by Patti Larsen
“Poppy, what are you doing?” Beckett tries to herd her back inside, but her eyes are locked on me, tears pouring down her face.
“Don't go!” She squeezes Shine between us as she hugs me desperately. He yelps from the pressure even as I take him from her and turn her around, shoving her physically toward the car.
“I'm not,” I whisper in her ear. “Get inside, now.”
She goes, listening to me at least, Socrates retreating with her, Vander going with them. I run forward instead of following, going after Chime and Ande, the last two cars looming on the track ahead.
“Do we have enough speed?” It's all I can think to ask as I burst into the cab with Beckett behind me.
Ande's face is creased in worry, sweat sliding down his temples, into his eyes. But his hands are steady on the console and the train continues to increase speed. “I d-d-don't know,” he says. “We're about to f-f-f-ind out.”
I brace myself as Chime wails in fear, Beckett's arms around me from behind as the front of the train impacts the abandoned cars with a terrible sound.
I'm thrown forward despite Beckett's hold on me, though he keeps his grip, preventing me from flying into the engine. Metal grinds on metal, sparks climbing as high as the window beside me from the impact. I lean out, see one of the cars spin away while the other remains trapped, slowing our momentum as its decaying body scrapes across the tracks in front of us in a hail of overheated metal.
The train stays on the rails, though I'm not sure for how much longer if we can't free ourselves from the hunk of steel we're pushing. Ande grunts in a language all his own as the train slows further, straining to force its way through not only the layers of vegetation, but the hulk of what was once an SUV.
We have to do something. But what? I look again at the wreck clinging to our nose, Chime shoved in next to me, and know then no one who goes out there will survive an attempt to free us from our tether.
More shouting, from behind us. I leave Ande to his work, following the sound, find Brick standing on the coal car rail, feet free, but hands still tied, looking back at the Crawler cars now gaining again. He turns, sees me. Motions with his head for me to join him. What is he doing out here and why isn't he afraid?
Beckett tries to hold me back, but I'm not listening, jerking free to run to Brick. How did he win free?
“You can't go to them,” Brick says. “They'll kill everyone.”
I nod in answer. I knew that already. “We have to escape.” I reach behind him, pull the knife Beckett gave me so long ago free and use it to cut his bonds. Brick grins at me, rubbing his wrists.
“Slow down,” he says. “The train. Let them get ahead of you.”
“Why?” Beckett tries to bully past me, Vander and Socrates on the other side. The small librarian looks guilty so I know who Brick convinced to set him loose. “So they can capture us?”
“No,” Brick flashes his teeth in a snarl still curved like a smile, “so we can use one of their trucks to shake that piece of crap loose before we derail.”
Not like we have much choice in the matter. Though doing so will allow all three of the Crawler trucks to catch us.
Brick meets my eyes. “I'll need help.” He turns without another word, running for the next car. Beckett grabs me, but I'm already moving, his grasp on my jacket not enough.
“Tell Ande!” I throw it over my shoulder, seeing his eyes widen as though he can't believe what I'm doing, the fact holding him frozen. Socrates shrinks to the side, away from me, but Vander is at my side when I leap the gap and race after Brick.
Chime must have listened if not Beckett. I can feel the train slowing further, the sound of the engine softening by the time I reach my favorite car, the one with the gaping doorway. Brick stands in the emptiness, the wind blowing his dark hair into his eyes, a fact he ignores in favor of watching the Crawler trucks as they race closer.
It's easy to see where his specific focus rests. A Crawler truck keeps pace, easing closer, bouncing dangerously over the uneven ground, the grill full of torn grass and small brush as the vehicle struggles to penetrate the mess of vegetation. As I pause next to him, catching my breath, reinforcing the calm which will allow me to act without thought, the side door of the truck slides open, metal panel grinding against the one behind it, revealing three Crawler soldiers on the other side.
They seem shocked to see us there, because they hesitate before throwing lines toward us, small grappling hooks scraping over the car floor. Only one hooks at the edge, the other two snaking away to fall to the ground, quickly pulled back by their owners.
I beat Brick to the caught rope, jerking it toward me with as much force as I can. It's enough. Do they think us stupid, inept? Or perhaps they are, themselves. Whatever the case, the Crawler on the other end of the line refuses to let go, tumbling forward out of the truck headfirst, holding on one moment before the force of impact with the ground shakes his grip and he is gone.
One down. Brick doesn't wait to see what they will do. With a wild yell he backs up three steps before racing ahead, hurtling himself at the opening in the Crawler truck. I gape at him, my mind unable to accept what he's done even through the stillness of the calm, only to see him crash into the other two soldiers, the three of them going down in a clatter of metal even loud enough to hear over the rattle of the train.
Vander follows him, his exodus much smoother, almost effortless and within moments two more Crawlers are ejected from the gaping door. The truck jerks to the left, closer, as close as it's been so far.
Refusing to allow myself to consider the insanity of my act, trusting in my focus, I leap.
There is a momentary sensation of slow motion, as though I'm flying, the wind tearing at me, trying to push me off course. Everything around me is crystal clear, as though through a high-powered lens, from the color of the sky to the dull ugliness of the metal sheathing the truck. My landing takes forever, it seems, both feet solid on the inside of the entry, my body tucking into a crouch, one hand touching down on the floor for balance.
I feel amazing. Like a super hero.
Vander jerks the Crawler from the driver's seat, sliding himself into it while Brick man-handles the one on the passenger's side. The driver is delivered to me face down, the slickness of his metal armor making my job easy. One foot planted in the middle of his back sends him gliding out the door with a small spray of sparks. The second is recovering by the time I turn, though that recovery only allows me to grasp him by both arms and spin him around until his back is to the exit, my same foot snapping into his chest. He flies as I did, but his flight isn't as successful as mine. I watch, the calm keeping me impassive as he impacts the side of the train before falling below the wheels.
A crunch and a grinding sound and he's gone.
“Let me drive!” I spin around to find Brick in Vander's face.
“Leave him,” I snap, grabbing his arm, pulling him toward me. “We have other things to worry about.”
Brick hesitates, looks disappointed, but finally nods, a deep scowl on his face.
“Vander,” I say, “get us up to the front of the train.”
My friend nods, hands steady on the wheel and I find myself wondering where he learned to drive.
Do I know how to drive?
Something impacts the side of the truck, sending us dangerously close to the tracks.
“They don't like we've taken their toy,” I say. Brick nods, points over my shoulder to the back of the truck even as he's moving that way. I follow him, see the big gun mounted near the tailgate, the thin gap where the barrel emerges, a gap running horizontally around the back and sides of the truck.
Brick grasps the double handles of the weapon, eye pressed to the periscope sight. I have to back out of the way immediately as he spins left, finger pulling the trigger. My ears ring from the sound of the shot, but he's grinning.
“Vander!” I look over my shoulder at the Bright as Brick fires off another shot. “Are we close?”
/> “Almost there.” How can he keep his voice so smooth, so calm at a time like this? Though I must admit I'm still in the calm place myself. When Brick lifts his head and grins at me I grin back.
I'm having fun. This can't be right. I should be upset, angry, afraid.
Instead I feel like laughing. There has to be something wrong with that.
“They’re closing in,” Brick says, going back to his sight. The truck rocks again, a huge dent appearing in the armor near the front of the vehicle.
“Get ready!” Vander's voice finally holds some emotion. But not fear. Excitement. I'm with the right two for this job, it seems.
Brick fires two more shots in rapid succession before the gun clicks. He abandons it with a shrug and a wink for me as we both turn and rush to Vander.
I look out the door and see Beckett at the coal car rail, a rope in his hands. He's shouting at me. I can't make him out. Still, it's clear what he wants.
“Hurry,” Vander says. “I'm going to ram it.”
I glance at Brick. His face is slack, eyes empty for the briefest of heartbeats before he shudders a little. When he catches my gaze, he's grinning again. “You heard him.” Brick, spins, leans out the side of the truck, one hand grasping, gesturing. “Throw it!”
Does Beckett pause? Must be my imagination. He hefts the coil before winding back and throwing it toward us. Brick grasps the side of the truck, swinging out to catch it, most of his body hanging free as he hooks the line and pivots back inside.
“Tell your boyfriend his aim is off,” Brick growls, but he's smiling so I let it go.
Brick doesn't wait. The moment the truck is close enough, he tightens his hold on the line, nods to Beckett and leaps. It's a shorter jump than last time so I'm not surprised he makes the steps easily.
“Vander.” I turn to my friend. “You have to jump.”
“Don't worry about me,” he calls back. “I'll be fine. Just go.”
“I can't leave you here.” Just can't. How can I?
Vander looks back for a brief moment, eyes showing over the tops of his sunglasses. “Trust me.”
I have no choice. Beckett is swinging the rope, ready to throw it again. I ignore it, pull the calm tighter. Feel my body relax, my mind still. See the stairs of the train in hyper focus. Draw a breath and leap.
Just as I'm about to jump, another round strikes the truck, the pressure of the impact bouncing us off course, but it's too late. My feet leave the floor, my body flying forward, and in my mind I know I'm going to miss.
Why am I not screaming in terror? Blessed calm.
Something flies past my face and my hands reach for it immediately. The end of the rope is rough and harsh in my palm, then both palms as I tighten my grip. In that slow motion moment, I wrap it around my right wrist. I feel myself really flying this time, sideways out into open air, swinging with full momentum toward the train. The impact knocks out some of my breath. Before I can fall the rope jerks me forward and upward, stomach pressed into the rail of the coal car.
Hands pull me over, arms jerk me toward a chest I know. An embrace I welcome as Beckett holds me close, rocking me for a moment before shoving me back away from him, so much anger on his face I marvel he can contain it.
He says nothing, helps me to my feet even as the world returns to my attention. I'm just in time to see Vander slam the front of the truck into the remains of the car, now red-hot and billowing smoke even as two Crawler vehicles fire at him.
The debris spins away from the impact, setting instant fire to a patch of old grass, gone behind us in a flash as though it never happened. The train lurches, but stays on its rails, suddenly surging forward, unimpeded. I hear the double boom, shift my focus, watch the truck buck and flip over.
I can only think of one thing as it spins sideways, bursting into flames.
Vander.
Something flies from the passenger door, but the train is past it and I can't see. I'm running, running through the train as it builds speed, knowing Ande is pouring on the steam, that we've lost Vander. Or have we?
What did I see?
I burst into the last full car, the gaping door a window into the world beyond, to find Vander lying half in-half out of the doorway. I'm not alone as I crouch by him, pulling him in the rest of the way, Beckett by my side, flipping my friend over. He's lost his sunglasses, but he's smiling up at me.
“Not the exit I had in mind,” he says. “But it'll do.”
And I thought I was a super hero. I laugh, it's the best I can manage, hugging him even as I watch the two Crawler trucks fall behind and disappear as the train barrels away.
***
Chapter Fifteen
“It's obvious they aren't going to give up.” Chime looks about as upset as I expected so no shock there. She shifts her position where she sits with a bowl of stew in her hands, her crew crowded around behind her.
“Which is why we agreed we can't stop at night anymore.” Socrates speaks with authority and surprisingly Chime doesn't argue.
“They must be low on fuel by now.” Vander is none the worse for wear after his mind-boggling leap to safety and I wonder just how resilient the Sick has made him.
“Not if they really are widespread,” Socrates says. “If there are Crawlers everywhere, it makes sense they have access to fuel.” He looks at me. “And munitions. Any idea what you were firing?”
Brick sets his empty bowl down, wiping his face with his sleeve. “They have some kind of concussive rounds,” he says. “No real penetrating power, mostly brute force.”
Chime is nodding and I wonder at how easily the crew has accepted Brick, once their enemy, into the fold. His freedom hasn't been questioned yet and I think it's time someone asked the obvious.
“Why exactly did you let Brick out?” I meet Socrates's eyes, watch him flinch though Poppy seems just as guilty as Beckett scowls at the two of them.
“I told Socrates Brick helped me,” the girl says, twisting her spoon in her fingers. “I could hear him shouting, we went to see. He told us he could help again.” Poppy glances sideways at the young genius. “It's not his fault,” she finishes with a whisper. “I let Brick go.”
Socrates shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I did it.” He pats Poppy's hand, eyes meeting mine then Beckett's, defiant. “Brick saved Poppy. We misjudged him.” The boy shrugs. “He said he knew what to do and when Poppy told me what really happened, how he saved her...” Socrates's shoulders slump at last as he runs out of steam. “I guess it was stupid.”
“I disagree.” Chime is smiling at Brick as if she hadn't ordered her people to beat him only a few short days ago. He smiles back at her like he'd never taken that beating. My head is spinning from the oddity, the unreality. Surely there is more to this, such hurts can't be healed so easily. And yet, I suppose he proved himself to them, much as Vander and I did. And lives are so short here, shows of loyalty are trusted above all else.
Still, despite knowing he saved Poppy and the heroics he endured to free the train, I still have my doubts about him.
Uncharitable. And yet this new world has taught me to doubt before trust.
Beckett glares at him, no longer looking at the two repentant kids. I have no concern I'm the only one who will continue to watch the former member of Cade's army.
“At least we're still moving,” Vander says. The train chugs gently beneath us at a crawl while heat engulfs us, sunlight baking the desert again. We won't be stopping tonight. Two of the crew are assigned to walk a quarter mile ahead, ready to alert us if anything is in the way once night falls. I know I'll be taking my turn at some point and feel a rippling shudder climb my spine. For some reason I'm suddenly fearful of the dark and what might be hiding, waiting.
The day passes, drowsy heat almost too much even in the open door of the second last car. I'm grateful when the sun falls to the horizon behind me, long shadows reaching outward, though the desert is finally giving way to foothills. In the distance, charcoal gray and black
, mountains call us closer. The southern Rockies, which means Colorado. More progress.
I return to the others as the train slows for the nighttime crawl forward. Socrates looks like he's disappointed in our speed when the train finally settles into its darkness pace, but shrugs. “I'm going to sit with Ande. Maybe we can hook up the light at the front of the train.”
He disappears while the rest of us sit in quiet. Brick shifts sideways, his foot touching mine and the dog growls, low and angry from where he rests, chin in paws. That makes three of us watching him, then.
As dinner breaks up, Brick joins Chime and her people, his laughter big and loud, their welcome pretty much complete. And the way Chime looks at him... I shrug internally.
If he dared touch me in any way, I'd kill him. But she clearly doesn't feel the same.
I'm rising myself, ready to head back to the open car and my thoughts when the dog barks once and leaps forward, all of his fur standing on end, ears flat against his head.
Brick holds Shade in his hands while Poppy tries to get her back. The black furred puppy whimpers, tries to lick his fingers while he stares down at her with the strangest expression.
Do his hands look a little strained, his grip a little tight? He ignores the dog, but he can't ignore me when I reach out and take the puppy from him, cuddling her to my chest. His dark eyes meet mine, a flash of something in them calling up my battle calm. But it's gone as fast as it appears and he shrugs with a wink.
“Cute,” he says before walking away.
Poppy is in tears, takes the wriggling Shade back from me. “He hurt her,” she whispers. “I know it.”
I do too, the tingle of my healing ability making everything all right again. “She's fine, see?” She slobbers all over Poppy's face. I look up, see Beckett watching. “We'll just make sure he doesn't touch them again, won't we?”
She nods quickly, face pinched in anger. “One way or another,” she says in a voice far older than her years.