called "Bodies," instead of "Corpses." But, what's a slight difference in wording?
At this moment the train began sharply braking, and Logan, having missed a handrail by his hand, clumsily plopped down on a seat. Outside the windows, dimly lit numbers "14" on breast boards of eagles passed. "Fourteenth Street?" Q trains definitely stop at the 14th Street station, but Logan could not remember these eagles. Some nasty story was connected with this station... Oh yes, a major accident with casualties in the early nineties. Tony was in elementary school in Connecticut at that time, but remembered how his parents had discussed this accident. More precisely, not the smash-up itself, but the fact that the train operator–or were they still called motormen that time?–was sentenced to fifteen years of prison for it. So, by now he should be released...
Doors opened, and Tony heard the incoming knock of heels. More precisely, one heel; then there was a short pause and a slow shuffling, and then new abrupt clatter followed. Logan turned his head and saw a girl entering the car. Yes indeed–the poor creature had broken a heel and now limped, shuffling her foot. For some reason she held the heelless right foot sideways, putting it on edge, as if the foot was sprained and could not return it to its normal position. That, certainly, was not possible–in this case any attempt to put her body weight on it, increasing the strain, would cause terrible pain.
In other respects, however, the girl was quite usual–even more, attractive. Slender, in a light summer blouse with a miniskirt (probably, she also believed the morning sun when she left her house, Tony thought sympathetically), long nut-brown hair, a bit twisted on the ends, a nice profile. She passed by Logan in her limping gait and sat down opposite and obliquely to him. Now he noticed that, while on the right side her hair passed behind an ear, at the left, on the contrary, it hung over her face, almost completely hiding an eye and a cheek.
"Excuse me, Miss," Tony called her, "is this the Q train?"
The girl answered nothing and did not even look in his direction. The doors closed, and the train got under way.
"Probably, she thought that I was trying to pick her up," Logan thought, "so she's ignoring me. Really, my question sounded silly: the person already on a train asks someone just getting on what train it is. If it were on the contrary..."
Nevertheless Logan felt more and more uncomfortable on the train and the desire to talk to a normal person became stronger than thoughts about possible negative reactions. "Well, what will she do, eventually–call the police through the intercom? Hm, let her try," Tony mentally grinned. "Though she could have a taser... or even a gun..."
As a result he chose a compromise: he did not sit near the girl but only moved to a seat opposite her.
"I must apologize for troubling you," he said as politely as possible, "but I'm confused. There are no maps and stops are not announced here. When I entered, it seemed to me that this was the Q train, but now I'm not sure. I don't recognize the stations. Was there any change of service? And what happened, by the way, to the electricity, do you know? Why are stations lit so badly? Budget cuts? You know, I seldom ride so late, but it seemed to me..."
The girl still was silent and did not react in any way. Exactly as that senile child. The long hair obscuring the left half of her face rocked slightly with the car movement. "Maybe she's deaf?" Tony thought. "However, deaf people are usually able to read lips..."
All right. If she prefers to ignore him, he has no right to force the issue. And he will get off at the next stop. Will get off and wait for a normal train, however long it takes.
Nevertheless, the girl looked at him with her only open eye. Probably, she was waiting for whatever he would say or do further. Tony, feeling that to stare back at her would be rude, muttered, "Never mind, excuse me" and looked away. But, after looking around for some time ("CORPSES. THE EXHIBITION!"), he felt that she was still looking at him. Not expectantly, not savagely, not even enticingly. Simply looking. And there was something unnatural about her gaze. Something that made Logan feel even more creepy. She doesn't blink, Tony realized. She has never blinked...
Forcing himself