TUBE, DRAFT 1, CHAPTER 20 (EXCERPT)
(I've been writing in some kind of a delirium today, so apologies for disjointed prose, but you asked to see it, so here you go. The dancers here are forced to do ballet on the roof of the moving train, by, well, by the possessed train, of course.)
A whistle pierced the sky, followed by a din-din-din of the bells. Olesya whipped around.
On either side of the locomotive clouds of snowdust rose, spumed up and kicked off over the rising banks. Its nose burrowed into a mound of fresh crystals. Like fine particles of salt they churned and moiled in the air, at once covering Olesya from head to toe.
“Mitya!” She called, feeling around.
A hand clasped her wrist. “I’m here, I’m here. Hold on to me.”
The snow settled. They blinked, wiping their faces.
“My God. The diner!” Mitya pointed back.
Whether it was the train itself that did it or Inga with her accomplices, they didn’t know. There was a clang of metal on metal, a gritting noise as if something rusted had been lifted, and two cars have separated from the locomotive and the sleeper. Those were the diner, on the first level of which the crew had slept, and the observation car with its lounge.
“It detached.” Olesya flung a hand to her mouth, biting it lightly to warm it, unconsciously, the gesture she used to do when going on walks with her father when her hands got cold. “It detached,” she repeated, her eyes on Mitya.
“I saw it,” he said, and then added, “It’s only us now. The dancers and the staff and...” he trailed off.