Journey to another world in the subway

Chapter 161
Millions of lives vanish together in an instant, millions of ideas are dusted together, millions of ideals—unrealized, million misunderstandings—are never forgiven.

Nikolai's youngest son begged him to buy a set of colored foam absorbent pens, his daughter was extremely reluctant to learn figure skating, and his wife jokingly promised that there would be other desserts besides apple pie.

He realized that these were the last wishes and joys in life, and though they were so small, they meant a lot to him.

Homer wanted to carve an epitaph for each of them, but only one epitaph is enough for a cemetery for the fallen soldiers of all mankind.

Now, with only 30 days left in his life, he believes that he has the responsibility and obligation to choose the most appropriate words for this epitaph.

He has not yet figured out what order to use for these words, how to fix them, and how to decorate them, but he has already felt a little bit:
A whole story unfolded before his eyes, and every soul that could not rest in silence, every emotion, every seed of knowledge he patiently collected, and himself, all had their own place in this story.

When the dawn on the ground comes, the shops in the subway will also be busy, and he must find a clean notebook and a ballpoint pen among them.

To afford these items, he had to sell at least one magazine.

His future novel flashed like a mirage in his distance, where it would soon melt away if he did not get the outlines of it on paper.

And who knows how long he'll have to sit on the top of the dune, looking out into the distance, before he can see his ivory tower begin to pile up again amidst the tiny grains of sand and floating air?
30 days may not be enough.

His future novel flashed like a mirage in his distance, where it would soon melt away if he did not get the outlines of it on paper.

And who knows how long he'll have to sit on the top of the dune, looking out into the distance, before he can see his ivory tower begin to pile up again amidst the tiny grains of sand and floating air?
30 days may not be enough.

No matter what the girl says, Homer knows his life is numbered and he should get on with his business.

Thinking of this, he smiled.

After a while, he thought of her curved eyebrows—like two white lights lying on the gray and dirty face, her slightly biting lips, and her disheveled and dry hair, and the smile floated on his face again. corner of mouth.

Tomorrow we must go to the market to find something, Homer thought, and fell asleep.

Nights at Pavilets Station are always noisy.

The light from the smelly torches was cast on the blackened marble walls, the tunnel was breathing unevenly, and the people sitting at the bottom of the bunker were talking in low voices.

The people on this station are gradually dying, and I hope that the hungry monsters on the ground will not be attracted by the breath of the corpse in the end.

But some particularly good beasts can often find those caves hidden in the depths. They can detect the smell of fresh sweat, hear the beating of the heart, and detect the sound of blood flowing in the blood vessels, and then they start to crawl down.

Homer finally fell asleep, and the sirens on the other side of the platform barely entered his consciousness.

The sound of a machine gun jolted him out of his half-dream hallucination.

The old man jumped to his feet, eyes wide, fumbling for his weapon on the bed of the rail car.

The sound of several submachine guns was added to the deafening roar of machine guns, and the panic in the guard's exclamation was replaced by real fear.

No matter who they were firing on there, it didn't do Homer an iota of harm.

Now the firepower is not directed only at moving targets, but at random among people, each trying to save his own life.

Homer found the submachine gun, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to run to the platform hall, his will now resisting the thought of running the motor and fleeing - it didn't matter where.

He was still on the rail car, stretching his neck, trying to see clearly the situation in the fire zone through the pillars.

Suddenly a harsh voice cut through the shouts and curses of the guards - the voice seemed to be right next to them.

The machine guns stopped, and someone let out such a terrible cry and stopped so suddenly, as if someone had torn his head off.

The intense shooting sounded again, but less violently.

The screaming sounded again—farther this time, and suddenly, almost beside the rail car, a voice answered.

Homer counted to ten, and put down the joystick with trembling hands!

Now, now he waited for his companions to come back so they could rush out.

This is all for them, not for myself...

The rail car started, choking smoke, and the engine was hot.

Suddenly, something rushed out between the pillars at an incredible speed and quickly disappeared without a trace.

It disappeared from people's sight faster than people's reaction speed.

The old man held the operating lever tightly, put one foot on the gas pedal, and took a deep breath.

If they don't show up within 10 seconds, Hunter will ditch them...

Then, he asked himself: what happened?Why do you want to do this?
Homer stepped onto the platform all of a sudden, and stretched his unquestionable gun forward, as if to prove that he was unable to save his companion.

Homer leaned against the pillar, looking at the platform hall...

He wanted to cry out, but couldn't breathe air.
-
Sasha knew early on that the world was not as big as the two stations she lived in, but she still couldn't imagine the world beyond the two stations so beautiful.

Kolomna Station—flat, empty, darkly colored—every tiny detail seemed to Sasha the location of a comfortable, familiar home.

The car factory station is proud, spacious, and a bit cold—this station keeps her and her father away and spurns them, which Sasha will never forget no matter what.

Contact with Pavilets station started from scratch, and the longer Sasha spent there the more she wanted to love it.

Fall in love with its unevenly spaced light columns, its large and attractive arches, and its delicately textured marble walls that look like the tender, delicate texture of a human being...

Kolomna Station is barren, Auto Works Station is too grim, and this station seems to have been built by women's hands, mischievous and frivolous.

After 10 years, Pavilets Station can't forget its past beauty.

The residents living here cannot become cruel and vicious.

Could it be that she and her father endured such a hostile station just to come to this magical paradise?
Could it be that father could get rid of hard labor and regain his freedom even if he lasted one more day?
Since Hunter didn't shoot the wounded, she could intercede...

(End of this chapter)