by Patti Larsen
“No.” I say it softly, but he hears me, turns toward me, smile fading. “You won't hurt us. Not until you're ready to eat us.”
The sound of Chime throwing up would be satisfying if I wasn't wrapped up in the calm. Nothing matters as I let it take me completely. Not the stench of the kids in the pens, or the shuffling of the Shambles around me. Not even the way the gentle smile on Jeremiah's face fades, how his cold and calculating side shows as he reaches out and grasps Socrates's arm, pulling him close. My friend yelps in surprise, dark eyes wide with confusion and his refusal to believe.
“Jeremiah?” Socrates doesn't fight, as though his ability to has been taken by his breaking heart. “I thought you were my friend.”
A moment of pain passes over Jeremiah's face and he smiles down at Socrates. “You, dear one, you will remain with me.” He pulls Socrates aside, hugging him close. “But these others... we must have meat and it's been a long time since anyone came through here to replenish our stocks.”
I watch the tears well in Socrates's eyes without a moment of caring for the boy's deteriorating state of mind, gaze locked on Jeremiah even as my entire body locates each and every person around me, Shamble, Waste and human.
“I'm afraid that's not going to happen today.” I step forward while as one of the Wastes shakes the leash of her Shamble. I don't pause, one foot lashing out to crush the kneecap of the moaning zombie before my fist connects with its nose, driving it to the floor, all the bones in its face crushed into its brain. The Waste stares at her dead charge with her mouth gaping, a thin wail escaping her as though I'd killed her beloved.
Jeremiah stares at me with open hostility. “I warn you.” He shakes Socrates who still isn't fighting him. “I'll kill him if you don't obey. I'll kill all of them.”
The Wastes stare at me, as if unsure what to do. Has it been so long they are unaccustomed to their food fighting back? I've given them enough pause they don't leap forward to defend their leader. Cowards, perfect.
I reach Jeremiah, my hands taking Socrates from the Waste's grip, pulling my friend toward me with enough force the Waste leader rocks back when he's made to let go. “Trust me,” I say, voice level, letting him see the truth in my face, hear the calm in my tone, “we're not worth the trouble.”
Jeremiah hunches suddenly, face a mask of horror as the little old man act drops, the cannibal in him showing through as his yellow teeth bare at me like a savage. “Then maybe the others on your precious train are.” Chime cries out in fear as Jeremiah speaks. “That's right,” he snaps at her. “You think we've sat idle while you've consumed our food, invaded our territory? Even now your people are on their way back here, under guard, or dead and my meat already.” His cackling laugh is full of spite.
“You lied to me.” Socrates's anger surfaces as he turns in my grip and lashes out at Jeremiah. I spot Beckett's hands in his pockets, Vander's absolute stillness, even Brick's face settling into quiet and know the others are ready without me having to warn them.
I act, jerking Socrates away again, striking Jeremiah in the chest with my stiffened fingers. He falls back with a hiss of pain, clutching the spot as he collapses to the ground, gasping for air. I'm already turning, Socrates at my side, peripherally aware of my friends making short work of the Wastes and Shambles who attack us with a desperation born of survival.
They are clearly unused to strong, healthy kids, or to the sheer numbers of us. They must have thought they found some food nirvana when our train rolled into their town. But greed will be their downfall.
I watch the Wastes fall back from my advance, leaving their mindless Shambles to be killed while their shrieking masters fade into the maze.
Chime grabs Socrates from me, for once focused and steady, a real leader. “Can you get us out?”
He nods, wiping at the tears on his face before lurching forward, as wobbly as any Shamble. I stay close to him until I know he's taking the right route before falling back, letting Chime and Brick move ahead of me, my harsher side judging them both for fleeing without care for the rest of the crew.
My estimation of Chime's leadership drops further, no matter her self-possession a moment earlier. Clearly she's able to keep it together when her own safety is at stake.
One glance in the cage room and I know there's nothing we can do for the kids already trapped. Beckett rises from the third trap and shakes his head, confirming what I already know. My gaze sweeps the ground, noting Jeremiah is gone.
Run away, the coward. Or has he?
There's no time to think about it. I follow the others out, the dog panting at my side, still growling, body so tense it's a wonder he can walk.
We face no further resistance until we reach the foyer of the library. I hear the shouting then, from the distance, and know Jeremiah was good on his word.
“The train!” Chime is running, Brick beside her, the crew chasing her as she bolts out the door of the library, heading for the station. At least her sense of self-preservation covers her need to protect her transport.
I hear the next attack before I see it and the mass of moving decay making it up, the hollow and horrible sound of moaning. A flood of Shambles emerges from the surrounding buildings, coming after us in their jerking gait, relentless. I can outrun them easily, but even through the calm the sight of them makes goose flesh leap to the surface of my skin.
“Not right,” Beckett says. “Not in daytime.”
Wastes emerge behind them, driving them forward with cracks of whips and prods with sharp stakes. Toward us. But we're faster, much faster, and soon leave the staggering pack of Shambles and their Waste keepers behind.
My heart clenches as I touch foot to the platform, fear for Poppy and the puppies powerful in me, shaking free the calm. Jeremiah said his people had gathered all of the crew, were on their way back with captives. But the moment I arrive I realize I shouldn't have worried.
Ande stands on the coal car with the taser rifle, grimly killing Shambles while the rest of the kids fight them off with lengths of pipe and large rocks. Underground, in closed spaces and in numbers the Shambles are dangerous, overwhelming. But in the light, in the open, faced with seasoned fighters who have survived where others have not, they seem weak, pathetic, sad even, dying with little effort.
There are only a few Shambles left, their Waste handlers fleeing with shrieks of fear. It takes short work to kill the rest and I'm soon mounting the steps of the train as Ande tosses me the taser rifle before ducking into the cab of the locomotive. Immediately steam chugs from the stack, the hiss telling me even as I brace for it that the wheels have started to roll.
Poppy pushes toward me, hugs me around the waist as the train moves off, the line of driven Shambles finally staggering on the platform, too slow, too late. Wails of despair rise from the Wastes as they shake their fists at us, but they have no chance against thousands of pounds of rolling steel.
I turn away from them, no longer wishing to watch them in their desperation.
Just in time to see Jeremiah leap out in front of the train.
“Socrates!” His voice carries, whipping my friend's head around. We all lean over the rail to watch as the train rushes toward him. “I'm sorry!”
Socrates screams wordlessly as the front of the locomotive strikes the Waste and drives him under.
I reach out without thinking, pulling Socrates to me. He clutches me as Poppy had, sobbing into my shirt as I rest my cheek on the coarse mass of his hair.
“Grow up,” Chime growls on her way by. “He wanted to eat us.”
I grab her, pull her back, my anger so strong I feel the beginnings of the tingle rising in answer. “Shut up.” I let her go, but keep her gaze. “Maybe you forget sometimes, but he's just a kid.” I look around at the rest of the crew who stand there, watching. “We all are.”
Chime backs off with a grumble, but I ignore her, guiding Socrates into the sleeping car. He curls up, hugging himself, still crying.
“I thought he was my
friend.” He meets my eyes. “I'm so sorry, Trio. It's all my fault. How could I be so stupid?”
“Not stupid,” I say. “Never stupid.” Sigh. “We all want to believe there's still good in the world.”
“I'll never believe again.” He closes his eyes, more tears leaking out as the dog snuggles up against him and licks his cheeks clean.
***
Chapter Twenty Five
Halfway through the day, a city appears, rushes toward us. Kansas City is big, sprawling. Tempting. But we've come a long way, still have lots of coal to keep us going. And more than enough food.
“Not worth it.” Chime glares at the approaching buildings form her place at the rail as though they've offended her. I see her shudder a little, lean into Brick who rolls his eyes behind her back, making fun of her weakness. When he catches my gaze, he winks.
It turns out she's right. The moment we enter the city, a pack of Howls rushes toward us, chasing the train. Chime's screams at Ande to pour on more speed are ignored as the engineer, sweat pouring down his face, plays the console like a grand piano.
I stand at the rail of the coal car, Beckett on one side of me, Vander on the other while the dog practically sits on my feet, and watch with detachment as the Howls shriek and run at us, throwing themselves from the platforms we pass, the sides of streets, only to fall short or, at times, come close enough to be sucked under the train's wheels.
They don't stop coming, our entire race through Kansas City, endless lines of Howls raging at us, leaping to their deaths for a chance to reach us. It's not until we pass the outskirts the packs of Howls thin, then stop all together.
“Not worth it.” I turn to Chime who seems to be having trouble swallowing, face pale under her dark skin, turning her ashen while sweat stands out on her cheeks. “I have to agree with you there.”
Is it strange, cold, freakish I feel nothing for what I've just witnessed and that an afternoon nap comes easily to me?
***
I'm not alone. I can feel her, my sister clone, waiting for me. I find myself smiling, reaching for her. She is so beautiful! More beautiful than I am, but how can that be? We are one and the same.
She reaches back, so close, but so far from me. I strain to touch her. But what's wrong? Her mouth opens, she's screaming, tumbling away from me, her body jerking as though under attack. I can't reach her even though I try, so very hard.
She's dying and I can't save her.
***
I jerk awake, clutching my heart as I pant for breath. The dog is up, pressing his body to me, nose practically rubbing mine, just visible in the darkness. His body hugs me as I hug him, chin tucked against my back as he pulls me close while I shake and run my hands through his fur.
When I pull away at last, I kiss his velvet soft nose. “Thank you.”
We rise together, walk to the back of the train, to sit in the open doorway in the last of the night. It's been some time since we sat there, just the two of us, enjoying the passing scenery, and after the dream turned nightmare I've had, I can use the sweet solitude. We've left the mountains behind, the endless plain turning to low hills and trees, the horizon no longer going on and on forever without a break.
The dog leaves me briefly after the sun rises, returns with a cloth sack in his mouth. I look inside when he drops it at my feet, tongue lolling out while I pull free the contents. Canned fruit, a slab of pressed meat, a bottle of water to share. This has to have come from Poppy and I silently hug her, grateful she understands I need to be alone.
She continues to amaze me, as much as the dog who sinks down next to me to devour the breakfast he fetched himself.
It's not until mid-morning I spot something breaking the tree line at last, mix of evergreen and hardwood monotonous despite their beauty, and realize with a start I'm looking at water, sparkling in the sunlight. My mind tries to connect the dots while a city rises beside the water, but without the map Socrates showed me originally, I'm only guessing. Illinois? Would we have come so far by now? Likely. Which means I'm most probably watching the approach of what used to be Chicago.
Have I been here before? In my past life, as I'm beginning to think of it. But no, nothing comes to stir my memory, no prickles of images to indicate that's the case. Just the jutting skyscrapers and the crystal water on the other side.
The dog and I return to the sleeping car in time to hear Chime's announcement.
“We're passing through another city,” she tells everyone. “We're not stopping this time either, it's too dangerous.” No one argues with her. We've encountered enough trouble along the way and I'm eager to keep moving. At this pace, barring any more incidents it seems we can avoid by staying on the train, we could be in New York in as little as a day or so.
Besides, we have all we need. Exploration only leads to sadness at the decay of civilization or more opportunities for trouble. And who knows what could be living in a place as big as this.
Chime seems pleased no one argues. “All eyes outside and stay alert.” She meets my gaze for a moment. “All eyes.”
As though my friends and I aren't pulling our weight. Or saved her from death by dinner.
Very well, then.
I hear the engine increase its speed, the chugging of the steam above us picking up as Ande opens up the boiler and lets the train gain momentum. I still worry about derailing at times, that one of Ande's clever knives will fail and we'll all crash in a fiery mass of twisted metal and bodies. But there's nothing to be done, no alternative. We have to keep going and faster in this situation is safer.
Even though their attack wasn't troublesome at the time, I dread another long run through a pack of suicidal Howls.
The tracks clear of vegetation as we enter the city, enough asphalt still there to keep the weeds down. I watch buildings fly by, houses, then warehouses, larger and larger constructs of steel and concrete growing up before me as we near the outside edge of the center of the city. No sight of attack or opposition here, at least. Perhaps whatever the citizens have become need the dark. I wonder if we've seen every incarnation of the Sick or if there are still surprises left in store.
The engine suddenly cuts its speed, the squeal of the brakes jerking us back just as I complete the thought. I gasp, real fear gripping me. Have we struck something? Are we derailing even now? But there is no impact, no crashing sounds or heaving of the car beneath me as I rush forward to see what's happening.
I catch a glimpse of Chime's angry face before she leans over the railing of the coal car. I copy her, the crowd of the crew doing the same making it hard to see. Until we're almost on top of the problem, and then we can all see it, easily.
A gigantic barrier stands before us, but nothing like the one we left behind in Los Angeles. That one had been flimsy, more of a warning everyone obeyed rather than a real obstacle. This gateway, for it looks like it might be a gate, is massive, as tall as the five-story building it's attached to, woven metal and solid sheets of rusting gray forming what looks like an impenetrable wall of steel.
The train hisses to a stop about two hundred yards out as we all look up and up to the top of the wall with more than a little sharing of awe. Whoever built this gate isn't interested in having anyone pass without their permission.
“It has to be a trap.” Chime's anger shows through her fear.
“Maybe,” I hear Socrates say from somewhere close to her. “But if it was, wouldn't they have let us past it first? Not much of a trap if we're out here and they are in there.” I'm happy to hear his optimism has returned no matter the disaster of his short relationship with Jeremiah.
Beckett leaps over the side, landing on the ground with a thud, but before I can follow him, Brick does. I let them go, keeping an eye on them both as they approach the gate while Chime hisses her unhappiness.
They stop at the wall, seem to be talking before they turn around and come back. Neither looks very happy, but at least they don't seem afraid.
“There are people in th
ere, for sure, but they won't talk to us.” Beckett reboards the train, Brick pushing kids out of the way to join him. “Told us we have to go back.”
Ande emerges from the cab. “Can't,” he says, looking around. “No switching stations. And this girl doesn't do reverse.”
“So we're stuck here?” Chime's voice climbs in volume with each word. “Now what?”
I'm being pulled suddenly forward, as though a line connecting my heart to another has suddenly gathered enough slack to make itself felt. I'm over the side, the dog with me, before I can even register Beckett's shout for me to come back.
I ignore him, ignore them all, the gate calling me forward. The closer I come the clearer are the seams, the rivets, the lines in the old steel. Whoever waits on the other side has mastered manipulating metal.
It's almost a shock to see a doorway hidden in the gate, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I knock on it, wait a moment, before a metal panel slides back and a single hazel eye looks through.
The person on the other side gasps before I can speak.
“You've come,” a boy's voice says, sounding metallic from the other side of the doorway.
This is right, so very right. I'm where I need to be. It's not over, the task not arrived yet, but a piece of the puzzle is about to be revealed to me and I simply can't wait. “Yes,” I say, forcing my voice to level, despite knowing he's been waiting for me. That someone has.
“Which one are you?” A second voice replaces the boy's, a girl's this time, though it's deep and soft, her green eyes replacing his.
“Clone Three,” I say without hesitation.
The panel slams shut before metal grinds on metal and the door opens into shadow. She waits there for me on the other side.
“Come,” she says. “We've been waiting for you.”
I move forward without hesitation, hear Beckett shouting my name, the sound of his feet pounding, before I enter into the darkness and the door slams shut behind me.