“But was it necessary?” Sergio mumbled aloud more to himself than to her but she answered anyway.
“That’s not always for us to decide. In that moment, that was what made sense.” Marco finally showed a hint of remorse and he took great comfort in it, his heartbeat finally slowing down.
“But what about what Vera said? He told us not to—”
“What about it? Taking down one target quietly and an open engagement are very different things. Vera knows the costs as well, and better than anyone else I would think; in any case we’ve probably done him a favor in stopping their advance.” She paused to unfold the piece of paper from the fabric pouch and studied it briefly before continuing. “This is some sort of commendation letter which will serve as proof enough for the Colonel. That man’s death will send a message to others like him who are aiding the fascists and then the Realm will think twice before trying to buy off anyone at Verona again. Think about it.”
Sergio solemnly nodded his head as his resentment gradually faded away, hoping that she was correct in her assumptions of the aftermath. Even if she was wrong about Vera’s possible reaction, there wasn’t anything they could do to change the past. He hung his head low and stared blankly at nothing as Marco replaced the items in the fabric pouch and motioned to him to turn around so she could put it into his rucksack: evidence for later. And he realized that he would have to defend her decision to Vera when they returned to D6.
“So you heard everything they said, then? And about Sokolov?” He suddenly remembered the rest of what he had witnessed inside the station.
“Yes, I heard it. But I don’t understand it… they must have gotten to him somehow.” Marco crossed her arms as she often did when she was contemplating something. “He wouldn’t betray me after everything we did to escape Realm together… they must have some kind of leverage, and maybe he only went back to them as a double agent… and a double agent means he’s still partly on my side.”
“You still trust him? But what if he tells them where you are? About Avtozavod?” Sergio couldn’t even think of the consequences of that occurrence.
“He won’t.” Marco spoke with unwavering confidence and Sergio didn’t try to dissuade her again. “He left with me because his wife died giving birth to their first child, it’s not like he’s got a lot of reasons to go back.”
Sergio remained silent in melancholic horror and was jolted back into sympathy, perhaps with Marco heading to Polis, Sokolov feared that Roten Spaten would disband and so he thought he had nothing left there? But that still didn’t make sense. What kind of leverage could Marco have been referring to?
“So, what do you think they could possibly be doing up there?” Sergio gestured up the escalators, unstrapping his weapon from his back and mentally preparing himself for their next move.
“I don’t know. Holding a surface outpost takes a lot of resources. Vera was right that they are constantly trying to expand but they wouldn’t have anyone living up here unless they completely sealed up a building somehow, depending on the radiation.” Marco shrugged her shoulders. “I guess we’ll have to go find out. Are you ready?”
“Just please don’t… don’t do that again.” Sergio said softly and lowered the visor of his helmet.
Marco didn’t promise anything and pursed her lips awkwardly while she pulled her gas mask out of a pouch behind her. Once it was sealed properly over her face, she shifted her weapon back into her hands and motioned for Sergio to take the lead up the escalator steps. Maybe that small gesture was her way of conceding to his request, he could only hope.
They stepped up the long incline of jagged metal steps which were frozen in time forever as their gears had ground to a halt twenty years ago. Sergio tried to imagine what it would be like if they could still move now, he had heard about it from the older residents at Exhibition including from Sukhoi, but couldn’t remember himself what it was like to stand still on a stair step and be carried upwards or downwards like magic. He ran one hand along the banister thoughtfully, pretending after several steps that it was the railing moving and not him, although after a few more steps it seemed as though he was moving backwards and so he let go and turned his eyes forward again. These halted steps were in the same state of existence as the hundreds of trains that used to run along the tracks at top speed; nothing in the Subway was used for its original purpose anymore.
As they neared the peak of the diagonal shaft, Sergio could finally tell why the lighting was so dim. The main floor of the vestibule spread out in all directions and there were thick hourglass-shaped columns which made the yellowed tile ceiling seem low and cave-like, although the columns were at least twice the height of a grown man. Natural light came in only through a set of doors down a wide hall behind them which assumedly led out to the street. The dimensions of the space played with Sergio’s mind, and Marco too was looking above them with wonderment. He hadn’t noticed immediately because of the thick green algae which was creeping along the tiles but the mosaic design above them was remarkably intact. Although the colors had dulled with age and small sections had completely crumbled away, he could discern blue and white blobs inside a large circle and a reddish triangle but couldn’t tell what they were supposed to represent. The black and brown marble that the entire vestibule was faced with shone strangely as if it were sopping wet but there were no rivulets of water running along the floor, only stone dust and tangled vines. He thought about reaching out to touch one of the columns to confirm its reality but decided against it at the last second as he heard a distant and indistinct echo.
Marco shuffled by him towards the turnstiles and that sinking feeling was becoming prevalent again. He had hoped the anxiety all had to do with Marco’ split-second decision to shoot the Verona sentry, but it seemed that the universe still had disaster in store ahead, as usual. He had to pay attention and not get distracted. The triangulation of Marco, the Nationalist squad, and Sokolov’s betrayal was squeezing him like a vice and he feared what would happen if they came face to face with any of the Realm soldiers. Would they recognize her just as they seemed to remember Andrei Sokolov? He couldn’t allow that to happen, and despite his abhorrence of her choice back in the station, he was wrestling with Vera’s orders to not openly engage anyone. If it came to it, he would rather take a court martial than hand Marco over to the very faction she had run from – a faction which was not known for favorable treatment of its prisoners. Then again, why would they care so much about one random citizen? Sokolov’s situation made more sense; he held some kind of important rank in Realm so of course they would treat him differently. So did the Nationalists even care about Marco’ escape at all, or only because she had done it with the help of an officer? It’s not like Marco could have been a ranked soldier or some kind of political figure, right?
He glanced over at where he last saw her but she was already several paces ahead and meticulously checking every corner for signs of movement or any trace of the Nationalist squad. A short flight of shallow stairs led towards the street and Sergio hastened to catch up to Marco who was now pressing herself up against the corner of the string of doors which no longer had glass panes set in their frames. She stretched out her neck to peer at the paved plaza in front of them, looking in all directions but not seeming to find what she was looking for. She grunted and turned her attention to Sergio.