Journey to another world in the subway

Chapter 175
Homer at the door simply listened, and left with a smile on his face after the conversation between the two.

I silently bless the two newcomers in my heart.

If that correspondent's notebook gave Homer any hope that the contagion had just passed him by, then Hunter was ruthless.

After having a premeditated conversation with Su Mengfan, who had just woken up, the old man wanted to appeal the death sentence he had received.

Hunter did not want to pardon him, nor was he in a position to do so.

Everything that happens to Homer is what happens to him.

In less than two weeks, so many things happened with Hunter.

There are many other things that should be succinctly recorded on a rubber sheet.

Homer is obliged to do this besides his own will, and sometimes he has to stop, as if he had reached the end of his life.

He spread out the paper, intending to restart the narrative from the place where he was interrupted by the doctor's call last time, but what he wrote on the paper was: "What can I leave for this world?"

What will be left behind for the unfortunate blockaded people at Tula station?
He thought, maybe they are desperate, maybe they are still waiting for rescue, but they are doomed to escape, doomed to be mercilessly massacred?

What remains is the memory?

But the dead who can be remembered are very few.

Of course there is also memory, which is a very fragile grave.

The old man died soon, and he knew that everyone would disappear with him, and his Moscow would sink with it.

Where is he now, in Pavilets?
The Garden Ring is now bare and lifeless—not so long ago it was surrounded by military equipment and cleared to make way for rescue efforts and to allow convoys with flashing lights to pass.

The alleys and streets are full of rotting garbage, and more than half of the single-family houses are dilapidated...

The old man had no trouble imagining the here and now, even though he had never climbed up the subway to see it.

In fact, before the war broke out, he came here a few times sporadically—one date with his future wife at the cafe next to the subway station, and then he went to catch an evening movie. Perfunctory paid physical examination!

I also took the electric train at the train station here, and agreed with my colleagues to go to the summer forest for barbecue...

He stared at the grid page of the notebook, as if he saw the railway station square in the autumn fog, and saw two towers gradually dissolving in the night fog. They were innovative and renovated buildings on the ring road. A good friend of his work there.

Farther away, the spire of an expensive hotel next to a luxurious concert hall.

He also inquired about the ticket price of the concert hall, and one ticket was worth two weeks' wages of Nicholas.

Not only could he see, he could even hear the ding-d-d-d-d-d-d-d--d--d---a not so dexterous white-and-blue streetcar, full of passengers dissatisfied with such innocuous crowding.

But the Garden Ring is still festively decorated with twinkling lights and turn signals, forming a large enclosed garland.

Timid snowflakes melt before they hit the asphalt.

And the crowd—everyone is exuberant and excited, jostling and shoving, all seeming to be moving in disorder, when in fact they're just moving in their own way.

He also saw the towering Stalinist towers, between which the garden ring stretched lazily out into the square.

The glass windows on both sides of the road were shattered after burning.

There are also the colorful neon lights of the store signs, the huge billboards, and the unfinished buildings, with half-open wounds shyly, but will soon be implanted with new multi-layered prosthetics...

Buildings are being built all the time, but they are never built properly.

He watched and thought, and suddenly felt that no language could express such a beautiful picture.

Is it possible that this kind of scenery and this kind of city scenery can be left to posterity only pieces of moss attached to the tombstones of business centers and first-class hotels?

The old man found nothing, and came to Su Mengfan's door again.

But he found that Hunter was standing at the door, slumped on the wall, closing his eyes and resting his mind.

When Homer saw it, he was overjoyed immediately.

When I walked in and took a look, I found that the situation was not so good.

Watching the donated blood on Hunter's right arm slide down the fingertips, it has dripped into a small piece.

I must have been standing here for a long time.

Pus was bleeding from the not-so-deep wound, staining the sleeves, but Hunter didn't notice this.

Homer wondered why he was standing at the door since he was already injured.

But after thinking about Hunter's character and personality, he stopped asking.

"When are you leaving?" Hunter asked Homer, but didn't look at him.

"I want to go now." The old man squatted, "One thing... I don't understand why you did that. And how do you get on the road? Your current injury..."

"I can't die." Hunter replied, "Death is not the scariest thing. You go and get ready, I'll get up in an hour and a half, and we'll head to Dubrynin."

"One hour is enough, but don't we go with those two children?, I hope they can go with us... Can you understand?" Homer was a little anxious.

"I'll be on my way in an hour." Hunter interrupted him. "It's up to you whether you go or not...they have their own mission."

"I can't figure out why you did that!" Homer sighed in frustration, "Do you know..."

"I know." Hunter said very indifferently, "but you can't involve them, Alcorn has his own mission, this kind of crime, it's enough for us dying people to bear, you go prepare. "

Homer blinked, and slowly backed away.

He has become accustomed to relying on Hunter's supernatural sixth sense, and understands Hunter's difficulties.

I will not continue to ask for it.

Instead, he said: "Then I understand, I will say goodbye to them later, and let's go."

"No need, now he is still being intimate with that little girl, we just leave, he understands what we mean."

"Why? I feel like you are hiding something from me. For example, Alcorn said that you want to burn all those people..."

"It's you I need," Hunter almost bowed to him, interrupting Homer's question. "And you need me."

"Why?" Homer murmured to himself, but Hunter overheard.

"You can decide a lot of things." He blinked slowly, but Homer felt that Hunter was winking at him, and suddenly broke out in a cold sweat.

The blood donation on his arm instantly accelerated, and Hunter gritted his teeth and sat up.

"Speed," he ordered the old man, "get ready, if you want to hit the road on time."

The old man turned sharply to look at Hunter.

"You'd better be clear, what is the meaning of everything you are doing now?"

(End of this chapter)