Metro 2034

CHAPTER 13 A Story

He took her hand, helped her up and dragged her behind him. Then as if he had thought about it differently he let go of her again. The visor of his helmet was out of tinted glass so that Sasha couldn’t see his eyes.

“Stay close behind me!” It sounded dull out of the filters of his mask. “It is going to be dark soon; we need to get away from here.”

Without giving her another look he started running.

“Hunter!” Yelled the girl after him. Through the glasses of her gasmask she tried to recognize her savior.

He acted like he hadn’t heard her and Sasha couldn’t do anything else but run after him with all her strength. Of course he was angry at her: For the third time he now had to help that stupid girl out of a tight spot. But he still had come only because she had gone to the surface, how could she have doubted him…

The brigadier left the nest out of which Sasha had come out to his left. He knew other paths. He turned away from the main street to the right, dove under an arc, ran past a few flat and rusted iron boxes, fired at a blurry shadow in a corner, and finally stopped in front of a shed in front of a brick wall with windows closed off with iron bars. It didn’t look like much. With a key he opened the massive lock.

A hideout? No the shed was a hidden entrance: Behind the door a concrete staircase fell from one side to the other into the depths.

Hunter put the lock back from the inside and locked it, switched on his flashlight and started climbing down. The white and green colored walls, from which the color peeled of heavily, were written on over and over again: Entrance – Exit, Entrance – Exit… Sasha’s savior added a few unreadable writing at one part. It seemed that everybody that used this secret entrance had to note when he had gone out and when he had come back. At a few names the numbers for the return were missing.

The way down was over quicker then she thought: Even though the steps lead down further, Hunter stopped at an almost unnoticeable iron gate, beat his fist against it and after a few seconds you could hear how somebody pushed the bolt out of the way.

A tousled man with a sparse beard opened them. He was wearing a blue pants.

“Who’s that?” He asked surprised.

“Found him at the ring.” Said hunter. “The birds almost got him, if I hadn’t been there with the grenade launcher… Hey man how did you even end up there?” He put back his hood and took of his gasmask…

In front of Sasha was standing an unknown man with a dark blond, short, military haircut, pale grey eyes and a bent in nose that looked like he had broken it once before. She had suspected that he was moving way too fast for and injured man, his movement had been animal like, even his radiation suit hadn’t been the same but she hadn’t wanted to believe it till the last moment. She had told herself lies to make her believe.

She was feeling unbearable hot and she ripped the gasmask from her face.

Fifteen minutes later Sasha was already on the other side of Hanza’s border.

“Sorry but without any documents you can’t stay her.” In her savior’s voice was honest regret.

“Maybe tonight, well yes… So at the gate?”

She nodded silent and smiled. Where should she go now? To him? There was enough time. Sasha couldn’t keep her disappointment in that it hadn’t been hunter who had saved her. Even now she still had to do another thing that no longer needed another delay.

Soft and luring were the sounds of the wonderful music that cut through the noise of the crowd. Over the sound of boots and the screams of the merchants. It was the same melody that had put its spell on her yesterday. While she followed it Sasha had a feeling as if once again she was finding a door full of unearthly shine. Where did it lead her this time?

Dozens of listeners were standing around the musician in a tight circle. To see him Sasha had to make her way through the crowd. Finally she was standing directly in front of him. His melody pulled the humans to him like magic put kept them at a distance at the same time. It was like light, all flew to it put nobody wanted to get burned by it.

Sasha wasn’t afraid.

He was young, tall and was surprisingly good looking.

Even though he looked weak, his well kept face wasn’t soft and in his green eyes was no naivety.

The dark, long hair fell down to his shoulders. His clothes were different from the crowd of people at the Pavelezkaya, they were simple but extraordinary clean.

His instrument was like one of the whistles of children, which had been built out of plastic pipes, but bigger, black and had folds of copper. The flute was something fine and it was probably very expensive. The sounds that he lured out of the flute seemed to be out of another world and another time.

Like the instrument and its owner.

He had caught Sasha look immediately, let it go for a moment and caught it again. It made her blush. His attention was not unpleasant but actually she was here for the music.

“There you are! Thank god!”

It was Homer who made his way to her breathing heavy and sweating.

“How’s he?” Asked Sasha immediately.

“Is he…” Started the old man but then he said: “He left”

“What? Where?” Sasha felt as if a fist was pressing her heart together.

“He ran away. Packed all his things. I think he went to the Dobryninskaya.”

“Did he leave anything?” She asked carefully, anxious for the answer Homer would give her.

The old man shook his head. “No, nothing.”

Somebody in the crowd made an angry hissing sound.

Homer went silent and listened to the music and stared distrusting at the musician and the girl. But Sasha was sunken in thoughts.

Hunter had chaser her away and ran away, but now she seemed to understand his strange rules.

When the bold one had taken everything he owned, trully everything… Then he wanted that she didn’t give up, that she didn’t stray from her path and search for him. And she would do that, even after everything that had happened. If just… “The knife?” She whispered.

“Did he take it with him? The black one?”

The old man shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not in his room.”

“So he did take it with him!”

That simple sign was all she needed.

The musician with the flute had talent without a doubt and knew how to use his instrument perfectly, as if he had been playing at a concert just yesterday. There were many bullets in the flute box in front of him, so many that he could have fed a small station or erased it from the face of the earth.

There it was. Acknowledgement, thought Homer and smiled sadly.

The old man thought about from where he knew the melody, but even after a long time he had no idea. From an old movie in the cinema, a concert or on the radio? He couldn’t remember where he had heard it. The extraordinary thing was: Did the melody have you once, it didn’t let you go, you had to listen to it till the end and then applaud the musician until he started to play again.

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 knew: 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”

“With one word: A dull.” Commented Leonid smiling oblique.

“It lies far away from any big cities, secret factories or military bases. All the important targets. All cities which our missile shield couldn’t protect went down in dust and ashes. And the others with a shield and working missiles were…” Homer looked up. “Well we all know what happened to them. But there were places at those nobody was aiming. Those that didn’t pose a threat. Like the Polyarnyye Sori”

“They don’t interest us anymore.” Said the musician.

“They should.” Said homer. “Because not far away from Polyarnyye Sori there is the nuclear reactor Kola. One of the most powerful in the entire country. Back then it probably supplied the entire north of Russia with electricity. Millions of people. Hundredths of factories. I myself am from Archangelsk, so I know what I’m talking about. As a student I went there on an excursion once. It is a real fortress, a state inside a state. They’ve a small army there, their own farmers and factories. They were totally self-sufficient. Why should life have changed after the atomic war?” He smiled sadly.

“You’re saying…”

“Petersburg is gone, Murmansk and Archangelsk as well. Millions of people destroyed, factories and cities burnt to dust and ashes. Polyarnyye Sori survived. And the reactor has been left untouched as well. For kilometers around it there is nothing but snow. Snow and fields of ice, wolves and polar bears. There was no connection to the central administration. And they have enough fuel to keep such a big city alive for some time. That means that they and the surrounding area are taking care of for about one hundred years. They get over the winter easily.”

“An ark.” Whispered Leonid. “And when the flood was over and the water had retreated, came from mountain Ararat…”

“Exactly.” The old man nodded his head.

“How do you know all that?” The voice of the musician didn’t sound sarcastic or bored anymore.

“I once have worked as a radio operator.” Homer danced around the question. “I had wanted to find survivors in the region where I was born.”

“Are they going to last, so high up in the north?”

“I am sure of it. But the last contact I had with them is two years ago. But just think about it: Electricity and warmth for 100 years. With medical machines, computers and electronic libraries on CD-ROM’s. Why would you know it? In the entire metro there are only two computers and they are just toys. And this is the capitol.”

He smiled bitter.

“If some people survived somewhere, not just some a few but entire communities then they are in the 17th century, if not in the stone age. Wood for fire, cattle and shamans.

Every third child dies at birth. Abacus and writing on the bark of a trees. There is nothing but a farm or two. A no-man’s-land without people. Wolves, bears and mutants. Our entire civilization is built on electricity.” He cleared his throat and looked around. “If we have none the station here die and that’s it. Milliards of humans have built our civilization over hundredths of years and suddenly everything is gone. Homo sapiens can start again. But who knows if we can do it again? And now just imagine: A handful of people get a hundredth year ultimatum! You’re right, it’s an ark Noah. An almost unlimited supply of energy. Oil has to be refined and for gas you have to dig and pump it for kilometers. So back to steam powered machines? Or even further?”

He took Sasha’s hand. “I tell you the people there aren’t in any danger. They are as tough as roaches. But civilization… You have to defend it”.

“Is there still civilization there?”

“You don’t have to have any doubts. Atomic power is our greatest technical intelligence. The conditions are better there than here. In two centuries Polyarnyye Sori has grown a lot. They had continues radio contact: “To all survivors…” and their coordinates. It’s said that there are still some people that make it to there”

“Why have I never heard of it?” Mumbled the musician.

“Only a few know of it. From here it is hard to get their wave length. But you could try it sometime when you have some days off.” Homer was smiling. “Codeword: last harbor.”

“I should’ve known that. I collect those cases. Has everything really passed by them peacefully there?”

“How should I say that… Around it there nothing but snow and ice and if there were some villages and cities they turned wild very soon. It has happened that they have been attacked by some barbarians. And of course there are the wild animals, if you can even call them that. But they have enough weapons. A defense all around the clock and guard post everywhere. Electrical barb wire and watchtowers. Like I said, it’s a fortress. In the last thirty years they have built a palisade fence (tree logs in the ground and sharpened on the upper end). Also they have explored their surroundings. They got till Murmansk, at least two hundredth kilometers far.

Now the city is a giant smoking crater. They wanted to make an expedition to the south, into the direction of Moscow but I talked them out of it. Why risk it? As soon as the radiation goes back they can conquer other pieces of land. But at the moment there is nothing to gained by comming here. It’s a graveyard and nothing else.” Homer sighed

“It is really strange.” Said Leonid. “When humanity after it had been destroyed by the atom now also has been saved by it.”

“It’s like with Prometheus who stole fire. The gods had forbidden to bring fire to mankind. But he wanted to bring humanity out of the dirt, out of darkness and coldness…”

“I’ve read it.” Homer cut him of angrily. “The myths and legends of old Greece”

“A prophetic myth. The gods were against it because of nothing. They knew how it would end.”

“But it was fire that made mankind, mankind.”

“Do you want to say that without electricity humans turn back into animals?”

“I want to say that without power we are thrown back two hundredth years. And if you think about it that only one for every thousand has survived and everything has to be built again, connected and explored, probably it will take more then five hundredth years. Maybe we’ll never get back to how things were. Or do you think something else?”

“No, No.” Answered Leonid. “But is it really just about electricity?”’

“About what else?” Homer raised his arms over his head. The musician gave him a long and strange look and then he shrugged his shoulders.

The silence got longer. Homer had felt that the end of the conversation had been his victory: Finally the girl had stopped eating that boy with her eyes and was sunken in thoughts. It wasn’t far to the station when Leonid said: ”Well, then I think then it’s my time for a story now.”

Homer made a tired face but nodded merciful.

“At the other side of the Sportivnaya, there where the destroyed Sokolnitscheski Bridge is, there a line that departs from the main line and ends in a dead end. There is a grid and a security door. Many times people have tried to open it but they’ve succeeded. Practically every adventurer who had gone there never returned. Their bodies were later found at other parts of the metro.”

Homer made a grimace. “The emerald city?”

“It’s well known.” Continued Leonid unflustered.

“That the Sokolnitscheski metro bridge went down on the first day. That means that all stations behind it were separated from the metro. Most people think that nobody survived there even though there is no evidence for that.”

Homer made gesture with his hand. “The emerald city.”

“Also it is known that the Moscow University was built on soft ground. That giant building was only stable because giant cold machines cooled the cellar and kept the swampy ground in its frozen condition. If not it would’ve slid down into the river long ago.”

“That’s a farfetched argument.” Said the old man.

He knew what Leonid wanted to say.

“It has been over twenty years but the abandoned building is still standing at the same place.”

“Because it’s a fable, that’s why!”

“Rumors say that under the university there isn’t just a normal cellar but a big gigantic bunker that is ten stories deep.

There are the cold machines and even more important, a nuclear reactor, living quarters and connections to the nearest metro stations and even to the metro 2.” Leonid was looking at Sasha with big, scary looking eyes so that she had to laugh.”

“That’s old coffee.” Commented Homer.

“It’s said that there is an entire city underground.”

Continued the musician in his dreamy voice. “The inhabitants of this city didn’t die but have made it to their job to gather all knowledge and bring it back to the same level as before when all was beautiful. They don’t give up going on expeditions to still standing galleries, museums and libraries on the surface. They raise their children with a sense for beauty. There is peace and harmony there, their ideology is knowledge and their religion is art. There the walls aren’t just covered in ugly oil colors but with colorful frescos. From the loudspeakers no orders and alarm signals could be heard but Berlioz, Haydn and Tschaikovsky on that day. Just imagine every inhabitant can quote Dante out of their heads. That’s the reason why the people have remained like back then. Well not like in the 21st century but more like in antique times. Well, you’ve read >Myths and legends.”

Leonid smiled at the old man as if he thought that he was a bit slow. “Free, courage’s, beautiful and wise. Righteous and noble”

“I’ve never heard of it!” Now he just hoped that that smart devil hadn’t caught the girl with his net already.

“In the metro the place is called The emerald city. Its inhabitants like to use another name.”

“And that would be?” Said Homer angrily.

“The ark.”

“Nonsense! Complete nonsense!” Yelled the old man and turned away.

“Of course.” Said the musician. “After all it is just a story.”

At the Dobryninskaya chaos reigned. Homer looked from one side to the other, surprised and

fearful at the same time: Was this an illusion? Could something like that happen at the ring line? It looked like somebody had declared war on Hanza. Out of the tunnel towered the transport railcar, a few bodies on it that were laying on top of.

Paramedics carried them down and put them on a piece of cloth, one was missing the head, another one had a mutilated face, intestines were quelling out of some…

Homer held his hand in front of Sasha’s eyes.

Leonid was breathing heavily and turned away.

“What happened?” He asked one of the men who were 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 cleaned his hands on his coat. “You got a smoke? My hands are shaking.”

The big distributor, so Hanza’s shuttle, it was the spider web like system of tracks, that departed from the radial station at the Pavelezkaya and connected four lines with each other: The ring, the grey, the orange and the green line.

Homer had guessed that Hunter would take that way. It was the shortest. But it was always guarded by Hanza.

Why all this bloodshed? Had they opened fire first? Or hadn’t 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 Sasha’s words. Should she have been right? Maybe the brigadier was fighting against himself, maybe he had wanted to avoid unnecessary deaths, maybe he wasn’t in control of himself… And that was the reason he had broken the mirror, to destroy the ugly man into which he had transformed?

No. Hunter hadn’t seen a man in his reflection but a monster. He had tried to eliminate it but only broken the glass and one reflection had become a dozen.

But what if… Homer looked after the paramedics who had just loaded the last of the eight bodies from the railcar onto the platform… What if he had 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 the lead?