8Yulia
Seven and a half hours.
The train was stuck in that tunnel for seven and a half hours. The relief I feel as the doors finally open at the next station is so strong, I actually shake with it.
Or maybe I shake from hunger and thirst. It’s impossible to tell.
Stepping out of the cursed train, I push through the herd of exhausted, stressed-out commuters and take the escalator upstairs. I need to call Obenko immediately; my handlers must be going mad with worry.
“Yulia? What the f**k?” As expected, Obenko’s furious. “Where are you?”
“At Rizhskaya.” I name the train station some twenty stops away from my destination. “I was on the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya line.”
“Ah, f**k. You got stuck because of that idiot.”
“Yeah.” I lean against an icy wall at the top of the stairs as people hurry
