D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,27

eyes across the piece of paper.

It was not a schedule. There were only two sentences–large and distinct enough.

Sentences appropriate for an exit from a shop, but not in any way for a cemetery.

"Thank you for visiting us. See you soon!"

"Probably, some pranksters must have stolen a poster from a shop to hang it here," Logan thought. "Pranksters, yes. Teenagers having a good time. They got into a cemetery at night, hid in the old abandoned crypt–probably, there is really a fracture in its back wall–and are frightening casual passersby. Now, I suppose, they are rolling with laughter, remembering how I rushed away..."

Oh yes. Only what is the probability, that in a huge desolate cemetery a casual passerby will approach a certain crypt? What, in general, is the probability of meeting a casual passerby here at night? Personally he has not met any. Though, apparently, has heard one...

If that was a passerby.

And the statues. And all the rest. And the fact that on Manhattan there is, and can be, neither such a cemetery, nor such a Broadway, nor such a City Hall...

But then Tony, who at last found himself on the other side of the gate, saw in the street stretching away from the cemetery something that allowed him again to sigh with relief. White-blue letters shone "CHASE." Though Logan was not a client of this bank, this picture was so natural and ordinary that it was difficult not to believe that the nightmare had ended, he was again in the real world. And, in general, the street along which he hastily walked had a normal appearance at last–no ominous stone slums and decaying wooden wrecks, only the usual multistory buildings with shops and offices in the ground floors... At night, of course, all of them were closed with metal shutters hiding front windows, but signs over many of the shops still had eye-catching neon lights.

Passing by the branch bank–one of few offices where windows and doors were not closed by shutters since ATMs operate round the clock–Tony gave it a captious look. What if it also is like those posters... or the postal service motto... But no, the lit sign differed in no way from the familiar. Through dark glass the hall with ATMs was seen; if Tony had had a Chase plastic card, he could have entered there. For an instant an absolutely wild thought flashed in his mind–to break the glass and to wait for the police to arrive, and let the officers completely return him into reality. Eventually, he would need to contact the police, to tell them at least about the postman with a hatchet. But, no, certainly, this is a silly notion. He simply needs to find a pay phone, since his cellphone does not work right. If he reached normal bank offices, he will reach normal phones as well.

Tony darted a last glance at the dark Chase windows. In the right one there was an employment announcement. "Well," Logan thought gloomily, "if they kick me off my current job, maybe I can get a job as a bank teller... "–though such a career did not entice him. Or, probably, they have also programmer vacancies here?"

He peered at the announcement–and stood rigid, feeling his belly again fill with sharp ice crystals of fear.

The announcement said not "NOW HIRING," but "NOW FIRING." Discharging from employment. And that is the best case. "Firing" can also mean "shooting".

And, by the way, the literal meaning of "chase" is "pursuit" or "hunting".

Whom exactly was discharged or shot here, Tony could not discern in the dark and didn't even especially try. He quickly walked farther, looking around like an animal at bay. Only now he was paying attention to the absence of light in the windows of the upper floors where, normally, there should be inhabited apartments. Certainly, it was a late night, but it never happens that there is not a single lit window anywhere... And signs...with growing despair and fear he read the signs above those offices and little shops that had encouraged him so much.

"Low Office"

"Fool Market"

"General Sore"

"Moans"

"Trash Harm Food"

"MEDICAL SCARE CENTER"

"DECORATION." At least this sign seemed normal to Logan, but, having looked narrowly at the non-illuminated letters, he understood that actually it was "DEGORATION". Though behind windows it was dark and no movement could be seen, he hastened to cross over to other side of the street.

Farther ahead, there was a crossroads without traffic lights (for unknown reasons since Logan got out of the subway, he had