3K words today. Good day. And a friend is coming with a bottle of wine. Even better. And then I get to see Neil Gaiman. Overall I would say, it's turning into an awesome day.
TUBE, DRAFT 1, CHAPTER 29 (EXCEPRT)
Numb from what they have witnessed, the dancers stood in silence, frozen in that space of no time and no feeling before a multitude of emotions would rake them and mutilate them and make them lose the last stronghold of their sanity. All of them sensed it, and dreaded it, and knew it was inevitable, waiting for the signal, for someone to poke through the membrane of illusion, of this insufferable catatonic density.
“Makar!” Karina’s shout woke them, and they stirred, disturbed by this harbinger of the affray, the upcoming fight for survival, the knowledge that death was at hand and it wouldn’t hesitate.
Karina hurried out of the carriage, leaned over Makar, shook his shoulders. “Makar, can you hear me? Talk to me, Makar. Talk to me.” She smoothed his hair away, peering into his glassy eyes. “Answer me, dammit.” She sat back on her haunches, and turned to the doorway. “Why are you standing there? Help me!” She placed her head on his chest, listening. She slapped his cheeks. “Someone help me! We need to get him up, he’s hurt, we need to—”
Olesya placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s dead, Karina. There is nothing we can do for him anymore. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” She looked at her gravelly. The heavy weight of bereavement, of guilt, the nagging sense of responsibility for the lives at stake stripped her of caution, of shame, of indecision. “I will stop it,” she added. “I promise.”
“You!” Karina jumped to her feet. “It’s all because of you!”
“She killed him,” said Milena evenly, walking up, staring down at Makar and glancing up at Egor. “She killed Makar. I saw it. We all saw it.”
“No, she didn’t. Yanchik did.” Said Mitya.
“Yanchik is dead!” Milena thrust a finger back at the carriage, pointing to the room with the bodies.
“You saw the same thing I saw, so stop pretending like you didn’t.” Mitya picked up Makar’s glasses, hooked them into the collar of his leotard, and shoved both hands under his arms, sitting him up. Makar’s head dropped and rolled on his chest, lifeless.
“Don’t touch him,” hissed Karina. “Don’t you touch him. You’re together with her, with the crazy one.” She motioned to Olesya. “Get away from us. Get out of here. I don’t want to see you on the train. Go!” She placed both arms outward and shoved Olesya, hard.