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

by Dmitry Glukhovsky

  They had needed three days to locate the vents and excavate them. Now some stalkers were with them to go down and let them in. They would only need a few more hours.

  A few more hours, then it would all be decided and Denis Michailovitsch’s thoughts were his own again. He would be able to sleep and eat again. The plan was easy, carefully planned and without any gaps. Still, the colonel had a strange feeling in his stomach and his heart was racing like eighteen years ago when he had went to his first fight at the village in the mountains …

  The hot air of his self made cigarette calmed him down a bit. Finally he threw away the rest, put his mask on and ran behind the brigade with hastily steps.

  A short while after that they were standing in front of the steel door. Now they could catch their breath. Denis Michailovitsch would use the time before the storm to go through different strategies with his commanders. With one thing the old man had been right thought the colonel and smiled:

  Why run at a fortress head on when you could open it from the inside? That was the story with the Trojan horse, from whom was that story again?

  Denis Michailovitsch took a look at the geiger counter, radiation was low and he put off his gasmask. The officers followed his example and then the rest of the fighters.

  They had earned a last breather!

  There had always been gaffers at polis. Most were poor people that fought themselves through the dark stations and struggled for their daily meal. Now wandered with wide open eyes and open mouths through the galleries and halls.

  And so almost no one paid attention to Homer while he made his rounds at the Borovizkaya, went with his hands over the narrow pillars of the Alexandrovski sad, torn from one side to the other and had even fallen in love with the chandeliers of the Arbatskaya.

  Premonition had griped his heart and didn’t let him go: This was his stay at Polis. What happened in a few hours at the Tulskaya would shake his entire life. Yes, it may even marked his end. But he had decided: He would do what he had to do. He would allow Hunter to massacre the station and burn it down … But then he would try and kill him. He knew that if the brigadier would suspect anything he would just break his neck immediately. But maybe he already died at the storm of the Tulskaya and that would mean that everything would already be over at that point. But everything would go after his plan; Homer would return to his lonely nest and fill the last white papers of his book, from the intrigue to the finally. The last would be that he shot Hunter his back …

  Was he able to do it? Would he have the courage?

  Even thinking about it made Homers hands shiver.

  Calm down, calm down. Everything would be solved by itself, now wasn’t the right time for those thoughts …

  But that didn’t make him any less nervous.

  It had been his luck that the girl had disappeared!

  Homer didn’t know where her adventure had lead her. How had he been able to drive her into this lion’s cage?

  His over exaggerated ambition of an author had been the cause of that and apparently he had forgotten that she wasn’t a creature of his fantasy. Homer’s novel had turned out differently from what he had thought. He had loaded to much on himself. How would he even be able to get it to the people? He didn’t even have space for the crowd of people who was passing the old man. Also his novel shouldn’t have become a big mass grave with meter long lists of names in front of his eyes. Writing made off bronze letters which didn’t tell you anything about the faces of the dead.

  No it was impossible! His already with holes riddled memory wouldn’t be able to take all this people on board. The sweaty face of the merchant who was selling candy nor the pointy face of the girl who was giving him a bullet. The smile of her mother, bright as a Madonna or the sticky smile of the soldier who had just passed her. The deep wrinkles in the faces of the beggars or the wrinkles of the smile of the thirty year old woman …

  Who of them was violent, who was a scrooge, a thief, a traitor, a lively one, a prophet, a righteous one, who didn’t care and who hadn’t decided about it yet?

  All of that Homer would never know. He didn’t know what the merchant was really thinking while he looked at the girl, how to interpret the smile of the mother that had been lit by the look of the soldiers. Nor what job the old man had had before his legs had stopped working. It wasn’t in Homers power to decide how had the right to be in his story and who didn’t deserve it. Six milliards of people annihilated, six milliards of people!

  Was it a coincidence that only a few thousands had been able to rescue themselves?

  Train operator Serov which place Nikolai had taken over had looked at life like a at a soccer game. Humanity had lost, he used to tell Nikolai but both of us are still running around.

  Why do you think is that? Because it is still nil-nil in our life, that’s why! The referee had given us more time.

  Till the final whistle we have to find out why we are here and finish our last things, get everything out of ourselves, then we make the last pass and flew towards the shining goal … He had been a mystery, old Serov. Homer had never asked the soccer fan if he had already shot his goal. But he had been reassured that he, Nikolay Ivanovitsch Nikolayev was still able to settle his score. And from Serov he had been convinced that nobody was in the metro out of pure coincidence.

  But it was completely impossible to write about all of them! Was it even worth a try? In this moment Homer saw one face in the thousands of unknown ones. Exactly the one he had expected the least.

  Leonid threw away his coat, pulled his pullover over his head and finally his white t-shirt. He moved the shirt like a flag from one side to the other; not caring for 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 didn’t open fire like they had thought.

  “My father would kill me now!” Said Leonid after he had stopped the railcar in front of the tank stoppers. The brakes were howling.

  “What are you doing? What are we doing.?” Asked Sasha, still out of breath. She didn’t know how they had been able to stay out of harm’s way at this race.

  “We surrender!” He laughed. “That is the tunnel to the Bibliotek imeni Lenina, it’s the border to polis. We are now deserters.”

  Guards ran to them and ordered them to get down from the railcar. Then when they opened Leonid’s passport they exchanged a few looks, put the handcuffs back and lead them to the station. There they brought them to the hall of the guards. The soldiers were whispering to each other and looked at them respectful, they left the room to inform the leaders of the station.

  Leonid got comfortable in one of the scratched armchairs. Soon after he jumped up, looked through the open door and waved at Sasha. “They are even sloppier then at the red line.” He said. “Nobody is guarding us”

  They slipped out of the guard room, walked slowly along the corridor but got faster and faster until they finally started running. Hand in hand, so they wouldn’t get lost in the crowd of people. A little bit later they heard the first whistles in behind their backs but to disappear in this giant station was easy, here even more people were around them than at the Pavelezkaya. Not even in her visions off the surface she could have imagines such a crowd! And it was so bright here. Just like on the surface. Sasha put her hand in front of her eyes and looked only through a small gap between her fingers.

  Wherever she looked, she saw wonderful things, faces of stone, pillars and if not for Leonid she would have let go of his fingers, stumbled and got lost. Some day she would return to here she promised herself. Some day …

  “Sasha?”

  She turned around and looked at Homer, he was looking at her afraid, angry and surprised. She smiled: Yes, she had missed the old man!

  “What are you doing here?” He didn’t have to ask the two young people that stupidest question out of all.

  “We want to the Dobryninskaya!” She answered out of breath. The
y now ran slower so the old man could keep up with them.

  “That’s madness! You can’t go there … I won’t allow it!”

  But none of Homer’s arguments he told them while he was gasping for air could convince them.

  When they had reached the entrance of the defense line at the Borovizkaya it seemed that nobody had informed the border guards of their escape.

  “I am here on orders of Melnik. Let me through immediately.” Said Homer to the officer on duty. He wanted to open his mouth but found no words, saluted the old man and moved out of the way.

  When the post had sunken into darkness, Leonid asked politely: “You did lie, or not?”

  “And?” growled Homer.

  “The important part is that you do it convincingly” said Leonid. “Then only pros realize it”

  “Stay away with your teachings!” Homer’s forehead got wrinkles and he switched his lamp on and off a few times because its rays had gotten weaker.

  “We’re going to the Serpuchovskaya, but I won’t let you go any further!”

  “That’s not the important thing.” Said Sasha.

  “There is a cure!”

  “What?” Homer stopped, had to cough and looked at Sasha almost afraid. “Really?”

  “Yes! Radiation!”

  “The virus can be neutralized through radiaton.” Said Leonid.

  “But a virus is like a hundredth, no a thousand times more resistant to radiation than a human! And you’re immune system is weakened by radiation too.” Homer lost his control and turned to Leonid: “What did you tell her? Why did you drag her here? Don’t you know what is going to happen there! Nobody, not I or you can stop it! Take her with you and hide at a secure place! And you …” He turned to Sasha. “How could you believe him … That pro!” He spat out his last words full of contempt.

  “Don’t fear for me.” Answered the girl silently. “I know how I can stop Hunter. He has two sides … And I’ve witnessed both of them. The one wants to see blood and the other wants to save lives”

  Homer put his hands over his head. “What are you talking about? There are no more sides, just one single monster in human form. Maybe a year ago …”

  Hastily the old man told him off the conversation between Melnik and Hunter but Sasha couldn’t be convinced.

  The longer she listened to Homer the surer she got that she had been right. She searched for words to explain it to the others: “It’s like that. The killer inside of him betrays the other. He tells the other one that he doesn’t have a choice.

  The other on is thirsty for blood and the other one by his longing to save people … That’s why Hunter wants to get to the Tulskaya so badly, because both of his half’s drag him there! And I have to separate them from each other. As soon as he has the choice to safe without killing …”

  “My god! He won’t even listen to you! What is it that still drives you?”

  “Your book” Sasha smiled at him. “I know that it’s not over yet. The end isn’t written yet”

  “Have you lost your mind? What foolish talk”

  Mumbled Homer desperately. “Just why did I tell you of it?”

  He grabbed Leonid’s arm. “Young man, at least you … I beg of you, I know that you’re not a bad man and you didn’t lie with bad intentions. Take her with you. That’s what you want isn’t it? You’re both young and beautiful. You should live! She can’t go there, you understand? And you too.

  There … Is going to be a terrible massacre. And none of your lies are going to stop anyone from …”

  “It wasn’t a lie.” Answered the musician polite.

  “Should I give you my word?”

  Homer stopped. “Well I would like to believe you.

  But Hunter … You’ve only seen him for a short time.

  Leonid cleared his throat. “But heard more than enough about him.”

  “But with what do you want to stop him? With your flute? Or do you think that he’s going to listen to the girl?

  Something controls him … Something that no longer listens to anything else”

  Leonid turned to Hunter and said: “Actually I fully agree with you. But she asked me for it. And as a gentleman …” He winked to Sasha.

  “Don’t you understand? this isn’t a game!” Homer looked at the girl pleading, and then at Leonid.

  “I know.” said Sasha serious.

  And the musician added calmly: “Everything is a game”

  If Leonid was really Moskwin’s offspring it was possible that he knew something about the epidemic that Hunter didn’t know, or didn’t want to tell them. Homer thought Leonid was a liar, but what if the fever could be fought with radiation? Against his strong will and common sense the old man tried to find proof tor this theory. Hadn’t he wished exactly for this a few days ago? Was at the end of the day the blood in his mouth and nausea just the symptoms of radiation sickness? The dose which he had gotten from the march over the Kachovskaya line must have been high enough get rid of any infection.

  How easy he let himself be lead astray!

  If it was right, what did that mean for the Tulskaya?

  What did that mean for Hunter? Sasha hoped that she could make him stop. And she really seemed to have a strange power of the brigadier. But inside of him were two antagonists: The one may have thought about the chain the girl had tried to put him on that it felt like soft silk and for the other it had burnt like glowing iron. Who of the two would be in command of Hunter’s body in the all deciding moment?

  This time the Polyanka had no pictures ready for them, whether for him nor for 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 grave mistake and there was no more future the Polyanka could show him.

  “What does emerald mean?” Asked Sasha suddenly.

  “An emerald is a green shimmering diamond.” Said Homer confused. “Emerald just means green”

  “Strange.” Said the girl sunken in thoughts. “That means that the emerald city really exists …”

  “What are you talking about?” Said Leonid.

  “Oh just … You know.” She looked at the musician again. “I am going to search for it now, your city. And some day I am going to find it”

  Homer shook his head; he didn’t believe Leonid when he had said that he was sorry.

  Sasha had been sunken in thoughts the whole time and again and again she had whispered to herself and a few times she had sighed. Then she looked at Homer searching:

  “Have you written down what happened with me?”

  “I … Am working on that”

  She nodded her head. “Good”

  At the Dobryninskaya something was cooking.

  Hanza had doubled their guards and the silent and dark soldiers at the entrance held their ground and refused to let Homer and the others through. Whether the bullets of the musician nor their reasoning could impress them. Finally he had an epiphany: He ordered them to connect him to Andrey Andreyevitsch.

  After a long half hour finally the radio operator stumbled to them rolling a thick cable behind him. Homer talked into the apparatus threatening; he said they were the first of the troop of the order. This halfway true statement was enough that they were lead through the station right away.

  In the middle hallway it was hot as if somebody had pumped all the air out of the station. Even that it was late didn’t seem to bother anyone because everybody was on their legs.

  Finally they stood in the greeting room of the commander of the Dobryninskaya.

  He welcomed them, sweating and run down, with dark eyes and an unpleasant smell. The adjutant was nowhere to be seen. Andrey Andreyevitsch looked around nervous when he didn’t see Hunter and he grunted: “When are they going to arrive?”

  “Soon.” Promised Homer

  “At the Serpuchovskaya a riot is in progress.�
� The commander wiped over his face and walked from one end of the greeting room to the other. “Somebody told them about the epidemic. Nobody knows for what they should be afraid of and now they are saying that gasmask don’t help”

  “That’s true.” Said Leonid.

  “At one of the southern tunnels that lead to the Tulskaya a complete set of guards have left their posts.

  Cowardly pigs! In the second tunnel that leads to the train with the people from the sect, they are still standing even thought these fanatics have started a siege and are screaming something of a judgment day. And at my own stations hell can rise up at any moment. Where are they?

  They are our last hope!”

  Suddenly you didn’t hear the loud cursing in the station anymore. Somebody yelled and the barking sounds of the guards joined in. After nobody answered Andrey Andreyevitsch he pressed himself back into his office, a little bit later they heard how the bottle neck clanged against the drinking glass. As if he had just waited till the commander would leave the station the red lamp of the telephone on top of the desk of the adjutant started to blink. It was the apparatus with the name of the Tulskaya on it.

  Homer hesitated one, two seconds 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 confused at the commander.

  But he was still unconscious. The fainting eyes were like behind a curtain and rolled upwards again and again without a goal. From time to time he had to cough cramped.

  The bayonet had penetrated his lung.