by Annie Oldham
He leans his head against mine, and we jostle together as we hike. “You just can’t let yourself be distracted, can you?”
Nope.
“Can’t consider the important things going on here?”
He’s trying to make me rethink this again. I can’t help the impish grin. Not a chance.
Jack sighs. “I’m not surprised. You’re just lucky that I love you and Nell and Red. Otherwise you’d all be on your own.”
I shudder at the thought of doing this by myself, of what my life was like just a few days ago without him. I squeeze his hand. Trains?
“When we had stopped with them during the day, the nomads had mentioned something about a supply train coming through that night. Food and medicine, so it was a rare one—usually they’re just one or the other. Those nomads were in sorry shape. I don’t know if they had just left a city and weren’t used to traveling, but they were desperate. They said the train would come through around eleven. I don’t know how they knew that, but they found out somehow. If a nomad has an advantage of some sort, they’ll never share it with you. But they knew when that train was coming, and my father and I stayed hidden in the long grass and let them pass us by. They never even knew we were there.
“We could feel the train coming long before it reached us. It seemed to take hours. I watched the train barrel toward us and saw the shapes of the nomads as they hunched down, waiting. As soon as the train was close enough, they jumped up and ran along, trying to grab hold of one of the cars and get into it. The soldier at the gun on the top saw them. They were too close to shoot with the mounted gun, but that didn’t matter. Soldiers started pouring through the doors like ants out of an anthill.”
Jack looks up through trees, squinting at the fading gray clouds peeking through the leaves. His eyes glisten.
“Every single nomad—there were ten of them—was thrown from the train. Then the soldiers disappeared back inside as if they had never even been there. Dad and I watched that stretch of track for a full hour. Not a single nomad got up.”
We walk for a while in silence. I have no words. Every new horror I hear of affects me just the same—I can’t believe how cruel people are. You’d think I’d start getting used to it, but I’m glad I don’t. I would start to be too much like them—the agents, the soldiers, the government, whoever they are—if I got used to this. Then I stop walking.
So why do you want to take a train?
Jack looks at me for several long moments, his hazel eyes flashing. A bird chirps off to my right, but I hardly hear it with his intense gaze on me. “Because I know you, Terra. I know you’re going to do this with or without me. Honestly, I think you’re better off risking the train. Hiking would take far too long. If the government is as close to unlocking the serum as you think they are, then I don’t know how much time Nell and Red have left.”
What do train tracks look like?
“They’re two parallel metal rails with wood ties—slats—in between.”
A long metal path five miles to the east of the cabin comes into focus. Sometimes I would walk along it on my way to a small lake teeming with fish. I never knew what that path was. I always thought it strange that the leaves and other forest debris never accumulated on it. But now it makes sense. If those metal rails are train tracks and the train travels at night, then the train would have passed by and I’d never know.
I’ve seen some.
Jack’s eyes are strange mixture of relief and disappointment. “Where?”
East of the cabin.
“Do they run north and south or east and west?”
North south.
“Then they’ll head us in the right direction. I don’t know if there are any direct lines, but it’s a start.”
We turn southeast. I just wish there was some way we could tell Nell and Red that we were coming for them, that they needed to hang on for just a little while longer.
The long shadows of trees point the way toward the tracks. We hike until the darkness under the trees hazes my vision. Just when I think I can’t possibly take another step without falling asleep, we stumble into a narrow swathe of treeless land that stretches as far as I can see in either direction. The train tracks run straight through it. Finally.
“Let’s rest until the train comes.” Jack yawns and slumps against a tree.
But I can’t sleep yet. I find a spot where I know I’m out in the open. I look up to the sky. The clouds are patchy, but the sky is mostly clear and pierced with starlight. I carefully mouth the words.
I’ll need a sub. Maybe three days. I don’t know where. Please just watch.
This has never felt more risky. I can’t tell Gaea when or where, just that I need it. I hope that my mother can use the satellites to watch me closely enough. She hasn’t failed me yet.
Jack and I bed down under a grove of slender trees. Their branches droop down around us, forming a canopy of entwined branches clothed in bright green new leaves. I try to keep my eyes open, but my head droops again and again until finally I fall asleep with Jack’s arms around me.
Chapter Four
I wake up to rain on my face, and the sleeping bag is covered in a pattern of raindrops. All around me, I hear the soft patter of water. The woods always sound magical during the rain. All other sounds are muffled, and all you can hear is the drip, drip, drip. My breath comes out in puffs and I shiver. Jack’s warmth is gone.
I panic and sit up, the sleeping bag rustling as I do. I wince. I shouldn’t move so suddenly—who knows what might be out there watching me in the pale light of morning—but my heart hammers in my chest.
“Jack,” I croak out, but the word is mangled.
“I wondered when you were going to wake up.” Jack sits on his haunches a few feet away. He’s running his hands through the leaves and then splashing the drops of water on his face. “The train didn’t come last night.”
My heart hasn’t calmed down yet, and I can barely smile through the panic ebbing in my veins.
Jack tilts his head to look at me more closely. “What’s wrong?”
I look at my hands and shrug. I pick at a thread hanging from the sleeping bag.
Jack sits next to me and leans against my shoulder. “I’m never leaving you again. You know that, right?”
If only he knew about those three days in the cabin last winter when I couldn’t even move because of the hole in my heart. I haven’t been able to tell him just how bad it was. It still hurts to think about it, and he doesn’t need to know how I almost didn’t put myself together again. Instead I chance a smile at him. He brushes his lips against mine, and the heat from his lips warms me all the way to my toes.
“Come on. Let’s follow the tracks until the train comes.”
He stands and grabs my hands to help me up. I shake the stiffness from my limbs and roll the sleeping bag. We munch on energy bars and sip water from a pouch for our breakfast. My mouth feels mossy, but we don’t stop to brush our teeth. We keep to the trees that run along the track, always keeping it just in sight. It’s an eerie feeling to see that path carved right out of the forest—knowing it’s the government’s road and that we’re stalking along it so closely they could touch us if they wanted to. I’ve spent months trying to put as much distance as possible between us that it feels crazy making myself so vulnerable now.
But I’m doing this for Nell and Red.
By the time the sun is over the train tracks and shining in my eyes, the sweat trickles down my back and my mouth is dry.
Any trains during the day? I ask Jack as we pause to take a drink.
“I’m not sure. I would think not just because they’d be easier targets. Who knows? Why? Did you hear something?”
I shake my head. Tired of waiting.
“I am too. When you’re marching to your possibly imminent demise, you don’t want to wait around for it.”
Too much suspense?
Jack laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Something like that. You still
haven’t changed your mind?”
I zip my pack closed and keep hiking.
“I didn’t think you would. Promise me, though, that you’ll be careful.”
I start to laugh, but then I turn to him and there’s so much pain in his eyes it could go down for miles and I’d never see the end of it. His eyes remind me of the colony’s trench.
Of course.
He looks away. “I don’t think I could bear it if something happened to you.” He speaks quietly, so quietly the faint breeze turning the leaves almost wisps the words away before I hear them.
The sun hangs low in the sky, and the tracks glow orange-black in the fading light. Fluffy pollen drifts in the breeze, glittering like snow. The sweat is drying on my back as the sun disappears altogether and the chill of night falls on us. Through the break above the tracks, the pinpricks of stars appear one by one in the sky. The crickets chirp in rhythm, hushing as we step closer and resuming their music once we’ve passed on.
Then suddenly all those sounds stop and all I hear is the crunch of our feet on leaves. I pause, my body quivering as I rise up on my toes, trying to decide if I should keep walking or if we need to run. Whenever the animals in the woods go silent, something big is about to happen. Jack puts a hand on my arm to steady me. Then the ground begins to vibrate under my feet. I rock back onto my heels and I’ve just put one foot in front of the other, ready to bolt, when Jack grips my sleeve.
“It’s the train.”
He puts a finger to his lips and cuts in front of me, jogging through the brush beside the tracks. He looks back over his shoulder, peering down the long scar cut through the forest. I hear the train in the distance. Not the train itself exactly, but the unmistakable stillness it creates as it creeps through the forest. The animals quiet for it, and they grow silent several miles ahead of it. It’s eerie.
“They try to keep quiet,” Jack says, hunched over as we peer through the bushes toward the tracks. “Trains used to whistle loudly or at least chug. These are electric trains, so all you’ll hear is a hum. The government doesn’t want nomads finding them. They don’t even turn on their lights.”
I nod, straining my eyes on the tracks that gleam in the moonlight. There are no trees and no bushes around them for about twenty feet on either side, and this strange clearing cut through the trees unnerves me. Then in the distance, I see a shape come into view and bear down on us.
“There it is.” Jack tenses next to me, his long legs and arms ready to spring. I can’t help thinking that he’s not made out for this, but he does this for me. I want to tell him to go back and that I’ll go on alone; I shouldn’t put him in danger like this. But my mouth is dry and he’s not looking at me. His fingers dig into the leaves underfoot, and his whole body is a live wire.
I turn my focus back to the train—it’s nothing more than a phantom gliding down the tracks—and soon I hear the hum Jack was talking about. It almost sounds like summer cicadas.
My muscles twitch, wanting to run toward the train, to get this over with. Jack senses some of my anxiety and puts out an arm.
“Quiet now,” he whispers.
The first car passes us, and there’s nothing to hint at its passing except the hum, a few red lights along the cars that glow faintly in the dark, and the mounted gun with the soldier manning it. Even in the dark I can tell he’s not relaxed like some of the soldiers I’ve seen. He’s hunched over the gun, his arms gripping it, ready to fire. He slowly swivels three hundred and sixty degrees, taking in the woods around him. The gun is so large it looks like it could tear through the trees if it wanted to.
Only one? I write on Jack’s hand. I really don’t care if there’s only one gun. I’m writing on his hand just to calm myself down.
Jack shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes. It depends on the train.”
I don’t feel good talking. I expected the train to scream and howl as it went by. Instead it’s almost as quiet as the unnaturally quiet forest. Even though we’re shrouded by darkness and foliage, I feel exposed out here. I feel like the train is listening.
“Ready?”
I nod. In the direction the train came from, I can see the lighter gray of nighttime fill in the space left as the shadow passes by. We both start jogging through the brush alongside the train. It’s quickly outpacing us, but we’re not looking to jump on now. My eyes are trained on the top, looking for another gun, but there isn’t one. This train must not be carrying medical supplies or even food. Maybe just clothing. Or maybe it’s empty.
We want to catch one of the last cars, one that won’t be inspected or patrolled until all the others have once we stop. Of course this is a gamble—we don’t know how these trains are loaded—but it’s a chance we’ll take. It’s the only way we’ll get to Salt Lake City in time.
We’re running full speed now as the last five cars come into view. We dart along the edges of the bushes. The gun is well away by now, but I don’t know if the soldier wears nighttime goggles and can see us.
Then Jack hisses, “Now!” and we dash across the open space in full moonlight. The train is going much too fast. My legs churn, and I don’t know how we’ll make it in time. A loud pop shatters the absolute stillness, and the ground by my feet explodes in a shower of dirt.
The soldier sees us.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jack gasps, his breath ragged. “Keep running. Make the train and we’ll hide.” His legs stretch longer as his arm reaches for a handle to slide open a cargo car.
I force my legs to pound alongside the train, faster faster faster. Jack has his hand on the handle and has managed to wrench open the door just wide enough for us to squeeze through. But still the train goes too fast. The gun fires again, but we’re too close to the train for it to hit us. I remember Jack’s story—how the soldiers spilled out of the train like ants protecting their nest. I eye the opening warily, waiting for soldiers to pour out, but none come. There’s nothing but black in there.
I’m running too fast and stumbling over my own feet trying to keep up. Jack clings to the handle with one hand and stretches out toward me with the other. My fingers fumble for his, and then I grip his hand and he holds me tight. The speed of the train starts to lift me off my feet. My arm is going to be ripped from the socket and I grit my teeth, but Jack doesn’t let me go. My legs cartwheel behind me, my toes barely skimming the ground.
“Jump, Terra!” His voice strains and the veins in his neck are bulging. He can’t drag me along like this for much longer. “Come on, we’re almost there!”
I gasp in a breath, urge my legs faster, and launch myself toward the open door. Jack heaves me in at the same time I jump, and he falls back on the floor of the train. Only my upper body clears the train, and I land on my stomach with my feet dangling into thin air, and all the breath is slapped from me. My fingers scrabble on the smooth floor as I slip several inches out the door. I cry out.
Jack’s hands clamp down around my wrists and he tugs me inch by inch onto the train. “You’re lucky you’re so skinny,” he says between clenched teeth, and I want to laugh, but there’s a fiery pain in my ribs. The absurdity of it all is not lost on me—running like maniacs for a train that by no stretch of the imagination would kill us, so we can go to the lion’s den to rescue some friends that may or may not be there. Now I can’t even take a breath without a hitch. The whole thing is ridiculous. And then there’s Jack, trying his best to help me relax because surely he’s seen what a wreck I’ve been all night.
Jack pulls back again, planting his feet and scooting away from the door until my thighs, then my knees, and then my feet are firmly on the train, and I’m lying alongside him, and I feel his chest hammering into my back as he struggles to catch his breath.
“We’re never doing that again.”
My lips turn up wryly. I haven’t told him this yet, but how else does he think we’re going to get to the ocean once we have Nell and Red? But then the thought stops dead in its tracks. How will Nell and Red possibly catch
a train the way we just did?
I don’t have time to think this through—I honestly don’t want to think it through—and I try to stand, but I double over and clutch my ribs.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head. Just touching my side sends pain shooting through me.
“Let me see.”
I slowly take my hand away, and Jack reaches for me.
“I’m just going to touch your ribs.”
I nod and squeeze my eyes closed. Jack’s fingertips touch my side so softly I can barely feel him, and then he presses harder. I hiss in a breath.
“Sorry. Just another second.”
His fingers trail from my sternum to my back bone with a constant, steady pressure, and I wince.
“I don’t think they’re broken. You landed pretty hard on them, though, so they’re probably bruised. You’ll want to be careful.”
I wrap my arms around me, and it hurts at first, but then the pressure on my ribs is soothing. My legs are burning and rubbery, and I wobble on them as I look around. The soldier fired at us, and he can’t be the only one to suspect we’re here.
Hide? I write to Jack. He nods.
This car is practically empty. Cargo nets line the sides of the car, and one tall metal box stands in the corner.
“This way,” Jack says, leading me toward the back of the car. There are only two or three cars after this one. Then there will be nowhere else to hide.
Jack pulls me to the door that leads to the next car, but I stop beside the metal container. I peer up. The light in the car is dim, and the metal container is shoved into a corner full of shadows. I can barely make out the cargo nets swaying side to side above it. Jack looks back at me, wondering why I’ve stopped. I point up to the metal container.
“Up there? You’re sure?”
I nod. It’s perfect. This dark corner is the only half-concealed place in the car. They’d never expect us to hide somewhere so open. And honestly, all I want to do is lie down.