Dmitry Glukhovsky - Metro 2034 English fan translation (v1.0) (docx) (30 page)

Prokofjev? Schotakovitsch? Homers knowledge about music was too small that he could’ve guessed the composer.

But whoever had written those notes: The musician played them not just like that but gave them their own sound and a new meaning; yes he made them come to life. A skill for that made even Homer forgive the young mean the tempting looks he was throwing at Sasha like a paper ribbon to a kitten.

But now it was time to take the girl away. Homer waited till the music had died and the musician took in the
applause of the audience. Then he grabbed Sasha by the wet, like chloride smelling dress and dragged her out of the circle.

“My things are packed. I am going after him.” He said while he distanced himself from the musician.

“Me too.” Answered the girl fast.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Asked Homer.

“I know everything. I listened to you two.” She looked at him like she wanted to challenge him. “An epidemic? Am I right? He is going to burn all. The living and the dead. The entire station.”

He looked at her and said: “What do you want from him?”

Sasha didn’t answer and for some time they just walked next to each other through the empty part of the station. Finally she aid slowly, searching for words: “My father died. Because of me, it’s my fault. I can’t do anything to bring him back to life. But there are people that are still alive. I can still save them. So I got to try. I owe him that”

“Save? For whom? For what?” The old man answered bitter. “You can’t cure the epidemic like you’ve heard”

“For your friend. He is more terrible than the disease.

More deadly.” The girl sighed. “With a disease at least hope remains. Somebody is always going to get better.

One in a thousand.

“Why do you believe that you can stop him out of all?

“I’ve done it before.” She answered sure of herself.

Did the girl overestimate her abilities? Did she deceive herself when she believed that the hard and merciless brigadier felt anything for her? Homer didn’t want to discourage Sasha but he thought it was better to warn her.

“Did you know what I’ve found in his room?”

The old man gave the broken makeup box to the girl asked Sasha. “Did you …”

Sasha shook her head.

“Then it was Hunter”

The girl opened the cover and looked at her reflection through the splinters of the glass. She thought about her last conversation with the bold one and the words that he had spoken when he was half asleep and when she had wanted to give him the knife. She thought about Hunters face, how he charged with heavy legs, covered in blood at the chimera so that it went away from Sasha and killed himself …

“He didn’t do it because of me.” She said. “It was because of the mirror”

Homer raised his eyebrows. “What does that have to do with everything?”

“You said it yourself” Sasha closed the cover of the box and tried to mimic the mentor like voice of the old man

“Sometimes it’s useful to see yourself from the side.

Then you understand more about yourself”

“You think that Hunter doesn’t know who he is? Or that he is still suffering from his appearance? That that is the reason why he broke the mirror?”

The girl leaned against a pillar. “It’s not about what’s on the outside”

“Hunter knows exactly who he is. Obviously he just doesn’t like it when somebody reminds him of it”

“Maybe he forgot. I sometimes have the feeling that he is trying to remember something. Or that he has been chained to a mine cart that is rolling down into the darkness and that there is nobody there to stop it. I can’t explain that. I just feel it when I see him.” Sasha’s forehead got wrinkles.

“Nobody sees it but me. That’s why I said that he needed me”

“Sure and that’s why he left you”

“I left him. And now I have to catch up to him, as long as it’s not too late. They are still alive. We can still safe them. And him too”

Homer raised his head: “For whom do you want to save him?

She looked at him searching. Had the old man not understood anything even though she had tried so hard? Then she answered with unimaginable seriousness: “From the man in the mirror”

“Is that seat taken?”

Sasha who was poking the grilled meat and mushrooms with her fork, winched. Next to her stood with a tray in his hands the green-eyed musician. The old man had gone somewhere, his place was empty.

“Yes”

“There is no problem that can’t be solved!” He put his tray down, took a free chair from the neighboring table and sat himself next to Sasha’s left before she could complain.

“If something happens, I didn’t invite you.” She warned him.

“Is your grandfather going to be angry?” He was winking with his eyes. “Allow me to introduce myself: Leonid”

Sasha realized the she was blushing again.

“He’s not my grandfather”

“If that’s so.” Leonid put another portion of his meal into his mouth and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re very bold.” She said.

He raised his fork. “Persistent”

Sasha had to smile “A little bit too full of yourself for my taste”

“I put my trust in mankind.” He mumbled while chewing. “But I trust myself the most”

The old man returned, stood behind the braggart and made an unsatisfied grimace. But then he sat himself on his chair. “Sasha isn’t it a bit too crowded here?” He was looking past her at the musician, ready for a fight.

“Sasha!” He repeated triumphal and looked up from his bowl. “My pleasure. Like I said my name is Leonid”

“Nikolai Ivanovitsch.” Answered Homer grumpy and looked at him. “What kind of melody was that you were playing back there? It seemed familiar”

“No wonder, I’ve been playing it for the last three days straight.” He emphasized the last word. “I composed it myself”

“It’s from you?” Sasha put her fork down. “What’s its name?

Leonid shrugged his shoulders. “It has no name. I’ve never thought about one. And also how could I express it with words? And why?”

“It’s beautiful.” Said the girl. “Extraordinary beautiful”

“I could name it after you.” Said the musician without any hesitation. “You would deserve it”

“No thank you.” She shook her head. “This melody should remain without a name. That’s more fitting”

“To name it after you would be fitting.” Leonid started to laugh, food got into his trachea and he started to cough.

“You ready?” Homer took Sasha’s tray and stood up. “We got to go. Please excuse us young man”

“No problem!” I am already finished. Could I keep the young madam’s company for a while?”
“We are about to leave.” Answered Homer sharp.

“Wonderful! Me too. I need to get to the
Dobryninskaya
.” The musician made an innocent face.

“Could that possibly be the same direction you’re heading in?”

“It is.” Answered Sasha surprised. While she tried to not look at Homer, her look went over to Leonid again and again.

He had a certain easiness, something sarcastic that wasn’t meant to be taken in a bad way. Like a small boy who fought with a twig he made small, harmless strikes on which you couldn’t really be mad at, not even the old man. He made his innuendos by the way and with fun so that Sasha didn’t even think about taking him serious. And what was that bad about him liking her?

Also she had fallen in love with his music long before she had met him. And the temptation to take that magic with them was just too big.

Of course it was the music. That young devil lured innocent souls like the rat catcher from Hameln with his flute so that he could corrupt every girl that he could. Now he was even trying to get Alexandra into his fangs and Homer didn’t even know how he should act!

At the beginning the old man swallowed the cocky jokes but soon he felt how the anger grew in him. He was also angry about how easily Leonid accomplished that the guards of Hanza, who were known for their strictness, just let the tree pass from onto the ring line and to the
Dobryninskaya
! And that without any papers! The rooms of the commander of the station, of a bold and old man with a moustache, the musician entered with his box full of bullets and came back smiling and the lighter box.

Homer had to be honest; the diplomatic skills of this young man were very helpful: The motorized railcar which had brought them to the
Pavelezkaya
had left with Hunter from the depot. A detour would’ve cost them a whole week.

But the carelessness with what this trickster left this station and how easy he parted with all his savings only to follow Sasha into the tunnel made him feel uneasy. Normally
you would think that of somebody that was in love but Homer kne That boy didn’t mean it. He was just used to easy victories.

Homer felt like a grumpy nanny. But there was a good reason for his vigilance and envy: That his muse would run away with this traveling musician would be the last thing he needed right now! A, to be fair, totally unnecessary figure.

Homer hadn’t planned any place for him in his novel and he had just taken a chair and brought himself into this game outrageously.

“Is there nobody else in the entire world anymore?”

The three travelers were already wandering into the direction of the
Dobryninskaya
, joined by three guards’.

When you shared your bullets with the right people your wildest dreams could come true.

Sasha had told a short story about her adventure on the surface, then she had stopped and her face had darkened.

Homer and the musician looked at each other: Who should be the first to raise her spirits?

The old man cleared his throat. “Is there life past the MKAD? Even the younger generations are asking that?”

“Of course.” Explained Leonid convinced. “That nobody survived isn’t true. There is just no connection to those people”

“For an example I have heard.” Said Homer. “That somewhere behind the
Taganskaya
there is a secret passage which leads to an interesting tunnel. It looks like a common tunnel, six meter wide, but it has no tracks in it. It is deep, maybe forty or maybe even fifty meters underground. And it leads to the east …”

“You mean the tunnel that leads to the bunkers in the Ural Mountains?” Leonid cut him off. “And the story of the man, who coincidently found it, then got a backpack full of provisions and started walking through the tunnel …”

“… Walking for a whole week with only a few breaks, until his provisions were almost gone and he had to return. An end to the tunnel was nowhere to be seen. Yes, if you believe the rumors it is 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. “From a friend at the Polis I know that one of their radio operators had
once contact with men in a tank. They must have been able to close all hatches in time and drive into no-man’s-land where nobody thought about dropping bombs …”

Leonid nodded his head. “It’s a well known story.

When they ran out of fuel they dug the tank into a small hill and made a really small settlement. And for a few weeks they called polis every the evening until …”

“Until the receiver broke down” Said Homer, slightly angered.

“And what about the submarine?” His rival was moving. “One of our submarines was away and when the bombs hit both sides it hadn’t reached its position yet. And when it finally emerged everything was already over. Back then the crew docked it at Wladivostok …”

“And its reactor powers the place till today.” Homer remembered. “Half a year ago I met a man that claimed that he had been the first officer of the boat. He said that he had crossed the entire country on a bicycle and finally got to Moscow. He must have been traveling for three years”

“And you have talked to him in person?” Asked Leonid polite but surprised.

“Of course!” Said Homer. Legends have always been his hobby and he couldn’t resist triumphing over this boy. He
still had one story in his reserve that meant a lot to him. Actually he would’ve liked to tell it on a different occasion instead of wasting it on this contest. But when he realized that Sasha was laughing at every single joke of this bandit he told them the story. “And what’s with the Polyarnyye Sori, do you know that?”

“Polyarnyye-what?” Asked the musician and turned to him.

“But please.” Homer was smiling. “In the north, on the Kola half island there is a city that is called Polyarnyye Sori. A godforsaken nest. To Moscow it’s one and a half thousand kilometers, to Petersburg at least one thousand. The closest thing is Murmansk with its marine base and even to there it is a long way”