The Girl in the Machine (Leah King Book 3)

by Philip Harris

  Alice unclipped her seat belt.

  The helicopter banked left as Da Silva lined it up with the rearmost carriage. Alice pulled the handle on her door, opening it slightly. The rush of air pulled at Leah’s jacket and chilled her skin.

  A gust of wind caught the helicopter, and it slewed sideways. Da Silva adjusted then pushed the helicopter forward over the carriage. She flicked a switch, and a narrow beam of light played across its roof. It was slightly curved, and a new disaster scenario played out in Leah’s mind—the three of them sliding helplessly off the side of the train and slamming into the rocky ground beside the track.

  “Ready when you are, Sarge,” said Da Silva.

  Alice pulled off her headphones and pushed open the door. The rush of air turned to a hurricane. The sudden cold forced the breath from Leah’s chest. By the time she’d recovered, Alice was outside, clinging to a pair of handles on the fuselage of the helicopter.

  Hobbs slid open the passenger door and leaned out, his assault rifle at the ready. They were still too high above the train, but as soon as Alice closed her door, Da Silva dropped them down. Alice climbed down until she was clinging to the helicopter’s landing skids. Then she swung her legs over the side and sat there.

  Da Silva lowered the helicopter until the skids were almost touching the carriage.

  Alice let go.

  For one agonizing second, Leah thought Da Silva had misjudged the maneuver and Alice would be flung off the train. Then she landed. She dropped into a crouch. It almost looked easy.

  Hobbs tapped Leah on the shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

  In reply, Leah pulled off her headphones and slid open the passenger door on her side. The wind blasted through the chopper. It clutched at her, threatening to drag her out. She grabbed the handles beside the door and carefully swung her feet out onto the landing skid.

  Da Silva had pulled up again, and the carriage looked a million miles away. Alice was kneeling there, her gun out and pointing toward the front of the train. There was no sign of Transport yet.

  Leah wondered if she needed to give Da Silva some sort of signal, then the helicopter dipped toward the carriage. The roar of the engine and the rush of the wind battered her senses. Light played across the surface of the carriage, wavering and bouncing as the chopper shifted position.

  She was about to climb down onto the skid as Alice had when another gust of wind caught the helicopter, and it twitched left. The carriage disappeared out of sight. Suddenly, Leah was suspended over solid, jagged rock. She tightened her grip on the handles. The metal was so cold she thought she might actually be frozen in place.

  The helicopter drifted right, back over the carriage. Leah swallowed and sat down on the skid. She clung to the vertical support. The position felt incredibly precarious, and the wind kept tearing at her jacket. The helicopter dropped again. Warm air from the train’s engine, filled with the smell of burning diesel, washed over her.

  Leah’s feet brushed against the carriage roof. She released her grip. Instinct almost drove her to try to grab the skid again. Her legs folded as she landed. She stumbled forward. Alice grabbed her and guided her down to her knees. Leah pressed her hands against the cold metal of the carriage roof. Alice pointed to Leah’s gun then toward the front of the train.

  Leah nodded. Trying to ignore the wavering carriage, she pulled out her pistol and aimed it up the train. Alice knelt beside her, aiming her own weapon in the opposite direction.

  Above them, the noise from the helicopter increased in pitch. Leah didn’t dare look up, but she could imagine Hobbs clinging to the skid just as she had.

  Leah jumped as gunfire rang out. Alice was shooting at someone. She had to resist the temptation to turn around to look. Instead, she focused on the carriages ahead of her. The flickering of the helicopter’s light was making it hard to see, but there was no sign of any Transport guards. Three rectangular blocks glowed brightly in the darkness—the skylights on the next carriage lit from within.

  She risked a glance upward just as Hobbs jumped from the helicopter. He landed beside her, but as he did, the train rocked sideways. His legs slid from underneath him, and he fell. Leah saw him slipping across the roof and lunged. Her fingers grazed his.

  Hobbs’s eyes widened as his feet slipped over the side of the train. Leah grabbed at him again. This time, her fingers caught his. He clutched at her. She tipped forward, Hobbs dragging her over the edge with him. Leah cried out.

  Another shot ricocheted off the roof beside Hobbs. Alice returned fire. Leah dropped her gun and hauled on Hobbs’s arm, stopping the slide. Hobbs swung his leg back onto the roof and crawled to safety. Leah didn’t let go of his arm until he was kneeling beside her, a relieved smile on his face.

  Sparks flashed off the metal beside them. Leah looked around for her gun, but it was gone. Hobbs pushed her down and raised his rifle, letting off a short burst of gunfire. A Transport officer who had been climbing up onto the roof fell backward and disappeared behind the train.

  A light passed overhead as Da Silva pulled the helicopter up and away. Leah watched the chopper go, suddenly convinced she’d never see Da Silva again.

  “Come on!” shouted Alice over the rushing wind and the rattle of the train.

  Leah got unsteadily to her feet and followed Alice and Hobbs as they moved up the carriage. The wind harassed her as she walked, and she became intensely aware of the landscape rushing past just a few feet away.

  Another Transport policeman poked their head over the roof. Alice fired, but the shots went wide. The policeman ducked back out of sight. The train let out three short bursts on its horn. The harsh sound jangled Leah’s nerves. The carriage rocked beneath her feet, teaming up with the rushing wind to try to throw her off.

  Alice reached the end of the train first. She leaned over the edge and fired twice before ducking back. Hobbs swung his rifle over the back of the carriage and blindly sprayed bullets. By the time Leah reached them, Alice was climbing down a ladder to the platform below with Hobbs covering her.

  As Alice reached the platform, a door burst open, clanging against the side of the carriage. A man stepped out. Alice grabbed him and yanked him toward her. She jammed her gun into his chest and fired twice. He slumped and fell off the back of the train. She fired two more shots through the open door then pressed her back against the wall beside it.

  Hobbs grabbed Leah’s shoulder and pointed to the ladder. Leah gestured to her empty holster, and Hobbs gave her his own pistol.

  More shots rang out as Leah climbed down the ladder. The metal was slick with moisture. She dropped the last couple of feet and followed Alice’s lead, pressing her back against the metal carriage. Alice pulled a new magazine from her belt and slotted it into her pistol then leaned around the doorway and fired. She pulled back as the doorframe exploded in a burst of shattered metal and plastic.

  Hobbs dropped to the floor beside Leah. He gestured to the grenades clipped to his belt. Alice nodded, and Hobbs unclipped one, pulled the pin, and threw it into the carriage. A trio of voices shouted to each other, then there was a hollow thump, and the carriage shook. Smoke and debris exploded out of the doorway.

  Hobbs ducked low and ran through the door, his rifle chattering. Leah moved to follow, but Alice motioned to her to stay where she was.

  A few seconds later, Hobbs reappeared. He gave them a thumbs-up, and they went inside.

  They found themselves in a supply carriage lit by the two LED ceiling lights that had survived the explosion. The blasted remains of wooden storage crates and electronic equipment, including a couple of Transport’s familiar white drones, lay scattered across the floor.

  There were bodies, too. One, a crumpled bundle of rags wedged into the corner, had obviously been killed by the grenade. The other two lay on the floor, blood seeping from the gunshot wounds in their chests. The air was hazy with smoke and smelled of burned plastic and blood.

  One of the men was slumped against the door to
the next carriage. Through its shattered window, Leah could see a solid-looking metal door. Its window was fitted with four vertical metal bars.

  “Looks like the prisoners will be in the next carriage,” said Alice. “You bring anything to deal with that door?”

  Hobbs patted a canvas pouch hanging from his belt. “Of course. Da Silva’s got her babies; I’ve got mine.”

  “We’ll go in fast and hard, but pick your targets. There’s no telling where the prisoners are.”

  Alice pulled open the door, letting in the raucous chatter of the train as it flew along the tracks.

  The window in the next carriage glowed yellow, but the glass was frosted and impossible to see through. They clambered across the coupling. The sight of the ground rushing beneath the gap between the carriages did nothing to ease Leah’s fears.

  Alice pulled on the door’s handle, but it was locked. She nodded to Hobbs, and he opened his pouch and pulled out three rectangular metal objects. He pressed one of them against the left-hand side of the door, near the top. It let out a high-pitched beep, and a green LED light appeared. He placed the second farther down, and the third went on the other side of the door, near the handle.

  The train blew its horn—a single, long blast. The track was curving around a hill, and the carriage kept shifting beneath their feet.

  Hobbs motioned for Leah and Alice to step back. He opened the pouch again and removed a metal cylinder with a small red button on top. Hobbs raised it, nodded to Alice, then pressed the button.

  Leah expected a massive, ear-splitting explosion. What she actually heard was a soft fizzing sound followed by a sharp crack. The metal blocks glowed orange-red, and a thin stream of black smoke drifted up from them. There was another sound—a solid clunk—and then the blocks clattered to the floor.

  Hobbs kicked the door. It twisted inward, caught on one of its hinges. He kicked again, and the door fell in, revealing a long, narrow corridor running down one side of the carriage. About halfway down stood a metal barrier about waist height. Transport was ready for them.

  18

  Two guards popped up from behind the barrier and began firing. Bullets ricocheted off the doorframe. Hobbs crouched in front of the door and sprayed gunfire across the barrier. One of the guards shouted and fell. The other ducked down out of sight.

  A few seconds later, a cylindrical object bounced down the corridor.

  “Grenade!” shouted Hobbs. He threw himself backward, just getting out of the way as the grenade exploded.

  A cloud of debris burst out of the back of the carriage. Hobbs flinched and grabbed his cheek.

  The dust had barely started to clear before Hobbs was back in the opening, firing again. Leah leaned around the doorway and fired. The corridor was filled with smoke, but she could make out the barrier. Sparks flew where their bullets hit it.

  A shadow moved beyond the barrier. Leah fired, and it fell back out of sight. Hobbs stopped shooting but kept his rifle wedged into his shoulder as the sounds of combat died away. The smoke was clearing, too, revealing two more doors on the left-hand side of the corridor, just past the barrier.

  Hobbs moved quickly down the carriage. He kept his rifle trained on the barrier as he moved. Leah found herself holding her breath.

  As he reached the bullet-pocked sheet of metal, Hobbs pointed his rifle over the barrier. A frightened voice cried out, calling for mercy. Leah expected Hobbs to fire, but he didn’t. Leah and Alice joined him.

  A man lay on the floor on the other side of the barrier. His right arm hung loosely at his side. The sleeve of his Transport uniform was soaked in blood. A piece of metal poked from his thigh. More blood pooled on the floor around him. Wide, terror-filled eyes stared up at Hobbs from a pale face. A dark patch of blood was smeared across his forehead.

  “Sarge?” said Hobbs.

  Alice trained her own gun on the man. He shifted his gaze to her. “Please! Don’t shoot!”

  Hobbs climbed over the barrier and ran to the door at the opposite end of the carriage. There was a square control panel beside it. He tapped something into the keypad, and the panel gave a loud beep. He gave Alice a thumbs-up.

  “Can you get us into these cells?” said Alice.

  The man nodded feverishly. “I have the keys.” His gaze flitted between Alice and Hobbs, barely registering Leah. Then his look of fear intensified. A moment later, Leah realized that if he had keys, they didn’t need to keep him alive.

  Hobbs came back to the barrier and trained his rifle on the man. Alice lowered her gun and held out her hand. The man swallowed hard. The keys were in his right pocket, and it was an effort to reach around with his left hand and dig them out. When he finally did, he paused. “Please…” he said then threw the keys to Alice. There were three keys in the bundle, plus a white rectangle of plastic.

  Now they’ll kill him.

  “Watch him,” said Alice.

  “Sarge,” said Hobbs.

  Alice gave Leah a sharp nod. “With me.”

  They climbed over the barrier and went to the first of the two doors. Alice pressed the plastic rectangle against the control panel next to the first door. A group of four green LEDs lit up, and there was a solid thunk from somewhere inside the door.

  Behind them, Leah heard Hobbs ask the man his name. “Davin. Davin Lee,” the man said.

  Gun in hand, Alice pushed open the door to the cell.

  The air in the tiny room was warm and thick with the smell of sweat and urine. Two men stood in one corner. One of them, bulky and dark complexioned, straightened his back as they entered. The other man was much older. His liver-spotted skin was pulled taut over thin bones. He wasn’t exactly cowering, but his hands were raised protectively over his chest. Both the men had bruises on their faces. The older one’s scalp was cut, too, and blood stained the side of his pallid face.

  Leah almost didn’t notice the other occupant of the room. She was pressed into the corner opposite the men. Her long hair was disheveled and hung limply over her face. She was holding her hands to her chest, too, pulling closed the torn shirt she wore.

  Instinctively, Leah moved to go to the woman. She cowered back, pressing herself into the corner even farther.

  Leah raised her hands slightly. “It’s okay; we’re here to help.”

  “You’re not Transport. Who are you?”

  It was the younger man. His voice was deep and filled with confidence, but when Leah looked in his eyes, she could see a faint hint of fear.

  “We’re with TRACE,” said Alice. “We’re looking for a man called Martin Day.”

  The bulky man shook his head. “There are others, I think.”

  “Will you help us escape?” said the woman in the corner.

  “Yes,” said Alice, “but you need to hurry.”

  Alice turned and went back out into the corridor.

  The woman’s eyes flicked to Leah’s gun. Leah lowered it. “It’s okay.”

  The woman pushed her hair away from her face, revealing a livid cut running down her cheek. It was still encrusted with blood. Leah got a sudden flash of Katherine’s scarred face. She turned away and walked to the door. “Come on.”

  “It could be a trick, you know,” said the old man.

  The woman shook her head. “It can’t be worse than it already is, Henry.”

  The old man grunted, but when the others followed Leah out of the room, he came, too.

  Hobbs had knocked the barrier over and had the injured Transport officer, Davin, leaned against the wall. The piece of metal was still sticking from Davin’s leg, but the blood around the wound seemed to have dried. Hobbs had his rifle pointed at the officer’s chest, but Davin seemed on the verge of passing out.

  Alice pointed toward the supply carriage. “Go to the back of the train, and be ready to move when I say.”

  The woman from the cell led the other prisoners down the corridor. She walked with a limp, and Leah could see a dark bruise running down the back of her leg. She barely looke
d at the two corpses on the ground. The old man muttered something under his breath and crossed himself as he passed them.

  There was a beep as Alice unlocked the next door. Tension coiled in Leah’s gut. There were still three more carriages. Why wasn’t anyone investigating the gunfire and explosions? She glanced toward the door to the next carriage. The LEDs on the lock still glowed red.

  Alice opened the cell door, and they went inside. A man stood opposite the door, beneath a barred window. His eyes widened when he saw them, and he started to say something.

  A man appeared from their left and slammed into Alice, wrapping his hands around her waist. The impact knocked her sideways. He drove her into the side of the cell, and she cried out as her shoulder hit the wall. Her fists pummeled the side of his head, but the blows skipped harmlessly off.

  Leah raised her gun and aimed it at the man now pinning Alice against the wall. Her hand wavered. She wasn’t sure she should shoot, but the man was pulling his arm back, ready to punch Alice.

  “No!” shouted the other man. “Martin, stop!”

  The man hesitated then quickly lowered his fist. It was enough to stop Leah from firing, but she kept the gun trained on him.

  Alice pushed the man away from her. “I guess you’re the one we’re looking for. Eric Morgan?”

  The man looked at Alice then over his shoulder at Leah. His face was bruised.

  “You’re TRACE?”

  Alice straightened her jacket. “Yes, and we’re here to get you off this train.”

  The man ran a hand through his pale-blond hair, and Leah saw the skin on the back of it was wrinkled and puckered—scars from a burn.