Chapter 4: Subhumanity
Alexandr – Day 1 – 14:24
I woke up in a claustrophobic ceramic tiled room, stripped of all of my equipment and under the glow of a dim red light. I was on my knees with my hands tied behind my back. My face pulsed with pain where the soldier had hit it with his weapon. I left my head slumped down and just stared at the floor. A hand grabbed the hair on the back of my head and forcefully tilted it back so that I was blearily looking at the middle-aged man in front of me. He ordered me to stay in place as he raised a large metal calliper up to my sight. He extended it and placed the two cold sharp points on the bottom of my chin and the top of my shaking head before fixing the distance in place, removing the calliper, and measuring the distance with a ruler on the floor.
"Hurry up and measure him. The Sturmbannführer is delivering his speech soon," said another person behind him.
The instrument moved to the tips of both of my cheek bones and he did the same with that measurement.
The man directly in front of me spoke to the other behind him as he continued to feel the shape of my head. "He looks normal. Should we send him off anyway?"
"He's a Hansa spy, isn't he?"
"That's what the squad that found him reported." He stopped what he was doing and looked into my eyes. "Is this true?"
I couldn't respond, I completely lacked the energy. I simply stared at him as my eyelids were willing me to lose consciousness again. The man in front of me slapped me hard across the face but held me in place with his other hand as the second man behind him approached and said, "If you don't answer our questions, we have to assume the worst of you." They waited for a few more seconds, during which I didn't make any attempt to respond, until he eventually continued. "Fine. Tape his mouth and get him to the rest of the freaks. Quickly." The second man left the room through the large metal door on the other side of the small room as the cut a length of electrical tape and covered my mouth with it.
He aggressively pulled me to my feet, which could only just support my weight, and pushed me through the door. Behind it was a similarly decorated hallway with nine other doors that led to more cells like mine. I stumbled and fell into the wall as the man pushed me down the corridor. In the distance, I could hear the aforementioned speech begin. "Soon, my friends. Soon we begin our attack on the mutant-loving Reds!"
As the speech continued, we passed several exits that were being guarded by heavily armoured soldiers and reached the end of the corridor where five other prisoners stood in a similar situation to me. Two of them were women and the rest men. They all looked beaten, bloody and terrified. My captor tied us all together and, when the speech-giver shouted 'bring out the scum,' the two guiding Nazis pushed us forwards and to the left, where we walked up a couple of wooden steps and onto a flimsy wooden stage. We were stopped once we were all on it and turned to look at the huge crowd in the dim light before us. There must have been over one hundred people there, it was terrifying. How can they all watch this? I asked myself. The crowd chanted in unison as they excitedly shuffled around the large station's platform. I frantically looked around the huge room for any way out, but found absolutely nothing.
There was one person in the crowd that I noticed, however. They were making a concerted effort to move towards the front and they didn't seem to be quite in time with the chanting. He looked right at me but clearly didn't want me to notice as he averted his gaze as soon as he saw me looking at him. I stopped listening to the speech completely, I just watched this man move forwards in the crowd. Once he was only a few people from the front, I realised who it was. Ilia! He followed me! A glimmer of hope ran through my body but I desperately tried not to show it; I didn't want to get him found out. He was doing an awful job of blending in, though. One man next to him looked particularly suspicious of him after each chant.
I zoned back into the speech as the 'Sturmbannführer' wrapped it up by shouting, "Make your Führer proud!"
The crowd chanted once more before my captor came up behind me and pushed me forward as he shouted, "Move, scum!" We were ushered off the stage in the opposite direction to the one we had entered in. We moved down the couple of stairs and to the front of the crowd where stairs to the station above led. The crowd yelled abuse at us as we passed, shouting nonsensical insults such as 'twelve fingers', 'no-dick' and simply 'snout fucker'. A man at the front of the crowd spat at me, hitting me on my forehead, as others did the same with thankfully less accuracy. We were pushed single file up the stairs and through the long and dull transfer tunnel that linked Chekhovskaya and Pushkinskaya stations. A huge crowd followed us and threw more insults our way but, fortunately, the guards behind us kept them at bay. I began to wish that I'd listened to the speech, it might have meant that I had some sort of a clue where I was being taken. One of the other prisoners in my line collapsed from fatigue and brought the other two around them to the ground with them. I stumbled but managed to stay upright as I was far enough down the line. Our escorts moved to the point of issue and violently pulled them to their feet with little concern given to the pain they were causing before pushing us all forwards again.
As we approached Pushkinskaya station, we heard the huge blast doors that separated the station and its tunnels begin to open. We rounded a corner and came across the emptier part of the Nazi territory. The middle section had a smattering of guards trying to look busy as they stood near several wooden and metal boxes of various supplies. One alcove contained several open boxes of weapons with a few AKs leaning on them and was guarded by three of the Reich's soldiers. We were led to the right-hand platform where a hand cart was being prepared on the rails. The cart was a simple design; a small flat platform that could seat four on its wooden box seats, two at the front and two at the back, with two handles that had to manually pump to power the cart and extended from the centre to the middles of both sides. A metal mesh sat behind the seats on the front and back of the cart and a small oil lantern sat in the front to light very little. The cart had a flatbed trailer in tow that was full of boxes that seemed to contain food and weapons. The doors leading out of the station finished their long opening process with a metallic crash that echoed through the station. We were guided to a group of four people next to the cart, two officers and two soldiers. The crowd gathered behind us as the officers began whatever they had planned.
"Separate them," one of the officers said, making the two soldiers begin to cut the ropes that bound us together. The officer pointed at me and one of the other men. "They'll drive." Our hands were briefly untied before they were retied in front of us instead. They put a red armband that displayed the Reich's swastika on each of the six of us. "Load them up," the officer ordered once we were bound again. Two of my fellow captives were pushed onto the cart to sit on the far seats, then I and the other rebound prisoner were placed in the centre with the final two next. A couple of them tried to resist but it was completely futile; none of us had the energy to fight back. The two soldiers stood on the small outcropping at the back of the cart and held their rifles with one hand and the metal mesh with the other.
"We are a generous people! The Führer is a generous man!" The other officer shouted to the gathering crowd as we tried to get as comfortable as possible in the cramped cart. "We are granting these mutants a far greater death than they are worthy." Death?! I should have listened to the speech. What had happened to Ilia? Terrible thoughts raced through my mind, I feared the worst. Maybe he had been found, maybe he had somehow joined the Nazis; I was sure that he would have come up with some incredible plan to save me by now if he was still ok.
"Hands on the pump," commanded one of the gruff soldiers to me and the prisoner opposite. I looked up at him and he stared me down. Terrified, I obliged and stood up to grip the handle as the other captive reached down to his; mine was raised whereas my counterpart's was near the floor and they would alternate as we pumped.
"These freaks will die at the hands of the Reds for the Reich. May we all be so lucky!" The officer continued before turning to us. "Go! Now!"
"Pump." The soldier behind me was menacing enough to make me immediately push the stiff lever down with all of my strength. The lever squeaked in an ear-piercingly high-pitched tone as the other captive's lever raised as much as I pushed mine down. The wheels of the cart creaked and stuck as they unseized. We slowly pushed off from the platform as the crowd began to cheer. The other man pushed his side down, causing mine to rise and slightly speed the cart up. After just my second push, I was exhausted. I was already weak and this cart was old and stiff. The other man looked at me with fear in his eyes as he continued. We passed through the blast door and past the outside guard post, where the five soldiers on station cheered and yelled abuse at us. The door began to close as I pushed down the lever again. As we left the boundaries of the station, the dim lighting in the tunnel gave way to complete darkness, minimally mitigated by the pathetic oil lamp at the front of our cart. The two soldiers turned on their weapon's flashlights and began to scan the tunnel before us as we slowly advanced.
We continued for another five minutes until my arms were completely numb and sweat drenched my entire body. Against my mind's will, my body let go of the handle and I slumped down on the seat. The other prisoner's eyes gave me a flicker of fear before he saw an opportunity for a break and followed.
"Did I order you to stop?" One of the soldiers behind me roared. I didn't have the energy to acknowledge him. He leant forward and menacingly said, "Are you tired or something?" I looked up at him and nodded as I unsuccessfully tried to speak through the tape over my mouth. "Do you want a break?" I nodded again. "Do you want me to put your balls in a vice?" My eyes widened and my legs clenched at that prospect. "No? Well get to fucking work!" I leapt up and pushed the lever down with what remaining energy I had as my counterpart readied himself to do the same.
I was dead. I knew it. I was being sent to the Red Line with no weapon, no energy, and not even free hands. There was no way that Ilia could possibly rescue me this time.
. . .
It took us another fifteen minutes of exhausting pumping to reach the point where one of the soldiers told us to slow down. The tunnel split earlier than most others and we found ourselves in an even more claustrophobic environment as we inched towards the Red Line. We were eventually told to stop pumping altogether and the cart slowed to a stop over a long period of time. They'd clearly done this journey a few times before as the cart came to a stop perfectly at a small Reich outpost in the tunnel. Small barricades flanked the tracks and two DShK machine guns had been set up to face the Red's direction. Six soldiers sat in two groups of three on opposite sides with a campfire for each group. As we approached, they stood up and began to remove the supplies for the rear cart.
"Out," said one of the soldiers bluntly. We all obliged and hurried off the cart. I nearly collapsed as I hit the floor that was further away than I originally thought, but one of my fellow captives propped me up with their body. The soldiers followed us off shortly after. "Forward," the same soldier said. We all glanced at each other before taking tentative steps in the direction we had already been heading. We walked in two lines of three with me in the centre-back. "Faster." We sped up as much as we could which resulted in a normal walking pace for healthy people.
The soldiers briefly hung back to talk to the guards at the post as I desperately searched for any way out, I could see everyone else doing the same as well. The soldiers quickly caught up to us and we began to follow the soldiers' lights around. I noticed a few small alcoves formed where the tunnel had collapsed slightly, but nothing major that I could escape though.
"If you're thinking of running," one of the soldiers began, "Remember, you have a chance against the Reds. We won't miss."
After a short time of walking, we were stopped at a door that led to a maintenance tunnel on the right side of the main tunnel. Our escorts aggressively pulled the door open before pushing us in, making us follow their flashlights from the back. It was clear that the tunnel was well-used but not maintained, clearly a less-than-well-known route to Lubyanka for the fascists to use. It didn't take long before we were back in a main tunnel being pushed forwards by the soldiers.
After five minutes of tense walking, the soldiers stopped us. We saw the beginnings of the Red occupation. A small campfire surrounded by decaying chairs sat in the centre of the tunnel. Probably an old checkpoint. The soldiers made us carry on while they stayed a few feet back.
The tunnel was suddenly illuminated by a blinding white spotlight. "Stop!" Yelled a voice in the distance. "Who goes there?!"
We stopped in place and desperately looked around for anything that would help us, but nothing came of it. The Nazis fired their weapons towards the source of the light and shouted, "Run, maggots!"
Deafening return fire came our way as we ran as fast as we could forward and away from the Reich's weapons that had now stopped firing. We spread out and two of us were cut down immediately. I tried shouting but couldn't make it past the tape across my mouth. I ran to the left of the tunnel and looked for any sort of cover as another of my companions slumped to the ground after losing a large chunk of their head to the large rounds being fired at us. Spotting another alcove in the tunnel, I bolted for it, narrowly avoiding bullets that skipped across the floor and flew past my head. The chaos around me faded away into a deafening drone as I focused on nothing but my survival. I completely forgot about the other prisoners, those that I felt some sort of connection with despite only spending a brief and mute time with them.
I collapsed in the alcove and curled up against the wall to make myself as small as possible. Bullets hit the side as they took huge chunks out of the concrete and kicked up dust around me that irritated my eyes and nose as I unsuccessfully tried to break free from my bindings. I even failed to rip the tape from my mouth because it was so tough and my hands were so weak. One of the prisoners darted for my cover but was hit in the leg. She fell over and cracked her head on the metal rail, dying instantly. I averted my gaze and started to hyperventilate as her blood began to pool on the floor.
The firing ceased a minute later. There was a moment of calm before I started to hear two sets of footsteps moving up the tunnel from the Reds' side.
"Oh shit," a young sounding soldier said with worry and regret. "They were prisoners."
"Fucking Nazis," said an older man.
"Are any still alive?" I started to try and make any sound to get their attention. I'd lost the ability to stand on my own feet from a lack of energy, but I made the loudest muffled screams that I could. "Do you hear that?"
"Yes. Keep your weapon ready." The footsteps approached me as the two soldiers came into view. They both wore the standard red-army brown clothing with round metal helmets. They both held similar weapons to my 'Bastard' gun at the ready as they searched around the tunnel and followed my muffled moans to my location.
"Oh my God," the younger of the two said as he rushed over to me. He couldn't have been any older than eighteen; he looked skinny and had the beginnings of a stubbly beard growing. The older man behind him seemed to be in his mid-fifties and had a full grey beard with long grey hair coming down from his helmet. "I'm so sorry," the younger soldier said as he lowered to my level, put his weapon on the ground, and went to pull the tape from my mouth.
The tape stuck painfully to my face as he put some effort into removing it. My muscles tensed and I closed my eyes as it plucked the hairs from the pores around my mouth. With one final tear, he ripped it off as I shrieked in pain and exhaled heavily, finally able to breathe through my mouth.
"Fuck. Thank you so much," I said, not being able to think of much else.
"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" He frantically asked as he untied my hands.
I shook my head. "I'm shattered, but I'm not hurt too badly."
"Good," he said as he pulled out a small water canteen. "Drink this." I thanked him profusely and took a few sips of his deliciously refreshing water. "I'm so sorry for what we did. We thought you were Nazis attacking us."
"I know, I know. That's what they wanted."
"Boris!" The older man snapped. "Leave him and let's go. We can't stay here for long."
He turned his head to look at him. "Leave him? We can't leave him. He has nowhere to go but here or back to the Reich."
"We'll be executed if we take in a prisoner of the Reich."
"We can say we captured a Reich soldier. Look, they gave him an armband, it's perfect! Please, Dad. He needs our help."
The father thought for a tense moment. He looked back and forth between, me, his station, and the distant tunnel before looking down at me and sternly saying, "My priority is my family, understand?" I quickly nodded, hoping that he was going somewhere positive with this. "If we help you, you will not put us in danger." I nodded again. He thought again, before rolling his eyes and saying, "Ok. I suppose we can help."
"I can't thank you enough."
"Thank us later." He turned back to Boris. "Tie his hands back together and get him up. We need to make this convincing." He turned back to me as Boris began to tie my hands back up with the same rope. "Can you act like a Nazi?"
"Hail Führer, death to mutants. Right?"
"Should just about do it."
The two got me on my feet and began to help me stagger towards the bright light of the station's guard post. Some of my strength had come back but I certainly wasn't perfect.
As we approached the station, the two guards that remained shouted to us. "What did you find? Who is this?"
The father shouted back, "Nazi prisoner! Going to take him to Lieutenant Ledovskoy for interrogation."
"He looks like shit. You sure he's a soldier?"
"He didn't look like shit before we got to him."
A bout of laughter came from the tunnel. "You're too much. Come through!" The blinding light turned off and the blast door began to open as we came to the heavily fortified guard post. A combination of metal and sandbag barriers had been set up with a massive DShK machinegun. Ammo and weapons were spread around the post in boxes as well as simply being loose. The two more heavily armoured guards glared at me as we moved between them. They looked at Boris and his father and said, "You've still got a shift to finish. Come back once you've dropped the fascist off." My two guides nodded but didn't break stride. I tried to look menacing but I certainly didn't feel it. My new companions led me through the blast door and into the depressing station beyond.
It seemed as if this station's purpose was incredibly similar to that of my experience in the Nazi's Chekhovskaya. Directly in front of me was the fortified entrance to a collection of twenty tiny prison cells, ten built on top of the other ten, who's prisoners were clearly used to test the Reich's front lines. My nerves were eased when we diverted right to the other side of the station. We quickened our pace and moved into a gap between two poorly constructed storehouses. Boris untied my hands, ripped the armband off me, and whispered, "Ok, we're in. Act like you belong." I nodded and followed them out.
They led me to the living area of the station, where dozens of shanty buildings, made out of any material that could be acquired, were packed in as tight as they could be. Most only consisted of one small room to house an entire family. We walked a short distance down the central path before turning off to an even smaller path where we had to walk sideways to fit. We finally reached a large wooden board that acted as a makeshift door. Boris' father pried it open and revealed a small room, no bigger than ten-foot-wide and fifteen-foot-long. In it was a small table with a dim oil lamp in the centre, four chairs placed around it and an opening on the far side that led to another room. A black-haired woman in her mid-fifties dressed in dirty patchwork clothing was waiting inside and ran to hug Boris' father.
"I was so worried," she said. "I heard the fighting outside. What happened?" She went to give Boris a hug before she noticed me, took a step back, and raised an eyebrow. "Who's this?"
"Let's just get inside," the father quietly said. We all went inside and sat down at the table. "We can't stay for long, but this man was a prisoner of the Reich. They sent some of them at us to make us think they were attacking, this one survived."
"You can't bring him here. It's too dangerous."
"Mr Idealistic over here," he pointed towards Boris, "he wanted to save him."
"He would have died if we hadn't," Boris interjected.
"I'm sorry that we can't stay, but we have to get back to our post. Please, treat him well. We'll be back in a couple of hours." Boris' father kissed the woman on the cheek and began to leave with his son.
I stopped them when they were close to the door to say, "Thank you so much for doing this. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
Boris smiled while the father showed some semblance of happiness before saying, "We'll think of something. Take care."
They left me and the woman alone in their home. She stretched her hand out over the table towards me. "I'm Elena Fedorova, Mikail's wife."
I shook her hand and replied, "Alexandr Stepanov. Nice to meet you."
"What's your story? How did you end up here? You don't seem like the type to be meddling with the Nazis."
"I'm really not the type." I went on to explain the whole story. I didn't consider holding anything back, not even Ilia's name. I was so exhausted and drained that I threw caution to the wind and relinquished any and all information to those that had saved my life. I even told her what station I was from.
"So, you're from Hansa?" She asked once I had finished. I nodded, confused at the thought of that being the most important part of my story. She leant in and spoke even quieter. "What's it like? I hear that everyone's free to do as they wish and there are no restrictions. There aren't even any curfews."
"It's not quite all it's cracked up to be. We're pretty free, granted, but that means that the poor aren't looked after at all. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Plus, while members of Hansa can have decent lives, outsiders are very rarely allowed to join us. Hell, we only get to leave our station because we're friends with the door guards." I thought about the station we were in for a moment. "Still, I'd rather live there than most places in the Metro."
She listened and nodded along. "I've always wished to move to a Hansa station. This is such a shithole. At least in Hansa there can be rich people. Here, there's the poor and about three people at the top who can afford to feed themselves. I thought I agreed with Soviet ideals until we were moved here." I listened to her talk but I couldn't think of a response. I tried for a moment after she finished talking but came up blank, partially due to my exhaustion and partially because it was a really difficult sentiment to discuss with a stranger. "Sorry," she said after a while. "I'm just thinking out loud." She stood up and made motions towards the other doorway. "Tea? They say it's from VDNKh, but I don't believe them. It's still drinkable though."
I accepted her offer and she moved into the other room. When I heard her getting frustrated with her cheap gas burner since it wouldn't light, I checked my pockets on the off-chance that the Nazis had missed my wonderful bullet lighter. Somehow, they had. I was overjoyed and happily rushed into the room to give her a hand.
We talked over her mushroom tea for the few hours that Boris and Mikail were gone. She was very agreeable, nothing like I'd imagined those that lived in the Red Line. Back home, we'd always thought of them as being completely obsessed with communism and their leader, General Secretary Moskvin. This clearly wasn't the case. Elena voiced numerous concerns and complaints about the state of the Red Line, from its corrupt leaders to the soldiers' terrible pay that they were heavily encouraged to shoot at their enemies rather than spend on necessities.
Mikail and Boris came back, terrifying the both of us as they wrenched open the 'door' and moved inside to join us. Elena made them tea and we caught them up on everything that we had talked about.
"I assume you don't plan on staying in this station," Mikail said once everyone was caught up. I tentatively shook my head, hoping that I wasn't massively offending them. "Good. You'll only get yourself killed if you stay. I've heard of a man that can help you. Our government has been hunting him for ages since he's been helping refugees escape the Red Line for years. His name's Andrew the Blacksmith and he lives in Kuznetsky Most, the Armoury to most people, which is only a transfer tunnel away. I'm afraid I know no more than that."
"Wow, thank you," I said, astonished at the generosity of this family. "I really can't thank you all enough for everything."
"There's one thing you could do for us," he quickly said with a sense of urgency.
"Anything," I sincerely responded.
"We have a daughter, her name's Sofia." I could see sadness starting to penetrate his outer shell. "She was expelled from the station a few days ago, we weren't even told why. From what we can tell, she probably would have ended up in Kitay-Gorod, a hateful place full of criminals. If you can escape the Armoury, you'll probably have to go there as well. If you do, please look for her and make sure she's safe."
"You have my word. It's the least I can do."
