by Erin Lorence
“It’s you! Trinity, it’s him! He’s the prayer warrior guy from the Council last September and the prisoner from the CTDC. Remember? He got into the first car during the evacuation before Wolfe did.”
“Nope,” she said. “I didn’t see anyone being evacuated, because you were the only one that night who had a clear view of—”
“Yes, yes, but believe me, he was there! You were.” I latched onto the garbage bag that rustled between his long, restless fingers and gave the plastic a shake. “Tell her. Tell her!”
He yanked, and the plastic slipped from my grasp. “What?”
“Tell her that you were at the CTDC.”
“OK, fine. I was at the CTDC. But what’s your plan? How do we get out of here? Every time I open a door, another alarm goes off.”
“Told you so, Trinity.” Again, I grabbed and shook the bag. “Where’s Wolfe?”
She knocked my shoulder. “She means, why are you in this building?”
I huffed and let go. “Oh, fine. Answer her question first. Then mine.”
“I...I...” The bag drifted to the floor. He pivoted, caught himself against the doorframe, and then pointed at the hall’s window where the grayness of dawn touched the sky. He raised both knobby-knuckled hands to grip his scalp.
“We need to get out of here.” He snatched up his dropped disguise and fumbled to open it. “I’ve got to get out of this place!”
I nodded. “Of course. You can follow me. Let’s—”
“Go!” He yanked the black sack over his head and charged out the door.
Clatter. An upset paint can in the hall knocked the tiles, and his footsteps ended in a rustle of plastic. Silence fell, interrupted by an occasional sniff.
Trinity held her head in her hand. “That guy’s a spaz, Dove. He’s going to get caught.”
“I know, but....” But what if he could locate Wolfe? He could at least tell us where the guy was last seen and how Zech was involved in his disappearance.
With a cautious glance into the empty hall, I made my way to where the lumpy garbage bag hunkered.
I knelt. “What’s your name.”
“Chaff.”
“Chaff, we’ll get you out of this place if you can keep your brain together and not freak out.”
Sniff, sniff. “’Kay.” The sack sprouted legs, but still no head appeared.
Trinity shook hers. “He’s ready, Dove. We’re following you.”
~*~
The pink flush of early morning filled the horizon and reflected off the hundreds of windows on the tall building we left behind as we followed the sidewalk. The gleam of water in the distance rippled with the dawn’s rosy hue.
Trinity massaged her temples and muttered. “Portland. City of Roses. Not named for its gardens but its color. Not that I’d expect Dove to catch on, but me, I should have…”
I jogged to catch up with Chaff’s long-legged stride. He was also talking to himself. “Not good. So not good. This is so not good—”
“Slow down, Chaff, and get a grip.”
“This is so, so not good. And you—you don’t even try to make it better. You, with your neon yellow and her with her rainbow shirt. Calling all sorts of attention to yourselves. Not good.”
I reached out my arm that wore the message like a bracelet. “Chaff, stop a second and explain. Why were you in that building back there? And on the roof? I know you got to the roof since you triggered the alarm twice—once going into the stairwell and once coming out. The guard said the alarm had gone off four times. Trinity and I only set it off twice, so it must have been you—”
“Homicidal Christian-haters everywhere, and you’re doing math? Four minus two? So not cool. Look around. This is freaking enemy territory.”
I looked around. Except for a few cars in the distance, no one was about. No baking sun. No humans spitting at me. The best I’d ever seen Portland.
He continued his hunched-over walking with his bony knuckles clamped under his armpits and his frizzy beard pressed against his chest. “So, shut your lips, and blend in. Don’t call attention to yourself. We’ll talk once we’re on the train.”
“Train? Wait, Chaff. You’re traveling by train? As in choo choo? Where—”
“Shut up! Everyone’ll hear you. This is so not good, not good at all.”
I cupped a hand to my lips. “Hey, Trinity! He’s heading for a train somewhere.”
Both my cousin and Chaff broke off their unnecessary jabbering to stare.
“A train? Really? I’ve always wanted to—” She squinted up at his pale blue eyes that were fast becoming as red as the bulbous end of his nose. “Are you crying?”
“No.” He rubbed his too-short sleeve across his cheekbones. “Maybe.”
His gangly frame stumbled toward a bush that someone had planted next to a low building. He dropped and folded his lanky limbs so that he took up little space behind the scraggly foliage.
I crouched too, avoiding the cigarette litter in the three-foot patch of dirt. “Chaff, the quicker you give us answers, the quicker we part ways. It’s obvious our presence is annoying you so—”
“It does.” He kept his gaze on a spider spinning a web between leaves. “But I thought we’d all ride the train. Together.”
“No. We’re heading to California.”
“Right, California. Near the coast.” He shifted away from the spider. “That’s where I’m going—to Trinidad. That’s where the train goes.”
“What? How...how did you know that we were going to—”
Trinity twisted a stem between her fingers. “Dove, we should go to Mount Jefferson first and let Micah and Gil know about our family’s location in Trinidad. They could help.”
“And waste days getting to the Council? They made their stubborn choice and left us. Gil told us we were on our own. You want to go running back to them, begging for help? Because if you do, say so.”
Trinity touched a spot on her pack, and the leaf she’d twisted into a flower-shape fluttered to the dirt. “No. We won’t go running back. You’re right. He—they—left us. They didn’t want us, and we don’t need them. We’ll do this on our own.”
Chaff unfolded his limbs and stood. “Right. California. The train. Let’s go.”
I snapped and pointed at the dirt. “Stay put. Why are you going to California, Chaff?”
“I live there.”
“You can’t. Because you live in Oregon. You were at the Oregon Council last summer.”
He rocked as if impatient to get to his feet. “So? The route to your state’s mountain is safer than California’s. The train line north gets pretty near Jefferson. I can’t believe we’re sitting in enemy territory while you drill me on my choice of Council locations.”
I shrugged. He probably lied, but what did I care which Council he chose to attend? “Where’s Wolfe?”
Trinity sighed. “Dove…”
He was fixated on the spider again. “Who’s Wolfe?”
“He was a prisoner with you. Dark hair. Tall, but shorter than you. Laughs a lot...but probably wasn’t laughing.”
“Oh. That guy.”
“Well? Where is he?”
“How should I know?”
“You saw him last. Where was that?”
“In Oregon somewhere. I’m not a compass. There were trees and a road that made me sick. He went off with the crazy-eyed guy while I—”
“That’d be Zech. Where’d they go?”
“You keep asking for answers I don’t know. Do you hear me? I—don’t—know! But I do know one thing. My reason for walking fast five minutes ago.”
“Go on.”
“The train heading to California passes through Portland this morning. As in...today. As in...when the sun gets to right about there.” He jabbed at the pastel sky a sliver higher than the skyline. “The train comes thru at a certain spot under a bridge where we can get on. And I don’t know when another is coming ever, so if we miss our ride to California that’ll be here any
time...that’s it. We might as well stay behind this bush for the rest of our lives.”
I rolled my eyes, but Trinity clambered onto her knees. She faced the spot on the horizon where he’d pointed.
Chaff bobbed his long neck and jammed his hands under his arms. “And if we miss the train, it’s not my fault.”
Ripping himself free of the bush, he speed-walked down the pavement, hunched over to be invisible. Trinity, a streak of rainbow, stayed at his heels. With a sigh, I clamped my hand over my neon bracelet and ran to catch a train.
19
I stood under the double-decker steel bridge. The growling of a thousand vehicles rattled the metal and concrete as cars and trucks bumped along above my head. A few yards ahead, the parallels of railroad track curled around a sharp bend in the garbage-strewn rocks.
Chaff twisted his awkward hands together. “We missed our ride. It’s gone. Let’s find shelter for the night.”
“It’s still morning, and the train will be here.” Trinity didn’t turn to check the empty railroad tracks. “It’ll be here.”
Hmm. I skittered forward to touch a rail—to try and make out a vibration or rumble through the jumble of traffic, like I did with the zip line back home. Even if a person couldn’t see the rider, the cable never lied. A distinct hum revealed the metal trolley was in motion.
Chaff gripped my pack and dragged me backward. “That…is the way…a person dies. Touching things she shouldn’t. And not hiding when she should. And making an overall spectacle of herself.” His fingers plucked at the bright plastic on my wrist.
I moved back onto dry weeds littered with trash. My nose wrinkled. Whew, it stank worse than a compost pile. In the secluded spot near the train crossing sign, Trinity poised at a clump of half-dead ivy. She faced the expanse of gray-blue water below.
As if oblivious to the stench, she filled her lungs and pressed against the wire fence. “In all your travels, Dove, did you ever see the ocean?”
“That’s not ocean,” Chaff snapped. “That’s a river. Useless. It won’t take us where we need to go, so get that idea out of your head about any form of water travel. We’re not doing it.”
“Agreed.” I’d half-drowned every time I’d gotten near a large body of water, and Trinity had even less experience with swimming.
Chaff’s long fingers flailed at the parallel rails. “And even if the train does come, you’re probably going to end up dead anyway. Unless by some miracle you’re a strong climber. Because one wrong step...that’s it. You hesitate half-on, half-off the train…shalom. You’re done. And you two look the opposite of strong.”
The growling grumble of metal and concrete multiplied by a hundred. Trinity abandoned the water dotted with boats. “Like I said. We didn’t miss the train.”
He threw up his hands. “The train...a bad idea. Rotten. Forget it. It’s probably not heading south anyway. Let’s go.”
“Get down and hide.” I flung myself onto my belly behind an elevation of broken rock. An ancient orange and black engine rounded the curve and rumbled toward us, heading south.
Hooonk. The horn blasted, and my eardrums seemed to explode. A new rattling, squeaking thunder drowned out the noise of the cars as well as my own thudding heart and hyper breathing.
As we waited for the train’s last boxcar, my cousin’s nails became claws and clenched my hand. But I didn’t shake her off.
The last car. Try for the last car. Chaff’s repeated advice from the last hour now made sense. If one of us fumbled or slipped while climbing on, we wouldn’t get mashed under a close-following set of wheels.
Honk. Hoooonk.
Trinity and I scrambled to our feet. The end of the line of boxcars was still out of sight, but we began to jog alongside the tracks. She pointed at the skinny ladder attached to an open-top car. You first.
The train traveled slow enough, but even if it’d been rushing by at full speed, I wouldn’t have argued.
Figures appeared from the other side of the chain-link fence, past the weeds where Chaff still cowered. Clothed in faded, factory-made green, a woman and two men stalked toward us.
“Christians! This is our territory. Ours. You bring your army into our city, our territory, and you’re gonna get—”
Hooooonk.
I grabbed for the ladder rung. With a gasp, a jerk, and a stumble, my feet left the ground. But my body’s instinct for climbing took over. I flew up the steel bars without another fumble and made room for my cousin behind me.
She transferred from ground to train smoother than I had. Together we dropped over the unroofed top of the car, landing on the mountain of gravel it held.
I leaned over the open side. “C’mon, Chaff. C’mon. C’mon.”
He was galloping in an awkward lope over weeds and rocks, moving in the same southward direction as the train. I’d seen a picture of a giraffe in motion once. Chaff looked the same, with his lanky legs and bobbing neck. I’d never known why the giraffe in the picture ran. Now I knew. The giraffe was being hunted.
Trinity knelt beside me, yelling so hard her voice broke. “Grab on! Grab on! They’re right behind! They’re going to catch you if you don’t—”
Hoooonk. Honk.
A fourth hunter stepped out from a hole in the fence line and swaggered toward the tracks. Chaff, still yards from our ladder, was corralled.
Jump now, Chaff. Jump, jump, jump...
In a flying jumble of limbs, he caught the rungs and held on. Moisture flooded his eyes—super brainless, since it blinded him before coursing down his cheeks.
“Climb, Chaff, climb—No!” I leaned forward, as if to help Chaff.
He was too far below me. I could only watch helplessly as his sunburned enemy followed him onto the ladder.
Trinity squeezed my arm. The woman and her friends jogged alongside. Two reached up to drag the struggling Christian down among them.
The pressure on my arm released, and a shower of pebbles ricocheted off the group of heads below, including Chaff’s. Other than the woman pausing a moment to snarl up at us, Trinity’s hurled handful of gravel did nothing to help. We needed a better weapon, something heavier to crack a skull on impact.
“Backpack!” I ripped mine off and plunged my hands into its depth.
Let me find a weapon.
My fingers closed around something solid. My bee repellant jar. I began to pull it out but stopped. How idiotic to chuck such a valuable possession away...and pointless. Even Gilead couldn’t make one projectile hit four moving targets. My hand released the smooth container and closed over the object rolling around next to it. A wad of folded paper.
I pulled out the clump of money and held it in the light. Again, worthless. Too light.
My pupils fixed on the green...green...the same shade as Satan’s minions’ clothes. My lip curled in disgust as if my hand cradled something that belonged to the possessed godless below. A stab of revulsion hit me in the gut.
“Take it. It’s yours.” My hand released the faded green over the edge, and the nausea vanished.
The money, trapped so long in a C-shape, hit Chaff’s shoulder and exploded into a dozen individual pieces. The wind of the train’s movement wafted the paper in a flickering swirl onto the bodies around him.
Honk, honk.
Open-mouthed, the woman let go of Chaff’s legs and snatched a piece fluttering onto the weeds. The others fell too and scrambled for the mess of green. Crows, getting their fair share of a roadkill.
The red-skinned man who’d been shoving Chaff’s nose against the train’s metal side released him and jumped off. He came out of his roll and raced to where my litter blew over the ground next to the fence.
“Quit bawling and climb, Chaff!”
Below, Chaff’s bearded cheek stayed smashed against the gravel car’s orange paint. His large-knuckled hands clung on to the ladder’s outside rungs. His long feet stumbled across the rocky ground next to the train wheels.
“Climb!” Trinity and I bellowed in
unison.
With his eyes shut tight, Chaff jerked one foot up and then the other. By a miracle, they both ended up on a ladder rung. He made his way up to where our arms extended over the side of the car to haul him in. As he collapsed next to us, our train rounded a curve, and his attackers fell out of sight.
Hooonk. We gathered speed and roared away from the steel bridge and deeper into the sunlit concrete city of Portland.
20
I dug another pebble out of my shoe and aimed it at Chaff’s hooded head. The liar. We’ll talk once we’re on the train. He’d fallen unconscious before we exited Portland.
The gravel hit the strong wind from the train and fell short of his hood. Not that it mattered much if he slept or not. Between the crash of the train wheels against the tracks and the wind stealing a person’s words before they were spoken, for the last ten hours, conversation consisted of gestures and shouting.
I shivered, flicked my last rock at the twilight sky, and pressed my arm against Trinity’s. She’d pulled on her long-sleeved, homemade clothes over her thrift-store outfit. The only extra layer I had was Rebecca’s sleeveless shirt. I shuddered under the cool blast of train-created breeze and settled my pack against my knees for a shield.
Hunkered in the pocket of protection my bag created, I unwound the yellow plastic from my wrist. My eyes scanned the words I’d memorized hours ago.
Heathen government retreat at Black—something—Hold enemies for ransom. FIGHT. WIN RECLAIM.
The message irritated more than the skin of my wrist. I squirmed up, adjusting my torso to rid myself of the flickers of uneasiness inside of me. My head dropped forward into my hand.
Some Christian somewhere had plans to hold some government people for ransom. The schemer hoped to pick a fight with the godless, which would escalate into the Reclaim.
My hair flew up in gusts. I reached up, grabbed a clump, and tightened my fist around it. Well, so what? What could I do about the plan anyway? I’d removed the message from a Heathen hater’s possession, hopefully before he’d broadcasted the plan to all parts of Oregon. That was all I could do. And it was better than any other believer had done to keep the nation’s peace.