UNDERGROUND

44

Pustovalov walked along a narrow corridor towards a black cloud - he did not know why and did not feel threatened, his legs themselves carried him. The sand creaked underfoot, like at that abandoned construction site where he had smashed his head a little earlier, failing to jump to the edge of the concrete slab. And he knew that here the sand is exactly the same. Moreover, it is the same sand. There, a layer of quartz hid the concrete base of a giant hangar, which had grown old, but remained unfinished. Here, under the sand, the floor was also light gray, and the same block walls. The walls had been shifted, making the hallway unnaturally narrow, in violation of all building codes. A dim, mortar-splattered, twenty-four-watt bulb illuminated the passage every fifteen meters. There were only nine left before dark. Passing the fifth, Pustovalov heard a child's cry. He had heard it before too. Pustovalov looked down and saw the movement of his own legs. The steps were unusually small and