«Pardon us,» Orest shoved Alex aside. «We're not gentlemen, and we're not vagrants. We're circus people, left behind by our train. We've come all the way from Gnilukha. Where around here do you think our cars would be, would you be so kind as to tell us?»
«Kuzkin knows everything,» replied the geezer, placing one arm importantly akimbo, the other into his jacket, after Napoleon. «Your cars're gone, poof.»
«What do you mean, 'poof'?!»
«Just that, 'poof.' Simple. I switched the points over to the Zheltokrysino line myself.»
«Damn!» Orest pounded his sides.
«Over there's an empty car setting off that way. Go catch it,» the switcher said, sneeringly, pointing into the distance.
Five, six rail lines away, near a small grove, some train cars sprinkled with something white were slowly on the move, their side doors wide open on both sides. The chain of cars stretched out unevenly, to the left and right.
The circus folk quickly set off for it.
«Don't fall in the switches, you'll cripple yerselves!» the geezer said in parting.
«We know!»
«Does the bitch know?» he chortled.
As they came alongside the train, Orest yelled out:
«Let's grab Mollie!»
They caught up the dog and, when an opening floated by, threw her into the car.
Just at that moment Mollie kicked her hind legs, inadvertently making their task easier. A column of white dust sprang up from the patch of floor where the dog plopped down. The others jumped in — and all three immediately started sneezing.
«My throat's sore,» Orest got out, hoarsely.
«What were they carrying in here? Cement?» Alex rasped. «Wish I could drink something…»
A billowing white blizzard whirled about the train cars, streaming after them as the engine gained speed.
The train stopped at a small station. A trackman, wielding an iron hook and long-nosed funnel, walked along the cars, checking lubricant in the axle boxes. He would open a box's lid with the hook and, ifneeded, pour in some grease.
«Zheltokrysino?» asked Alex.
«No,» the trackman looked warily at the bald-headed creature. «Skumbak's.»
«What was that for?» said Alex, offended, not having heard quite right.
«Formerly this place was called Lenin's Ten Commandments, and now it's just Skumbak's.»
«Oh, well, in that case…» Alex calmed down. «That's a pretty name.»
«They named it after the first Russian new rich to come live here. Vovan.»
«Uh-huh… Do you happen to know if the circus went by here?»
«It took off a while back.»
«And when are we gonna get going again?»
«See Ivanov over there?» the trackman was nodding at a fellow worker checking boxes at the other end of the train, moving in towards them. «Once he and I meet up, somewhere in the middle.»
«Where can I get a drink of water?»
«Why don't you ask the Turkmen over there.» He indicated a rail line nearby. Some train cars stood there, broadcasting bleating and shuffling noises non-stop.
«Come on, Alex, give it a shot!» ordered Orest.
«But I'm a girl…»
«We're not in the sack,» he caustically noted, getting upset. «We're on duty…»
Alex harrumphed, but jumped onto the embankment. She looked into the Turkmen's car. To both sides, fenced in by boards, sheep were crowded together; in the center, half-lying on some strewn hay, were two elderly Turkmen, a man and woman, brown-skinned, wrinkly, heads propped on their hands, elbows braced on soft sacks stuffed full of something. Their thoroughly baked faces looked stiffened in deep thought. They were both smoking cigarettes rolled from newspapers. A backgammon board and pieces were laid out between them.
«Would you nice people let me have a drink?» said Alex, holding her hand out like a beggar.
The geezers made no response.
«Gimme some water!» she bellowed.
The old man moved one of the pieces on the board, got up and, without looking at his petitioner, scooped a glass jar in a barrel of water and handed it to her. Alex drank it all up and asked for more. The Turkmen just as apathetically scooped up more water, and only now cast a glance at the girl.
«Refugees?» asked Alex, trying to be polite.
«We live here,» the old man drawled.
«What do you mean?»
«A long time ago… At first we were taking some sheep, in three train cars, to an exhibition in the Soviet Union, it was still around back then… On the way there, the Soviet Union disappeared, and they didn't let us into Russia… We headed back to our collective farm, but it had disappeared, too… We've been on the move so many years, we've gotten used to it… The sheep multiply, we sell meat, wool, we pay rent on the car, we live on as best we can.»
Alex's train gave a shudder.
«Oh!» she roused herself. «Can I take a little water for my friend?»
The Turkmen thought it over. Alex jumped into the sheep's car, grabbed the jar from the Turkmen, scooped out some water and jumped out, running after her train. She hopped onto the footboard and was about to step into the car, when the train started up with a jerk and she broke loose. She didn't drop down, though, but hung there, her shorts caught on a hook in the car paneling. She didn't spill the water, even when her belt carved into her stomach and squeezed it so tight it cut off her breathing. She couldn't get a word out from the pain, and managed only to thrash her legs about in the air. The Turkmen stolidly watched from his car. Alex floated by him.
«When do we get our jar back,» he uttered, without emotion.
Orest looked out his car and bowed to the Turkmen. Then he noticed Alex:
«Hey, you're back. Why don't you come in?»
Alex wordlessly goggled at him. He took the jar from her and drank with relish. Alex moaned. Orest looked at her more closely, out of curiosity. Tortured agony streamed out of her eyes. He saw the problem, started fussing about:
«How on earth did you get into this? Jump up, you'll come loose… Hurry, before we pick up too much speed!»
Alex, in a half-swoon, screwed up her eyes in pain and went limp.
«Just a sec, I'll help you,» said a panicked Orest, shoving her with his foot. There was a crackle of fabric tearing loose, and Alex fell like a sack onto the embankment, went head over heels and came up again. She rushed after the moving train, wailing:
«What're you, outta your mind?! You want to see me dead?!»
She caught on to Orest's outstretched hand; he drew her in.
And forthwith he went on the attack:
«Why didn't you say something?»
He took greedy gulps from the jar. Alex took it away.
«You bastard, leave Mollie some!»
«She'll get by without it, it's bad for her,» Orest sulked.
The St. Bernard's snout wouldn't fit in the jar, so Orest formed a cup with his palms. Alex poured some water in it. Mollie lapped it up at one go, down to the last drop.
«We're just gonna have to lump it,» Orest patted Mollie's ear and offered his human companion an ingratiating smile. «Right, Alex?»
She was silently scrawling something on the cement-sprinkled floor. Through the floorboard cracks, she could see flashes of the madly spinning wheels and the crossties, rushing by.
«Hey, don't get mad. Everything worked out okay.»
«Yeah, right. So far…»
Suddenly, a rucksack sailed into the car, and after it a young man deftly sprang in. Catching sight of the exotic pair, he spread his arms and smiled radiantly:
«Well, well, well!!! Stupendous! Colossal! Magnifique!»