The Tube Riders

by Chris Ward

  Madness. Complete madness. One moment he had been facing certain death, and now they were speeding on towards France, the Huntsmen and the Governor left in their wake. He looked for the others and saw they were all hanging on, and afforded himself a little smile of satisfaction.

  #

  Switch leaned out of the cab as the train raced on. Behind him, Marta and Jess were closest, with Owen on the same car behind them. Paul and Carl were several cars back.

  ‘You have to move forward!’ he shouted. ‘I need to release the back trucks! It’s our only fucking chance! Get into the cab!’

  He watched, frustrated, as Marta and Jess inched towards him. Behind them, Owen was calling to Paul and Carl to get on to the roof and jump across the gaps between the trucks. He saw them make it across one, then dash forward, Carl far nimbler than Paul, who looked set to fall off at any moment. They made it across another, but they were still too slow . . .

  Switch grimaced. They were on the first of the trucks he needed to release. With his right hand he steadied himself as he leaned out of the window, while in his left his fingers drummed against the casing of what looked like a radio transmitter.

  ‘Come on . . .’

  Marta and Jess had reached the cab. Switch helped them climb inside.

  ‘Owen . . . ?’

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s fine.’ Switch pointed, as he saw Paul reach across and get a hold on the first truck, Owen holding his hand steady. Carl stood behind him.

  ‘Marta,’ Switch said. ‘Keep an eye on the controls. Keep the speed rising.’

  ‘Why?’

  He gave her a wide grin, his bad eye flickering wildly. ‘Because I’m about to unleash arma-fucking-geddon,’ he said, lifting up the radio.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Switch stepped forward and pressed a button on a digital control screen. A computer image of the train appeared. Switch pressed a button that hung in the space between the first and second trucks. The word “release?” appeared, the words “yes” and “no” flashing below it.

  He glanced out and saw that Paul had made it across. As he watched, Owen helped Carl get over the gap.

  Switch looked up and grinned. ‘Heads down,’ he said. His finger jabbed out and hit the ‘yes’ button.

  The train lurched forward as the back of the train detached, leaving just one car attached to the cab. Switch looked out of the window to see the rear of the train slowing behind them, falling away, the trucks coming to a gradual stop.

  ‘One, two, three, four . . . five!’

  Switch’s finger depressed a red button on the radio control. A second passed. Then an explosion louder than he could have imagined rocked the tunnel behind them. The walls shook around them, and further back, increasingly large chunks of rock fell from the roof to smash into the tracks below. The train bucked, and for a moment he was worried it might derail itself. Then, as the tremors eased it shimmied back into line and sped on, carrying them away from the destruction.

  Marta, pushed to her knees by the shock, stared at him. ‘What was in those trucks?’

  ‘Our get-out clause,’ Switch said. ‘Guns, arms, explosives. Old ones, left behind. This whole train was armed as a supply for an invasion force. Everything was a little musty, a little old. I just wired up a simple charge. Looks like it worked.’

  He glanced out one more time, to see what looked like a wall of water chasing them down the tunnel.

  ‘Ah ha ha, it worked!’ he screamed. ‘It fucking worked!’

  ‘Switch, what the fuck have you done?’ Paul yelled at him, climbing into the cab.

  ‘Just made sure no one could follow us,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘You’re fucking insane!’

  ‘Too late,’ Marta said. She pointed. ‘Look!’

  #

  The Governor watched as the train plowed past them, the coverings over the rails breaking up in front of it like a wooden wave. His heart was heavy with disappointment, with the shame of being outsmarted once again. These kids, the Tube Riders, had displayed a level of ingenuity that he would have to try to follow, or his carefully sculpted Mega Britain would disappear in the same way that they had.

  He turned and started walking back toward the truck. The Huntsmen still followed the Tube Riders, but it was too late now. The Tube Riders were gone, escaped, and all that was left for the Governor was to begin preparations for war. The European Confederation would undoubtedly come now, and when it did he had to be ready. He felt quietly confident, though; Mega Britain had a few surprises that their military leaders would not be anticipating.

  ‘Dreggo,’ he shouted. ‘Order a retreat. We leave for London, now.’

  It took him a few moments to realise she was no longer there. When he looked back, the train was speeding away, its last trucks just passing him, but his eyes were still good. He could see her, up near the front, hanging on to the side.

  He sighed, saddened. She would have made a perfect second. She was a rare person, one who might understand him, but she possessed demons of her own, and despite his best efforts, she still had to chase them down.

  ‘Good luck,’ he whispered, climbing into the front of the car and starting the engine. ‘One day I hope you come back to me.’

  He started to pull away, but he had gone no more than a few hundred feet when a massive explosion rocked the tunnel.

  Behind him, he saw a row of freight trucks explode. The roof of the tunnel above the explosion seemed to shimmer, to vibrate, and then the whole thing collapsed with a deafening roar. The Governor slipped the car into gear and it lurched away, just as a wall of grey-green water burst down through the rock above.

  As the huge wave rushed towards him, the tunnel roof collapsing above it, the Governor slammed his foot on the accelerator and drove for his life.

  #

  Dreggo pulled herself up over the back of the cab and pulled a knife from her belt. Her face, her arms her legs, her entire body ached from the jump. But she had made it.

  It ended now.

  She watched as the youngest Tube Rider helped the teenager from the GFA into the cab. The one with the bad eye was climbing out on to the roof, while the cowardly one was hiding back inside with the two girls. No matter. They would die together, or one by one. It was their choice. She braced herself against the rocking train, while behind her, the water roared as it pursued them.

  #

  ‘Switch, no!’ Paul shouted, as he tried to haul Marta back. Marta struggled against him, wanting to get out on to the roof after Switch, who was closing on Dreggo as she climbed up on to the roof of the train.

  ‘Let go of me, this is my fight –’

  ‘Stop him!’ Paul shouted at Carl and Owen, but it was too late, the boys were already climbing out after him. Was he the only one with sense? They had no chance against Dreggo; their best chance was to get into the cab and attempt to knock her off when she tried to climb in. Going out to fight her on the roof of the rocking train was suicide. She would cut them down one by one.

  ‘Let me go!’ Marta shouted. ‘She killed Leo! She killed my brother!’

  ‘So you want her to kill you too?’

  ‘Let me go, Paul!’

  He looked towards Jess for support, but all he saw was the other girl’s ankles as she climbed out of the window.

  #

  Owen put one hand on the roof of the train to steady himself as he tried to follow Switch and Carl. Carl looked as uncertain as he felt, but Switch looked as at home on the moving train as he did on the ground.

  ‘Come on!’ Switch roared, and leapt forward at Dreggo, knife flashing. She easily parried, and knocked him sideways with a back-handed slap. Carl leapt at her feet but she kicked him in the head. As he slid over the edge, Owen jumped after him and caught his hand. With one hand Owen held on to a drainage rail, with the other he held Carl as the older boy tried to find a foothold, his legs dangling out over the rushing rock below. A little further along, Switch was climbing back up as Dreggo tur
ned on him.

  ‘The water’s getting closer!’ Owen shouted. ‘Knock her off! You have to knock her off the train!’

  Switch swung himself up, knife hand flashing through the air. Dreggo stepped deftly to one side, one lightning-fast hand catching hold of his wrist. Switch cried out in pain and dropped the knife as Dreggo held him out in front of her. He tried to reach her with his other hand but she was too strong. His eyes rolled in his head as Dreggo’s iron grip crushed his wrist.

  ‘You can run and you can hide, but can you swim, Tube Rider?’ she shouted at him. ‘Can you swim?’

  She turned towards the side of the train, ready to fling him off into the roiling mass of water that was just a couple of hundred feet behind them now.

  ‘Switch!’ Owen shouted, but he knew it was too late. Holding on to Carl he had no chance to stop her, and he knew they would be next.

  From the corner of his eye he saw movement, someone running along the top of the train. He twisted his head and saw Jess, two knives held high over her head as she sprinted towards Dreggo. The girl’s face was set, her lips tight, her eyes hard.

  ‘Jess, no!’ Owen shouted. The girl ignored him, leaping at Dreggo and plunging her knives into either side of the girl’s neck. She rammed them in to the handles as Dreggo let go of Switch and staggered backwards.

  Switch slid sideways over the edge of the train, head lolling, the pain of his shattered wrist sending him close to unconsciousness. ‘Grab him, Carl!’ Owen shouted, and Carl reached out with his spare hand and caught Switch’s shirt. Owen watched Carl brace himself with his feet and pull Switch close.

  Owen looked back towards Jess. Jess was screaming incomprehensibly into Dreggo’s face, as the leader of the Huntsmen staggered backwards, her arms tight around the girl.

  Owen tried to scramble forward but it was too late. Dreggo took one more step backwards and then vanished, falling over the end of the train.

  Owen caught one last word, hollered over the roar of the watery inferno: ‘Simon!’

  For a second they looked impossibly small as they struggled together in front of the looming wall of water. Then it engulfed them, and they were gone.

  #

  Paul looked out of the front of the cab. In a rear view mirror he could see parts of the battle going on behind them, but his focus was on the front. Up ahead of them, he could see the tunnel starting to angle upwards, and he knew they were approaching the French side. How much longer they could stay ahead of the water as it brought the tunnel roof crashing down, he didn’t know.

  Marta was crying somewhere behind him. He pushed forward on the accelerator control, and the engine’s scream filled the cab. It would be close.

  ‘Paul, Jess is gone . . .’ Marta cried, and he glanced back once to see Marta holding something tiny up in her hands. It looked like a computer chip.

  ‘She never intended to come back,’ Marta sobbed. ‘She went out there to her death.’

  Paul turned away, his heart heavy. There was nothing left he could do now except keep the train moving forward.

  The tunnel began to rise more steeply.

  ‘Come on, just a little more . . .’

  In the mirror, Paul could see the water splashing the back of the train.

  Ahead of them, the rails disappeared beneath what looked like two huge doors.

  ‘Hang on!’ Paul shouted.

  He closed his eyes as the train struck the doors and burst out into the cool light of dawn. Behind them he heard a huge whoosh as the water erupted out of the tunnel entrance like a geyser. It rose high in the air and then battered down around them like a lake falling from the sky. Water showered the train’s windscreen hard enough to crack it.

  ‘We have to jump!’ Paul shouted, feeling the sudden lurch of the train as the certainty of rails beneath it disappeared. They’d run out of track. Not everything was finished on this side, either.

  Paul swung one of the doors open as the train meandered towards a stand of trees. He looked back to see his brother, Carl, and Switch leap off the side of the train. Beside him, Marta was still sobbing. He grabbed her and hauled her to the door.

  ‘Marta,’ he gasped. ‘In case we don’t survive this, I just wanted to say . . .’

  ‘What?’

  He shook his head. ‘I have no fucking idea. But whatever it was, it was going to be profound.’

  She gave him a teary smile.

  He took her hand.

  They jumped.

  Paul hit the ground and rolled, feeling the crunch of bones in his body. As water rained down on him he looked up and saw the train cab veer sideways into a stand of trees. It hit something and rose up into the air, for one second standing on its end. Then it crashed back down, broke apart, and exploded.

  A wall of fire rose up into the air. Paul lay on his back and felt the heat even through the water that was still pouring down on him. As he closed his eyes he wondered why the water hadn’t stopped yet.

  A few minutes later, when he opened his eyes, he realised it was raining. Beside him, Marta was sitting up, watching the plumes of smoke rise from the wrecked train cab into the grey morning sky. He looked behind him, and saw Owen and Carl helping Switch to his feet. The little man was wincing with pain, one arm hanging limp.

  Beyond them, Paul saw the remains of what had once been a building, a pair of train tracks stretching a short way out from the rubble to end in a grassy field where two freshly ploughed lines of earth now led up to the burning ruin of the cab.

  Paul stood up. Something in his shoulder felt wrong, and he had a burning sensation in his chest. But, he was alive. He reached down with his good arm and pulled Marta up. The girl looked in better shape as she smiled up at him, her hair slicked against her face.

  Wordlessly, they started walking back towards the ruined building, beyond which a pool of sea water now lapped calmly. As they came to the others, Owen, Carl and Switch stood up. Owen took Paul’s other hand, making his brother wince a little, while Carl supported Switch with an arm over the little man’s shoulder.

  No one said anything.

  They climbed up the slope, past the ruined building, the pool of water and up to the brow of the hill. Rain battered down relentlessly, soaking them all to the skin. Behind them, the flames from the burning train still roared.

  They stood in a line at the top of the hill, and looked down a gentle slope towards the sea. There, stretching back several hundred feet from the beach they saw a gorge cut out of the rock, now filled with sea water that lapped gently against its bare rock sides. To a stranger, it might look like a canal, recently begun, cutting inland through the rising hillside, until the builders had just given up and gone home as the hill became too steep.

  The tunnel to Mega Britain, closed off forever.

  ‘I hope she’s at peace now,’ Marta said.

  The others looked at her.

  ‘Jess or Dreggo?’ Switch asked.

  Marta cocked her head. With her free hand she wiped her wet hair out of her eyes. ‘Both, I guess.’

  They were silent for a long while. Waves, building in the rising Atlantic storm, broke against the corners of the rock channel, sucking the water back, before surging forward to create curtains of splash rising up from the steep edges of the gorge. Out across the English Channel, dark clouds rolled and toiled, battering the water with driving sheets of rain.

  ‘God, the sea smells good,’ Switch said.

  There were mumbles of agreement.

  ‘You know, we have to go back,’ Marta said. ‘Sometime.’ She sniffed. ‘We left a lot behind.’

  Carl said, ‘Things will change when we go back. Things will be put right.’

  Paul glanced at him. Carl’s eyes, like Marta’s, were elsewhere. His mother, maybe still alive, prayed for his return. One day, he promised himself, he’d see them reunited.

  Owen was peering back over his shoulder. ‘I don’t know about you lot, but while I’m enjoying the view, the sentimentality and getting wet and ev
erything, I’m pretty sure that there’s a town back there, and I’m not too keen to die of hypothermia when I could be sitting in a café watching the TV and eating a baguette. Who’s with me?’

  No one laughed. But as he looked around, Paul saw the others were smiling too.

  Epilogue

  As the rain began to die down, the two children slipped out of the old air raid shelter and began to pick their way back across the beach towards home. They had one hand each on a bucket which was full of tiny conch shells. Mother had promised to help them make a mural for their bedroom if they could collect enough. Mother hadn’t planned on the rain though, the temperamental Atlantic drift bringing in storms quicker than the gulls that invariably flew ahead of them.

  The beach arched around to the left towards a headland where Father sometimes took them fishing in summer. Off there, they’d caught baskets of cod and whiting which Mother would grill over the barbeque in the evening. Sometimes, they’d even get a spider crab or two.

  Both of their minds were obviously thinking of better weather and nicer days, because they almost tripped over the body lying in the sand not far from the water line. They were too surprised to scream, but they did drop the bucket, scattering conch shells across the wet sand.

  ‘What is it?’ the first child said in the dialect of French favoured in Northern Brittany.

  ‘It looks like a girl,’ the second replied.

  ‘What’s she doing here?’

  ‘It looks like she’s sleeping.’

  They approached slowly. The girl was lying on her front, her hair spread out around her on the sand. Her clothes were ripped and torn.

  The first child knelt down by the girl’s face. ‘Hello?’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ the second child asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The first child pointed.

  The second child saw now. Something shiny seemed to be covering part of her face. ‘I don’t know. I think we’d better get Mother.’

  ‘Look. She’s awake.’

  The two children watched as very slowly a hand reached out and scraped a line in the sand, the fingers leaving five trails which quickly pooled with water.