Nothing surprised him any more, he wasn’t listening and not trying to understand. The goal of his dream was not at the station, but in the tunnel. Leaving the tent, Artyom went right to the tracks, jumped down and headed south, towards the Botanical Gardens. The darkness no longer frightened him, but something else did: the forthcoming meeting in the tunnel. Who awaited him there? What was the point of it? Why did his courage always fail him in the end?
His twin finally appeared in the depths of the tunnel. Soft confident steps gradually approached, as before, and Artyom felt his nerve failing. However, this time he comported himself better. His knees shook but he was able to control himself and wait until he came right up to the unseen creature. He was covered in a cold, sticky sweat, but did not break into a run when the light ripple of the air told him that the mysterious being was just a few centimetres from his face.
‘Don’t run… Look into the eyes of your fate…’ a dry, rustling voice whispered into his ear. And here Artyom recalled – and just how had he been able to forget about it in his past nightmares? – that he had a lighter in his pocket. Groping for it, he struck the flint, preparing to see who was speaking to him. And he immediately went numb, feeling only that his feet were taking root in the ground. A dark one stood next to him, not moving. Its dark eyes were without pupils and wide open, searching for his glance. Artyom cried as loudly as he could.
‘Damnation!’ the old woman was holding her hand to her heart, breathing heavily. ‘How you frightened me, you tyrant!’
‘Please forgive him. He’s with me and… He’s nervous,’ Ulman said turning around.
‘Just what did you see there, that you shouted out?’ The old woman shot him a curious glance from beneath half closed, swollen eyelids.
‘It was a dream… I had a nightmare,’ Artyom answered. ‘Excuse me.’
‘A dream?! Well you young people are impressionable.’ She again started moaning and bickering.
Actually, Artyom had slept for a rather long time – he even had slept through the stop at Novoslobodskaya. But he didn’t have time to remember what he had understood at the end of his nightmare as the passenger handcar arrived at Prospect Mir.
The situation here was strikingly different from the satisfying prosperity of Byelorusskaya. There was no business recovery at Prospect Mir, not even a sign of it, but on the other hand one immediately noticed a large number of military personnel: Spetsnaz and officers with the chevrons of the engineering troops. From the other edge of the platform, on the tracks, stood several guarded cargo motorized trolleys with mysterious boxes covered with tarpaulins. In the hall, nearly fifty poorly dressed people with huge trunks were sitting right on the floor, looking round hopelessly.
‘What’s going on here?’ Artyom asked Ulman.
‘It’s not what’s happening here, it’s what you have going on at VDNKh,’ the fighter replied. ‘It’s obvious they intend to blow up the tunnels… If the dark ones crawl through from Prospect Mir, Hansa will have to answer for it. Most likely, they are getting ready for a pre-emptive strike.’
While they were crossing to the Kaluzhka-Rizhskaya line, Artyom grew convinced that Ulman’s guess was most likely correct. The Hansa Spetsnaz was also active at a radial station where it wasn’t supposed to be. Both entrances to the tunnels leading to the north, towards VDNKh and the Botanical Gardens, were fenced off. Someone had constructed some makeshift blockhouses here, where the Hansa border guards were on duty. There were no visitors in the marketplace, almost half the stands were empty, and people whispered nervously, as if inevitable misfortune was looming over the station. Several dozen people were crowded into one corner, whole families with bundles and bags. A chain had been strung around a table with the sign, ‘Refugee Registration.’
‘Wait for me here, I’ll go find our man.’ Ulman left him at the shopping area and disappeared.
But Artyom had a few things he wanted to do himself. Climbing down onto the rails, he went up to a blockhouse and started talking with a sullen border guard.
‘Can one still get to VDNKh?’
‘We are still letting them through, but I don’t advise going there,’ the guard answered. ‘Haven’t you heard what’s happening there? Some kind of vampires are getting in, so many that they can’t be stopped. They’ve taken over nearly the whole station. Obviously it’s really hot there. If our miserly leadership had decided to let them have some free ammo, if only to hold them off till tomorrow.’
‘What’s happening tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow we’re going to blow everything to hell. We are placing dynamite three hundred metres from Prospect in both tunnels and everything will be just a fond memory.’
‘But why don’t you just help them? Certainly Hansa has the power?’
‘I told you. There’re vampires there. It’s swarming with them, there’s not enough backup.’
‘But what about the people from Rizhskaya? And from VDNKh itself?’
Artyom couldn’t believe his ears.
‘We alerted them several days ago. They’re trickling in. Hansa is taking them. We aren’t animals. But they had better hurry. When the time runs out, it’s so long. So you should try to get there and back as soon as possible. What do you have there? Business? Family?’
‘All of it,’ Artyom replied, and the border guard nodded knowingly. Ulman was standing in the arch, quietly speaking with a tall young man and a stern man in a machinist’s coat and with the full regalia of the station chief.
‘The vehicle is up above and the tank is full. In any event, I still have a radio and protective suits, and another Pecheneg and a Dragunov sniper rifle.’ The youth pointed at two large black bags. ‘We can go up at any time. When do you need us up there?’
‘We’ll be monitoring the signal every eight hours. We should already be in position by then,’
Ulman answered. ‘Is the pressurized gate working?’ he addressed the chief.
‘It’s OK,’ the chief confirmed.
‘When you give the word. Only we’ll have to drive off the people so they aren’t frightened. That’s all I have. So, we’ll rest for about five hours or so and then full speed ahead,’ Ulman summed up. ‘So, Artyom? Lights out?’
‘I can’t,’ Artyom told him, pulling his partner aside. ‘I have to get back to VDNKh. To say goodbye and just to look around. You were right, they will be blowing up all the tunnels from Prospect Mir. Even if we come back alive from there, I won’t see my station any more. I have to! Honestly.’
‘Listen, if you are just afraid of going up, to your dark ones, just say so,’ Ulman nearly started, but on seeing Artyom’s look, he stopped short. ‘It was a joke. Excuse me.’
‘Honest, I have to,’ Artyom repeated. He couldn’t explain his feeling, but he knew that he had to get to VDNKh at any cost.
‘Well, if you have to, then you have to,’ the fighter replied, embarrassed. ‘You won’t have time to get back, especially if you intend to say goodbye to someone there. Here’s what we’ll do: we’ll ride from here along Prospect Mir in the vehicle with Pashka – that’s him with the cases. We had intended to go directly to the tower earlier, but we can take a detour and run by the old entrance to the VDNKh metro. Everything new has been turned upside-down, your people have to know that. We’ll wait for you there. In five hours and fifty minutes. Whoever doesn’t make it is late. Did you get a suit? Do you have a watch? Here, take mine, I’ll get one from Pashka.’ He unfastened the metal bracelet.
‘In five hours, fifty minutes.’ Artyom nodded, shook Ulman’s hand and raced towards the blockhouse. Seeing him again, the border guard shook his head.
‘And nothing else strange is happening in this crossing?’ Artyom asked. ‘Are you here about the pipes or what?’
‘It’s nothing. They patched them up. They say your head will spin when you are going by,’ the border guard answered.