Chapter 29: What Comes Next
Artyom apprehensively imagined what might be awaiting him at the end of this network of subterranean pipes and passageways. He had marched on for several meters in a state of blind and hopeful faith in the stranger who had shoved him down into this cavern, spurred by the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Yet so many worries tangled his thoughts and slowed his steps. Crouching down near an outcrop of glowing plant matter he started to pick it all apart, string by taught and knotted string. The hooded stranger must have had a motivation in his actions; nobody is so benevolent in the Metro as to help someone without wanting or gaining something in return. So, was he a Ranger? Or at least someone allied with the Order? Perhaps it was a failsafe: someone Melnik ordered to shadow him and Aleks in case something went wrong. And Melnik knew that something would go wrong, he was expecting Aleks or Artyom to fail at even the simple task of surface recon.
"No, no!" Artyom whispered to himself, shaking his head and scrunching up his face in a frustrated expression nobody would even see. He lifted his visor and wiped the sweat from his eyes.
That couldn't be possible. Melnik adored Aleks, he'd fawned over her tactical skills and knowledge, and expressed his regret that she hadn't come to meet him sooner. Even if she had never met Hunter and had applied to join the Order as an individual with a clear background, they still would have accepted her. And with all the 'Savior of the Metro' crap still bubbling around every station, Melnik wouldn't possibly allow Artyom's image to tarnish. Perhaps it was another ally of the Order who just happened to be there at the right time to help him? But did either of them know where this tunnel led to? Did the stranger know who Artyom was, where he'd come from, or where he was going back to? If it was another Ranger then why the secrecy – covering his visor with a cloak as dark as the tunnels. That didn't make sense for someone in the Order to do; there had to be another explanation. If the strange man who had overtaken him wasn't a Ranger, then maybe he was leading Artyom to his death under the guise of assistance? Another Nazi soldier? Ivashov? Sturmann?
Artyom's stomach turned and tightened as his mind latched on to another idea. What if this had been the plan all along? Not just in the journey from Avtozavod but beyond that. What if everything Aleks said had been a lie? What if she went through all of this because she was on her own extended mission from the Nazis? Gain information about D6 and lead Artyom astray just so she could get "captured" and give up all of the Order's secrets. Yet if that had truly been her goal, she had plenty of other opportunities to be more efficient with that plan. Even further, why would she go to all that length of trouble to see Melnik if none of her history was true? Melnik had already known about her, too, and he had granted Aleks access to D6 without even seeing her in person first. It all checked out. Artyom had to accept her reality at face value. He imagined her in his mind telling her stories: pouring out her heart for Hunter, dreaming about finding her father in Emerald City someday, the real fear and rage in her eyes when her life in the Reich was spoken of. She hated the Nazis. She feared them.
He felt stupid, as if he should have been able to guess at her situation from the bits and pieces of information that had been in front of him: all the mystery, avoiding Sturmann at the Hansa checkpoint, her willingness to betray her former home station and spy on them. So, when her revelation finally hit his ears, he was less surprised and more relieved to finally have all the pieces put together for him. He wanted to be angry with her for lying but every directed blow in his mind deflected and redirected itself to another surrounding factor. She had her reasons to keep such a big secret, and her sobering sentence echoed in his mind, they had only just met. There was a lot that he didn't know about her life, her thought process, her goals and hopes and dreams. But he knew her fears, her regrets, and her sorrows. He was absolutely not going to doubt her now, and he was not going to leave her fate in the hands of the enemy whom she risked so much to run and hide from. He needed to prove his own trust in her to Melnik and the rest of the Order if any hope was to remain for a rescue effort.
Artyom started forward again, gripping the textured silencer of the Vintorez and using it like a cane, still wondering where this mucky brick and concrete labyrinth would lead him. There was no other way to find out but to keep going, the path being rather straightforward despite its meandering; all forks in the road were marked or covered up so he didn't have to guess which way to turn. Obviously, this was a passage that had been used more than a few times – but by who? He suddenly let out a breath and made his final decision on the matter: wherever he ended up he would deal with it then. If he tumbled out of this catacomb near Mayakovskaya then he would put the helpful stranger out of his mind and hurry back to D6. If he ended up in Reich then he would not hesitate to find Aleks and shoot his way out.
The flashlight on his helmet began to flicker, and then shorted out entirely with a crackle. He tapped at the plastic casing to no result. Groaning with frustration, he rummaged in his cargo pocket for his trench lighter and pulled at the flint wheel until a bright orange flame sprung to life. He held his arm out in front of himself, illuminating the strings of pipes and wires strung up along the walls. He wondered what they were all for, if these underground halls held the veins which carried the life blood of the city when it was alive. Water, electricity, phone signals, everything that kept people connected. Now the lines just slumped lifelessly in their shackles, many were severed and a few threw out the last few sparks of hope. The population was reduced to squabbling groups of sub-human animals who would rather argue and kill than work together. But some of these lines had to be connected still, lots of stations still had running water, the big stations still had telephones with which to call their neighbors for information or negotiations. He had seen Melnik on the phone as often as he'd seen him geared up for missions, always keeping up appearances with some other commander. Diplomacy was just as important as water and electricity, and sometimes the connection had to be made in person. 'We are the wire, we are the blood in the veins,' Artyom whispered gloomily.
A low rumbling sound interrupted his thoughts as he had counted the brackets and daydreamed. Clutching the Vintorez a little tighter under his arm, he turned and angled the lighter behind him, but nothing revealed itself. There hadn't been any offshoots of this corridor, no side-passages or rooms that might conceal danger, so he didn't know what to assume might be lurking nearby that could have made such a sound. The ground of this passage was powdery dirt and dry moss, packed tightly and making the ceiling seem uncomfortably low. He turned forward again; there was a faint greenish light ahead in the distance.
"…my stepfather," Alek's voice suddenly echoed next to his left ear, "Diplomatic immunity… only Hunter knew the truth."
Artyom halted, his heartbeat surged, and he shined the flame towards the source of the noise but there was nothing except for the rusty walls and wires. Where had the voice come from? Was it all in his head?
"You're the only one here that I can trust…" bellowed Hunter's voice in his right ear, "you must tell Melnik… if I don't return."
"Hunter?" Artyom gasped for breath, swinging the lighter from side to side so quickly that it nearly went out. He fumbled to lift the Vintorez onto his shoulder, searching unsuccessfully for a target. Not another haunted hallway, he thought for a moment, "I won't let it get to me."
"You take good care of her," Nikolai commanded sternly from behind him, "Don't let her out of your sight."
"Nikolai," Artyom whispered breathlessly, acknowledging the memory but not turning around this time, "I won't… let you down." His promise echoed both internally and externally but he hadn't spoken the words himself.
"I'm glad… I could trust you, Artyom," Aleks cooed faintly, repeating his name, "Artyom…"
"Aleks, we'll come back for you!" Artyom cried out in a weak voice, tears brimming behind his eyes. Angry, frustrated, and determined tears.
"I'm floating around… in the stars." Aleks's voice sounded peaceful, undisturbed by the events that had just taken place. Had she lied to him about her safety in the hands of Ivanovich and the rest of the Nazi squad?
"Don't talk like that!" Artyom spat out, "I'll come back for you!"
A fresh surge of energy rushed through him like the electricity in the wires on the wall, and it flooded his heart with purpose. He slung the strap of the Vintorez over his shoulder and crawled with one arm towards the green light, barely holding the lighter flame high enough to see the tunnel. His fingers clawed into the packed dirt and slimy moss, every hobbling movement brought the light a little closer, but his body felt so heavy – as if some dark force was holding him back.
"I'll tell Melnik," Artyom managed to project through clenched teeth. It felt like he was dragging a great weight behind him. Invisible ropes coiled around his chest, his shoulders, his neck, tightening with each inch he crept forward. He closed off the flame of the lighter and shoved it back in his pocket so that he could use both hands for traction. The end of the passage was so close, and he could see that the source of the green glow was an exit sign above a plain metal door in a small square room. If he could just get to the edge of the floor, the end of the catacomb, he knew he would be safe. "I have to go, I have to!"
He threw out his arm and gripped the corner of the wall, heaving himself forward and free of the weight of the memories. His body launched forward like a stretched-out rubber band being released and he rolled on to his back and caught his breath. The spectral rumbling sounded again but from deep inside the tunnel where he'd just come from. Whatever force had spoken to him and tried to hold him back had lost its grip and retreated back into the darkness. With a final sigh of relief he picked himself up and tried the handle of the door; locked or rusted shut, he couldn't tell. He kicked it a few times forcefully, but it was as if there was concrete filled in behind it. He took a step back and glanced around the room for clues; a small white arrow was painted on the wall behind him, indicating a few bars of metal that led up into a square recess on the ceiling. An air ventilation shaft. Would it take him back into Mayakovskaya the way Aleks had crawled into the station and above the tavern? Would he be so lucky?
With no other options and the adrenaline still pulsing, he cast aside the hesitant feeling in his chest and began ascending the rungs of rebar stuck into the wall. He angled his body clumsily into the same sort of square air ducts he had seen all over the Metro. Aside from some cobwebs, this passage seemed much brighter. Every few meters were large side vents which let in the light of whatever station was beneath him. He paused and peeked through the slats of one, a dull roar of conversation beginning to reach his ears. None of the words were clear but the tone seemed calm and jovial. A little further on he could make out the voices of several men, perhaps on watch or around one of the communal campfires.
"Oh, shut up with that crap Konstantin! You want to hear a real ghost story?" Rambled an inebriated older man.
"Shut up yourself, Ilya! No way you can do better than the ghost train at Sebastapolskaya!" Replied another man with a huff.
"Oh but I can, and I will!" Continued the first fellow, suddenly lowering his voice as he began the tale. "I know that none of you here would have heard of what happened at the Dyatlov Pass."
"The what? Just where is that, now? And when?" The second man grunted.
"It was back in the 50's, way out in the Urals. A group of people set out to go for a hike in the mountains, only they went off course and died mysteriously." Ilya spoke slowly to draw out every trepid emotion and build suspense.
"So what? People die because of nature all the time!" Chimed in a third voice of a younger man.
"But you see it was freezing cold out there and lots of the hikers were found all beat up and scattered about; they had stripped off their clothes and ripped apart their tent and walked off into the woods. Some say they went crazy, that there was military testing or some kind of bad weather. One girl was missing her tongue and another had no eyes! How do you explain that?"
"Sure is spooky!" Confirmed the young man after hearing such a vibrant explanation. "If the place wasn't haunted then, well I bet it is now."
"So, what, they all turned on each other?" The second man continued in his tone of disbelief.
"Well, a few of them had taken the clothes of the dead and went on further, but where do you suppose they were trying to get to? Or get away from? The guy leading them was an expert skier and mountain climber, whatever happened wasn't just some rookie mistake."
Although the conversation was riveting as he shuffled by, the excited voices faded quickly as the next vent seemed to open to a separate enclosed room. Artyom decided that it was dark and quiet enough to crawl out from the air duct and try to make his way into and then out of the station. None of the men's voices or stories seemed to indicate any hostility, so he continued to hope that he had returned to Mayakovskaya. As he climbed down from the vent and went to the door of the narrow room, he peeked out into a long hallway with several doors and no other people. He stuck his head out of the room and listened hard, first focusing on one direction and then the other. To his right seemed to be a dead end and completely quiet, but on the left the whispers of human activity were sweeping along the passage. He only hesitated for a moment, deciding that he was better off going into the station than trying to continue in the silent maze of catacombs and ventilation ducts that had been planned out by some unknown faction. There were no more helpful markers or signs to indicate where he should head next, but again, the proper direction seemed to be to the left.
The dark hallway led out to a filthy black train tunnel and Artyom shined his headlamp along the walls for clues. He walked in one direction for several paces before the glow of light became apparent up head. Dingy Mayakovskaya was before him, and he hastily and silently pushed his way through the sparse groups of people going about their business. He didn't pause for even one seconds to see if anyone had found the fallen sentry at the hermetic door, but there didn't seem to be any abnormal levels of activity in the area so either it was already forgotten about or nobody had noticed that he was missing yet. Either way, Artyom didn't want to think about it anymore. He could keenly feel the steady passing of time as if every second he wasted was counting down the time that Aleks had left. He made his way back to the secret hallway that led to D6 as if nobody at all had even seen him, as if he was simply a ghost and the regular drudgery of human life couldn't even sense him let alone care what he was up to.
He flung himself down the winding stair column, regretfully musing to himself that he had just been here with Aleks and now he was returning without her. He would never have guessed that to be the case as they were making their way to the surface, but he admitted that he hadn't been able to picture their safe return together, either. The clock was still ticking, ticking, counting against him. Counting against her. He stumbled across the dusty platform to the control booth, swiping his hand across the switchboard to illuminate it and find the correct nodules that would contact the main control room at D6. A radio dial lit up and Artyom adjusted it to today's chosen frequency. Static sputtered from the speakers in the station and he pressed hard on the call button.
"Come in base, can you hear me? I need to speak with Colonel Melnik immediately." Artyom tried to speak calmly and clearly.
"Artyom is that you? You've returned already?" Spoke an unfamiliar voice apprehensively.
"Yes, it's me! Please connect me to headquarters right away." Artyom was breathless.
"Are you crazy? I can't just override the—" the radioman began, and then there was a shuffling sound.
"Artyom, what happened? Is Aleks there with you?" Out of the ancient speakers came the concerned yet still feminine voice of Anna. What in the hell was she doing standing around at the switches? She was probably the very last person he wanted to speak to right now.
"I need to speak to the Colonel. Now. Please." He tried to subvert having to report the situation to her, but he was running out of steam to keep himself from blurting everything out.
"He's preparing to go reinforce the guys at Kremlin, I'm the watch commander right now and you need to answer my questions." Anna sounded tired but invested in his answers, far more emotion than he had ever heard in her voice. How would she react to his account of all that had happened in the last two hours? What would she think of him and his failure to protect Aleks from the worst possible fate?
"Aleks is hurt, and she's… she was captured. She was taken by the fascists and we need to go after her, it's important!"
There was a short pause, white noise, and then a crackle mixed with a sigh.
"I'm sending a messenger to intercept him now; you better get back here quick and make your report." Anna replied flatly, the concern had abandoned her voice.
"I… yes, okay. Thank you." He was stunned by Anna's complacent support and cool attitude, no wonder she was put in charge of the duty watch.
"The train is on its way to you now, should only be a few minutes."
Artyom didn't answer, his finger hovering over the call button, but he had no reply.
"Artyom, how could… what went wrong?" Her human side was back again; it unlocked the defenses he had tried to build and he couldn't help but explain.
"We were up in the hotel building, the one on the corner, everything was fine but then the whole floor collapsed and… she was stuck under—I couldn't… get her… out." Artyom struggled to breathe and speak at the same time, squatting down and resting his head against the edge of the switchboard. The remainder of the anxiety and panic he had been feeling all day finally bubbled over, he'd held it all in so as not to show Aleks how worried he really was. He thought it was entirely possible that all of the fear and anguish that Aleks must have been feeling had jumped into him somehow. He had to experience it for her because she was too stubborn to show when she was weak, and she certainly wouldn't have wanted to show any weakness to those soldiers.
"Alright, calm down now, your mission isn't over yet." Anna reassured him gently, it gave him the strength to stand up.
"But what do I do now?" He said without pressing the button.
"The Colonel isn't going to be happy, Artyom. You'd better think very hard about what you're going to say to him when you get here. Main base out." Anna hadn't heard him, of course, but her answer was clear enough. The speakers clicked and then went silent.
Artyom breathed quietly for a few moments, taking in the enormity of the conversation and solidifying it. He was greatly relieved that Anna hadn't laid into him about what a huge catastrophe this operation had been, and hearing her sincere concern was both unexpected and consoling. Yet, she had grievously warned that Colonel Melnik would not be pleased to hear his report that Aleks had been captured. And Anna was sending a runner to intercept the commander on his way to his own mission. Although Artyom had known deep down that the Colonel would be severely disappointed to hear of the events, he hadn't yet prepared a full argument to convince the Colonel to go after Aleks. He would want to rescue her, too, right?
As soon as the mechanical barrier over the tracks hissed open, Artyom jolted upright and scrambled across the platform to board the monorail. The doors eased shut and the carriage hummed to life again. At first he sat tentatively on the edge of one of the seats, but jumped up again in anticipation of his arrival back at D6. Melnik or Anna might be right on the platform waiting for him and the quicker he got out the story, the quicker they could mount a rescue operation. He didn't even know how they would go about that yet, but it wasn't something he could begin to imagine right now. Pacing across the narrow width of the train body did little to calm his racing thoughts and so he slumped down into the front seat and stared at the floor.
He shifted the Vintorez from behind his back, and then suddenly remembered that Aleks had also handed him her cartridge from Hunter. He pulled the string out of his pocket and stared at the machine gun cartridge intently; his curiosity was brimming but opening the capsule felt as if he were breaking her trust somehow. Aleks had stated once that both of their signatures were written on the paper inside, that she and Hunter had made an agreement to protect each other – but what words might the stoic Ranger have chosen for such a relationship? He mindlessly began unscrewing the cap and carefully shaking out the yellowed paper from inside. If trust was at stake, well Aleks had already taken advantage of his trust on more than a few occasions. If he was able to return her keepsake, he wouldn't necessarily have to tell her that he had looked at the note. And maybe, just maybe, there would be some magic word that could help him convince Melnik to go after her. If Hunter had promised to protect her, surely that promise would extend beyond himself, beyond death?
Artyom unfolded the note carefully, smoothing it out and angling it into the light. As promised, the heavy-handed signature of Hunter was printed alongside the scratchy, rounded letters of Aleksandrya's name. There were only two other words printed on the strip of paper, and Artyom didn't understand them or their likely deeper sentimental meaning. But even without that intimate knowledge, he had the distinct sense that the real meaning had little to do with the phrase and everything to do with its inked intentions. Artyom gently folded the paper and tucked it back into the casing, this time sliding it into the breast pouch on his vest. If Melnik didn't want to hear what he had to say, then he had direct evidence from beyond the grave to fight with. He would bet his life that Melnik would understand what those two words meant. It was the last stop he would pull if he had to.