Kolia Read Online Free Page B

— the one book that some library attendant had deigned to lend them — and getting ready for bed. The provodnik served tea for a small fee. No one had started singing yet.
    An old man sat down beside Kolia, placing his bag between his feet. Then he put his head in his hands, with his elbows on his knees, and fell asleep. Saliva dripped down between the old man’s cupped hands and formed a dark stain on his green trousers. He got off at the second stop. The crowded train was made up of people of all kinds, but no one looked particularly dangerous.
    At the fifth stop, Kolia got off and bought some cold soup from an old woman who was wearing a religious icon over her breast. He had seen similar icons in a book, but never with his own eyes. The face pictured on the icon was too elongated for his taste. “Maria,” said the old woman, whose opaque right eye had left her half blind.
    The train did not run like clockwork. Kolia decided not to stray too far from the station. His legs felt heavy, his lower back was hurting, and his hip was killing him. He walked along the platform and studied one of the green railroad cars that had been built right on the tracks by convict labour, and had cost enough lives to populate an entire city. The hubs of the wheels were painted blood red.
    Thanks to certain privileges she enjoyed, Tanya was able to obtain a visa for Kolia which would permit him to stay in Moscow for a few days. He would have to renew it for a longer period after he arrived. In exchange, he would agree to clean toilets and do other menial jobs that his compatriots generally turned down. He would also have to sleep in a hostel rather than a room of his own as he’d done in Khabarovsk. That was the price of admission to Moscow. He would have to play his cards right if he wanted to end up on the sunny side of the street.
    The train resumed its journey. This time a young woman was seated to his left. She had her brown hair in braids that were coiled into a bun high on her head, and a striking profile, thanks to her nose. She kept her bag at her feet. Kolia stared at her breasts. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap her with the back of his hand or fondle her. He shifted his gaze as soon as he realized he was getting an erection. In an attempt to control himself, he slid down and jammed his knees into the back of the seat in front of him. The girl got up and changed seats. He drank a little water and watched the passengers who remained on the platform recede along with the street vendors. The window was filthy. He spat on it and tried to wipe it clean with the sleeve of his peacoat. The bulk of the dirt was on the outside.
    He could have slept for hours in the rocking and humming of the train, but the noise and smells around him — a blend of cigarette smoke, body odour, disinfectant, and the stink from food of all kinds — kept him awake well into the night. But somehow Kolia didn’t object to them.
    At night the sky was pitch black, leaving passengers almost blind. The stars were the only points of reference. At the onset of morning, which kept changing as the train entered a new time zone and the clock was set back an hour, Kolia, completely exhausted, would finally fall asleep — kneeling on the floor, his head resting on the seat and enclosed in his arms, with his suitcase and bag placed between his legs to protect them from being stolen.
    During the day, the scenery that scrolled slowly past the windows was stunning. The sheer immensity of the landscape and the sight of rivers flowing northward to the Arctic Ocean was enough to make people think that anything was possible. As the train made its way around Lake Baikal, hugging the southern shore for kilometres on end, they witnessed wildlife that was found nowhere else. It was a country that instilled belief. The huge billboards with likenesses of the great figures of socialism, which were planted here and there along the route and