Dmitry Glukhovsky - Metro 2034 English fan translation (v1.0) (docx) by Dmitry Glukhovsky
Authors: Dmitry Glukhovsky
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colonel anymore, he thought. Normally he always refused to give up even a single fighter. He felt something, that old wolf. But could he rely on his nose this time?
Istomin’s instincts said something completely different: Remain calm. Wait. The heavy infantry of the Sev astopolskay a would find some kind of mysterious and invincible enemy at the Tulskay a .
Vladimir Ivanovitsch searched his pockets, found his lighter and lit it. Smoke rings rose over him and he was looking directly into the mouth of the tunnel. Hypnotized – like a rabbit looking into the tempting mouth of a snake.
When he finished his smoke, he shook his head again and strolled back to his office. The adjutant broke free from the shadow of one of the pillars and followed him, but he kept his distance.
A dump rattling sound – a beam of light illuminated the first 50 meters of the ribbed tunnel; Hunters lamp was big and high-powered like a search light. Homer exhaled silently.
In the last minutes he thought that the brigadier would never turn on the light because his eyes didn’t it.
Since they had dove into the darkness he had nothing in common with a normal human being anymore. His movement was fluent and fast like of an animal. It seemed that he had only turned on the light for his followers, he only trusted his senses. He had put down his helmet and was listening to the sounds of the tunnel. Again and again. From time to time he inhaled the rusted air as if he could smell something, which only made his suspicions stronger.
Hunter stepped through the tunnel without making any sounds and he didn’t look back. It seemed that he had forgotten their existence. Achmed who only accusingly had guard duty at the southern guard post and because of that didn’t know the habits of the brigadier poked the old man in his side: What was going on with him? Homer spread his arms. How was he supposed to explain it to him in two words?
Why did he even need them? Hunter seemed to feel considerably securer in these tunnels than Homer. At the same time he would have thought himself to be the guide of the group. If he would have asked the old man he could have told him much about this region. Legends but also true stories that were mostly more terrible and bizarre than the unlikely stories that the guards told themselves at the lonely guard fire when they were bored.
Homer had a different metro plan in his head – Istomin’s map was nothing compared to it. He could have filled all the white parts with his own markings and notes.
Vertical shafts, open ones, even some operational service rooms and connecting lines like spider webs. As an example of his plan there was a junction between the Sev astopolskaya and the Juschnaya , so one station to the south, it ended like a gigantic hose at the gigantic train depot, the Warschav skoye that had gathered dozens of side tunnels like small veins.
Homer that had a holy awe for trains saw this depot as a dark but also mysterious place, like some kind of elephant graveyard; he could talk about it for hours, provided that there were listeners.
Homer thought that the section between the Sev astopolskaya and the Nachimov ski prospect was especially difficult. Preclusions and a healthy human mind demanded that they stayed together, moved forwards slowly, carefully, watching the walls and the floor at all times.
You couldn’t even keep the tunnel, where all vents and cracks had been bricked up and sealed by the construction teams of the Sev astopolskay a , behind you out of your sight.
The darkness had only been ripped open by their light for a short time and had already grown together again. The echo of their footsteps was thrown back from the rips of the tunnel segments and somewhere in the distance a lonely wind howled through the vents. Big, heavy drops gathered in the cracks on the ceiling and fell down. Maybe they were only made out of water but Homer preferred to move out of their way. Just to make
Istomin’s instincts said something completely different: Remain calm. Wait. The heavy infantry of the Sev astopolskay a would find some kind of mysterious and invincible enemy at the Tulskay a .
Vladimir Ivanovitsch searched his pockets, found his lighter and lit it. Smoke rings rose over him and he was looking directly into the mouth of the tunnel. Hypnotized – like a rabbit looking into the tempting mouth of a snake.
When he finished his smoke, he shook his head again and strolled back to his office. The adjutant broke free from the shadow of one of the pillars and followed him, but he kept his distance.
A dump rattling sound – a beam of light illuminated the first 50 meters of the ribbed tunnel; Hunters lamp was big and high-powered like a search light. Homer exhaled silently.
In the last minutes he thought that the brigadier would never turn on the light because his eyes didn’t it.
Since they had dove into the darkness he had nothing in common with a normal human being anymore. His movement was fluent and fast like of an animal. It seemed that he had only turned on the light for his followers, he only trusted his senses. He had put down his helmet and was listening to the sounds of the tunnel. Again and again. From time to time he inhaled the rusted air as if he could smell something, which only made his suspicions stronger.
Hunter stepped through the tunnel without making any sounds and he didn’t look back. It seemed that he had forgotten their existence. Achmed who only accusingly had guard duty at the southern guard post and because of that didn’t know the habits of the brigadier poked the old man in his side: What was going on with him? Homer spread his arms. How was he supposed to explain it to him in two words?
Why did he even need them? Hunter seemed to feel considerably securer in these tunnels than Homer. At the same time he would have thought himself to be the guide of the group. If he would have asked the old man he could have told him much about this region. Legends but also true stories that were mostly more terrible and bizarre than the unlikely stories that the guards told themselves at the lonely guard fire when they were bored.
Homer had a different metro plan in his head – Istomin’s map was nothing compared to it. He could have filled all the white parts with his own markings and notes.
Vertical shafts, open ones, even some operational service rooms and connecting lines like spider webs. As an example of his plan there was a junction between the Sev astopolskaya and the Juschnaya , so one station to the south, it ended like a gigantic hose at the gigantic train depot, the Warschav skoye that had gathered dozens of side tunnels like small veins.
Homer that had a holy awe for trains saw this depot as a dark but also mysterious place, like some kind of elephant graveyard; he could talk about it for hours, provided that there were listeners.
Homer thought that the section between the Sev astopolskaya and the Nachimov ski prospect was especially difficult. Preclusions and a healthy human mind demanded that they stayed together, moved forwards slowly, carefully, watching the walls and the floor at all times.
You couldn’t even keep the tunnel, where all vents and cracks had been bricked up and sealed by the construction teams of the Sev astopolskay a , behind you out of your sight.
The darkness had only been ripped open by their light for a short time and had already grown together again. The echo of their footsteps was thrown back from the rips of the tunnel segments and somewhere in the distance a lonely wind howled through the vents. Big, heavy drops gathered in the cracks on the ceiling and fell down. Maybe they were only made out of water but Homer preferred to move out of their way. Just to make
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