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

by Dmitry Glukhovsky

  “There is the passage to your line … maybe you want to get up there too? Forty meters deep. As if he didn’t know that it was already full of mines …”

  Sasha realized. “Where are we going?”

  “Where?” Groaned Leonid. “To the red line! You’ve heard it yourself: I’m a provocateur and they got me, uncovered my true intentions …”

  “You’re a red?”

  “My dear girl! Don’t ask anything now! I can’t think and walk at the same time at the moment. And running is more important. It won’t be long until our friend go on full alert. And they’re even going to arrest us. Money alone isn’t enough for him, he wants a medal!”

  They dove into the tunnel and let the guards behind them. Pressed themselves against the wall and ran into the direction of the Kievskaya. Sasha realized that they wouldn’t make it to the station. When the musician was right and the second guard would show up they would pursue them …

  Suddenly Leonid went to his left into a bright side tunnel, like out of routine, as if he was going home. A few minutes later she could see flags, grids and sandbags in the distance, machine gun nests and she heard barking of dogs. A border post? Did they already know of their escape? How could they have come from? And what territory was behind those barracks?

  “I work for Albert Michailovitsch.” Leonid put a strange document under the guard’s nose. “I had to get to the other shore”

  The guard looked at the documents and said: “The usual tariff. And where are the papers of the lady?”

  “I pay double.” He was searching his pockets and scrapped his last bullets together. “And you didn’t see her, ok?”

  “Nothing is ok.” Said the border guard strict. “This is a state with laws and not some kind of bazaar!”

  “Oh no!” Acted the musician startled. “I thought because we now have a market economy we could barter a bit. I didn’t know that there was a difference in …”

  A few minutes later Sasha and Leonid were thrown into a small room with tiled walls. The musician’s clothes were tousled, he had a scratch on his cheek and was bleeding from his noose.

  The iron door closed.

  It got dark.

  In the cell (chapter 16)

  When you can no longer see anything but darkness your other senses sharpen. Smell gets more intensive and sounds louder. In the cell next to them you could hear that something was scraping on the ground and it stank unbearable of piss.

  Leonid seemed to still be drunk and didn’t seem to feel any pain. For a small amount of time he was mumbling something and then he turned silent and started to breath heavily. He didn’t care that their pursuers would now definitely catch up to them and he didn’t care what would happen to Sasha. She had tried to cross the border of Hanza without any explanation and papers. Not to mention the fate of the Tulskaya, he didn’t seem to care about that as well.

  “I hate you.” Said Sasha silently.

  No reaction.

  Little bit later she saw a small hole in the door: A peephole out of glass. Everything else remained invisible but that small point was enough for Sasha who was feeling her way and slowly crawled to the door. Then she started to hammer her small fists against it. The door answered with loud thunder and as soon as she stopped it was a absolutely silent again. The guards didn’t react to the noise nor to the screams. Time passed slowly. How long would they keep them imprisoned? Maybe Leonid had led her here. To separate her from the old man and Hunter. To get her out of the book and into a trap. And all just because …”

  Sasha started to cry. The sleeve of her coat sucked in the tears and the sobbing.

  “Have you ever seen the stars?” She suddenly heard his still drunken voice.

  She didn’t answer

  “I only on pictures.” He continued. “Not even the sun can penetrate all that dust and clouds, how should the stars do it? But when you started crying, I think I saw a real star”

  She swallowed her tears before she answered.

  “That’s a peephole”

  “I know. But I am interest in …” Leonid cleared his throat. “Who was that who had stared at the sky with his eyes? And why did he turn away?”

  Sasha shook her head. “There was nobody”

  “I always wanted to believe that.” Said the musician sunken in thoughts.

  “Nobody cares what will happen to us in this cell!”

  She started to cry again. “You had planned this all along, or not? So that there would be no chance that I could do it?” Again she hammered against the door.

  “If you believe that there is no one the other side why are you hammering at the door?” Asked Leonid.

  “You don’t give a shit if the sick die!”

  He sighed. “So that’s your opinion of me, yes? That

  isn’t fair. You don’t care about the sick either. You’re just afraid that your lover is going to massacre all gets sick to and then you would have a cure …”

  “It’s not true!” Sasha was almost ready to start hammering her fist at Leonid.

  “It is true!” Said Leonid. “What do think is so great about him?”

  She didn’t want to explain it to him. She would have liked to not say a single word to him. But she said it anyways: “He needs me! He really needs me. Without me he’s falling down further into darkness. You don’t need me … You just don’t have anybody who is playing with you!”

  “Ok, let’s say he needs you. >To need< seems to be farfetched, but let’s leave it at that … Why do you need him?

  That pest control? You like dark guys? Or do you like rescuing fallen souls?”

  Sasha was silent. It got to her how easy it was for Leonid to guess her feelings. Maybe there weren’t that special to begin with? Or was it because she couldn’t hide them? All the soft and escaping thoughts that she couldn’t turn into words. Out of his mouth they sounded so routinely, yes even banal.

  “I hate you.” She said after some time.

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t like me that much as well”

  Sasha sat on the ground. Again she was crying, at first because of anger and then because she felt like she would pass out. As long as she could change something she wouldn’t give up. But while she was sitting here in this dark dungeon with this emotionless human she couldn’t convince anybody to stop. Everything had been in vain.

  And then she had the picture in front of her, the high houses, the green sky, the flying clouds, laughing humans. The hot drops on her cheeks were the ones of the summer rain of which the old man had told her. After one second the illusion had passed, only a slight, wonderful mood was in the air.

  Sasha bit on her lip and said to herself: “I want a miracle”

  In the next moment somebody switched on the light in the hallway in front of the door an unbearable bright light flooded into the cell.

  They weren’t far from the entrance to the holy capitol of the metro; the marble fortress of civilization with its white shine of the mercury lamps that were spreading an holy aura of rest and prosperity.

  At polis they didn’t have save light because they thought it had a magical influence on people. The overflow of light reminded the people that in distant time’s humanity hadn’t been a creature of the night. No nocturnal predator.

  Even the barbarians that got from the Peripherie to the realm of police acted accordingly.

  The border patrols weren’t as large as at other stations and the border station reminded Homer of the waiting room of the soviet minister: One desk, one chair, two next to the door officers in clean uniforms.

  Controlling papers and searching bags. Homer took his passport out of his pocket. There were no more visas so he didn’t have to worry. He put the green book into the hand of the officer and looked at the brigadier.

  He was standing next to him and didn’t seem to hear the orders of the officer. The officer’s hand was slowly moving to the clean grip of his pistol, “Show me your papers or leave the territory of polis immediately!�
�

  Homer was sure: the brigadier hadn’t realized what they wanted of him. He only reacted to where the fingers of the officer were going. After a short moment he reacted and lightning fast his open hand punched the guard in his throat.

  He turned blue, croaked and fell with his chair to the ground. The other one ran away and Homer knew that he wouldn’t make it. Like a trickster who had an ace up his sleeve, hunter brought the henchmen’s pistol to light and …

  “Wait!”

  The brigadier hesitated one second. The fleeing soldier used it and climbed the platform, rolled around the corner and disappear.

  “Let them in peace! We need to get to the Tulskaya! You … Wanted that I remind you.” Homer was running out of air. He didn’t know what to say.

  “To the Tulskaya …” Repeated Hunter hollow.

  “Yes, better wait till the Tulskaya. You’re right”

  He put the heavy pistol next to him and lowered his head.

  Homer used that moment, raised his arms and ran ahead to the guards who were jumping forth from behind the pillars.

  “Don’t shoot! He gives up! Don’t shoot! By the heavens …”

  They bound their hands and ripped his gasmask from his head. Only then they let him talk. All that time the brigadier was standing next to him completely silent. He had sunken back into his strange stiffness and let them take away his weapons without resisting them and they brought him into the cell for their investigation.

  Even though they had let Homer go he accompanied him 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. I am going to wait …”

  The old man nodded his head and quickly turned around. He wanted to make his way through the guards when he suddenly heard hunter yelling: “Homer!”

  The old man had a surprised look on his face; Hunter had never called him by his name before. He returned, stepped to the weak iron door and looked at the brigadier asking.

  He had put his giant arms around his body as if he was shivering and mumbled with a weak, toneless voce.

  “Hurry!”

  The door opened and a soldier took a hesitant look into it, it was the same one how had beaten the musician before. A kick brought him into the cell so that he almost landed on the ground. When he was standing again he looked around unsure.

  In the door a tall and thin officer was standing who was wearing glasses. On his shoulders were a few stars. The grey getting dark blond hair was combed back. “Go on you idiot.” He groaned.

  “I … Me.” Sobbed the guard.

  “Go on!”

  “I wanted to excuse what I’ve done. And you … I can’t”

  “Ten more days”

  “Beat me.” Said the soldier and retread from his look.

  “Ah, Albert Michailovitsch!” Yelled the musician and blinked into the direction of the officer. “I was beginning to think that would never come”

  The man who he was speaking to had a slight smile on his face. “Good evening. I am here to see that justice is done. Go on, do whatever you want”

  Leonid rose from the ground and stretched his back.

  “I have to protect my hands. I think you can take care of the punishment”

  “With all hardness.” Nodded, Albert Michailovitsch.

  “Arrest for one month. And of course I have to join the excuse of this idiot”

  “He didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Leonid rubbed his hurting cheek.

  “I hope this can remain under us?” The metallic voice of the officer was creaking mysteriously.

  “As you can see I was just smuggling somebody through.” The musician nodded into Sasha’s direction.

  “Could you help me with that?”

  “Done.” Said Albert Michailovitsch.

  They let the guilty guardsmen stand in the cell. The officer locked the door and led them along the corridor.

  “I am not going anywhere with you.” Said Sasha loud.

  Leonid hesitated and said almost inaudible: ”And if I am telling you that we’re really going to the emerald city?

  What if I just happened to know more than your grandfather? That I’ve seen it with my own eyes? Even been there myself and that only …”

  “You’re lying”

  “What if he.” Leaning his head into the direction of the officer. “Only let us go because he knew where I’m from?

  And that we can surely find a cure in the emerald city? And that it’s just three stations away?”

  “You’re lying!”

  “How do you know?” Said Leonid angry. “When you really want to believe in miracles then you should be ready to believe in them. Or in the end you’re going to miss it. I always knew that they would let us go. I just wanted to …

  Not act before it happened”

  “You’ve been playing for time!”

  “But I didn’t lie to you! There is a cure!”

  They had reached the border. The officer who had turn to them again, gave the musician back his things and even gave him a few bullets and documents. Then he saluted Leonid. “Now, what are you going to do Leonid Nikolayewitsch? Are you taking your smuggle-ware with you or are you leaving it at customs?”

  It ran down cold Sasha’s back. “We’re taking it with us”

  “Well then I wish you a life of love and happiness”

  Said Albert Michailovitsch like if he was her father and lead them through the three defense lines. Their occupants saluted them while they passed the out of grids welded tank stoppers. “I hope that you won’t have any problems with your import?”

  Leonid was smiling. “We’ll manage. I don’t have to tell you that there’re no honest officials. The stricter the regime the lower the price. You just have to know where to look”

  The officer cleared his throat. “The magical words should be enough”

  “Not for all.” Leonid was feeling his cheek again. “But what was the saying again? I’m no wizard, I am still learning”

  “It would be an honor to deal with you again when your training is complete.” Albert Michailovitsch bowed his head and stepped back.

  The last soldier opened the thick iron gate which went from the ground to the ceiling. Then an empty and completely lit part of the tunnel came to their views which walls were covered with ashes at some points and it had been marked by firefights. At the end they could see a new defense line, hanging from the ceiling like giant banters.

  Even their look made Sasha’s heart beat faster. She stopped and asked Leonid. “Which border is that?”

  “What now?” He looked at her surprised.

  “Of course the border to the red line”

  How long had Homer dreamt to get back here!

  How long has it been since he had last been here! At the Borovizkaya, with its small and roomy apartments that were directly under the arcs, the reading hall with the Brahman monks in the middle of the room, the long with books covered desks out of planks and the low hanging, with cloth covered lamps. It was interesting how Homer almost could hear conversations from a time before the crisis and the war.

  Then the dignified Arbatskaya, totally made out of white and bronze colors, just like the palace of the Kremlin.

  With their strict order and the busy military officials who still acted like they had nothing to do with the apocalypse.

  Then the old and worthy Biblioteka imeni Lenina, which towered on the surface. They had forgotten to rename it, as if that even made sense because it had been as old as the world even when the young Kolya had stepped foot into the metro the first time. It had its own passage, which was over the romantic commando bridge in the middle of the train platform. Even the surrounding stucco had been renewed, if not a bit sloppy.

  Then the Alexandrovski, remaining in the half dark for all eternity, somehow a thin and edgy stop, looking like a blind retired man, who was thinking about his Komsomol-youth.

  Homer had always b
een fascinated by the question, how far did the stations resemble the likeness of its builder?

  Were they self portraits of the architects who had designed them?

  Had they received small parts of their creators? One thing was sure for the old man: It shaped the inhabitants of the stations; their character was transmitted to the people and they were infected by its special mood.

  With all his being Homer didn’t belong to the strict Sevastopolskaya, with all his thoughts and eternal incurable nostalgia. He belonged to polis which emitted the light of the past.

  Fate had decided differently though.

  Even now that he had reached it he didn’t want to go through the echoing halls and look at the stucco, cast sculptures and to fantasize. But he had to haste on as if was being chased. Hunter had accomplished to bind that horrible creature inside of him with enormous effort. He had to feed human flesh to it from time to time. But this monster inside of him just had to bent the bars of the old cell behind the brigadier was sitting to free itself. Homer had to hurry.

  Hunter had asked him to find a man called Melnik.

  Was it his cover name? A parole? When the guards had heard that name they transformed immediately: No talk about the tribunal which had threatened the brigadier and also the handcuffs around Homers wrists had disappeared into the cupboard again. 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 to man in civilian clothes, killing was their job and you could see it in their faces.

  Behind their broad backs a narrow hallway with many small offices on both sides stretched into the distance.

  The fat man told Homer to wait and walked along the hallway. After three minutes he was back and studied the old man surprised and told him to come in.