The dispatcher cracked her own happy grin for a second, then suddenly took alarm:
«But I just sent you off twenty minutes ago.»
Alex and Orest looked at each other in despair, all hope lost.
«You got left behind?» the woman said in sympathy.
«So it would seem,» Orest pleadingly stared at the dis-patcheress. «But can't you recall the train somehow? Pull the cord, so to speak, and bring it back, eh?»
The dispatcher, moved by such naivete, shook her head.
«Run on over to the number six line. To the engine-drivers. They're on their way to Spas-Kukuyevsk too, in a bit. I'll let 'em know to take you,» and she was already intoning over the microphone: «Hey, you slab! You're takin' some passengers aboard… circus folk… what're you sayin'? Ah-ha-ha!!! Watchyer yap.» She turned to her guests. «All set.»
«Thanks a bunch,» Alex pressed her hand to his heart.
«By the way,» said the dispatcher, in a confiding tone, «just where were you two coming from?»
«Oh!» Orest and Alex pointed their hands in opposite directions.
The dispatcher nodded knowingly.
«And what's your final destination?»
Alex and Orest again waved to different points of the compass.
The dispatcher felt another wave of satisfaction.
The electric locomotive was of Czech manufacture, the engine-driver's cabin located about two meters off the ground. A steep little metal ladder led up to it.
Orest could only whistle, looking up. Then he turned to Mollie — and scratched the back of his neck.
«Come on, boys, let's get a move on!» yelled the engine-driver, sticking his head out of the cabin.
The pistons in the wheelbase suddenly shot out some thick steam, and Mollie shied back, drawing her tail in between her legs and yelping like a puppy.
«Come on, boy!» Orest came after her.
Mollie, in terror, pressed herself against the embankment. A heavy shudder was going through her body.
«What's the problem, guys?» the engine-driver looked out again, and pushed his cap back from his head, dumbfounded. «Oh-ho, you've got a doggie with you, too…»
His assistant appeared in the doorway: a freckled, red-faced young man, who immediately burst out laughing:
«Just look at this beast, so huge and so scary!»
He quickly ran along a small bridge on the side of the engine and dropped down.
«What a greenhorn you are!» he said, flicking Alex's shaven head in contempt — when his glance unexpectedly fell on her breasts, twinkling in their T-shirt. «You're a girl?» he said, struck dumb — then looked suspiciously at Orest.
«Animal trainer Orest Anderlecht,» said Orest, proudly jabbing his chest, then indicated Alex with condescension. «My assistant.»
«Mikhras, let's go, dammit!» barked the engine-driver.
Mikhras and Orest dragged the reluctant dog to the locomotive. It took the two of them to set her down on the gangway. Mollie whined and drew her stumpy paws under herself.
«Hup and at 'em!» the engine-driver pulled the St. Bernard, by the fleshy part of the neck, up onto the little bridge, and triumphantly smacked his palms against one another. «Tha's the way!»
They went to the cabin after the assistant. Mikhras paused on the threshold, looked round and cast a sly glance at the bald girl. Alex gave him the finger. Mikhras blushed and scampered off into the cabin.
Something started to roar and rumble in the locomotive's belly, and the train set off.
The circus performers stood on the little bridge with a metal railing. At their backs they sensed a blazing heat and a thunderous rattle, while the wind pummeled their faces, getting stronger and stronger. Mollie's ears flapped and fluttered, like flags. She screwed up her eyes against the tearing gusts, but, heroically, did not look away.
The train picked up more and more speed. The roadside trees rushed briskly by, while the more distant vista, an impressive panorama, seemed to indulge in a slow, leisurely swim. The kilometer-long tail of cars flowed out endlessly from behind the engine.
«This is when you really want to scream, 'My motherland!'» yelled Orest into her ear, for all he was worth. Alex flinched in indignation and, angrily gesticulating, yelled back, but he couldn't hear. Suddenly, she froze in amazement. Orest followed her gaze, and dropped his jaw, dumbly.
Along a slope, overturned, half-demolished, some freight cars lay in a crooked chain.
Mikhras ran over to the circus folk and shouted:
«It derailed last Thursday!»
«What?!» the circus pair couldn't hear him.
Mikhras waved them off and ran away.
Soon the general contours of a station appeared. Mikhras leaned out of the cabin, and with his lips formed the words, «Spas-Kukuyevsk.»
«What caused that accident?» Orest asked Mikhras, once they'd gotten to the station.
«Well, it's pretty common,» said the younger man, smiling serenely. «Nowadays they got trains with up to 200 cars, with some of'em loaded down an' heavy-like, an' others they leave empty, and that's a no-no. You get an overfall'a pressure on the rails, deformations and things like that. We went over it in vocational school.»
«And our train just drove on through that same section?» Alex observed, frowning.
«Sure, why not,» Mikhras assured her. «Well, I gotta go. Have a good trip! Where you off to now?»
«Onward,» Orest nodded toward the rails.
«Ah…» Mikhras pulled up his pants and ran off.
«All the best!» Orest yelled after him, and turned to Alex. «So, where're those train cars of ours?»
«There's the switcher's booth over there. Let's ask.»
They approached the booth. Before the door, which was open a crack, a tiny man was crawling on all fours and looking through the slit with some field binoculars.
«Excuse me,» Alex cleared her throat.
«Hold on!» the man shook his finger at them. «Just a sec…»
They waited. Finally, tittering and rubbing his palms together, he got to his feet: a little old man in a bulky service cap, pulled down over his ears, with sideburns like clumps of soap foam. His pinkish face glimmered with sweat. Rapture shone in his celestial little orbs. He removed the blocky binoculars from around his neck and handed them to Orest.
«Here ya go. Go ahead, have yourself a look… She's under the table, on top of the coat, heh-heh.»
Orest shrugged and stuck the binoculars into the doors' slit. The old timer whispered to Alex, excitedly:
«Show us yer titties!»
Alex recoiled. The old timer laughed, soundlessly.
Orest turned back to them, dismayed.
«A cat… having kittens…»
«Again?» asked the oldster, snatching back the binoculars. He dropped down once more in front of the crack, but immediately pulled back, disappointed. «Naw, that's just her getting ready.» He focused the binoculars on Mollie. «And is this a bitch?»
«She's a girl,» answered Alex, stubbornly.
The old timer turned the binoculars on her chest. Orest stepped in front of the lenses.
«Do you really need binoculars to deliver some kittens?» he asked.
«It wouldn't make no sense without 'em,» said the geezer, plainly distressed. «Murka's shy, she hides, an' how much detail can you make out from far away? So I thought'a this… You can see everythin' plain, like the back'a my hand.» He scrunched up his face into a blissful squint. «It splits open… that thing'a hers… and this little piece 'a little'un falls out, plumps down,» he said, staring at Orest. «You ever seen a woman deliver?»
«B-but a cat isn't a woman,» Orest babbled.
«This is idiotic,» Alex hmphed.
«And who're you?» asked the geezer, slitting his eyes suspiciously. «Whadda you 'gentlemen' call yerselves, eh? Bums? And with a bitch, too! Just look at you!»