Clone Two

by Patti Larsen

  I'm not sure who goes into the water first, but when one of Chime's crew ends up on his butt in the stream it's a free for all of sorts. I walk upstream with a smile, stripping to my underwear to take advantage of the water. I wonder, outside of the ocean, if these kids have ever seen running water like this before and sigh over what they've missed.

  The sandy bottom is excellent to scrub the dirt from my body. I rinse my clothing out, wishing for a change even as I jerk the tangles from my wet hair with ruthless fingers, finally knotting it at the base of my neck again.

  Cleaner, more comfortable despite the wetness of my clothes, I turn to go back to the others.

  And find Beckett watching me.

  I have no idea how long he's stood there, nor what he's seen, but the flush of his cheeks tell me he's seen enough.

  “We're leaving,” he says before turning on his heel and stomping toward the sound of Chime's voice calling to her people to get a move on.

  Maybe I should feel embarrassed by Beckett's attention but instead it warms my skin until I feel I should be producing steam from my damp clothing.

  The train comes back to life under Ande's talented hands, engine happily belching steam as the crew leaps on board to start our journey again. I walk beside the cars for a bit to stretch out my legs, clothing hanging from me, heavy with water, as the locomotive builds up speed. I love the connection to the earth through my feet, the swish of scrub under my hands as I pull seedpods from the tops and watch them fall to the ground as I go. The sun warms me, already drying my clothes, clean, fresh air giving me more energy than I should have, considering how little sleep I've gained.

  I'm finally forced to run and catch up while Poppy leans over the rail.

  “Trio!” She holds out her hand, laughing as I leap for the stairs, catching the rail while the dog, long ago boosted up to the landing, whines and barks at me like I gave him a terrible fright.

  I kiss his soft forehead and scratch his ears. “Silly,” I whisper.

  He grunts, swipes me with his tongue, as if I'm the silly one.

  I don't want to go inside, to sit in the rattling car in the dark with the others, but Poppy has a hold of my hand and pulls me along. As I settle beside her in the main car, I hear one of the kids talking over the noise of the train.

  “Maybe Ande was right after all,” he says, a puppy sleeping in his lap. “Maybe the Crawlers are only back there. Not out here.”

  My good humor chills as I hear him speak, unable to accept his optimism. There's far more to the Crawlers than anyone knows, I'm guessing. Yes, only guessing, but my heart tells me I'm right, connected to the strange Crawler from the train yard, the one who stood and waved at me as the engine carried us out of sight.

  And yet, here we are, on our way without opposition so perhaps I am the one who is wrong after all.

  The rocking of the train lulls me and I find myself lying back on a lumpy cushion of palleted cans, my damp jacket for a pillow, eyes falling closed in the growing heat trapped in the car, with the dog stretched out at my side.

  Frantic voices. I wake suddenly, reaching for the dog to find him standing next to me, growling softly. Weariness leaves me in a rush of adrenaline as I feel the train slow beneath me even as a small knot of kids hurry away. Poppy reaches for me, her own face creased from sleep and moist with sweat from the heat. I hoist her into my lap for a sticky hug before making it to my feet, pulling her up next to me.

  The train has slowed down. Considerably. From the conversation we had this morning, I would guess perhaps we've found a station of interest, or would if it weren't for the concerned looks on the other kid's faces.

  I hurry forward, through the doorway after them, Poppy right behind me. I turn to her, the dog with me and shake my head.

  “Stay with the puppies.” I look around the empty car, not wanting to leave her, but needing to know what is going on.

  Her little face scrunches up, anger flashing in her brown eyes. I'm in for a battle.

  “They are fine,” she says. “Not like they can go anywhere. I want to see.”

  Now I know how Beckett feels. She's impossibly stubborn. Proved it twice by following when she was told to stay behind. Was out on her own the day she found me, despite his orders to the contrary.

  What exactly do I expect from her now? I struggle not to smile.

  “Fine,” I say, turning to the dog. “You too, I guess?”

  His tongue lolls out, like he's laughing at me.

  I leave the car, Poppy at my back, the dog in front, heading forward. It's too crowded by the time we exit to the coal car to see much ahead. Turns out I don't need to. Beckett stands near the front, turns to see me. He pushes his way through the kids pressed close on the narrow walkway, leaning so far out over the railing I worry with the nerves of a mother hen they might fall. Beckett reaches my side with a frown on his face.

  “What's happening?” I find myself clutching at the hem of my shirt, tugging on it as if it can save me from whatever is coming.

  Instead of answering, Beckett leans over the rail himself and points. I follow his example despite my vertigo, grasping the thick metal in both hands for balance, gaze following the tracks forward ahead of the rapidly slowing train.

  A pile of debris blocks our way. And it doesn't look natural.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  I hear Chime before I see her, the anger in her voice carrying easily from her place ahead in the locomotive. Part of me, the fighter part, feels contempt at her overly emotional reaction. It's a problem to be dealt with, nothing more. But the more human part of me, what I associate with Beckett and Poppy, understands her fear.

  Chime emerges, pushing through the eerily silent crowd of kids who stare at the pile of rubbish on the tracks ahead. Her eyes meet mine, an instant connection. Even from that distance, blame is obvious in her face. She reaches me, panting from the effort of clearing a path for herself while struggling with her emotions, unable to speak for a moment, though everything she wants to say is written in her amber eyes.

  I remain still and silent, waiting for her. There's nothing else I can do. Besides, it's likely she'll continue this pattern for the remainder of our journey, so I must become accustomed to bearing the brunt of her displeasure no matter the real cause of our present trouble.

  “I knew this was a bad idea.” Chime finally catches her breath, words harsh and vibrating. “Look at that.” She gestures behind her, not turning herself. I keep my eyes locked on hers. I've seen enough. “Do you have any idea how vulnerable this makes us?”

  Beckett is in her face, shoving himself between us before I can answer. “Oh, so you thought this two thousand plus mile trip across an entire continent would go perfectly smoothly, did you?”

  She snarls at him, pushes him aside with surprising strength, gaze locked on mine again. “We have to stop,” she says, “and clear that mess away. And who knows what will come after us while we do.”

  “Blow through it.” Beckett isn't backing down and Chime's anger finally shifts focus to him. I'm a little annoyed at him for not allowing me to handle her when I'm clearly the one she wants to vent all over, though I suppose my silence isn't helping either. But silence is better than striking her. Or laughing in her face.

  So I do nothing and let him handle it after all.

  “There is no way I'm risking my train,” she snarls, her nose practically against his as they match scowl for scowl. “There could be any kind of debris in there. You do want to move on, don't you?” Her sarcasm cuts like a blade. “Continue this joy ride you're taking us on?”

  Beckett's face turns red, angry red, his eyes narrowed to pinpoints of fury.

  “Maybe if you did less shouting and blaming,” he says, “and more constructive planning, we'd have the damned tracks cleared and be on our way by now instead of sitting here waiting for whoever built that barrier to come after us.”

  Chime doesn't answer with words, but with a deep, rumbling growl, much li
ke the dog makes when he's backed into a corner. She shoves Beckett aside, bumping me roughly on the way past, yelling names as she goes. A small group of kids joins her, most very nervous if their white faces and darting eyes are any indication. I move to go with them, to help, but Beckett holds me back.

  “Let her work it off,” he says, voice very low. “You’ll just set her off again.”

  I pull free of him as I watch her emerge from the sleeping car with Ande's taser rifle in her hands. “I'm not letting them face whatever is out there alone.”

  Beckett's jaw tightens, his argument against my involvement written all over his face, in the way he holds his body, but he finally nods, snorting an angry burst of air out his nostrils like a raging bull. “Fine, but I'm coming with you.”

  Poppy sighs, nodding before I can say anything. “I'll stay here,” she says, one arm going around the dog. Since she's volunteered, I know she'll remain and not follow as usual. The golden lab chuffs, looks at me.

  “Protect her,” I say as Socrates and Vander slide through the thinned out crowd of kids and join us.

  “I'm helping Ande with the engine,” Socrates tells us. “Good thing Vander was with me or we wouldn't have spotted that barrier until it was too late.”

  Vander shrugs under his layers of clothes, eyes invisible behind his sunglasses. “I just happen to have better vision than you,” he says. “And I like looking out the window.”

  “We're going to help,” I say to them, already turning to descend the steps to the weed-choked ground, the crunch of dried grasses grinding under my boots. Dust rises, tickling my throat. “Stay here and keep Poppy safe.”

  The dog barks once, surges forward, tail wagging, but I leave him there to whine after me as Beckett and I fall in at the end of the line of Chime's crew on our way to the debris pile.

  Beckett stoops and grabs things from the edge of the track from time to time and I finally glance over to see what he's doing. His pockets bulge with rocks, two balanced in his hands.

  “Just in case,” he says.

  “Your bow.” I glance back at the passing car and the long hunting bow he keeps for protection. I've seen him shoot, know how formidable he can be with a well-placed arrow.

  “Too late,” he says, hefting the roundish stone in his right hand. “These will have to do.”

  It is too late. Chime has already reached the pile of wreckage, looking around as her people gather with her. I put on speed, feeling an uncomfortable twinge in my stomach for a moment, like a warning of some kind, though from whom or where I have no idea.

  Beckett matches pace with me without question as we pass the last group of kids in the line and join Chime just as the twinge turns to a jab.

  “We're not alone.” I hiss my warning, but everyone hears. Including our attackers. It's enough to make them hesitate, the tall grasses taking over this part of the edge of the desert twitching in all directions as our watchers pause. But they don't break for long. A group of kids burst from the dark golden weeds with desperate cries of battle and attack.

  I catch one look of Beckett's angry face, his arm pulled back, stone ready to throw before I'm fighting one, two, three opponents. They rush me in a knot, teeth bared, fists raised, faking fearlessness where there terror won't allow them to stop. They fall before me, thin little bodies no match for my lashing boots and hands. I don't even need to call up the calm to win this particular fight. In fact, it's not long into the battle I realize these kids are weak, their numbers small, wasted bodies filthy and unkempt. I pull back, surveying the battle, to find we're winning, easily.

  “Enough.” I pull Chime back from pressing the taser rifle into the chest of a screaming girl, spinning her around to face me. For a moment the weapon hovers between us and I see in her the desire to use it on me. “If you do,” I whisper to her, for our ears only, “it won't be your train any longer.”

  Her eyes widen. “Don't threaten me.”

  “I'm not,” I say. “It's a warning.”

  “Let them go.” Beckett's voice reaches me through the intensity of the moment. I turn my back on Chime deliberately, risking an attack, but as close to sure as I can get she won't take the cowardly way and taser me in the back.

  Leap of faith.

  The kids who attacked us are scattered, run off the moment we stopped fighting. Beckett's voice urges them to run while Chime's people stand back, grim expressions now tempered with confidence.

  Chime isn't so forgiving or understanding. Robbed of a target first in the girl she fought and then in me, she turns on Beckett instead.

  “What are you doing?” She waves the rifle like a conductor's baton, like she's directing a symphony of fury. “We can't just let them go.” The last of the kids darts into the long weeds, disappearing without a trace. I look over my shoulder, see even the tasered girl is missing. They didn't abandon her, which means some kind of family unit exists here. My heart breaks for them and I wonder what their story is, how they came to be, out here in the desert, alone.

  “It's done,” Beckett shoots back. “We've already wasted enough time on this.” He throws a rock, air whistling around it as it soars up over the pile. “There's a job to do.”

  Chime grunts at last, sweeps her gaze over her people before gesturing at the pile.

  “What are you waiting for?” she snaps.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  I'm slick with sweat in the heat of the sun by the time we've removed most of the debris from the tracks. It amazes me what the kids were able to scrounge in order to block the way, from old cars on rims with no rubber remaining to doorless refrigerators and decrepit furniture the train would pulverize given the chance. I step back, swiping at the moisture on my brow and upper lip as Beckett and two other boys, grunting with effort, roll the last car from the tracks. My eyes go to the grill, the logo embedded in it, even as my memory tells me this rusted, dented, windowless vehicle used to be very expensive.

  “This is r-r-really b-b-bad.” Ande stands beside me, the sound of his voice making me jump. I had no idea he joined us. His stutter is enhanced to the point I have trouble understanding what he’s saying.

  I survey the surrounds, cleared back by more of the crew to ensure no one would sneak up on us, though I doubt very much our attackers are in any shape, physically or courageously, to come after us again.

  “We're almost done.” I squeeze his shoulder gently, go for a smile. But his ever-present good humor has faded and my lips lose their curve in answer to the real concern on his face.

  “It's not the b-b-barricade itself that w-w-worries me,” he says. “It's what this could m-m-mean for us. T-t-two things.” He holds up on hand, index and middle finger in the air. “Either they were expecting us to c-c-come,” he lowers one dirty digit, “which m-m-means the Crawlers are following us and are in c-c-communication.”

  “Or?” I nod to Socrates who joins us, Vander at his side. The Bright has his hands shoved in his pockets, head down and I wonder at how he's handling being out here, among us, especially in daylight, being so photosensitive. But Ande's next point takes my attention.

  “Or,” he says, second finger going down before he drops his hand, “there are others out h-h-here, using the rail s-s-system and this group isn't the only one t-t-trying to take advantage of the s-s-situation.”

  “That's a good thing, isn't it?” I'm trying my best to boost his spirits, hating to see him so upset even as the possibility lifts my spirits. Other trains means if Chime decides to kick us out we'll still have a chance at transportation. Selfishness wins despite his sour expression. “If there are others using the railway, doesn't that mean the tracks must be intact up ahead?”

  He shrugs, biting his lower lip, freckles coming together in a tan blot on his creased forehead. “Maybe,” he says.

  Socrates grunts, points out past the cleared section of track at the weeds matting over the rails.

  “I think it's pretty clear your second concern isn't valid.” Socr
ates's dry tone almost makes me smile. If it weren't for the fact he just took my hope of another ride away from me, I might have.

  We all stare at the evidence no one has driven a train through this area in a very long time.

  Ande nods once, sharp and defiant. “R-r-right then,” he says. “Crawlers.”

  “You're missing a third option,” I say. “It's possible these kids set up this barrier in the hope someday someone would come through here.” I know it's a stretch. It's much more likely someone is talking to the Crawlers, which means they are in pursuit.

  There's not much left to say once he fixes me with skeptical eyes and rolls them like I've said the stupidest thing he's ever heard. Without an attacker to question, and Chime muttering her anger at Beckett for not holding at least one of them, we have no choice but to go back to the train and start moving again.

  I feel like I've hardly a chance to sit and rest when the train slows again. Everyone groans though no one actually speaks a complaint. We all crowd forward, peering out to see the next block on the track. This one is weak and thin, two cars and a stack of old dining room chairs. It takes maybe ten minutes to clear.

  Chime's anger and fear has turned to annoyance, at least. I watch her frown and flick her chin at the crew who clear the debris, me among them. No sign of attackers this time, only the song of bugs and the whisper of wind in the scrub.

  As I sit with Beckett and the others, devouring a can of sweetened brown beans heated over the lantern, it strikes me Ande's fear of the Crawlers pursuit may just be a left over habit.

  “Could they be still following?” I put my can aside, the dog sticking his nose inside to lick the metal clean. “Or have some way to talk to the outside?”

  “There's never been any indication of that,” Socrates says, wiping juice of his own dinner from his chin. “Though I admit no one really knows much about them. But the barricade has been in place for a long time and most of the highways are blocked with abandoned cars, so I don't see how they could have an extended reach without access to airplanes or the rail system.”