Dmitry Glukhovsky - Metro 2034 English fan translation (v1.0) (docx) (7 page)

Istomin’s instincts said something completely different: Remain calm. Wait. The heavy infantry of the
Sev
astopolskay
a
would find some kind of mysterious and invincible enemy at the
Tulskay
a
.

Vladimir Ivanovitsch searched his pockets, found his lighter and lit it. Smoke rings rose over him and he was looking directly into the mouth of the tunnel. Hypnotized – like a rabbit looking into the tempting mouth of a snake.

When he finished his smoke, he shook his head again and strolled back to his office. The adjutant broke free from the shadow of one of the pillars and followed him, but he kept his distance.

A dump rattling sound – a beam of light illuminated the first 50 meters of the ribbed tunnel; Hunters lamp was big and high-powered like a search light. Homer exhaled silently.

In the last minutes he thought that the brigadier would never turn on the light because his eyes didn’t it.

Since they had dove into the darkness he had nothing in common with a normal human being anymore. His movement was fluent and fast like of an animal. It seemed that he had only turned on the light for his followers, he only trusted his senses. He had put down his helmet and was listening to the sounds of the tunnel. Again and again. From time to time he inhaled the rusted air as if he could smell something, which only made his suspicions stronger.

Hunter stepped through the tunnel without making any sounds and he didn’t look back. It seemed that he had forgotten their existence. Achmed who only accusingly had guard duty at the southern guard post and because of that didn’t know the habits of the brigadier poked the old man in his side: What was going on with him? Homer spread his arms. How was he supposed to explain it to him in two words?

Why did he even need them? Hunter seemed to feel considerably securer in these tunnels than Homer. At the same time he would have thought himself to be the guide of the group. If he would have asked the old man he could have told him much about this region. Legends but also true stories that were mostly more terrible and bizarre than the unlikely stories that the guards told themselves at the lonely guard fire when they were bored.

Homer had a different metro plan in his head – Istomin’s map was nothing compared to it. He could have filled all the white parts with his own markings and notes.

Vertical shafts, open ones, even some operational service rooms and connecting lines like spider webs. As an example of his plan there was a junction between the
Sev
astopolskaya
and the
Juschnaya
, so one station to the south, it ended like a gigantic hose at the gigantic train depot, the
Warschav
skoye
that had gathered dozens of side tunnels like small veins.

Homer that had a holy awe for trains saw this depot as a dark but also mysterious place, like some kind of elephant graveyard; he could talk about it for hours, provided that there were listeners.

Homer thought that the section between the
Sev
astopolskaya
and the
Nachimov
ski
prospect
was especially difficult. Preclusions and a healthy human mind demanded that they stayed together, moved forwards slowly, carefully, watching the walls and the floor at all times.

You couldn’t even keep the tunnel, where all vents and cracks had been bricked up and sealed by the construction teams of the
Sev
astopolskay
a
, behind you out of your sight.

The darkness had only been ripped open by their light for a short time and had already grown together again. The echo of their footsteps was thrown back from the rips of 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 out of water but Homer preferred to move out of their way. Just to make sure.

In old times when the bloated monster city lived its fever like life and the metro was nothing but a soulless traffic
system for the restless people of the city, a young Homer who everybody just called Kolya, already walked with his flashlight and iron toolbox through the tunnels.

The way there was prohibited to mortals. The only things that were meant for them were around 150 polished marble pillars and tight wagons that were covered with colorful advertising. Even though they spent between two or three hours in the rocking trains of the metro, millions of people weren’t aware that they only saw a tenth of this unimaginable big underground kingdom face to face. And so that they wouldn’t start to think about its real extend or about where the inconspicuous doors and iron blockades, the dark side tunnels and the over passings that had been closed for months because of reparations lead, they turned their attention away with conspicuous posters, lead them with provocative but dumb slogans into nowhere and even chased them on the escalators with wooden advertising announcements per loud speaker.

It seemed like this to Kolya after he began to deal with secrets of this state within a state.

The colorful plan of the metro should convince curious minds that they dealt with a civilian object here. But in reality these lines in those happy colors were crossed by invisible
lines of military tunnels which lead into government bunkers and military depots. Even some lanes were connected by a labyrinth of catacombs, out of the pagan times of the city.

When Kolya was very young and his country was too poor to compete with the ambitions of others, the bunkers and air raid shelters which had been build for judgment day collected dust. But with money people returned with bad intentions. Rusted, weighting tons, doors opened creaking, food and medicament supplies were renewed and air and water filters were brought back on the newest level. Just in time.

The job in the metro was like a welcome into the society of the freemasons. He felt like that because he came from a small town. Once an unemployed loner, now and now member of one of the most powerful organizations that rewarded his humble service generously and brought him insight into the deepest secrets of the world order. He also liked the pay of his job; they didn’t request much from future service men.

It took him some time to realize through his colleges hesitant explanations why the metro organization had to lure their employees with high wages and extra money for dangerous work. No it wasn’t even for tight work shifts and
the voluntary sacrifice of daylight. It was about totally different dangers.

Homer, a skeptical man, never paid much attention to the never dying rumors or even darker stories of the devils work in the tunnel. But one day one of his colleges didn’t return from his side inspection of the service tunnels. Like the man all documents vanished, he had suddenly never worked in the metro.

Only Kolya, still young and naïve didn’t want to settle with the disappearance of his friends. Until one of the older employees took him to the side and whispered, looking around hastily and said that they had “taken” his friend with them. Kolya realized just too well that something sinister was going on in the Moscow underground and that long before Armageddon broke over the huge city and destroyed all life with its flaming breath.

The loss of his friend and the initiation into this forbidden knowledge should have scared Kolya. He should have left his work and found a different one. But his arranged marriage with the metro had progressed into a passionate affair. When he was feed up with endless wandering through tunnels he let himself be trained as a substitute train driver
and secured himself a firm place in the complex metro hierarchy.

The closer he got to know this ignored world wonder, the more nostalgic he looked at the antic labyrinth, this master less, zyclopic city, the on its head turned reflection of the surface of Moscow and fell in love with it. This from human hand created tartarus was worthy of a real Homer, at least the feather of a old master and it would have impressed him more than the island Laputa … But it was only Kolya that honored the metro in secret and sang clumsy of its greatness. Nikolai Ivanovitsch Nikolayev. Ridiculous.

It was possible to love the mistress of the cooper mountain, but the cooper mountain in particular? (
Should
be a Russian fable
)

But this relationship was based on love on both sides and envy. It would rob Kolya of his family and safe his life.

Hunter suddenly stopped and Homer wasn’t able to get up from his soft bed of memories fast enough and ran straight into the brigadiers back without slowing down. Without
saying a word he pushed the old man back and stopped again, he lowered his head and held the distorted ear into the tunnel.

Like blind bats made its picture from their surrounding room it seemed that he perceived invisible sound waves as well.

Homer on the other hand felt something different: The smell of the
Nachimov
ski
prospect
, a smell that you couldn’t mistake for anything else. How fast they had gotten through the tunnel … Hopefully they didn’t have to pay for being allowed to pass so freely …

As if he had heard Homer thoughts, Achmed took his assault rifle from his back and switched the safety off.

“Who is there?” Whispered Hunter suddenly to Homer.

Homer smiled in secret: Who knew what the devil had brought them? Through the wide open doors of the
Nachimov
ski
prospect
horrible creatures feel through the ceiling like through a funnel. But there were also permanent residents in this station. Even though they were seen as not dangerous Homer felt about them in a special way: A sticky mixture of fear and disgust.

“Small … Hairless.” The brigadier tried to describe them.

That was enough for Homer: There they were. “Corps-eaters.” He said silently.

Between the
Sevastopolskay
a
and the
Tulskaya
, maybe in different regions of the metro this curse had achieved a new literally meaning in the last years.

“They feed on flesh?” Asked Hunter.

“More on dead flesh.” Answered the old man unsure.

These disgusting creatures – spiderlike primates – didn’t attack humans; they feed on dead flesh that they had dragged down from the surface. And a big clan had made their nest at the
Nachimov
ski
prospect
, the reason you could smell the disgusting-sweet smell rotting flesh in the neighboring tunnels, in the station it was so heavy that it could make your head spin. It was that there, where they had gathered dead bodies for food. Some wore their gasmasks before entering so that they could tolerate the smell.

Homer who remembered the special feature of the
Nachimov
ski
very vividly, reached hastily for his gasmask and put it over his mouth and nose.

Achmed who didn’t have enough time to pack looked at it with envy and covered his nose with his arm. The miasma that grew in this station covered them, surrounded them and chased them forwards.

Hunter didn’t seem to experience anything like them. “Is that toxic? Spores?” Asked Hunter.

“The smell.” Said Homer from under his mask.

The brigadier looked at Homer as if he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t trying to make a joke on his expense.

Than the shrugged his broad shoulders and said: “So just the usual”. He held his assault rifle more comfortable and made clear that they should follow him and continued with soft steps.

After maybe fifty meters an almost unnoticeable whispering joined the horrendous smell. Homer wiped the warm sweat from his head and tried to keep his galloping heart at bay. They were close.

Finally the shine of the lamp illuminated something, the broken lights of a train that tried so hard to fight against the rust, its headlights starring blindly into the dark; a shattered windshield … In front of them was the first wagon of a train that blocked the tunnel like a giant cork.

The train laid hopelessly dead for a long time, but every time he saw it he had the childish wish to climb into the dusty driver cabin, touch the buttons of the panel and to imagine with his eyes closed that he was rushing through the tunnel, behind him a garland of bright lit wagons, full of
people, that read, slept, stared at the advertising and tried to hold a conversation over the sound of the rushing train.

“
When the alarm signal >atom< is given, you are to go to the next station. There you are to man the station. The doors are to be opened. The civilian teams have to help with the
evacuation
of wounded and the hermetic closure of the metro stations
”

For judgment day he had gotten clear and easy instructions. Everywhere possible they were followed. Most of the trains broke down on the tracks and fell into a lethargic sleep and then there where the survivors that instead of a few weeks, what had been promised to them, now had to stay there forever. Most of the trains had been completely dismantled for inventory and spare parts.