D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,3

not stop there. N and R, which use the same line–yes, but not Q. However, if there was really a change of service... Or has he nevertheless taken the wrong train? But no, it is unlikely the Eighth, there is a two-digit number. 28th? Q does not stop there, too, and more to the point–this vertical dash can not be "2" anyway. 18th Street? But it is somewhere on the red lines, and Q goes on the yellow ones...

Tony jumped up, wanting to leave before this train delivers him the devil knows where. But the doors had closed already. He swept his eyes over the car in search of subway maps which always hang in every car. But in this one they did not. Ubiquitous advertising was on the walls, but no maps. Electronic boards showing the current station also were absent.

But he found that he was not alone anymore.

Close to the opposite end of the car, a child sat. It seemed to be a boy, and not older than nine years. He was dressed in a thick jacket and a knitted cap–perhaps too warmly for September, even considering an evening cold snap. But the main point–why is a little child alone in the subway after one o'clock at night? What are his parents thinking and does he have parents at all?

The child sat motionlessly, probably slept, too. His cap was drawn so low that it covered his eyes and his chin hid in a jacket collar. Logan reflected on whether it was necessary to interfere. Probably, the boy was lost or had run away from home. On the other hand, Tony did not enjoy the prospect of the additional fuss if it was necessary to call the police or other authorities. Besides, modern children have learned to keep as far as possible from strangers... If such a demure little thing says "this bad man bothered me," try to prove then...

All right. He will simply ask the boy whether help is necessary.

Tony passed along the car, continually catching the handrails (and why does this train shake so much? He didn't remember such jolting on this line), and stopped opposite the child.

"Hey, kid!" he called, not too loudly so as not to frighten. "Are you all right?"

The child did not answer and did not react at all. From above Tony could not see his face–only a cap from under which a thin peaky nose, similar to a bird's beak, stuck out. And something in this nose was... wrong. Repulsive.

Logan sat down on hunkers before the silent child, clinging by hand to an empty seat to the left. Even in such a position, Tony did not see clearly the face hidden by a cap and a collar. Only a bone white nose-beak bent from top to bottom, and sharply prominent cheekbones with deep shadows under them. The boy was probably very thin, even emaciated.

Tony called him again, but the child still did not move nor in any way showed that he heard. Logan felt real dismay at the silence of this strange child in an empty night train. Most of all he would like to stand up and go away–not even to his former seat, but to another car. Nevertheless, he reached out and, having mumbled, "Don't be afraid, I only want to see whether you are okay," pulled the cap from the boy.

And was struck dumb with an open mouth.

The head appeared to be almost absolutely bald, only here and there, like mold stains, weightless white shreds grew. The mushroom-like skull was fitted with a dry skin, all in senile pigment spots and so thin that it seemed likely to tear at any moment; under the skin knotty blue veins boldly bulged. An unnaturally big forehead, standing out like two hillocks, hung over the small wrinkled face which had gathered in folds around the fallen-in mouth and deeply sunken eyes. These eyes, the muddy sick eyes of a decrepit old man, were open and looked directly at Logan, without moving and without blinking.

"S-sorry," Tony stammered, put the cap on the knees of the sitting child, and hastily stood up. He felt too awkward to remain here, so he decided to go to the next car. Ignoring a sign forbidding transiting cars on the move, he opened the car door and stepped into the space between cars. The tunnel roar deafened him, and the cold wind angrily jerked his hair and shirt. The clanking metal of two narrow semicircular platforms shook underfoot