want to remember their faces.
The brigadier hadnt told him where they were going but the old man was
beginning to suspect. To Polis.
 It connected four metro lines. It was a real city with thousands of inhabitants. The
rest of this underground realm had split into warring stations long ago. Polis was a haven
for science and culture.
It was the holiest place in the metro, no one dared attack it. Nobody but old
Homer, that half crazed horseman of the apocalypse
But in the last twenty-four hours hed started feeling better. His nausea was gone
and the coughing that had forced him to clean blood from his gasmask had ceased as
well. Maybe his immune system was fighting off the disease? Or maybe he hadnt been
infected in the first place? Maybe hed just imagined it. Hed known it was possible from
the start but hed still been afraid

***

The tunnel behind the Serpuchovskaya was dark and quiet. It had a bad reputation.
Homer knew that until Polis they wouldnt meet a soul, the station between the
Serpuchovskaya and the Borovizkaya always had a surprise ready for visitors. He knew
many legends about the Polyanka.
Everyone who passed it generally didnt have to fear for his life but perhaps for
his sanity.
Homer had been there a few times but never noticed anything out of the ordinary.
He knew all legends and had an explanation for every single one of them. So he was
hoping that the station would remain dead once again and lay abandoned like it had in
better times. But about a hundred meters in front of the Polyanka he noticed the electric
light and sounds echoed to him. He had a premonition.
He could clearly hear human voices but was that even possible? Worse still,
Hunter, who could normally feel the presence living things at a few hundred paces, didnt
seem to hear anything.
He didnt even notice Homers worried expression.
 Homer was beside himself and he had no idea what was going on. The station was
inhabited! When had that happened? Homer had asked many times why the inhabitants of
Polis had never tried to get to the Polyanka.
They were running out of space so why not just annex it? It was only stories that
stopped them! But that had been enough for them to leave the station alone.
But now it seemed that someone had overcome their fear and built a city of tents.
They had even installed new lights.
So much wasted electricity! Homer shaded his eyes to cut out the worst of the
glare from the mercury lamps which hung from the ceiling.
Incredible! Even Polis had never looked so clean and cared-for. The walls were no
longer covered in the ashes and dirt of the last few decades. The marble tiles were
shimmering and it looked like the ceiling had been redone with white paint just
yesterday.
Homer looked through the archway of the entrance into the station and he couldnt
see a single tent. Maybe they hadnt gotten to that part, putting the tents up? Or had they
just wanted to turn it into a museum?
He could believe that, after all there were some strange people in charge of Polis.
Gradually the train platform filled with people. They didnt pay attention to the heavily
armed mercenary or the stumbling, dirty old man.
Homer knew while he looked at them that he couldnt move even a muscle, his
legs were numb.
Every human whod gathered on the platform was dressed like they were making a
movie about the year 2000 at the Polyanka. Fine coats, colorful and warm jackets. Dark
blue jeans People wore those clothes before the catastrophe. Where were the rough,
pig-leather coats, where was the obligatory brown fabric of the metro, the graveyard of
all color? Where had it gone?
Where had they gotten all these riches? And their faces!
Those werent faces of people who had lost their families. Their skin seemed to
have seen the sun only a short while ago. They looked like they always started their day
with a hot shower. Homer could have sworn He had the feeling that he knew these
people from somewhere. More and more of these wonderful people gathered at the edge
of the platform, none of them stepped onto the tracks though. Soon the colorful crowd
filled the entire station, from beginning to end. It seemed that they had all stepped out of
old photographs from thirty years ago.
Still none of them looked directly at Homer. They looked everywhere else: the
walls, newspapers, covertly at each other out of envy or curiosity. But they didnt look
at the old man, as if he was a ghost.
Why had they gathered here? What were they waiting for? It took him a while
until hed regained his composure. Where had the brigadier gone? Why hadnt he said
anything? Hunter had stopped a few steps behind. He didnt seem interested in the station
full of people. He stared into the room with a heavy look, as if something was blocking
his path. A few steps in front of him there must have been something hanging over his
head. Homer stepped closer and looked carefully under his visor And suddenly Hunter
started punching. His fist sailed through the air, made a strange circle to the left and then
to the right, as if the brigadier struggled to stab some invisible creature with an imaginary
blade. He almost struck Homer but the old man jumped to the side. Hunter continued his
fight. He punched, stepped back, brought his arms up defensively and seemed to grab
hold of something in his iron grip, groaned as if something was squeezing his neck and
choking him in its grasp. The old man thought he had seen something like this before,
some time ago. But where? And when? And what the hell was going on with the
brigadier? Homer shouted his name but he seemed possessed and didnt react to Homers
loud screams.
The people on the platform didnt react to Hunter. He didnt exist for them and
they didnt exist for him. They were reacting to something else. They looked at their
watches, talked to their neighbors and checked the time shown in red numbers on the
clock at the tunnel entrance.
Homer squinted and followed the gazes of the people The stations clock
showed the time when the train had departed. But the display widened, it now had room
for ten numbers: Eight before the blinking colon and another two for the seconds. Small
red dots surrounded the seconds and only the last digit of this incredibly long number it
was more than twelve million changed
A scream, followed by crying.
Homer turned away from the strange clock. Hunter lay face down on the tracks
and wasnt moving.
Homer ran to him and turned the heavy, lifeless body on its back. The brigadier
was still breathing. There werent any visible injuries but his eyes were those of a dead
man. His right hand was still clenched in a fist and now Homer realized that Hunter
hadnt been unarmed in his strange duel. He held the black knife.
Homer slapped the brigadier a few times and he started moaning like he was
drunk. He blinked, propped himself up on his elbow and looked at the old man with
bleary eyes.
The picture from his dream had disappeared. The people in their colorful coats had
vanished without a trace, the bright light was gone and the decades of dust were back on
the walls. The station was as black and lifeless as always, just like it had been on all
Homers previous visits.

***

The two didnt say a word to each other until they reached the Oktyabrskaya. She
could only hear their guards exchange a few whispers and a sharp intake of breath when
one of them stumbled over a threshold. Sasha was angry, not so much at the musician as
at herself. This was Well what was it? Hed acted just like she thought he would. Now
everything he did embarrassed her a little, but hadnt she been a bit too strict with him?
At the Oktyabrskaya the wind changed and when Sasha saw the station she forgot
everything else. In the last few days she had been to many places she never would have
imagined existed. But the glory of the Oktyabrskaya dwarfed everything she had seen
before. There were rugs on the granite floor and you could still see their original pattern
despite their age. Polished chandeliers cast a steady and milky light across the room.
Here and there were tables where people with bright faces sat and talked to each
other and exchanged papers. Sasha craned her neck to see all of it.
Then she said shyly, Everything here is so luxurious
The ring stations are like pork roasting over a fire, whispered Leonid. They are
dripping with fat Oh and, before I forget, how would you like a snack?
No time, She shook her head and hoped he couldnt hear her stomach growling.
Come on. The musician grabbed her hand. Theres a place here, its like
nothing youve eaten before Gentlemen, you dont have anything against a good meal,
do you? He asked the guards. Dont worry, Sasha, in a couple hours well be there.
And I wasnt just mentioning the roasted pork for fun. Thats what theyre making
here
He described the meat until Sasha finally agreed. If it was only two hours to their
goal, then there was enough time for a half hour meal. They still had the entire day and
who knew when she would get the chance to eat again?
The stew lived up to the boasts. But that hadnt been enough. Leonid had ordered
a whole bottle of sweet wine.
Sasha was curious and drank a small glass, the guards and the musicians shared
the rest.
Suddenly she stood and ordered Leonid to do the same. The steel in her voice
came from her anger at herself. Angry that she, exhausted from the food and warm
alcohol, had hesitated before she pushed his hand off her knee. His fingers had been soft
and sinful.
Outrageous!
Leonid raised his hands immediately as if to say: I give up! But she could still
feel his touch on her skin. Why did I push him away so fast? She asked herself in
confusion. She wanted to get this sticky, sweet scene out of her mind as quickly as
possible, to replace it with a conversation.
 The people here are strange, she said to Leonid.
Why? He emptied his glass in one gulp and slowly came out from behind the
table.
There is something missing in their eyes
Hunger?
No, not just They dont seem to need anything.
Thats because they dont need anything. Leonid smiled. They are full. Queen
Hanza feeds them. And the eyes? Normal, dull eyes
Sasha was serious again. The food we left behind today, that could have fed my
father and me for three days. Shouldnt we have taken it with us, to give it to someone
else?
No, answered the musician. They give it to their dogs. There are no poor
people here.
But they could give it to the neighboring stations! There are always hungry
people there
Hanza is not a charity, said the guard they called Crutch. They can get their
own food. Thatd be the day feeding all those good-for-nothings.
Are you from Hanza? Leonid asked.
Ive always lived here. As far back as I can remember.
You might not believe it but out there past the ring line people actually need to
eat too.
They can eat each other for all I care! The guard answers angrily. Or should we
just give up and let them they divide everything like the reds?
Well if everything happens like it has before started Leonid.
Then what? Shut your mouth, boy! Thats enough to get you deported here!
Ive already earned my deportation, said the musician. But Im willing to put in
a little overtime.
I can deport you out of this damned station, thundered the guard. Because
youre a spy for the reds!
 And here I thought it was because you were drinking while you on duty
Well you You did too Get over here you
No! Sorry, please excuse him. Its all just a misunderstanding, said Sasha,
pulling the musician away from Crutch by his sleeve. Crutch was breathing heavily.
She dragged Leonid to the tracks with a near violent urgency, looked at the clock
and sighed. The meal and the argument had taken up two whole hours. Hunter, on the
other hand, probably hadnt wasted a second.
The musician was laughing drunkenly behind her.
The whole way to the Park Kultury both guards complained angrily. Leonid tried
to answer them but Sasha talked him out of it each time. He was still drunk, his arrogance
grew along with his insolence and the girl turned away to escape his wandering hands.
Dont you find me attractive? he asked in a hurt voice. Im not your type, is
that it? You dont fawn over the likes of me. Id need muscles and sc-a-a-rs Why did
you even come with me?
Because you promised to help! She pushed him away. Not because
Theres that old song: I am not like that He sighed. If I wouldve known that
youre such a prude
How dare you? There are still people alive there. They are all going to die if we
dont make it!
And what can I do to stop it? I can barely lift my feet. Do you know how heavy
they are? Here look
Leonid tried to raise his foot and knee as he walked. It looked completely absurd.
And the people are going to die anyway. Tomorrow or ten years from now. Just like you
and me. So whats the hurry?
So you lied to me? Yes, you lied to me! Homer knew right away He warned
me. Where are we going?
No Im not lying to you! Shall I swear on my life? Youll see! Youll be begging
me to accept your apologies! Youll be so embarrassed; youre going to say Leonid! I
was wroonnggg
 Where are we going?
Were going until we can go no longer To the emerald city La-la, taram-
tam-tam It isnt an easy path, sang Leonid as he waved instructions to an invisible
orchestra with his fingers. Suddenly his flute box clattered to the ground and he cursed,
almost tripping himself.
You drunk! Are you even going make it to the Kievskaya? shouted one of the
guards behind him.
Only if you pray for us! The musician bowed before them. Elli is coming
back, he continued the song. And Elli is coming back With totoschka Back home

***

Homer had never believed the stories about the Polyanka, but he had learned
firsthand that they were true.
There were people who called it the station of fate and some looked to it like
some kind of oracle. Some believed that if you made a pilgrimage to it your life would
change and the veil that hid your future would be lifted, giving you insight into what
awaited you at the end your journey.
Some But everybody who still had common sense knew that periodically toxic
gas leaked from stations floor. It created fantasies and caused hallucinations. But to hell
with the skeptics! What could his vision have meant? Homer felt like he almost knew
what it meant but every time his thoughts spun around they missed some crucial piece.
The image of Hunter stabbing at the air appeared before his eyes once more. Homer
would have given anything to know what the brigadier had seen, had tried to fight. What
hallucinatory duel had ended in his defeat and or perhaps even death?
What are you thinking about?
 Homers stomach churned. Hunter never said anything to him without a reason. A
barked order, an unwillingly growled answer How could you talk about a soul with
somebody who didnt have one?
Just Nothing really, stuttered Homer.
No, I could hear it, Hunter said calmly. You were thinking about me. Are you
scared?
Not right now, the old man lied.
You dont need to be afraid. I wont hurt you. You remind me of
Half a minute later Homer asked carefully, Who do I remind you of?
A part of myself. Id forgotten that something like that was still inside me. You
remind me of that piece of myself. As he struggled to say these heavy words Hunter
continued to stare forward into the darkness.
And thats why you took me with you?
The brigadier answered, Its important for me to keep remembering. Very
important. And for others it is important, that I Perhaps it could be like It was
before.
Its about your memory? Homer felt like he was crawling through a minefield.
Did something happen to you?
I remember everything! Hunter answered sharply. It's only myself that I
sometimes forget. And Im afraid that Ill forget myself forever. Youre going to make
sure I remember, ok?
Ok. Homer nodded even though Hunter wasnt looking at him.
Back then it all made sense, the brigadier said tiredly. Everything I did. To
protect the metro. The people. My orders were clear: Eliminate all threats. Destroy. It
made sense, yes it did!
But now it makes sense too
Now? I dont know what now is. I want that everything to be like it was back
then. Im not doing this just because I feel like it. Im no bandit and Im not a murderer! I
do it for the people of the metro.
 Ive tried to live without the people, to keep them safe. But it was too hard. I
couldnt forget. I had to get back to humanity. To protect. To help. To remember. And
there was the Sevastopolskaya. They took me in. The station had to be saved, needed
help. At all costs. It seems like when I do When I eliminate a threat That there is
something important, something monumental. I feel like maybe I could remember it then.
I just have to remember. Thats why I have to get there as fast as possible Its turning
faster and faster. I have to make it in twenty-four hours no matter what. I have to make it.
Reach Polis, form a unit and go back Keep reminding me until then, alright?
Homer nodded. Even the thinking about what would happen if the brigadier forgot
who he was entirely scared Homer. Who would remain in that body when the real Hunter
fell asleep? Perhaps the one hed lost the illusionary fight to?
The Polyanka was now far behind them. Hunter stormed toward Polis like a guard
dog that slipped its chain and smelled the scent of prey. Or perhaps a wolf fleeing from
hunters?
There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

***

Finally they reached Park Kultury. Leonid tried to get on the guards good side
again by inviting them to an exquisite restaurant. But the men were suspicious. Even
when he asked to use the restroom they only let him go after a long deliberation.
As the guards waited outside the restroom door, one asked the musician, You got
any money left?
Not much. Leonid left the restroom and pulled out five bullets.
Give those to me! Crutch is off to collect a bounty on you two. He thinks youre a
spy from the reds. If hes right, then youve got passage to the line here. But you already
know that. If hes wrong then you can wait here until the police come and get you. Youll
have to barter with them for your freedom.
Leonid tried to keep his voice under control.
 So you figured it out, eh? Well then We shall be off. Many thanks! He raised
his hand in a strange salute. Listen To hell with the passage way! Lets get going
down this tunnel, okay? The musician took Sashas hand and stumbled on more quickly.
That was a close call, he mumbled.
This is the way to your line maybe you want to go up there? Its about forty
meters deep. As if they didnt know it was full of mines
Realization crept over Sasha. Where are we going?
Where? groaned Leonid. To the red line! You heard them, Im a spy and they
caught me, found out my true intention
Youre a red?
My dear girl! Dont ask questions! I cant think and walk at the same time in my
current condition. And running is more important. It wont be long until our friends go on
full alert. And theyll certainly try to arrest us. Money isnt enough for that man, hes
going for a medal!
They dashed into the tunnel and left the guards behind them. They pressed against
the wall and ran in the direction of the Kievskaya. Sasha realized theyd never make it to
the station. If the musician was right and the other guard came back theyd be hunted
Suddenly Leonid veered into a well-lit tunnel, almost like this was a familiar path,
like he was going home. A few minutes of running and she could see flags, bars and
sandbags in the distance, machine gun nests and she heard the barking of dogs. A border
post? Had word of their escape already made it here? How could they have gotten here?
And what lay behind those barracks?
I work for Albert Michailovitsch. Leonid flashed a strange document under a
border guards nose. I have to get to the other side.
The guard looked at the documents and said, The usual fee. And where are this
ladys?
Ill pay double. He searched his pockets and scrapped together his last bullets.
And you never saw her, got it?
 No, I havent got anything, the border guard said distinctly. This is a state with
laws, not some kind of bazaar!
No, wait! The musician acted startled. I thought this was a market economy
that we could haggle a bit. I didnt know that there was a difference in
A few minutes later Sasha and Leonid were thrown into a small room with tiled
walls. The musicians clothes were tousled. He had a cut across his cheek and a bloody
nose.
The iron door closed.
The room was completely dark.

Chapter 16: In the Cell

When you see nothing but darkness your other senses grow stronger. Smells
become more intense and sounds louder. In the next cell down something scraped the
ground and it reeked of urine.
 Leonid still seemed to be drunk and didnt give any indication that he was in pain.
For a brief moment he mumbled something and then was silent, though he breathed
heavily. He didnt care that their pursuers were now assured of catching them and he
didnt care what happened to Sasha. Shed tried to cross the Hanza border without
explanation or papers. Not to mention the fate of the Tulskaya, he didnt seem to care
about that either.
I hate you, Sasha said quietly.
No reaction.
A little later she noticed a tiny hole in the door, a peephole. Everything else was
invisible, but that small point of light was enough for Sasha to slowly feel and crawl her
way to the door. Then she hammered at it with her small fists. The door responded with
thundering echoes and as soon as she stopped it was completely silent once more. The
guards didnt react to the noise or the screams. Time passed slowly. How long would
they be kept here? Maybe Leonid had led her here to separate her from the old man and
Hunter. Just to get her out of the book and into this trap. And it was all because
Sasha started crying. Her coat sleeve absorbed the tears and the sobbing.
Have you ever seen the stars? She suddenly heard his drunken voice.
She didnt answer
Ive only seen pictures, he continued. Not even the sun can shine through all
that dust and those clouds, how could stars do it? But when you started crying, I think I
saw a real star.
She forced down her tears before answering.
Thats a peephole.
I know. But I am intrigued by it Leonid cleared his throat. Who was it that
stared into our private night sky? And why did he look away?
Sasha shook her head. Nobody was there.
How I wish I could believe that, the musician said thoughtfully.
 Nobody even cares whats going to happen to us here! She started crying again.
You had planned this all along, didnt you? Just so there was no chance that I could
make it in time? Again she hammered on the door.
If you dont think theres anyone on the other side why are you banging on the
door? asked Leonid.
You dont even give a shit if those sick people die!
He sighed. So thats what you think of me, eh? That isnt fair. You dont care
about the sick either. Youre just worried your lover will get infected massacring all those
people and then youd be able to bring him the cure
Thats not true! Sasha was almost ready to start hammering on Leonid instead.
It is true! said Leonid. What is so great about him?
She didnt want to explain. She would rather not say a word to him. But she said it
anyway: He needs me! He really needs me. Without me hes falling further into
darkness. You dont need me You just want someone to play with!
Okay, lets say he needs you. Need seems a bit farfetched, but lets just assume
its true for the sake of argument Why do you need him? Pest control? Do you like men
with dark pasts? Or do you just like saving fallen souls?
Sasha was silent. It got under her skin how easily Leonid guessed at her feelings.
Maybe they werent all that special to begin with? Or was it because she couldnt hide
them? All those soft and fleeting thoughts that she could never put to words. Coming out
of his mouth they sounded so ordinary, trite even.
I hate you, she said after a while.
It doesnt matter. I dont like me all that much either.
Sasha sat on the ground. She was crying again, at first tears of anger and then
because she felt like she was going to pass out. As long as she could do something she
wouldnt give up. But while she was stuck in this dark cell with this emotionless human
she couldnt stop anyone. Everything had been in vain.
And then she saw the picture before her, the high houses, the green sky, the flying
clouds, laughing humans. The hot raindrops on her cheeks were the summer rain the old
man had told her about. After a second the illusion vanished, but it left a light and
wonderful mood in the air.
Sasha bit her lip and said to herself, I want a miracle.
A moment later somebody switched on a light in the hallway outside the door and
an unbearable brightness flooded the cell.

***

They werent far from the entrance to the holy capitol of the metro. The marble
fortress of civilization with its white sheen of mercury lamps that spread a holy aura of
rest and prosperity.
At Polis they didnt have to conserve light because they thought it had a magical
influence on people. The abundance of light reminded people that long ago humanity
hadnt been a creature of the night. Not a nocturnal predator.
Even the barbarians that wandered from the Peripherie to the realm of Polis
followed along.
The border patrols werent as large as at other stations and the border station itself
reminded Homer of the waiting room of a soviet minister. One desk, one chair, two
officers in clean uniforms on either side of the door.
Checking papers and searching bags. Homer took his passport out of his pocket.
There were no more visas so he didnt have to worry. He placed the green book into the
officers hand and looked at the brigadier.
He was standing beside Homer and didnt seem to hear the officers orders. The
officers hand was slowly moving to the polished grip of his pistol, Show me your
papers or leave the territory of Polis immediately!
Homer was sure the brigadier hadnt realized what they wanted from him. He only
saw where the fingers of the officer were headed. After a moment he reacted and
lightning fast his open hand smacked into the guards throat.
 He turned blue, gasped and fell alongside his chair on the ground. The other guard
ran away and Homer knew hed never make it. Hunter pulled the ace from his sleeve and
brought the fallen officers pistol up and
Wait!
The brigadier hesitated just for a second. The fleeing soldier used it to climb the
platform, race around the corner and disappear.
Leave them alone! We need to get to the Tulskaya! You Wanted me to remind
you. Homer was running out of breath. He didnt know what to say.
To the Tulskaya repeated Hunter hollowly. Yes, better wait until the
Tulskaya. Youre right.
He put the heavy pistol down next to him and lowered his head.
Homer used that moment to raise his arms and run ahead to the guards who were
emerging from between the pillars.
Dont shoot! He gives up! Dont shoot! Heavens above
Their hands were bound and Homer was stripped of his gasmask. Only then would
they let him talk. All that time the brigadier stood next to him completely silent. He had
sunken back into his strange stillness and let them take away his weapons without
resistance. They brought him into a cell for interrogation.
Even though theyd let Homer go he accompanied Hunter to the cell. Hunter
entered, sat next to him on the bed, raised his head and whispered, You have to find
someone for me. His name is Melnik. Bring him to me. Ill wait here
The old man nodded and quickly turned around. He started to make his way
through the guards when he suddenly heard Hunter yelling. Homer!
The old man turned with a look of surprise on his face. Hunter had never called
him by name before. He returned, stepped to the thin iron door and looked questioningly
at the brigadier.
He put his giant arms around the old mans body as if he was freezing and
mumbled in a weak, toneless voice, Hurry!
 ***

The door opened and a soldier took a hesitant look inside, it was the same one
whod beaten the musician. A kick sent him into the cell and he almost fell forward.
When hed regained his balance he looked around in confusion.
In the doorway stood a tall, thin officer wearing glasses. There were a few stars
across the shoulders of his uniform. His graying, dark blond hair was combed back. Go
on, you idiot, he ordered.
I Me, sobbed the guard.
Go on!
I wanted to beg forgiveness for what Ive done. And you I cant.
Ten more days.
Shit, the soldier said and backed away beneath the officers glare.
Ah, Albert Michailovitsch! bellowed the musician and blinked at the officer. I
was beginning to think youd never come.
The officer had a slight smile on his face. Good evening. Im here to see that
justice is done. Go on, do what you will.
Leonid rose from the ground and stretched. I have to save my hands. Youre more
than welcome to take care of the punishment.
My pleasure, nodded, Albert Michailovitsch. A month in jail. I hope youll
excuse this idiots actions.
He didnt mean anything by it. Leonid rubbed his stinging cheek.
I hope youll continue to work with us? The officers metallic voice creaked
strangely.
As you can see I was in the middle of smuggling somebody through. The
musician nodded in Sashas direction.
I dont suppose you could help me with that?
Done, said Albert Michailovitsch.
 They left the guilty guardsmen standing in the cell. The officer locked the door
and led them along the corridor.
Im not going anywhere with you, Sasha said loudly.
Leonid hesitated and said almost inaudibly, What if I told you that were really
going to the emerald city? What if I just happened to know more than your grandfather?
That Ive seen the place with my own eyes? Even been there myself and that only
Youre lying.
What if he, Leonid leaned his head in the officers direction, only let us go
because he knows where Im from? And that we can surely find a cure in the emerald
city? And that its only three stations away?
Youre lying!
How would you know? Leonid said angrily. If you really want a miracle then
you should be ready to believe in one. If you dont youre going to miss it in the end. I
knew they were going let us go the whole time. I just wanted to
Wait before it happened.
Youve been buying time!
But I didnt lie to you! There is a cure!
They had reached the border. The officer turned to them again, gave the musician
back his things and even gave him a few bullets and some documents. Then he saluted
Leonid. Now, what are you going to do Leonid Nikolayewitsch? Are you taking your
smuggled goods with you or are you leaving them at customs?
Chills ran down Sashas spine. Ill be taking them with me.
Well then, I wish you a life of love and happiness, said Albert Michailovitsch to
Sasha as if he was her father. He led them through the three defense lines. The lines
occupants saluted as they passed through the barricades. I trust youll have no further
problems with your cargo?
Leonid smiled. Well manage. I dont have to tell you that there are no honest
officials. The stricter the regime the lower the price. You just have to know which palms
to grease.
 The officer cleared his throat. The magic word should be enough.
Not for everyone. Leonid felt his cheek again. But how does the saying go? Im
no wizard, Im still learning.
Well, it would be an honor to deal with you again once your training is
complete. Albert Michailovitsch bowed and stepped back.
The nearest soldier opened the thick, iron gate which reached all the way from the
ground to the ceiling. Then an empty and well-lit part of the tunnel came into view. Its
walls were covered with ashes in places where it had been marked by armed conflicts. At
the end of the tunnel they could see a line of giant banners hanging from the ceiling.
Just seeing them made Sashas heart beat faster. She stopped and asked Leonid,
What border is this?
Whats that? He looked at her in surprise. Its the border to the red line, of
course.

***

How long Homer had dreamed of coming back here!

How long it had been since hed last been here! At the Borovizkaya, with its small
apartments directly under the arches, the reading hall with the Brahman monks in the
middle of the room, the long plank-board desks covered in books and the low hanging,
cloth-covered lamps. It was interesting how Homer could almost hear conversations from
times before the war.
Then there was the dignified Arbatskaya, made entirely from white and bronze
colored materials, just like the palace of the Kremlin.
With their strict order and busy military officials who still acted like they had no
connection with the apocalypse.
Then there was the old and venerable Biblioteka imeni Lenina, which towered
above on the surface. Theyd forgotten to rename it, as if that would even have made
sense for a building that had been as old as dirt even when a young Kolya had first
stepped foot in the metro. It had its own passageway, which ran above the romantic
commando bridge in the middle of the train platform. Even the surrounding stucco had
been renewed, if a bit sloppily.
And the Alexandrovski, stuck in semi-darkness for all eternity, a thin and edgy
stop. It looked like a blind, retired man who thought back to his Komsomol-youth.
Homer had always been fascinated by the question, how much did the stations
resemble their builders?
Were they self-portraits of the architects whod designed them?
Had they retained some small element of their creators? One thing was certain for
the old man they shaped the inhabitants of the stations. Their character lived on in these
people and they were infected by its particular mood.
Homer didnt belong to the strict and orderly Sevastopolskaya, not with all his
thoughts and eternal, incurable nostalgia. He belonged to Polis which cast a dim
reflection of the light of the past.
Fate had chosen otherwise, however.
Even now that hed reached it he didnt want to go through its echoing halls or
look at the stucco or cast sculptures and fantasize. Instead he had to hurry on as if he
were being chased. Hunter had managed to bind that horrible creature inside of him with
enormous effort. He had to feed it human flesh from time to time. But the monster inside
of him just had to bend the bars of the old cell to free itself. Homer had to hurry.
Hunter had asked him to find a man called Melnik.
Was that his code name? A password? When the guards heard the name they
transformed immediately. There was no more talk of the tribunal theyd been threatening
the brigadier with and the handcuffs around Homers wrists had vanished into the
cupboard once more. And it was the fat leader of the guard that was escorting Homer
personally.
They climbed the stairs, walked along the corridor and arrived at the Arbatskaya.
There they stopped at a door that was guarded by two men in civilian clothes. Despite the
clothes, killing was their job and you could see it in their faces.
 Behind their broad backs a narrow hallway with several small offices along its
sides stretched into the distance.
The fat man told Homer to wait and walked down the hall. After a few minutes he
came back and studied the old man in surprise before telling him to follow.
At the end of the hallway was a surprisingly spacious chamber whose walls were
covered with maps, plans, pictures, and newspapers. Between these were notes from
cryptic radio messages. Behind a broad oak desk sat a thin, middle-aged man with
uncommonly broad shoulders.
Homer saw that the mans right sleeve was draped over his shoulder. Only his left
arm filled out its sleeve.
After a moment Homer realized that the mans right arm had been almost
completely amputated. The man was a giant, even sitting he was almost at eye-level with
Homer.
Thanks, the man said and dismissed the fat man. The fat man closed the door
with noticeable regret on his way out. Then the giant turned to Homer. Who are you?
Nikolayev, Nikolai Ivanovitsch, answered the old man in confusion.
No more games! If you come to me claiming that youve brought my most valued
comrade, who we buried a year ago I remind you, youd better have a damn good reason.
Who are you?
Nobody. This isnt about me. Hes alive, believe me. You have to come with me,
as quickly as possible.
I get the feeling that this is a trap. Or a stupid game. Or maybe just a mistake.
Melnik (Miller from Metro 2033) lit a cigarette and blew smoke in Homers face.
Its good you know his name. But lets say hes here with you, you should know
his story. You should know that we searched for him for a whole year, every single day
of it. That I lost a few good men in the process. And god damn you better know how
much he means to me. Perhaps even know that he was my right hand man. A bitter
smile crossed his face.
 No, none of that. He never talked about anything. Homer bowed his head.
Please, just come to the Borovizkaya. Theres no time
Im not going anywhere. Not without a good reason. Melniks hand reached
under the table, moved around without getting up and after a few seconds Homer realized
that he was sitting in a wheelchair. Lets talk for a bit first. I want to know why youve
come here.
Good god! Homer didnt know what else he could tell this stubborn man.
Believe me. Hes alive. Hes sitting in the ape cage at the Borovizkaya. At least I hope
hes still
I want to believe you. Melnik stopped and took a deep drag off the cigarette.
Homer could hear the filter paper burn and crackle. But miracles dont happen. Youre
just reopening old wounds. Fine, then. Theres always my theory that someone is behind
this little game. Weve got people that are trained to get that kind of information. He
reached for the telephone.
Why is he afraid of dark-skinned people? Homer asked suddenly, more to
himself but not exactly knowing why.
Melnik froze. Then he carefully put the receiver back where it belonged. He
inhaled the rest of his cigarette, spat the rest into the ashtray and said, Damn it to hell,
Ill roll to the Borovizkaya.

***

Im not going! Leave me here! Id rather stay

Sasha wasnt joking or playing around. Nobody had hated her father more than the
reds. Theyd taken his power, broken him and instead of ending his life theyd damned
him to years of pain and suffering out of mercy or because they thought he wasnt
worth the trouble. Her father had never forgiven the people who had betrayed him. Not
the ones who had incited the people to rise against him, who had armed them with
weapons and flyers. Even the color red could send him into a rage. And even though hed
said that he was no longer after revenge at the end of his life, Sasha felt that hed just
wanted a reason to give up.
Its the only way, Leonid said in confusion.
But we wanted to go to the Kievskaya! Youve lead me into a no-mans-land!
Hanza has been at war with the red line for decades. I cant tell every person I see
that were going to see the communists. I had to think of something.
Cant you do anything without lying?
The gate is behind the Sportivnaya, Ive always said that. The Sportivnaya is the
last station in the red line, in front of the broken metro bridge. I cant change that fact.
And how are we supposed to get there? I have no papers! She watched Leonid
carefully.
Leonid smiled. Trust me. You just have to talk to the right person. Long live
corruption! Without waiting for further complaint he took Sashas hand and dragged her
behind him.
Even from this distance you could see the shining search lights of the second
defensive line and the giant red banners which hung from the ceiling. They slowly waved
in the air and Sasha almost thought she was looking at two red waterfalls. Was that a
sign?
If everything shed heard about the line was true theyd be filled with bullet holes
as soon as they got in range.
But Leonid stepped forward calmly with his cocky smile. As always. Around
thirty meters in front of the border station the bright ray of a search light hit his chest.
The musician put his instrument box on the ground and raised his hands. Sasha did the
same.
Two guards approached looking sleepy and surprised. It seemed like people rarely
ever approached this part of the border.
This time Leonid pulled the higher ranking guard to the side before he could even
ask for Sashas papers.
 He whispered into the guards ear, thumbed some brass into his hand and the man
returned in a much better mood. The guard leader accompanied them past all the guard
posts in person. He even put them on a waiting railcar and ordered the soldiers to drive
them to the Frunsenskaya.
They pulled the lever and the railcar lurched into motion. Sasha looked at the
peoples faces. Her father had told her they that they were enemies but she couldnt see
anything a special about them. Cotton coats, bleached caps with stars on them, sunken
cheeks They didnt have bright faces like the Hanza guards. Instead their eyes had the
curiosity of young men. The inhabitants of the ring line had no such curiosity.
Those guards had no idea what happened at the Avtosavadskaya almost ten years
ago. Were these truly Sashas enemies then? Could you really hate strangers with all your
heart?
The guards didnt dare talk to the passengers.
Only steady grunting could be heard as they pushed the lever.
How did you do that? Sasha asked Leonid
Hypnosis. He winked at her.
And what exactly are those documents of yours? She looked at him
suspiciously. How come they get you through all the stations?
Different situations call for different passports, he answered vaguely.
She moved closer to Leonid so that no one else could hear her. Who are you?
An invisible observer, he whispered.
If Sasha hadnt clapped a hand over her mouth the questions would have rushed
out of their own accord. But now the soldiers were watching them and even the sound of
the lever had grown quieter.
She had to wait until they reached the Frunenskaya, a dried up and bleached
station whose faded facade had been covered in a makeup of red flags. The mosaic on the
ground was worn away in some places, the broad pillars had been gnawed by the teeth of
time and the spaces above her looked like dark ponds.
 Low over the heads of the inhabitants black lamps hung on cables that swayed
back and forth. Theyd been placed between the pillars so that not a single ray of valuable
light was wasted. It was surprisingly clean. An impressive number of cleaning ladies
rushed along the platform, scrubbing the ground from one end to the other.
The station was full of people, put when they looked at Sasha they winced and
pretended to go on about their business. Only after shed passed did they relax and speak
quietly to each other. If she turned around the whispering ceased and the people went
back to their business. Nobody seemed to want to look her in the eye.
As if it was something indecent.
Sasha looked at Leonid. Strangers dont come here often?
The musician shrugged. Im a stranger here too.
Where do you live?
Where the people arent so damned serious. He smiled. Where they know that
a human cant live on food alone. Where they havent forgotten about the past, even
when it hurts.
Tell me about the emerald city, pleaded Sasha quietly. Why are they Why
are you hiding?
The citys rulers dont trust the metro
Leonid had to stop and haggle with the guards at the tunnel entrance. Then he and
Sasha went into the deep darkness.
With an iron lighter he lit the wick of an oil lamp and continued, They dont trust
the metro because the humans there are slowly losing their humanity. Also there are still
people here who were responsible for that terrible war. They wont even admit it even to
their best friends. The people of the metro will never change. You can only scare them
and keep them away from the city. You can only watch them. If they knew the emerald
city was real, they would chew it and spit it out like they do with everything they get their
hands on. The antique paintings would burn. Paper would burn and all thats on it. The
old university building would break down. The only society to have reached peace and
harmony would be destroyed. The ark would sink. And thered be nothing left.
 Sasha felt hurt. Why do you think that we cant change?
Not everyone thinks that. Leonid gave her a sideways glance. Some try to
help.
They dont seem to try very hard. Sasha sighed.
Even the old man didnt know about them.
Many people have heard of it, he said mysteriously.
You mean The music? Sasha guessed. Youre one of those who want to help
us change? But how?
By forcing something beautiful on you, joked the musician.

***

The adjutant pushed the wheelchair as Homer hurried after them. He could barely
keep up and turned around to his giant guard from time to time.
If you really dont know the story, said Melnik, then Ill tell you. If it isnt him
at the Borovizkaya then at least youll have something to talk about with your cellmate
Hunter was one of the orders greatest warriors, a hunter of legends. His scent was like
that of an animal and he was behind our cause all the way. He was the one that tracked
down the dark ones about a year and a half ago. At the VDNCh. Ever heard of it?
At the VDNCh? Homer repeated, deep in contemplation. Yes, invincible
mutants that were able read minds and turn invisible, right? I thought they were called
Darks?
Whatever, it doesnt matter He was the first one to investigate the rumors and
raise the alarm, but back then we didnt have enough men or time. I refused to send in
support. I had other priorities.
Melnik moved the stub of his right arm. Hunter went alone. When we last spoke
he told me that they could bend the will of others and make people experience true terror.
He was unbelievable, a born warrior. He alone was worth as much as a whole unit.
I know, mumbled Homer.
 He was fearless. He sent that young boy to us with a message that hed gone up
to settle the score with the dark ones. When he didnt come back we realized that the
danger had been greater than we thought. He disappeared. We thought he was dead. We
have a system of messages: Everyone whos still alive is required to check in once a
week. Required! Hed been silent for over a year.
What happened to the dark ones?
Melnik smiled obliquely. We leveled the entire area with Semertsch-missiles. We
havent heard anything from the dark ones since. They never write, they never call. The
exits at the VDNCh were sealed off and life returned to normal.
The boy didnt wasnt right in the head but as far as I know they fixed him up.
Hes living a normal life and he even got married. But Hunter I have his blood on my
hands. He rolled over a steel ramp down the stairs, scared a few of the librarians and
waited for the gasping old man. He added, Keep that last part to yourself.
A minute later the entire group reached the cell. Melnik ordered the door to remain
closed. He leaned on the adjutant, bared his teeth, rose from his wheelchair and looked
through the peephole. He only needed a fraction of a second.
Then as, if hed walked the whole way from the Arbatskaya on foot, Melnik
slumped back into his chair and cast his weary eyes at Homer as he delivered his verdict:
Its not him.

***

I dont think the music belongs to me, Leonid said seriously all of a sudden. I
dont even know how it gets into my head. I feel like sometimes Im like a riverbed. Im
just the instrument. If I want to play I put the flute to my lips. But its like somebody else
is putting me to their lips and then the melody comes forth
Thats inspiration, whispered Sasha.
He spread his arms. Whatever it is, it doesnt belong to me. It comes from the
outside. Ive got no right to keep it to myself. It wanders through the people. I begin to
play and you can see how they gather around me: Rich and poor, the wounded and the
fat, crazies, cripples, important people, just everyone. My music moves something in
them and everyone can move towards the sound. Im like a tuning fork. I can bring
people into harmony, even if its just for a little while. The sound is so pure. They sing
How can I describe it?
Youre describing it very well, Sasha said thoughtfully. Ive noticed it too.
I have to try and plant this harmony in them. In one it might decay but in another
the seed blossoms. Im not rescuing anyone, I cant do that.
But why wont the people of the emerald city help us? And you, why wont you
want to admit that youre trying to do exactly that?
Leonid was silent until they reached the Sportivnaya. The station was just as
empty and bleak, overly ceremonial and cheerless as the others. And this one had an even
lower hanging ceiling, narrower and more cramped halls.
It smelled of smoke, poverty and pride. A shadow attached itself to their steps
immediately. Wherever they went he followed them, exactly ten steps behind.
The girl tried to go on but the musician held her back.
Not now. We have to wait. He found a place to sit on a stone bench and opened
the locks of his flute box.
Why?
You can only open the door at a specific time.
When? Sashas gaze turned to the stations clock.
If it was accurate they only had twelve hours.
Ill tell you soon enough.
Youre just stalling! She stared at him and stepped away. Sometimes you
promise to help me and sometimes you try to slow me down!
Yes. He breathed deeply and looked into her eyes. I want to delay you.
Why? For what?
Im not playing with you. Believe me, I wouldve found somebody to play with
by now, I dont get a no that fast. I think Im in love. By god, how trite that sounds
 You dont believe that for a second! Youre just saying it, thats all
His voice was still dead serious. Is there a way to tell the difference between love
and a game?
When you lie to get someone is that love?
You can always change the rules of a game. Love destroys all that came before it.
Your life is flipped upside down. True love doesnt care about the circumstances.
Thats not a problem for me. I have never had a life. Now take me to the gate.
Leonid looked at the girl with heavy eyes, leaned against the pillar and crossed his
arms. A few times he breathed in as if he wanted to tell Sasha no, but then he breathed
out again without saying a word.
Finally he seemed to shrink and admitted, I cant go with you. They wont let me
back in.
What do you mean?
I cant go back to the ark. They banished me.
Banished? What did you do?
Oh, something. He turned away and spoke very quietly, even though Sasha only
a step away she still couldnt hear everything.
It was a personal matter. It involved one of the head librarians. He made me
look like an idiot in front of the others That same night I got drunk and burned the
library down. The librarian burned along with his entire family. Its a pity they didnt
believe in the death penalty, I would have deserved it. Instead they banished me. For life.
There is no going back for me.
Sashas hands balled into fists. Then why did you lead me here? Did you need to
burn my time too?
You could try to ring them, mumbled Leonid. Second side tunnel, twenty
meters from the gate there is a marking in white paint. Directly under it, at ground level,
there is the button that rings a bell. You have to ring three times short, three times long
and three times short again, that is the signal for returning watchers
 ***

Leonid helped Sasha past the three guard posts and then returned to the station. As
a parting gift he tried to press an old assault rifle into her hand, which hed picked up
somewhere, but Sasha didnt want it. Three times short, three times long, three times
short that was all she needed. And a lamp.
The tunnel behind the Sportivnaya gave a dark and ominous impression at first
and every guard post she passed reminded her more and more of a small fortress.
Sasha wasnt afraid. She thought of only one thing. Soon she would be on the
doorstep of the emerald city.
And if the city wasnt real she didnt have to be afraid anymore.
The side tunnel was where Leonid had said it would be. A damaged grate sat in
front of the entrance but it was big enough for Sasha to slip through. After about a
hundred meters she saw the steel face of a security door which gave off an eternal and
unshakable impression.
Sasha counted the twenty meters and saw the white markings on the wet and, in
some places, sweating wall shine in the darkness. She found the bell immediately. She
felt for the button and took another look at the watch Leonid had given her. Shed made
it!
Shed gotten here in time! She just had to wait another few seconds. She closed
her eyes
Three times short
Three times long.
Three times short.
Chapter 17: Whos Talking?

Artyom lowered the smoking barrel. Sweat and tears burned his eyes. But the back
of his hand only hit his gasmask when he tried to wipe them clear. Should he just rip it
off? What difference did it make now?
What difference did it make now?
 The screams of the infected had apparently been louder than the crack of the guns.
How else was could he explain the way people kept streaming out of the railcar and
stormed into the hail of bullets? Hadnt they heard the thunder, hadnt they understood
what they were walking into? What had they had been hoping for? Had they even cared
at all?
The area in front of the platform entrance was covered in meters of bloated
corpses. Some still twitched. Some of them were even moaning in this terrible grave-like
mound. The pests had spilled out. Those who remained in the train cowered in fear and
hid from the bullets.
Artyom looked at the other soldiers. Was he the only with trembling hands and
shaking knees? Nobody said a word, even the commander was silent. You could only
hear the sighing of the humans who still occupied the overcrowded train, as if they were
trying to hold back a bloody cough. From the morgue the last dying man cursed them,
You monsters Pigs Im still alive Cant stand it.
The commander looked for the unlucky voice until he found the source, kneeled
down and fired the rest of his clip into the man until there was only an empty clicking
sound and even after that he pulled the trigger a few more times.
Then he rose, looked at his pistol and strangely wiped it on his pants. The rest of
you, remain calm!
He screamed thickly, Anybody who tries to leave the hospital without permission
will get the same treatment.
What are we supposed to do with the bodies? someone asked.
Put them back in the train. Ivanenko, Aksyonov get to it!
Order had been restored. Artyom could return to his seat and try to get some sleep.
There were still a few hours until the wake-up call so he could make it until tomorrow
But things didnt work out that way.
Ivanenko took a step back, shook his head and refused to touch the pus-covered,
shredded bodies. Without hesitation the commander pulled his pistol on the man, though
he seemed to have forgotten that he was out of bullets. He hissed hatefully and pulled the
trigger. Nothing came out but a clicking sound. Ivanenko screamed and ran away.
Suddenly one of the soldiers raised his assault rifle, coughing as he did so, and
rammed the bayonet into the commanders back. The commander didnt fall but turned
his head slowly to look over his shoulder at his attacker.
What the hell are you doing you god damned son of a bitch? he asked quietly in
surprise.
The soldier screamed at him, Youll try and get rid of us next! Everybody here is
sick! Today we kill them and tomorrow you lock us in with them! The man moved the
gun from side to side and tried to pull the bayonet out of the commander put didnt pull
the trigger.
Nobody dared to intervene. Even Artyom, who had taken a step in the other
direction, had frozen. Finally the bayonet slid out. The commander tried to clutch the
wound but couldnt reach. He fell to his knees, leaned on his hands and shook his head. It
looked like he was fighting to stay awake.
Nobody dared to shoot the commander. Even the instigator whod stabbed him
stepped back in fear. Then he ripped off his gasmask and screamed to the entire station,
Brothers! Stop this torture! Let them go! They are going to die anyway! And so are we!
Are we not humans?
Dont you dare hissed the commander, still on his knees.
The soldiers started to debate loudly. Suddenly one of the soldiers shot the
instigator right in the face and he fell backward. He lay alongside all the other bodies. But
it was too late. With a triumphant howling the infected streamed out of the train, ran
stumbling on thick legs, ripped the rifles out of the confused guards hands and scattered
in all directions. Even the guards started to run. Some of them shot at the sick. Others
joined them and ran into the northern tunnels. The tunnels that led to the Serpuchovskaya
and the Nagatinskaya.
 Artyom just stood there as if made of stone and stared at the commander in
confusion. He just refused to die. At first he crawled on his hands and knees, and then he
stood up and started to stumble along. He seemed to be heading for something.
Youll see, he mumbled. Its not that easy to Me
His glassy stare fell on Artyom. At first he didnt seem to recognize the face
before him and then he barked in his usual tone, Popov! Get me to the radio! The guards
at northern border have to close the gate no matter what
The commander leaned on Artyoms shoulder and they both stumbled past the
empty train, past the fighting humans and trash heaps until they finally reached the radio.
The commanders wound didnt seem to be fatal but hed lost a lot of blood. His strength
deserted him and he passed out.
Artyom put a chair in front of the door, took the microphone and dialed the
number for the northern guard. The phone clicked. There was a rasping sound as if
somebody was gasping for breath and then silence. It was too late.
He couldnt cut them off. But the Dobryinskaya, he had to warn them at least! He
rushed to the telephone, pressed the buttons and waited for a few seconds
Thank god, the thing still worked! At first he could only hear a whispering echo
and then ringing.
One Two Three Four Five Six
Please god, let them answer! If they are still alive, if they havent been infected
yet, let them answer, so that they might have a chance. Let somebody pick up the phone
before the infected reached the station Artyom would have sold his soul for this, if
somebody would just pick up the phone on the other end
Then the unimaginable happened. On the seventh ring a croaking sound could be
heard, in the background there were a few shreds of words and then a breathless, broken
voice cut through the static.
Dobryninskaya here!

***
 The cell was plunged into semi-darkness but even that little bit of light was
enough to see. The silhouette of this prisoner was too small and lifeless to be the
brigadier. It looked like a puppet made out of hay sitting behind the bars. The person had
collapsed. It was probably one of the guards, dead. But where was Hunter
I wasnt sure youd come, came a hollow voice from behind them. It was too
Cramped in there.
Melnik turned around so fast that Homer couldnt keep up. In the middle of the
passage way stood the brigadier. His arms were crossed, as if he distrusted them and was
afraid to let them pass.
Melniks cheek twitched. Is it really you?
The same, Hunter cleared his throat strangely. If Homer hadnt known better he
wouldve sworn the sound was some kind of laugh.
Whats happened to you? To your face? Melnik had probably wanted to ask
something else entirely. With a gesture of his hand the guards backed away.
Homer was allowed to stay.
Youre not looking so good these days either. The brigadier cleared his throat
again.
No big deal, Melnik grimaced. Just a shame I cant hug you. The hell with ...
How long we looked for you!
I know. I had to Be alone for a while, Hunter said in his normal manner. I
didnt want to be around people. I wanted to disappear forever. But then I was
afraid
What happened to you, with the dark ones? Did they do that? Melnik nodded at
the violet scars on Hunters face.
Nothing happened. I couldnt destroy them. He touched his scar. I couldnt.
They Broke me.
Then you were right back then, said Melnik with unexpected intensity. Forgive
me! At first I didnt think it was important and I didnt believe you. Back then we You
know how it is. We found them and burnt them to the ground. We thought you were
dead. And that they Thats why I Them For you To the last!
I know, said Hunter thickly. It must have been hard for him to talk about. They
knew how it would end. Because of me. They knew everything. The fate of every single
one of us. If you knew who wed raised our hand to back then! Back then hed smiled on
us one last time. And we I judged them and you carried out the sentence. Thats how
we are. The true monsters
What are you talking about?
When I got to them They made see myself for who I really was. It was like I
was looking into a mirror and all the lies and justifications were stripped away. I
understood everything about myself. About humanity. Why everything had happened to
us
What are you talking about? Melnik stared at his comrade with worry and
looked nervously to the door. Did he regret his decision to send the guards away?
I tell you, I have seen my reflection with my own eyes. Not from the outside, but
from the inside, what was behind the armor They brought it out into the light. The
monster. I didnt see a man. And I was afraid of myself. Id lied to myself Told myself
that I was here to protect people, to save them All lies!
Like a hungry animal I went for their throats. Even worse The reflection
disappeared but this here This Remained. It awoke and never left me alone. They
thought I would kill myself. And I almost did, after all what did I have to live for? But I
didnt do it. I had to fight. At first alone so no one would see it. Far away from people. I
thought I could punish myself so they didnt have to. I thought I could chase it away
through pain The brigadier touched his scars.
But then I realized that I couldnt defeat it alone. I kept forgetting who I was
So I came back.
Brainwashing, said Melnik. Thats what they did to you.
It doesnt matter! Its already done. Hunter took his hand from his face and his
voice changed. It was back to being dull and lifeless. Almost done, anyway. The story is
old. What happened, happened. Now were alone. We have to fight through But Im
not here for that. At the Tulskaya theres been an outbreak. It may have spread to the
Sevastopolskaya and the ring. An airborne fever. The same one as before. Deadly.
Melnik gave him a suspicious look. Nobody has told me anything about it.
Nobody told anybody anything. Theyre cowards. Thats why they lied and kept
it to themselves. They dont understand what theyre doing.
Melnik rolled closer to the brigadier. What do you want from me?
You know as well as I do. The threat has to be eliminated. Give me my tags. Give
me men. Flamethrowers. We have to lock down the Tulskaya and cleanse it. If need be,
the Serpuchovskaya and the Sevastopolskaya too. I hope that it didnt spread any further.
Destroy three stations, just in case?
To save the rest.
After a massacre like that theyll hate the order.
Nobody will know about it. There wont be anybody left that could infect
others Or witness it.
Its a heavy price.
Dont you understand? If we hesitate any longer we wont be able to save
anyone. We caught this epidemic too late. Theres no other way to stop it. In two weeks
the entire metro is an infirmary and in another month its a graveyard
I have to see for myself
You dont believe me, do you? You think Ive gone insane? Believe what you
want, I dont care. Ill go alone. As always. But at least Ill go with a clear conscience.
Hunter turned and walked to the exit, without a single glance at the frozen Homer.
His last words had struck Melnik like a harpoon and they dragged him along behind the
brigadier.
Wait! Take your tags! Hastily Melnik took them out of his uniform pocket and
gave Hunter the simple disks. I Approve.
The brigadier took the tags from his bony hand, put them in his pocket, nodded
silently and took a long look without closing his eyes.
 Melnik mumbled, Just come back. Im tired.
Hunter cleared his throat again in that strange way and said, I, on the other hand,
have never felt better.
Then he disappeared.

***

For a long time Sasha didnt dare ring the bell again. She didnt want to anger the
emerald city watchers.
Theyd probably heard her but needed more time to study her thoroughly. They
hadnt opened the door which seemed to be rooted to the ground, but that must have
meant that they were still discussing if they should allow this stranger in. This stranger
whod apparently guessed the secret code on her first try.
What would she say if they opened the door?
Should she tell them about the epidemic at the Tulskaya? Would they risk
changing the story? What if they guessed her intentions right away as Leonid had?
Should she admit what she hadnt even admitted to herself? Would Sasha be able
to melt their cold hearts? If they had already cured that terrible disease why didnt they
send a messenger with medicine to the Tulskaya?
Just because they were afraid of ordinary people?
Or did they hope that the disease would kill all the people in the metro?
Or were they the ones who had created the disease
No! How could she even think that? Leonid had said that the people of the
emerald city were righteous and humane. They didnt use the death penalty and or even
imprison people. In the midst of all their beauty there wasnt even a single criminal.
Then why hadnt they save these poor souls?
And why hadnt they opened the door?
She rang again. And again.
 She could hear nothing but silence behind the steel door. It was as if nothing but
tons of stone lay behind it.
It wont open.
Sasha turned around. About ten steps behind her Leonid crouched, with tousled
hair and a depressed look on his face.
Sasha looked at him in disbelief. Then you try it! Maybe theyve forgiven you?
Thats why you came after me, isnt it?
There is nothing to forgive. There is nothing at all.
But you said
I lied. That isnt the entrance to the emerald city.
Then where is it?
I dont know. He raised his hands. Nobody does.
Then why did they let you through all the posts? If youre no watcher? You did
At the ring and the reds Youre messing with me again, right? You told me about the
city even though you didnt want to! She tried to get a look at his face, to confirm her
assumption.
Leonid stared at the ground. Back then I dreamed about it myself. I gathered
rumors, read old books. Ive been to this place a hundred times. And there was the bell
And I rang it for days. In vain.
Why did you lie to me? She approached him, her right hand reaching for her
knife. What did I ever do to you? Why did you do this?
I wanted to take you away from them. The knife confused the musician but
instead of running away he sat down on the tracks. I thought if you were alone with
me
And why are you here now?
Thats hard to say. He looked up at her. I probably realized that Id gone too
far. After I sent you here I started thinking. The soul isnt born so black. In the
beginning its clear and light shines through. It only gets darker over time. Spot after
spot, every time you forgive to evil, try to justify it and tell yourself that its just a game.
Then one day darkness has the upper hand. You only notice it occasionally. Its hard to
see from the inside. But I knew that I was crossing a line here. On the other side of it Id
be a different. Forever. And thats why Im here, telling you everything. Because you
deserve it.
Why are they all afraid of you? Why do they bow down to you?
Not to me, sighed Leonid. To my father
Who?
Does the name Moskwin mean anything to you?
Sasha shook her head. No
The musician gave a sad smile. Youre probably the only one in the entire metro.
Well my father is the big boss. The big boss of the red line. He gave me a diplomatic
passport so they would let me through everywhere. The name isnt that common and
nobody wants to get in trouble. The only problem is when somebody doesnt know it
Sasha stepped back and looked at him. And what are you spying on? Did they
send you to do that?
They threw me out. When daddy realized that hed never make a man of me he
stopped caring. And now Im bringing shame to his name. Leonid grimaced.
Did you two have a fight?
How can you fight with the great comrade Moskwin?
Hes a living monument! They banished and cursed me. You know Ive been a fool in
Christi since I was a child. I only liked beautiful paintings, playing the piano and reading
books. That was my mothers fault, shed wanted a girl. When my father found out hed
tried to get me interested in firearms and the red party but it was already too late. Mother
taught me how to play the flute and father drove it out of me with his belt. He banished
the professor whod taught me and put a Politruk at my side.
It was all in vain. I was already rotten to the core. I hate the red line, it was too
Gray for me. I wanted a colorful life, wanted to play music and paint. So my father once
had a mosaic destroyed, for my education. With that I learned that everything beautiful
could perish. And he made me destroy it. And so I did. But while I did I memorized
every detail. To this day I could still put it together And ever since that moment Ive
hated my father.
You cant say that! Sasha yelled in horror.
I can. Leonid smiled. Others would be shot for it. That story with the emerald
city My professor told me about it. He whispered it to me when I was still small.
And so I resolved to find the entrance when I was older. There had to be a place
where what I lived for made sense. Where life was like it was back then. Where I wasnt
a small, ugly no-good prince, not the inheritor of the red line but an equal among and
under equals.
And youve never found that place, Sasha put away her knife. Shed finally
understood him.
Because it doesnt exist. Leonid shrugged. He stood up, went to the bell and
rang it. It probably doesnt matter if anybody hears me on the other side. It probably
doesnt even matter if the place exists. The important thing is that I believe it exists
somewhere. That someone hears me. And that I just need to earn the right to gain
entrance.
And thats enough for you?
Again the musicians shrugged. Its always been enough for the world, so its
enough for me.

***

Homer ran onto the train platform and looked around in confusion. Hunter was
nowhere to be seen. Behind him Melnik rolled out of the prison, gray and beat down as if
the brigadier had taken not just the tags but a piece of his soul.
Why had he run away again and where? Why had he left Homer? He wasnt going
to ask Melnik. Homer wanted to get away before Melnik remembered he was there. So
Homer acted like he wanted to catch up to the brigadier and stepped away quickly. He
waited for a yell from behind. But Melnik didnt seem to be interested in him anymore.
 Hunter had said that he needed Homer so that he wouldnt forget his former self.
Had he lied? Maybe hed just needed to avoid fighting Polis. He could easily have lost
his temper and that wouldve blocked his way to the Tulskaya. His abilities and his killer
instinct were paranormal but nobody could storm an entire station alone. If that was true
then Homer had served his purpose by accompanying Hunter to Polis and now hed been
pushed off the stage.
And not very softly at that.
So had his part in the story come to end? Hed taken part in the final act with the
brigadier, or whoever played the main role.
What were those tags? A passport? An insignia of power? A black mark?
Forgiveness for all the sins that Hunter wanted to load onto his soul? Whatever they
were, the brigadier had ripped the tags and approval out of Melniks hand.
The brigadiers hands were now free to act and he didnt plan on confessing to
anyone. The monster that appeared from time to time had finally won.
What would happen at the Tulskaya if Hunter got through to it? Would he be able
to quench his thirst by drowning an entire station in blood, perhaps even two or three? Or
would the monster he carried inside of him grow until it knew no bounds?
Which of the two Hunters had Homer accompanied?
The one that consumed people or the one who fought against the monster? Which
had fallen to the ground during the phantom fight at the Polskaya? And who had asked
for Homers help after that?
Perhaps Homer had another destiny, to kill Hunter.
Maybe it had been the remnants of the old brigadier that had desperately asked the
old man for help?
Did he watch it all with horror as the other Hunter killed?
He couldnt take his own life so the brigadier had chosen a henchman. A
henchmen who didnt need asking, who had enough intuition to figure things out on his
own and smart enough to deceive the other Hunter. The second Hunter who grew more
monstrous by day and had no intention of dying.
 But even if Homer had the courage and waited for the right moment to kill Hunter,
what would that accomplish? He wouldnt be able to stop the epidemic. So was there
nothing he could do but keep watching and writing?
Homer guessed where the brigadier had gone. The almost mystical order, which
apparently Melnik and Hunter were members of. Rumors said that they had their base at
the Smolenskaya, the underground of Polis. Its legionaries protected the metro and its
inhabitants from dangers that even the entire armies of common stations couldnt deal
with.
Nobody knew anything else about this organization. The old man couldnt even
think of entering the Smolenskaya, it didnt have an entrance, like the fortress Alamut.
But why bother? To meet up with the brigadier he just had to go back to the
Dobryninskaya. And wait until fate brought Hunter there without stopping, at the place of
his approaching crimes, the end station of this strange story.
Should he allow Hunter to settle his score with the infected and cleanse the
Tulskaya and then act? Homer had always thought that he had a different role: Not to
shoot, but to immortalize, to not judge and not get involved and give the heroes of his
book the chance to act on their own. But when youre standing in blood up to your knees
its impossible to stay clean. It was lucky that the girl had left with the musician. At least
hed spared Sasha from seeing the horrible massacre with her own eyes. Even she
couldnt have stopped it. He looked at the stations clock. If the brigadier stuck to his
schedule then Homer only had a few hours. Enough time to be alone. And to ask Polis for
once last dance.

***

And how do you expect to earn the right to enter? asked Sasha.
Well Leonid hesitated. Its stupid, I know, but With my flute. I thought it
could redeem me. You know, music is the first art to go. It only exists as long the
instruments notes and in the next instant its gone without a trace. But nothing grabs
hold of people as strongly as music, nothing hurts so deep and heals so slowly. When
somebody touches you with a melody it stays with you for the rest of your life. It is the
essence of beauty. I thought I could heal the wounds of the soul with it.
You are strange.
But now Ive realized that someone whos sick cant heal others. If I dont tell
you everything I can never stop them.
She gave him a hard look. Do you think Im going to forgive you? Your lies,
your cruelty?
Will you give me one last chance? Leonid smiled at her. Youve said that we
all deserve one.
Sasha was silent. Shed grown more cautious.
This time she wouldnt be swept away in one of his strange games.
Shed thought he was truly sorry and his words genuine and now Again?
Of everything Ive told you, one thing is true. There is a cure, he said.
Medicine? Sasha turned around and was ready to be lied to once more.
Not medicine. Not pills or vaccines. A few years ago at our line, the
Preobraschenskaya, we had a similar disease.
Why doesnt Hunter know about it?
There wasnt an epidemic. The disease went away on its own. The virus cant
tolerate radiation. Something happens to it, I think it stops multiplying Regardless, you
can stop the disease even with small doses. We found that out. You dont need anything
else. The solution to the problem, so to speak, lies on the surface.
Shivering, she took his hand. Really?
Really, he put his hand in hers. We dont need to do anything else but get in
contact with them and let them know.
She let go of his hand. Why didnt you tell me sooner? Thats just awful! How
many people have died already?!
After just one day? None I didnt want you to stay with that killer. I wanted to
tell you from the beginning, but I wanted to trade the secret for you.
 You traded me against the lives of others! hissed Sasha. I am not worth Even
one of them!
The musician cocked an eyebrow. Id trade mine.
You dont get to make that decision! Get up! We need to go. And fast. As long as
he hasnt already made it to the Tulskaya Sasha put her finger on her watch,
whispered something and sighed. Only three more hours!
Why? We can use the telephone. Ill have them to call Hanza and explain
everything. Then we dont have to run there ourselves. Not that wed make it anyway
No! Sasha shook her head. No! They wont believe it. They wont believe us. I
have to go see him myself and tell him. To explain it to him
And then what? Leonid said jealously. Then you have a go with him just for
fun?
Thats none of your business, she answered. But she immediately knew she
could control this man who fell in love so easily. I dont want anything from him. But
without him I dont have a chance of getting through.
It seems my lies have taught you well, Leonid answered with a slight smile.
Then he sighed. Alright, lets go.
They reached the Sportivnaya a half hour later. The guard had changed and Leonid
had to again arrange her transport across the red border without papers.
Sasha looked nervously at her watch and Leonid at her. You could tell that he was
torn between two desires.
He was fighting with himself.
On the train platform, thin recruits put a few bundles of wares on an old, stinking
railcar. Drunk workers acted like they were plugging a leak and a few children in
uniforms sang a song. In five minutes theyd stopped Leonid and Sasha to show their
passports multiple times and the guards at the Frunsenskaya took a long time.
Time was running out. Sasha didnt even know if they could make it in the two
hours they had left. Nobody could stop Hunter and it was possible that hed already
begun his operation.
 The soldiers had finished loading the railcar. It spat out smoke and started moving
toward Sasha and Leonid.
Leonid made a decision.
I dont want to let you go, he said. But I cant stop you. I thought if I made sure
that youd be late you wouldnt want to go. But I understand now that I cant win you
that way. Being honest is the worst way to woo a woman, but I dont want to lie
anymore. You choose who you want to be with.
The musician ripped his magic passport from the border guards hand and punched
him on the chin with surprisingly speed. Then he took Sashas hand and dragged her with
him onto the railcar, which was passing them at that exact moment. When the driver
looked around he was surprised to find himself staring down the barrel of a revolver.
Leonid laughed loudly. Dad would be so proud of me now! How many times did
I have to hear how I was wasting my time and that Id never amount to anything with my
stupid flute! And when I finally act like a real man he isnt even here! What a tragedy!
Then he ordered the driver: Jump! The driver did, even though they were going
quite fast. He dropped to the ground and rolled behind them in the darkness, screaming.
Leonid started to throw the cargo overboard, with every bundle he threw the motor roared
louder. The old search light on the front of the railcar cast a flickering light a few meters
ahead into the gloom. Screeching like nails on a chalkboard, the wheels chased away rats
and a surprised tunnel guard jumped off the tracks just in time. In the distance they could
hear the hysterical howling of the alarm siren. The tunnel segments went by faster and
faster, Leonid squeezed every last bit of speed out of the engine.
They flew past the Frunsenskaya. The surprised guards fled like rats and only after
the railcar had left the station far behind did they hear the howling of the angry alarm
siren from the Sportivnaya.
Here we go! screamed Leonid. Well cross into the ring line at the next side
tunnel! Theres a huge border post thatll try and stop us. Were going to drive straight
through them!
 He knew what they had to be afraid off. The searchlight of a diesel powered railcar
fell on them from a red line side tunnel. The tunnel was only a meter or so away from
them and there was no time to stop. Leonid pressed the pedal to the floor and Sasha
covered her eyes Their only hope was that the other car hadnt changed tracks yet, if
they had there was no way to avoid a head on collision. A machine gun thundered and
bullets flew centimeters above their heads. The smell of burning and a wave of heat
surrounded them. The other cars motor roared and was quiet once more. The railcars had
miraculously missed each other.
As soon as their car passed the tunnel the other railcar turned to follow. As they
rode to the Park kultury, swinging from side to side, the pursuing railcar turned off in
another direction.
They had a head start. That would be enough to get to the next station, but what
then? The railcar slowed down, the tunnel was slanting uphill. Leonid turned to Sasha.
The next station is Park kultury, its almost directly beneath the surface. The
Frunsenskaya, on the other hand, is fifty meters below. We have to get over that hill and
then well start picking up speed again!
And thats exactly what happened. When they reached Park kultury they started
speeding up again. The station was old and proud, with high ceilings but it was lifeless,
dark and only sparsely populated. Croaking, an alarm raised its thick voice. You could
see many heads peering from behind the defensive brick barriers ahead. Assault rifles
roared angrily. But it was too late. There was nothing they could do.
We might even make it out of this alive! laughed Leonid.
With a bit of luck
They saw something that looked like a spark in the darkness at first glance, but
then it grew brighter and closer. It was the search light of diesel powered railcar! The
beam of light was like a spear it had raised before it, as if it was trying to run their car
through. It devoured the distance between them. Again machine guns fired and bullets
howled past them.
Not too much longer! Theres the Kropotkinskaya!
 The Kropotkinskaya was divided into squares full of tents. It was run down and
dirty. A few aging portraits hung on the wall covered in smeared dirt. There flags upon
flags, so many that they formed a continuous red shape like frozen blood in a vein made
of stone.
This time they fired a grenade launcher after them. A hail of marble splinters
rained down on the railcar and one struck Sashas leg, though it didnt leave a deep
wound. Ahead they dropped a roadblock from the ceiling but the railcar smashed right
through it, though it almost derailed.
The diesel powered railcar grew closer and closer. Its motor was far more
powerful and had no problems moving the colossal car which had been reinforced with
steel plates. Sasha and Leonid threw themselves down flat so they could take cover
behind the cars low metal railing and avoid the never ending stream of bullets.
In a few moments the cars bumpers would hit and theyd be boarded
Sasha looked at Leonid frantically, but he seemed to have lost his mind because he
was suddenly stripping off his clothes.
Before them was the defense barrier, sandbags and steel tank stoppers. That was
what they needed to get through to escape.
Now two search lights were pinned on them and two heavy machine guns. Theyd
be struck between the two like a hammer and an anvil.
Just another minute and it would all be over.
Chapter 18: Salvation

The group stretched for a few dozen meters. They were the best fighters the
Sevastopolskaya had to offer, Denis Michailovitsch had personally chosen every single
one of them. Their small helmet lamps flickered in the darkness of the tunnel and
suddenly the colonel thought the whole formation looked like a giant swarm of
glowworms flying through the night.
A warm and pleasant smelling summer night at the Krim, over the cypress and
near the softly lapping waters of the ocean. This was where the colonel hoped he would
go after he died
A pleasant shiver ran through him but he shook it off, assumed a stern expression
and berated himself. Even he was starting to get soft. He was getting too old for this!
He let the last soldier pass, opened his steel cigarette case and took one of his last
cigarettes out, ran it under his nose and touched it to his lighter.
It was a good day. Luck was still on his side, everything was going according to
plan. Theyd passed through the Nagornaya without casualties. One soldier had
disappeared for a moment but hed returned to the column. Everyone was happy. Going
to war was easier than waiting and wondering what was going on out there.
 Denis Michailovitsch had also let them have a good nights sleep before their
march began. Though he hadnt been able to catch a wink himself.
Fate had always just seemed like a chain of coincidental events for him, so it was
beyond the old fighter why anyone would trust themselves to it. Since hed gone on the
small expedition to the Kachovskaya thered been no word from Hunter. It was possible
that even he wasnt immortal.
What had he been thinking when hed agreed to send the half crazed brigadier and
the old story-teller? He couldnt wait any longer.
The plan was to move the main part of their force through the Nachimovski
prospect, Nagornaya and the Nagatinskaya to the southern gate of the Tulskaya and take
the station by surprise. He had men on the surface as well. Their orders were to get into
the tunnels through the vents and kill the guards if there were any left. Finally they would
open the gate for the main force. It was all a question of military strategy, it didnt matter
who was occupied the station.
They had needed three days to locate the vents and unseal them. Now the stalkers
were on their way around to throw open the gate. They only needed to wait a few more
hours.
A few more hours, then it would all be decided and Denis Michailovitschs
thoughts would be his own again. Hed be able to sleep and eat once more. The plan was
simple, clever and had no gaps. Still, the colonel had a strange feeling in this pit of his
stomach and his heart was racing as it had eighteen years ago when hed gone to his first
fight at the village in the mountains
The hot air of his cigarette calmed him down a little. Finally he threw away the
rest, put his mask on and ran behind the brigade to catch up.
A short while after that they were standing in front of the steel gate. Now they
could catch their breath. Denis Michailovitsch would use the calm before the storm to go
over strategies with his commanders. There was one thing the old man had been right,
thought the colonel with a smile. Why run at a fortress head on when you could open it
from the inside? There was the legend of the Trojan horse, which story had that been in?
 Denis Michailovitsch took a look at the Geiger counter, radiation levels were low
and he pulled off his mask. The officers followed his example and as did the rest of the
fighters.
They had earned a breather!

***

There had always been old timers at Polis. Most were poor people that fought their
way through the dark stations and struggled to find enough to eat. Most now wandered
through the galleries and halls with wide eyes and slack jaws.
And so most people paid no attention to Homer as he made his rounds at the
Borovizkaya, ran his hands over the narrow pillars of the Alexandrovski sad, torn between
the two. He had even fallen in love with the chandeliers of the Arbatskaya.
A premonition gripped his heart and wouldnt let go. This was the last time hed
see Polis. What happened a few hours from now at the Tulskaya would change his life. It
may even mark his end. But hed decided, he would do what he had to. He would allow
Hunter to massacre the station and burn it to the ground But then he would try and kill
the brigadier. He knew that if the brigadier suspected anything he would just break the
old mans neck. But maybe he would be killed during the raid on the Tulskaya and that
would mean everything was already over. But everything would go on after his plan.
Homer would return to his lonely nest and fill the last white papers of his book, from the
climax to the conclusion. The last page would be where he shot Hunter in the back
Would he be able to do it? Would he have the courage?
Even thinking about it made his hands tremble.
Calm down, calm down. Everything would work itself out, now wasnt the time to
worry
But that didnt make him any less nervous.
It had been lucky that the girl disappeared!
 Homer didnt know where her adventure had led her. How could he have taken her
with into this lions cage?
His exaggerated pretensions of authorship had been the cause of it and apparently
hed forgotten that she wasnt a creature from his fantasy. Homers novel had turned out
differently than hed expected. He had placed too much on his shoulders. How would he
get all these people in to the story? He didnt even have space in his head for the crowd
of people who passed by. He didnt want his novel to be a mass grave with an endless list
of names. A list written in bronze letters which could not portray the faces of the dead.
No, it was impossible! His faulty memory wouldnt be able to take all these people
on board. The sweaty face of the candy merchant or the pointy face of the girl who
handed him a bullet. The smile of her mother, bright as a Madonna or the sticky smile of
the soldier whod just passed her. The deep wrinkles in the face of an old beggar or the
laugh lines of a thirty year old woman
Which of them was violent, which was a miser, a thief, a traitor, a lively one, a
prophet, an upright citizen, who didnt care and who hadnt decided yet?
Homer would never know any of these things. He didnt know what the merchant
was really thinking as he looked at the girl, how to interpret the mothers smile which had
been kindled by the soldiers gaze. Nor did he know what job the old beggar had before
his legs stopped working. It wasnt in Homers power to decide who had the right to be in
his story and who didnt. Six million people annihilated, six million!
Was it coincidence that only a few thousand had been able to find rescue?
Train operator Serov, whose place Nikolai had taken over, had looked at life like a
soccer game. Humanity has lost, he used to tell Nikolai but both of us are still running
around. Why do you think that is? Because it is still zero-zero in our life, thats why! The
referee has given us more time.
Until the final whistle blows we have to find out why were here and finish our
business, get everything out, then we make the last pass and fly towards the shining
goal He had been a mystery, old Serov. Homer had never asked the soccer fan if hed
already shot his final goal. But hed been reassured that he, Nikolay Ivanovitsch
Nikolayev, could still settle his score. And Serov had convinced him that nobody was in
the metro by pure chance.
But it was impossible to write about them all! Was it even worth trying? In that
moment Homer saw one face among the thousands of strangers. Exactly the one hed
least expected to see.

***

Leonid threw away his coat, pulled his sweater over his head and finally his white
t-shirt. He waved the shirt like a flag, ignoring the bullets that rushed through the air all
around them. Something strange had happened, the diesel powered railcar started to fall
behind and the fortress in front of them didnt open fire as theyd anticipated.
My father is going kill me! Leonid said as he pulled the brake lever. The brakes
screeched and the car came to a halt in front of the tank stopper.
What are you doing? What are we doing? Sasha asked breathlessly. She didnt
know how theyd come this far unharmed.
Were surrendering! He laughed. Thats the tunnel to the Bibliotek imeni
Lenina, its the border to Polis. Were deserters now.
Guards ran to them and ordered them off the railcar. When they checked Leonids
passport they exchanged a few looks, put the handcuffs away and led them into the
station. Once inside they were brought to the guard hall. The soldiers whispered to each
other and stared respectfully. They left to inform the stations leaders.
Leonid got comfortable in one of the worn armchairs. A moment later he jumped
up, looked through the open door and waved to Sasha. They are even sloppier than the
red line, he said. They didnt leave anyone guarding us.
They slipped out of the room, walked slowly along the corridor but sped up until
they were running full tilt. Hand in hand, so they wouldnt lose each other in the crowd.
A little later they heard the first whistles sound behind them but it was easy disappear in
this giant place. There were even more people here than at the Pavelezkaya. Not even her
daydreams of the surfaces past had contained such crowds! And it was so bright here.
Just like on the surface. Sasha put her hand in front of her eyes and peered through the
small gap between her fingers.
Wherever she looked, she saw wonderful things, stone faces, and pillars. If it
hadnt been for Leonids grip she would have let go of his fingers, stumbled and gotten
lost. Someday she would return to this place she promised herself. Someday
Sasha?
She turned around and stared at Homer, he was looking at her with fear, anger and
surprise. She smiled how she had missed the old man!
What are you doing here? He didnt bother asking the youngster that dumbest
question of all.
We have to get to the Dobryninskaya! She said, out of breath. They ran slower
so the old man could keep up.
Thats crazy! You cant go there I wont let you!
But none of Homers gasped arguments could convince them.

***

When they reached the entrance to the border gate at the Borovizkaya it seemed
nobody had informed the guards of their escape.
I am here on Melniks orders. I need to get through immediately, Homer said to
the officer on duty. He tried to open his mouth but found no words, saluted the old man
and moved out of the way.
When the post sank into darkness behind them, Leonid asked politely, You were
lying, werent you?
And? growled Homer.
The important thing is that you do it convincingly, said Leonid. Then only the
pros realize it.
 Spare me your lectures, Homers forehead wrinkled and he switched his lamp
on and off a few times because it had started to dim.
Were going to the Serpuchovskaya, but Im not letting you go any further than
that!
That doesnt matter, Sasha said. Theres a cure!
What? Homer stopped, coughed and looked almost afraid. Really?
Yes! Radiation!
The virus can be neutralized with radiation, confirmed Leonid.
But viruses are a hundred, no a thousand, times more resistant to radiation than
humans! And the immune system is weakened by radiation. Homer lost his temper and
spun on Leonid. What did you tell her? Why did you drag her here? Dont you know
whats going to happen! Nobody, not me and not you, can stop it! Take her with you and
find a safe place to hide! And you He turned to Sasha. How could you believe
him That liar! He filled these words with contempt.
Dont worry about me, the girl said quietly. I know how to stop Hunter. He has
two sides And Ive seen both of them. The one wants blood and the other wants to save
people.
Homer put his hands over his head. What are you talking about? There arent
sides anymore, theres just the one, a monster in human form. Before, maybe a year
ago
Quickly the old man related the conversation between Melnik and Hunter but
Sasha wasnt convinced.
The longer she listened to Homer the more determined she became that she was
right. She searched for the words to explain it to the others. Its like this. The killer
inside of him lies to the other side. It tells the other one that there is no choice. That one
thirsts for blood and the other longs to save people Thats why Hunter wants to get to
the Tulskaya so badly, because both halves are pulling him there! And I have to separate
them. As soon as he has the choice to save without killing
Good god! He wont listen to you! Why do you keep trying?
 Your book, Sasha smiled at him. I know its not done yet. The end hasnt been
written.
Have you lost your mind? Thats foolish talk, mumbled Homer desperately.
Why did I tell you about it?
He grabbed Leonids arm. Young man, you at least I beg of you, I know youre
not a bad man and you didnt lie maliciously. Take her with you. Thats what you want
isnt it? Youre both young and beautiful. You should live! She cant go, you understand?
And neither can you. There Its going to be a terrible massacre. And none of your lies
will stop anyone from
Its not a lie, the musician answered politely. Shall I give you my word?
Homer stopped. Id like to believe you. But Hunter You havent known him
long enough to understand.
Leonid cleared his throat. But Ive heard more than enough about him.
And how do you plan to stop him? With your flute? Or do you think hes going
to listen to the girl? Something controls him Something that no longer listens to
reason.
Leonid turned to Homer and said, Actually I completely agree with you. But she
asked me to do it. And as a gentleman He winked at Sasha.
Dont you get it? This isnt a game! Homer looked at the girl pleadingly, and
then at Leonid.
I know, Sasha said seriously.
And the musician added calmly, Everything is a game.

***

If Leonid was really Moskwins son it was possible that he knew something about
the epidemic that Hunter didnt know, or didnt want to tell them. Homer thought Leonid
was a liar, but what if the fever really could be driven off with radiation? Against his will
and his common sense the old man began searching for proof to support this theory.
Hadnt he been wishing for something exactly like this a few days ago? In the end had
the blood in his mouth and the nausea just been the symptoms of radiation sickness? The
dose which he had gotten from the march over the Kachovskaya line must have been
enough to get rid of the infection.
How easily he let himself be led astray!
If this was true, what did that mean for the Tulskaya?
What did that mean for Hunter? Sasha hoped that she could stop him. And she
really did seem to have a strange power over the brigadier. But inside of him were two
antagonists, the one may feel the chain the girl tried to put on him was as soft as silk
while the other felt it burn like glowing iron. Which of the two would be in command of
Hunters body in that crucial moment?
This time the Polyanka had no visions prepared for them, not for him, Sasha or
Leonid. The station seemed empty and dead. Was that a good or a bad sign?
Maybe it was just the movement of the air that blew through the tunnel, blowing
away all hallucinogenic gasses.
Maybe Homer had made a terrible mistake and there simply wasnt a future left
for the Polyanka to show him.
What does emerald mean? Sasha asked suddenly.
An emerald is a green, shimmering diamond, said Homer in confusion.
Emerald just means green.
Strange, the girl said thoughtfully. Then I guess emerald city really does
exist
What are you talking about? asked Leonid.
Oh just You know. She looked at the musician again. Im going to search for
it now, your city. And some day Im going to find it.
Homer shook his head. He didnt believe Leonid was sincere.
Sasha had been lost in thought the whole time and she kept whispering to herself,
a few times she sighed. Then she looked at Homer searchingly. Have you written down
what happened to me?
 I Im working on that.
She nodded. Good.
Something was cooking at the Dobryninskaya. Hanza had doubled their guard and
the silent, dark soldiers at the entrance held their ground and refused to let Homer and the
others through. Neither the musicians bullets nor their arguments impressed the soldiers.
Finally Homer had an epiphany. He ordered them to put him through to Andrey
Andreyevitsch.
After a long half hour wait the radio operator finally stumbled over to them with a
thick cable trailing behind him. Homer talked into the receiver threateningly. He said
they were the first of orders troops on the scene. This half true statement was enough.
They were led through the station right away.
In the middle hallway it was stuffy, as if somebody had pumped all the air out of
the station. The late hour didnt seem to bother anyone because they were all on their feet
already.
Finally they stood in the waiting room of the Dobryninskayas commander.
He welcomed them, sweating and run down, with dark circles under his eyes and
an unpleasant smell. The adjutant was nowhere to be seen. Andrey Andreyevitsch looked
around nervously when he didnt see Hunter and he grunted, When are they going to
arrive?
Soon, promised Homer
Theres a riot going on at the Serpuchovskaya. The commander wiped his face
and paced the length of the greeting room. Somebody told them about the epidemic.
Nobody knows what they should be afraid of and now they are saying that gasmasks
dont help.
Thats true, said Leonid.
In one of the southern tunnels that lead to the Tulskaya a full troop of guards
abandoned their posts. Cowardly pigs! In the second tunnel that leads to the sect, they are
still holding even though the fanatics have started a siege and are screaming something
about judgment day. And at our station hell is ready to break out at any moment. Where
are they? They are our last hope!
Suddenly you couldnt hear the loud cursing in the station anymore. Somebody
yelled and the barking sounds of the guards joined in. When nobody answered Andrey
Andreyevitsch he pressed himself back into his office, a moment later they heard a sound
like a bottle clanging against a drinking glass. As if it had just been waiting for the
commander to leave the red light on the telephone sitting on the adjutants desk started
blinking. It was the phone with the name Tulskaya on it.
Homer hesitated for a second or two and then he stepped to the desk, licked his
dry lips and took a deep breath.
Dobryninskaya here!

***

What am I supposed to say? Artyom looked up at the commander helplessly.

But he was still unconscious. His eyes rolled endlessly behind their lids. From
time to time he let out a pained cough.
The bayonet had nicked his lung.
Are you still alive? He yelled into the phone. The infected escaped!
A moment later he realized that nobody there knew what was going on at the
Tulskaya. He had to tell them everything from the beginning.
He heard a woman scream on the train platform and then machine gun fire. The
sounds slipped through the space under the door, you couldnt escape it. Somebody on
the other end of the line asked him something but he couldnt really understand the
words.
You have to barricade the tunnel! Artyom said hastily. Shoot them. And keep
your distance!
 But they didnt even know what the sick looked like. How could he describe
them? As swollen, bloated and stinking creatures? But those whod just been infected
looked completely normal.
Shoot every one of them! He said mechanically.
But what would happen when he tried to leave the station himself? Would they
shoot him too? Had he just given his own death sentence? There was no way for him to
get out of this now.
There were no more healthy people here. Artyom suddenly felt terribly alone.
Dont hang up, he pleaded.
Artyom didnt know what he should talk about with the stranger at the other end
of the line. He started with his in desperate attempts to contact them and said that hed
feared that no station in the metro was still alive. Hed he was trying to call a future
where nobody was left alive. He even told the stranger this.
He wasnt afraid of embarrassing himself anymore. He didnt have to be afraid of
anything anymore.
The main thing was that he could talk to somebody.
Popov! Suddenly he could hear the thick voice of the commander behind him.
Did you get through to the northern post? Is Is the gate closed?
Artyom turned around and shook his head...
Idiot! The commander spat blood. Good for nothing Listen up. Above us
theres an underground river. Ive rigged a little something there When we blow it up
this whole fucking station is going to be flooded. The button is right here, in the radio
room. But you have to close the northern gate and make sure the southern gate is still
closed. The station has to be water tight, you understand? I will not drown the entire
metro. And when everything is done you let me know The connection to the guard post
is still working?
Yes, Artyom nodded.
And see to it that you get out of here before it happens. The commander tried to
smile and then he started coughing again. It wouldnt be fair otherwise
 And what about you? Youre going to stay here?
The commanders forehead wrinkled. Pull yourself together, Popov! Everybody
is born to do something. I was born to drown these pigs. Yours is to close the hatch and
live to a ripe old age. Understood!?
Yes, sir!
Be quick about it.

***

The telephone was silent now.

The telephone gods be praised that Homer had understood most of the words the
soldier at the Tulskaya had spoken. He hadnt heard the last sentences but hed
understood most of it before the connection broke.
The old man looked up. Andrey Andreyevitschs heavy stomach filled his view.
Dark blotches ringed the armpits of his blue uniform and his fat hands were trembling.
Whats going on over there? He asked tonelessly.
The situation is out of control. Homer swallowed. Send every man youve got
to the Serpuchovskaya.
I cant do that. Andrey Andreyevitsch pulled his makarov out of his pocket.
Everyone is panicking here. The few people I can rely on have gathered around the ring
line border to make sure nobody tries to run away.
You can calm them down. We have You can cure the disease. With radiation.
Tell them that
Radiation? The commander frowned. And you really believe that? Sure, you go
tell them that, you have my permission! He saluted jokingly, slammed his office door
behind him, and locked himself in.
What now? Where had those two gotten to? Apparently theyd run away again!
Homer ran down the corridor with one hand pressing on his racing heart. He ran
onto the train platform and yelled their names. Theyd disappeared.
 ***

Chaos reigned at the Dobryninskaya. Women, children and men with bulging
sacks crowded the exits. Behind hastily erected tents some riffraff ran around, but nobody
paid attention to them. Homer had seen something like this before. It would start with a
soldier kicking people who got to close and in the end they would open fire on unarmed
people.
Suddenly a blaring sound carried through the tunnel.
The noise and cursing ceased. Instead you could now hear surprised yells. Again
the sound came from the tunnel, like hundreds of horns from a Roman legion that had
been wandering around for centuries before finally arrived at the Dobryninskaya
Hastily the soldier pushed the barricades out of the tunnel. Something massive
approached. It was an armored battalion. They wore steel plated helms that only had a
small slit in them. They carried heavy machine guns across their backs.
Not even Homer had seen such a monster before.
Faceless idols were stamped on their armor which was as black as ravens
feathers.
They were wearing full-body Kevlar suits, an unknown type of gasmask and
special military issue backpacks.
They didnt seem to belong to this era or to this world. The battalion stopped. The
heavily armed newcomers moved to the train platform, ignoring the crowd of people, and
assumed a three row formation. Then they turned as one, like a single machine, with
thundering steps toward the tunnel leading to the Serpuchovskaya. Their powerful steps
drowned out the conversations of the adults and the screaming of the children.
Homer ran behind them and tried to spot Hunter among the dozens of fighters. But
they were all strongly built and were dressed identically.
Everybody had the same, terrible weapons: Flamethrowers and high powered rifles
with silencers. No insignias, no badges.
 Maybe he was one of the first three in the line?
Homer passed the group, waved his hands and looked through the faceplates of the
gasmasks. But he only got the same stiff look of indifference. None of the newcomers
reacted, nobody knew him. Was Hunter even with them?
He had to be. He just had to be here!
Homer didnt see Sasha or Leonid on his way to the tunnel. Perhaps their common
sense had won out and the musician had taken the girl to a safe place?
Yes, hopefully they were waiting for this bloodbath to pass. Later Homer would
try to barter with Andrey Andreyvitsch to get this resolved, if he hadnt put a bullet
between his eyes by then.
The formation punched through the crowd and marched with surprising speed.
Nobody dared get in their way and even the Hanza border guards stepped silently
back. Homer decided to follow the battalion. He had to make sure that Sasha wasnt
going to try something stupid.
None of the soldiers chased him away. To them he was like a dog chasing a
railcar. When they entered the tunnel the three rows in front of him switched on their
search lights and burned away the darkness of the tunnel. Their lights were as bright as a
thousand candles. Homer couldnt stop thinking that the bodies of those humans were
like iron but their souls had died long ago. Before him was a perfect killing machine. Its
individual parts had no will of their own. Only one of them, who couldnt was
indistinguishable from the rest, knew what would happen. When he gave the command
Fire the others would burn down everything on their way to the Tulskaya and beyond.
At least they werent going through the sects tunnel. Those unfortunate people
had a short while still before the eternal flame consumed them. First the Tulskaya and
then them
Suddenly, as if they reacted to an invisible signal, the group slowed down. A
minute later Homer understood why. They were near enough to the station to hear
screams in the distance.
 Then something unexpected came to the old mans ears. Was he going crazy? It
was a beautiful melody.

***

Homer listened as if under a spell. He didnt hear anything but the voice coming
out of the phone and Sasha knew this was the best time to leave.
She slipped out of the waiting room, waved impatiently for Leonid to follow, and
finally dragged him with her. At first toward the tunnel that led to the Serpuchovskaya,
and beyond that to the tunnel that led where their help was needed. Where they could
save lives.
The tunnel also led to him, Hunter.
Arent you afraid? Sasha asked Leonid.
He smiled. Yes, but I get the feeling that Im finally doing something important.
You dont have to come with me. We might be killed out there. We could just
stay here and hide somewhere.
Nobody knows what the future holds, answered Leonid with a raised finger.
And here I thought you got to decide.
Oh, knock it off already, Leonid smiled ironically. Were all just rats in a maze.
The ones who watch us open and close the mazes doors as they see fit. If the door to the
Sportivnaya is closed you can scratch at it as much as you want, its wont open for
anything in the world. And if theres a trap behind the next door youll fall into it, even if
you were expecting it. Because theres no other way. You only have one choice. You run
or you refuse and die.
Sashas forehead wrinkled. Arent you angry at having to live through all that?
No Im angry that my neck cant turn far enough to get a look at the person
performing the experiment.
There is no experiment. Rats can bite through concrete if they have to.
Leonid started laughing. Youre a rebel. Im an opportunist.
 Sasha shook her head. Thats not true. You believe you can help people too.
Id like to believe it.
Sasha passed a post that had apparently been abandoned quickly. A few pieces of
wood were still smoking, next to them sat moldering magazines with pictures of naked
women. On the wall was an abandoned and half shredded flag. About ten minutes later
they found the first body.
It was hard to recognize it as human. The arms and legs were spread and so
swollen that the clothes had torn off. Its face was more monstrous then anything Sasha
had ever seen before.
Be careful! Leonid backed away the corpse. That one is contagious.
So? Theres a cure. Where were going everyone is contagious.
Suddenly they heard shots and distant screams.
We made it just in time, said Leonid. It sounds like they got tired of waiting for
your friend
Sasha looked at him fearfully, but said, It doesnt matter! We just have to tell
him. They think that all the people here are doomed to die. We just have to give them
hope!
The stations security gate was wide open. Another corpse lay there, face down
but at least it still looked human. Next to him was a metal box that hissed, as if the radio
was trying to wake the dead guard.
At the end of the tunnel a few men had bunkered down behind some sandbags.
One heavy machine gunner and a few soldiers with assault rifles. That was the whole of
the barricade.
In front of them the narrow tunnel walls ended and the platform of the Tulskaya
started. A terrible crowd was swarming and encircled the besieged soldiers. The crowd
was made up of both the infected and the healthy, hideous monsters alongside human
silhouettes, some carried flashlights and others no longer needed light.
The soldiers in front of them defended the tunnel. Their bullets were coming to an
end and the shots came further and further apart. The crowd drew closer and closer.
 One of the soldiers turned to Sasha. Are you the reinforcements? Guys, theyve
reached the Dobryninskaya! The reinforcements are here!
The monstrous crowd with its many heads reacted as well and pushed forward
desperately.
People! yelled Sasha. There is a cure! Weve found it! You dont have to die!
Patience! Just have a little patience!
But the crowd absorbed her words, yelled their dissatisfaction and moved on. The
machine gunner angrily fired another burst at them. Some people fell to the ground
moaning, while others answered with a few shots of their own. The mass pressed
forward, ready to trample anything in its path, defenders, Sasha and Leonid alike.
Then something happened.
At first hesitantly, but then gradually more sure the sound of the flute echoed
through the tunnel.
Nothing could have been more unfitting, more ridiculous, but the crowd growled
in surprise at first and then moved forward with a few scattered laughs.
But Leonid didnt mind. He probably wasnt playing for them but for himself. It
was the same melody that had put a spell over Sasha and attracted dozens of listeners.
It was an unconventional way to quell a riot when you thought about it. Maybe it
was just the touching naivety of this desperate act and not the magic of the flute itself that
slowed the marching crowd. Or had the musician been able to remind the people around
them, whod been ready to tear them to shreds, of something. Something that
The gunfire ceased and Leonid stepped forward without taking the flute from his
lips. He acted like this was his usual audience who would applaud any second now and
throw bullets at him.
For a fraction of a second Sasha thought she saw her father softly smiling among
the listeners. Hed waited for her She thought about what Leonid had said. That one
just takes away the pain.

***
 Behind the hermetic gate a rumbling started all of a sudden. It was too early. Had
the search party gotten through faster than expected? Perhaps the situation at the
Tulskaya wasnt so complicated? Maybe the occupants had left the station already and
just left the gate sealed?
The troop spread out and the soldiers took cover behind the tunnel segments. Only
four men remained next to Denis Michailovitsch directly next to the gate. All readied
their rifles. It was time. Soon the door would open and after a few minutes the forty
heavily armed men from the Sevastopolskaya would march into the Tulskaya, break any
resistance and occupy the station. This was going better than the colonel had anticipated.
Denis Michailovitsch took a deep breath to order his men to put on their gasmasks.
He didnt get any further.

***

The group formed up again, spread out so that they were marching six abreast and
filled the entire width of the tunnel. The front line held flamethrowers and the second row
automatic rifles. Like black lava they crawled forward, steady and unstoppable.
Homer looked over the broad backs of the men. In the white beams of their search
lights he could see the entire scenario unfolding. A handful of soldiers still manning their
station and two small silhouettes, Sasha and Leonid. Encircling them was a horde of
terrible creatures. He looked on in horror.
Leonid was still playing. Wonderfully. Unbelievably. Inspired as never before.
The terrible horde ate the music up and even the tunnels defenders rose to get a better
look. His melody divided the enemy factions as if an invisible wall stood between them.
It was the only thing stopping them from running at each other in a final, deadly fight.
Ready!
The order had come from one of the men in the black group.
 But which one? The first row went to their knees immediately and the second row
aimed over them.
Sasha! screamed Homer.
The girl turned around, squinted a bit and shaded her eyes to fight the ocean of
light.
The crowd was growling and moaning beneath the burning rays of the search
lights. They moved closer.
The fighters stood still.
Sasha stood almost directly in front of the black formation. Where are you? She
yelled. I need to talk to you. Please!
Nobody answered.
We found a cure! You can cure the disease. You dont have to kill anybody!
The dark phalanx remained silent.
Im begging you! I know that you dont want to do this. You just want to save
them And yourself
Suddenly a voice from one of the rows of fighters said, Go away. I dont want to
kill you.
You dont have to kill anyone! Theres a cure! repeated Sasha desperately. She
walked from one side of the row of masked humans to the other. Searching for the one
who had spoken.
There is no cure.
Radiation! Radiation fights it!
I dont believe you.
Please!
This station has to be cleaned.
Dont you want something to change? Why are you doing the same thing over
and over again? Just like you did back then with the dark ones! Why arent you searching
for salvation?
The fighters remained silent. And the swarming masses moved closer.
 Sasha! yelled Homer pleadingly, but she couldnt hear him.
Finally the heavy answer came, Nothing will ever change. Theres nobody left to
forgive me. Ive raised my hand against Against Ive been punished.
You have power inside you! Sasha wouldnt give up. You can free yourself!
You can overcome it! Dont you see? Its a mirror! A reflection of what you did a year
ago! But you can do better this time You can listen Give them a second chance
And earn your own!
I have to eliminate the monster, the formation said.
Theres no way you can do that! The monster is in me, it sleeps in all of us! Its a
part of the body, a part of the soul. And when it awakens You cant kill it, cant cut it
out! You can only put it to rest Sing it back to sleep
In that moment a dirty, young soldier stepped through the crowd, pressed past the
unmoving black rows, grabbed a radio from one of the fighters and yelled something into
it.
Immediately a silenced rifle made a clicking sound and the soldier fell to the
ground. The crowd smelled the blood and growled angrily.
The musician started to play his instrument again but the magic had vanished.
Somebody shot him, the flute fell from his hands and he clutched at his stomach.
The ends of the flamethrowers spat out small flames.
Sasha ran to Leonid, ignoring the crowd. The phalanx was now a wall of countless
guns. They took a step forward.
No! She screamed. She stood alone against hundreds of terrible creatures
Against a legion of killers Against the entire world. I want a miracle!
Suddenly distant thunder sounded. The station shook. The crowd shivered and
even the fighters took a step back. Thin streams of water started to flow along the ground,
the first few droplets fell from the ceiling, louder and louder the river rushed toward
them
A breach! someone screamed.
 The fighters hastily retreated from the station and through the hermetic gate.
Homer ran with them but he kept turning around and looking for Sasha. She hadnt
moved.
She put her hands and face under the water that fell from the ceiling and
Laughed. Its raining! She yelled Its going to wash everything clean! We can all start
over again!
The black battalion was already standing behind the gate and Homer had made it
in time too. Some of the fighters pressed themselves against the gate to close off the
Tulskaya and hold the water back.
The gate started to close slowly. When Homer realized what was happening he
tried to run toward Sasha, who was still standing in the middle of the station, but
somebody held him back and threw him to the ground.
Then one of the fighters jumped to the door, put his hand through closing gap and
yelled to the girl, Here! I need you!
The water was already up to their knees. Sashas blond hair vanished beneath the
water.
The fighter pulled his hand back and the gate closed.

***

The gate didnt open. The tunnel shook and there was an echo of an explosion
beating against the steel plate. The sound grew distant again.
Denis Michailovitsch put his ear against the gate, listened for a while and looked
up with surprise at the leaking ceiling.
Were turning back! he ordered. Theres nothing more we can do here.
Epilogue

Homer sighed and turned the page. There was only a little bit of space left in his
book, just a few pages. What should he write on them, what was he willing to sacrifice?
He put his hands in front of the fire, to warm his cold fingers and calm their trembling.
The old man had asked to be transferred to the southern guard post. Here,
watching the tunnel, he could work better than at home at the Sevastopolskaya with all
his dead newspapers. Even Yelena agreed to let him come here to rest.
Homer looked up. The brigadier sat apart from the other guards, at the furthest
edge between light and darkness. Why had he chosen the Sevastopolskaya of all the
stations?
Something had to be special about this station
Hunter never told him what had happened at the Polyanka back then. But Homer
now understood. It hadnt been a prophecy but a warning.
 After a week the water at the Tulskaya gradually began to drain. The dregs had
been cleared away by the giant pumps from the ring line and Homer had immediately
volunteered to enter the station with a recon team.
The catastrophe had claimed almost three hundred victims. As Homer turned over
corpses he didnt feel disgust. He didnt feel anything. He was just looking for her,
searching for her over and over again
After that hed sat for a long time in the last place hed seen the girl. When hed
hesitated, instead of fighting, to run to her. To rescue her or go under with her.
A never ending stream of sick and healthy wandered past him, in the direction of
the Sevastopolskaya and to the healing tunnel of the Kachovskaya line. The musician
hadnt lied, radiation really stopped the sickness.
And who knows, maybe he hadnt lied about anything else. Maybe the emerald
city existed somewhere and you just had to find the gate. Maybe hed stood in front of it
often enough and just hadnt earned entry.
Now he wouldnt see it until the water retreated.
But the emerald city wasnt an ark. The true ark was the metro itself. The last
refuge that had kept Noah and Sem and Ham safe from the flood, the righteous and the
villains alike. A pair of every kind. Everyone who still had a score to settle. Believer or
sinner.
There were too many. That was apparent, not all could be in this novel. The old
mans notebook had almost no empty pages left. It wasnt an ark but a small boat made of
paper. It wouldnt be able to take all the humans aboard. But still, Homer felt that hed
done it. With careful lines he had put something important onto those pages.
Not about humans. About the humans.
The memories of all who died before us dont disappear, he thought. Our world is
woven from the deeds and thoughts of other people, so if were made from an
uncountable mosaic of stones which we inherited from thousands of our ancestors, they
must have left a trail in us. We must have received a small piece of their souls when we
were born. You just had to look closely enough.
 Even Homers little boat, folded out of paper, out of thoughts and memories would
swim along for eternity in the ocean of time, until somebody picked it up again, looked at
it and realized that the humanity hadnt changed, it had stayed true to itself even after the
world ended. The heavenly fire we had once received fought against the wind but hadnt
been extinguished yet.
Homers score had been settled.
He closed his eyes and once again found himself in the station that was flood with
bright white light. On the platform there were thousands of people. They were wearing
elegant dresses from a time before anybody had thought to call him Homer. But this time
it wasnt just people who had lived in the metro. Nobody knew who the others were.
Something connected all of them
They waited and looked worriedly toward the dark tunnel.
And suddenly Homer recognized their faces. It was his wife and his children, his
colleagues, classmates, his neighbors, his best friends, Achmed and his favorite actors.
Everyone he remembered was there.
And suddenly the tunnel was lit by a silent metro train that drove into the station,
its windows shining brightly, its walls polished and its wheels oiled. The conductors
cabin was empty. There was only a freshly cleaned uniform and a white t-shirt hanging in
it.
Thats my uniform, thought Homer. And my place.
He entered the cabin, opened the doors of the train and gave the signal. The crowd
pushed into the train and separated onto seats. All the passengers found a seat and smiled
calmly. Homer was smiling as well.
He knew when he put the last period of his book onto paper this shimmering train
would leave the Sevastopolsaya full of happy people, into eternity.
Suddenly something tore him from his magical dream. Not far from him he heard
a dull, almost unnatural grunting. He winced and reached for his rifle
 It was the brigadier making the sound. Homer stood up and had already started to
go to the brigadier, but he grunted again, this time a bit higher And again A bit
lower.
Homer listened and suddenly he started to shiver. He couldnt believe his ears.
Slow and stumbling the brigadier searched for a melody. He stopped, went back to
the start and repeated it patiently until it was finally right. He sang it almost silently, like
some kind of lullaby.
It was Leonids nameless song.
Homer never found Sashas body at the Tulskaya.
What else?
Closing Comments from the Translation Team

I did like this book, not as much as 2033 but it was alright.
It has been translated into a few languages, that was in 2010. Even now there are no
plans for an English translation. It there may never be an official one. I think Artyoms
death could be responsible for it. That was the only part that I hated and I am happy that
Metro Last Light wont follow the story of Metro 2034. Artyom isnt just the protagonist
of the book and the games; he is us the reader or the player venturing into the
darkness and uncertainty of the Moscow metro. I hope that you still enjoyed this fan
translation, please let me know if you did. Because I enjoyed translating it for you (well
most of the time )