TUBE

12:02

Yuri unlocked the compartment nearest the restroom.

"Here you go. As private as it gets."

Olesya didn't move but stood listening, certain someone was there. Someone was hiding in one of the compartments. Most likely it was a bum or a runaway kid, getting a free ride. All they needed was a triangular key. Any train door could be opened with it. She'd seen Papa do it countless times. It made train security a joke, yet all attendants were attached to their keys like they were part of them.

"Well, I'll be going then. You need anything, you come find me."

Olesya hesitated. Tell Yuri? And what if she was wrong? He'd think her crazy. She'd think herself crazy. It was enough seeing things; now she was hearing things?

"I'll be going then."

She nodded.

The door closed behind him.

Olesya inched toward the next compartment, tried the door. Locked. She put her ear to it. Silence. The clatter of wheels. The whine of the wind. She tried the next door, and the next, and the next. By the time she reached the end of the car, she assured herself she had imagined it all. There was no one there.

She started back, shaking her head.

A faint scratching sound came behind her.

Olesya spun around.

No one there. Every door closed.

She held her breath, listening, her heart frantic.

Nothing.

She was about to turn back when the scratching started anew.

She jumped. The scratching stopped then immediately continued. It was coming from the attendant's compartment. Olesya stilled her impulse to run. She had to know who was there. Had to. She took a step forward, another—

The door slid open.

A little girl stepped out, no older than five. She wore a summer dress and her feet were bare. In one hand she held something tight. With the other she rolled the door closed, taking care to be quiet. After it shut all the way, she pressed her ear to it, nodded to herself, and walked toward Olesya.

Olesya thought it was the girl in the heavy coat until she noticed her dress. It was Olesya's summer dress. Baba Zina had sewn it for her from one of Papa's old shirts. And the girl's hair . . . it was tied in two pigtails. Mama used to tie Olesya's hair into pigtails every morning. And the big gray eyes . . .

Little Olesya pressed something into Olesya's hand. "Here, I stole it from him. For you."

Olesya's fingers closed around the familiar shape—her toy train engine. She squeezed it, until its wheels dug into her palm, then lifted it to her face. It was exactly as she remembered it, as though she'd never lost it. The headlamp. The grille at the front. The tiny windows. The faded letters stamped on the side.

TUBE

Trans-Urban Blitz Express

"It can't be. It—"

"It's polite to say 'Thank you.' "

"Thank you," Olesya said automatically.

"You're welcome," Little Olesya said.

They stood for some time in silence.

"When are you going to let me out?"

Olesya blinked. "What?"

"You're so dumb. Did you forget? You locked me up here. With him." She glanced back over her shoulder. "See this?" She pointed to Olesya's hand.

Olesya gazed at her, uncomprehending. "Locked you up?"

"You are dumb. You locked me up with TUBE, see? It's a key. And you went the wrong way. You need to start from the first compartment and go in order. Got it? And when you get to the last one—"

"I'm going crazy," Olesya said.

"You're not crazy. You're dumb, and you're mean too." Little Olesya pushed out her lower lip, as if about to cry. "You're keeping me down here—"

"I'm not keeping you. I'm not— You're not even here."

Olesya reached for the girl. She jumped back, and Olesya's hand closed on air.

"I'm not letting you go this time," Little Olesya said. "And don't you try throwing it away. I know you. That's the first thing you'll do, you coward."

"Stop calling me names," Olesya snapped.

"Coward! Coward-coward-coward!"

Olesya launched at the girl, but she sidestepped her and slunk right under her arms. Olesya spun around. The girl stood a safe distance away, her knees half-bent for fast retreat.

"I'm not the one who did it. You did it. You called it," Little Olesya said triumphantly. "I thought you'd never do. I've been waiting and waiting. You know how many years?"

"Shut up."

"Sixteen."

"Shut up!"

"You shut up! I don't want to wait anymore! I don't want him—"

"Olesya?" called a man's voice, garbled with sleep.

The girl's face crumpled. She shrunk, dropped her face into her hands. "Now I've done it. Now I woke him up."

"Is that . . ." Olesya said. "Who is that?"

"Where are you?" called the man. "You silly thing. Get back in here."

The girl looked up. There were tears in her eyes. She wiped her face, ran to the end of the car—"I'm coming! I'm coming!"—stepped inside the attendant's compartment, and rolled the door shut.

Olesya watched the door for a long time, unconscious of TUBE in her hand, thinking about the last thing she saw before the girl disappeared—dark lines on her legs. And then she understood what they were.

"Tracks."

The girl drew train tracks on her legs. With a red marker.

Olesya had the unpleasant feeling of nausearising in her stomach.