D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,10

her heels. Tony could not distinguish any details other than that her clothes, apparently, were really wet and hung sticking around her body.

But he saw something else. The Black man sat directly opposite to him.

However, fire flaring behind Tony's back allowed him to discern only the general silhouette of a heavy figure. Not a single facial feature; Tony could not even see if the man's eyes were open or closed. But he, in his turn, Logan understood, should see my face well enough...

Tony did not know what inspired more dismay–the prospect of remaining seated opposite the silent black figure or exiting at such station. Nevertheless he forced himself to rise sharply–and at the same moment almost fell to the floor. His right leg gave way like rubber; he could not feel it. Obviously, it was numb due to sitting a long time in an awkward pose when he did not dare to move near that wet passenger... Having lost his balance, Tony reflexively threw his hand forward while already knowing what would happen next–and indeed, at the following instant his hand stuck the Black man's shoulder with some force.

Logan not so much heard as felt an unpleasant crunch under his fingers.

"Oh my God," Tony thought, "I've broken his collar bone!"

"S-sorry," he stammered. "Are you all right?"

Logan was not very much surprised when he heard no answer. But just in case he moved back and to the side.

Doors slammed and, beyond the car window, dirty smoked letters, dimly lit with crimson shimmer, crept: "Worth Street."

Logan would not swear that he knew the nearly five hundred stations of the New York subway, but was still confident that there was no Worth Street Station among them. Be it in any distant suburb of Bronx or Queens which he never visited, he still could doubt–but not in Brooklyn. In Brooklyn there is no street with such a name. presents in southern Manhattan (how could he appear there again?!), but on it there is no subway station. For this he was ready to be charged by life.

However, at the same moment he thought that in current circumstances it is better to refrain from such guarantees.

The fire passed behind with the mysterious station, and Tony again found himself in a roaring, shaking darkness. He took some steps teetering in the aisle (his leg still didn't obey him very well), then plopped down on a seat, fortunately, not occupied by anybody. Then his left hand touched his wet trouser leg–no, it definitely was not sticky–and with fastidious care he brought his fingers to his nose.

Definitely not blood and not beer. And not urine. Water, he thought. Simply cold water...

With an oozy river smell which could hardly belong to rain drops.

The situation with his right hand was even worse. He could not say any longer that he smelled the burnt stench from the fire at the station. His palm was soiled by something that he, of course, could not see, but by smell and touch it resembled a thick layer of soot.

In the windows light began to dawn. The train at last rode to a lit station. However, this station also looked rather strange. The platform was curved like an arc under vaulted, semicircular ceilings; the arches which led somewhere into darkness were semicircular also. Capital letters "CITY HALL" floated beyond the car windows. But it obviously was not City Hall on route R in Manhattan, which Logan knew well...

The train, still dark within, opened its doors. Now it was easier to choose between darkness and light. Moreover, Tony's sixth sense told him that the train wouldn't go farther. The City Hall-R station could be intermediate, but this one was definitely final.

Tony darted a cautious glance towards the Black man–but saw nobody. Logan again was absolutely alone in the car. Could the dark silent figure just seem to have existed in the dim light? No, impossible. After all, he not only saw it...

And the black soot on Logan's palm confirmed it.

"Probably, that guy rose and went to the next car and his leaving was not audible because of train noise," Tony told himself, wiping a dirty hand against a handrail. "Though why would he have needed to move? Well, what the hell is the difference! Anyhow, before the doors slammed again, I need to get out of here."

Tony hastily left the car. He was not too surprised to see nobody else on the platform. Only its central part was lit and even it was dim; both ends of