Chapter 202 Badges
"Here, this is the radio." Lusakov found a dirty radio from the shelf.

The moment she came out, there was a cloud of dust, and Sasha covered her mouth and nose, and took a few steps back.

Even Alcorn fanned the dust a few times with his palm after seeing it.

Seeing this, Lusakov smiled a little embarrassedly.

It was covered with dust and unknown oil.

And one of the two antennas in one corner has gone somewhere?

There is only one branch left standing strong and straight, but I still don’t know if it can still play its due role?
Seeing this miserable state, Alcorn would believe it if it was said that he had experienced artillery fire on the battlefield.

With an expression of disgust and expectation, he took the radio from Rusakov's hand.

Seeing that there was nothing to wipe around, he just wiped the dust off with his palm.

Then he grabbed the ball on the only antenna left with his fingers and twisted it.

and pull it to the highest level.

Then he took out the battery he had bought from a Lufthansa merchant.

Due to the impact of the battle of the gods, the batteries that can be seen everywhere have become a rarity here.

Fortunately, the battery I bought before can be put in very well.

Otherwise, Alcorn would cry to death.

There is no way, the battery itself is not very common, and now subway residents usually use either torches or candles at night.

Luxurious accessories like light bulbs will only exist in the hands of the rich or the upper class.

After all, they can even eat the rare steak, let alone batteries.

Alcorn also imagined what if he found a radio but happened to have no batteries!

Wouldn't that be worse.

So lucky this time, the next thing is to pray that the radio can be used normally.

Otherwise, it will greatly affect Alcorn's next plan.

Alcorn took the tape out of the luggage.

Put it in the radio.

Not only Sasha and Alcorn were glued to the radio, but Rusakov was too.

Before that, he was curious why Comrade Alcorn was so obsessed with the radio?
Hearing about the hero who saved all the residents in the entire subway, he became obsessed with the radio.

It is said that even when they sleep, they hug each other tightly.

Just like his lifeblood, he didn't dare to slack off at all.

But now Alcorn was seen pulling a tape from his luggage and began to wonder what was in it.

Even Rusakov looked at the radio eagerly, but it didn't take long before he heard a click.

It seems that this radio can be used normally.

Before there was any sound from the radio, Alcorn pressed the pause button, then turned to look at himself.

Sasha on the side also raised her head and looked at herself.

Rusakov knew that he should go out. After all, this was someone else's secret, and he should not inquire about it.

Then, with some regret, he turned and walked towards the door.

Before he reached the door, he heard Alcorn talking to himself from behind.

"I don't know what's in there either, but I want you to hear it too. There's a lot of good stuff in here."

"However, what you have to promise me is that you can't tell what happened here."

Lusakov saw Alcorn looking at him seriously and solemnly declared something to himself.

After thinking for a while, he nodded and said, "No problem, I'm here to assure you that no matter what happens here, I won't say anything about it."

As he spoke, he walked into the inner room, and after a while, he came out with a small black bag in his hand.

He tore open the package, and inside was a small white box that looked like a small box.

The box looked bulky, but it was very light. It was about thirty centimeters long, twenty centimeters wide, and five centimeters high. The tentacles were smooth and delicate, without any patterns or characters.

The small box is also very delicate, there is a button, just press it lightly, and a gold star will drill out from the gap in the box.

Everyone could see that it was a small, golden thing, but they couldn't tell what it was or what it was.

It was a piece of purple metal, the whole body was crystal clear, the reason why it was called metal was because there was some silvery white light mixed in this piece of metal.

This is not ordinary gold, but a crystal clear gold. Although only a small part appears in the milky white light, it still gives people a shocking feeling.

Lusakov took out the contents and said to Alcorn: "This is my lifelong belief, I take this as a guarantee, please believe me, I will not tell anything about what happened here. "

After speaking, he stretched out his right hand and made a fist on his chest as a gesture.
-
Artyom sat down and continued to drink mushroom tea from a white mug with a notch and a gold rim.

Homer sat beside him cautiously, silent.

People began to return to the kitchen one after another.

Some people worry that white mold has grown on the mushrooms, some sigh and say never to start another war, and some gossip about who was caught in which part by her husband in the pig farm.

A little pink pig squealed past, chasing a pale, thin, withered little girl.

A cat circled the table with its tail raised, rubbed against Artem's knees, and stared at his mouth.

The cup is no longer steaming, and a layer of condensed skin has formed on the tea soup.

Artyom's heart also began to be covered with a layer of condensed skin.

He put down the cup and looked ahead.

The old man was sitting there.

"This is my story, sir."

"I, I... I'm sorry."

"It's a waste of time, isn't it? It's not rare for posterity to see this, if there are posterity."

"It's not in vain."

Artyom pinched his teeth and said: This old man is really stubborn.

He lifted his butt off the bench and walked out of the kitchen.

Breakfast is over, now it's time to complete the voluntary labor.

Homer immediately stuck to it from behind: "Excuse me, what did that girl say in the kitchen just now? Antennas, radio amateurs...Of course, it's none of my business, but you went up there, didn't you? Listening to the radio?"

"I'm up there. I'm listening to the radio."

"You want to find other survivors?"

"I want to find other survivors."

"Any gains?"

In his voice, Artyom did not detect any sarcasm.

From his point of view, what Artyom was doing seemed as commonplace as a shipment of cured ham to the Hanseatic.

"No." Artyom replied.

Homer nodded at him, frowning, hesitant to speak.

What is he trying to say?
Express consolation?

Trying to enlighten?
Pretending to be interested?
But Artem didn't care at all.

The two came to the bicycle power station.

Artyom didn't like mushrooms, because Anya did.

He didn't like piggies either, because they stink-he's the only one here who can tell what stink is.

He made an agreement with the station that as a hero, he didn't have to do these things, but the exhibition hall station didn't support freeloaders. In addition to being on duty at the outpost in the tunnel, he also had to work on the platform.

In the end, Artyom chose to ride a bicycle.

There are fourteen bicycles in a row, the handlebars facing the wall, and there are posters on the wall.

The first is the Kremlin and the Moscow River, the second is a beauty in a faded pink swimsuit, the third is New York skyscrapers, the fourth is a snow-covered monastery and a calendar marking Orthodox holidays...

You can choose a poster according to your mood, then ride on the bike and pedal.

The bicycles are fixed to stands, the wheels are connected by belts to the DC motors, and each bicycle is equipped with a small lamp, which faintly illuminates your poster dreams of today, and the rest of the electricity is sent to the battery to supply the station.

The bicycles are parked in the southern tunnel, which is a strategic project of a confidential nature, and outsiders are not allowed to enter, but Artyom waved at the guards for some reason, and let Homer in too.

Artyom climbed onto the rusty frame and grabbed the rubber handle.

In front of him were Berlin propaganda posters from Hanseatic booksellers—the Brandenburg Gate, the TV tower, black female statues.

Artyom felt that this painting resembled Moscow: the Brandenburg Gate resembled the gate of the National Economic Achievements Exhibition Hall.

The TV Tower in Berlin is very similar to Ostankino, although the viewing platform in the middle of the tower is spherical.

The woman in the statue raises her hands above her head, as if shouting and blocking her ears, which is similar to the posture of "workers and female collective farm workers".

"Come ride for a while, sir?" Artyom turned to Homer and asked, "It's good for your heart, and it will help you live longer underground."

The old man didn't answer, staring blankly at the deflated tire spinning in the air.

Looking at it, his face was twisted asymmetrically, like a patient with facial paralysis, half of his face was smiling, and the other half was stiff.

"Are you all right, sir?" Artyom asked.

"It's okay... I just remembered something, some people." Homer's voice was hoarse.

He cleared his throat and collected himself.

"Oh."

Everyone has someone to remember.

On average, there are three hundred shadows behind each person, all waiting for you to think of them.

They lay traps, lay mines, set nets, and wait.

A bicycle without wheels reminds someone of teaching children to ride a bicycle in the yard.

The teakettle ringing reminds someone of the exact same one in their parents' kitchen, where they visit every weekend to eat and share their lives.

In the blink of an eye, between the present and the present, the eyes suddenly saw yesterday, saw the face of the dead.

However, as each year passed, these faces became more and more blurred.

"How did you know me?"

"You are a great hero," Homer smiled. "Everyone knows it."

"Hmph, great hero." Artyom curled his lips and spat the word back to the other party.

"You saved the entire subway! If you hadn't used missiles to blow up all those beasts... To be honest, I can't figure out why you don't want to mention this?"

The TV tower in front of him, the Brandenburg Gate, and the black woman with her arms raised all remind Artyom of Moscow.

I really should have changed my car, but all the other cars were taken and this was the only one left.

He tried to push the pedals backwards, back away from the TV tower, but that didn't generate electricity.

"Actually, I heard about you from Melnik."

"Who?"

"Melnik. You know him, right? Commander of the Rangers. You must know the Rangers too, right? Spartan warriors..."

"You yourself, if I remember correctly, were once one of them, right?"

"Did Melnik send you to find me?"

"No, Melnik just told me about you, that you informed them about the threat of the Dark Race, that you traveled through the entire subway..."

"Later I began to dig out the truth myself, but there were still many things I didn't know. I knew I couldn't figure it out without your help, so I decided to..."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Ah, who?"

"Melnik, did you say anything else about me?"

"said."

Artyom stopped pedaling, stepped off his bicycle, jumped to the ground, folded his hands on his chest: "What did you say?"

"He said, you're married and living a normal life."

"Is that what he said?"

"Exact words."

"A normal life." Artyom smiled wryly.

"If I remember correctly," Homer added.

"He didn't tell you that I married his daughter?"

Homer shook his head.

"that's it?"

The old man chirped a few times, sighed, and told the truth: "He also said that you are insane."

"Of course, insanity."

"I'm just paraphrasing..."

"Nothing else?"

"It seems to be gone..."

"He didn't say he wanted to kill me? For his daughter, or—"

"No, absolutely not!"

"Or, he waited for me to rejoin the team?"

"Can not remember……"

Artyom was lost in thought.It took a while to remember that Homer was still in front of him, staring at him.

"Insanity! Hehe!" Artyom laughed unnaturally.

"I don't think so." Homer quickly expressed his position, "No matter what others say, I know..."

"You... you, what do you know?"

"Just because you insist on finding survivors, just because you don't want to give up—you're considered a lunatic? Listen." The old man stared at Artyom solemnly.

"You're sacrificing yourself for someone else. I honestly don't understand why people do that to you."

"I go every day."

"above?"

"Every day. Climb the steps to the ground, then walk to the building, climb to the top step by step, carrying a backpack."

The cyclist next to him was fascinated by the sound and slowed down at the same time.

"Yes! I've never heard anyone respond! But so what? What does that mean?!" Artyom was no longer directed at Homer alone, but at all the damn people, facing the wall, and facing shouted people riding bicycles on the ground.

"It doesn't explain anything! Why don't you understand?! There must be other survivors! There must be other cities! We cannot be the only survivors in this cave, in these caves!"

"Come on, Artyom, save yourself!" A young man with a long nose and small eyes couldn't help it, "Everyone was blown to death by the beautiful country! Everything is gone! Why don't you give up?! They bomb us, we bomb them, it's all over!"

"What if we are indeed not the only survivors?" Homer asked himself, "What if I said to you..."

"He climbs to the ground every day, and he is more punctual than going to work! He is polluted and polluted others! He is like a living dead!" The young man was furious, "Do you want to kill us all?"

"What if I tell you that there are other... survivors? What if I tell you that there have been signals from other cities?"

"Can you say that again?"

"Signals from other cities," Homer said firmly, "someone has received them and talked to them."

"you're lying!"

"I know the radio operator..."

"lie."

"What if he was standing in front of you now? What would you say?" Homer winked at Artyom, "Huh?"

"You must be crazy, my lord. Or you're lying on purpose. Are you? You're lying!"

(End of this chapter)

Tap the screen to use advanced tools Tip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between chapters.

You'll Also Like