First Gear

by Eve Langlais

  I’m leaving. Everything he knew. Going into the unknown. With the world ending. But he wouldn’t be alone.

  Onaria wanted him with her.

  Surely that made them more than just friends.

  He wouldn’t know until he met her for the trip. He’d better move lest distraction make him late for the train.

  By the light of the candle, he made his way to a table strewn with his research in a far corner. He didn’t bother keeping it in a locked room. No one ever came down here.

  A few tomes littered the surface, only one of them open, the writing on it obscure. He’d only dared once call it alien when showing it to another professor. The laughter kept him from sharing it with anyone else.

  But what else was he to think when it was written in a language no one recognized? With images that made no sense. Yet he kept returning to study its pages, poring over them in the hopes of figuring it out.

  As he often did when flipping through the pages, he drew out the chain around his neck strung with the broken half of a cog. Junk he was told when he bought it for a penny at a market. Yet the strange metal, soft and almost warm to the touch, called to him. Not literally, but by tickling the curiosity of a young man. Over time, that turned into an obsession as he sought to discover the origin of the artifact, because it certainly wasn’t modern. Testing showed it to be over a thousand world revolutions old—which put it existing before his people even knew about machines. Some historians claimed they’d not even invented the wheel at that point.

  Yet, the tests didn’t lie. He’d found an ancient cog of an unknown metal, and he was convinced there were more. It saddened him to realize he’d never fulfill the dream of finding them. Of discovering some ancient, forgotten ruin.

  He slammed the book shut, suddenly angry.

  It was unfair. So unfair. All the knowledge he had, the potential to discover more, snuffed short. At this point it was a matter of would the cough or starvation kill him first?

  So why did he care about this place? In the end, all the written words in the world couldn’t help. Maybe it was best to not let anyone know of their folly.

  Ignoring the books, and for once not leaving with one tucked under his arm, he set the candle on the shelf right before the stairs, close enough it already singed the cover on some government treatise that no one had opened since he’d begun using the library.

  Then, before he could change his mind, he stepped out of the room and shut the door one final time.

  2

  Onaria bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited at the train station.

  I’m leaving. Hopefully not alone. She half wondered if Jool might change his mind.

  After all, he’d made it clear by never making a bold move that he considered her just a friend. A good friend. They shared almost everything. Having meals together. Seeing plays. Sometimes just talking for hours on end. The moments she cherished.

  Then there was the obsessed Jool. The one who spent all his time in that damnable library of his, poring over old books that no one could read. Not even him. He preferred burying himself among things long dead, rather than live.

  Time ticked. Faster and faster. So little time left and things left undone. She’d never properly kissed Jool. Or anything else. She’d never had a child. Never would. Would never dig her toes in the hot sands of Haedeez.

  But even more than the things she would never do, she missed feeling the sun. It had been months since she’d caught a glimpse from her aunt’s farm at the end of the train line.

  Longer still since she’d been able to take in a lungful of air that didn’t hurt. Not that she told Jool. He worried about her. Just not in the way she wanted.

  Friends only, ever since that day they met over a book at an estate sale. He’d wanted it because it was a first edition. She’d felt nostalgic about it because her mother used to read it to her.

  In the end, neither could afford it, but they forged a friendship from that moment on. She wanted something more. Had for quite some time, but Jool, with his head caught in a book, didn’t treat her like a woman. Never took advantage.

  But she fully planned to that with the little bit of time they had left. The time for being shy had passed. If she wanted the man she loved, then she’d have to act.

  If he showed up.

  The train blared, a long pull of its horn that sent the few people still standing around the station scurrying for their cars. She clutched a pair of tickets and wondered if she’d be travelling alone.

  Another warning and the huffing of the engine grew louder as it prepared to leave. She grabbed the handrail as she put her foot on the first step.

  “Onaria!”

  A glance over her shoulder showed Jool running for her, a knapsack slung from his shoulder, his long legs eating up the distance between them. She moved into the car, and he jumped on the bottom step and clambered after her. The train lurched, and he fell into her, causing a gasp of surprise.

  “I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face turning red, probably because he’d noticed the location of his hand.

  On her breast. Not by intention, but she didn’t mind the weight of it. He, on the other hand, snatched it away as if she were burning hot.

  “I got us a cabin,” she noted as she led the way down the narrow passageway.

  The small compartment consisted of two short benches barely wide enough to stretch out on, with shelves overhead for storage. Jool placed both their bags in them before choosing to sit across from her. He always sat at a distance.

  “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” She clasped her hands, exhilarated and terrified all at once. She’d done it. Left the city. And somehow managed to bring Jool with her. Even if he looked everywhere in the cabin except at her.

  “I’m glad you asked me. We should have done this weeks ago.”

  “I take it your meeting with Geoff didn’t go well.” She knew all about his determination to get an expedition sent to the mountains. It was his second obsession. The first one was with that broken piece of junk around his neck.

  “My meeting went as expected. No, no, and no,” he complained. “I don’t understand their stubborn refusal to look at every option.”

  “Who’s to say they didn’t? The mountains have always been seen as a place of death, not life.”

  “Geoff tried to say there was nothing there, but I know he’s wrong. It’s the answer to what’s coming.” Not for the first time, he clutched at the talisman he wore.

  “Then you’ll be glad to know you can go looking for it,” she said a little too sweetly. Why wouldn’t he look at her? “We’ll be close enough to them at my aunt’s that you can explore them for yourself.”

  “Me?” He sounded so surprised. “I’m not an adventurer.”

  “And what makes an explorer?” she asked with an arched brow.

  “I have no experience.”

  “Isn’t that why it’s called learning?”

  He snorted. “You have seen how clumsy I am.”

  “On many an occasion. Practice does help with that.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  Especially as he huffed. “I’ve practised falling enough already.”

  “Perhaps I’ll go with you. We can both climb up the mountain. Then you’ll have a witness when you find nothing on the other side.”

  “Ha. Ha,” he grumbled. Yet he wasn’t angry with her. Finally he glanced at her. A shy man with unkempt hair. “I brought the last of a chocolate bar I had. Would you like it?”

  For a friend, he knew how to make her wet. Chocolate and the scent of his cologne. But forget sitting beside him to eat it. He’d pulled out a book, on the countryside of all things.

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was woefully out of date. He’d soon see.

  Night fell, and yet, through their window, there was still light as the gas lamps lit, illuminating the streets of the sprawling city. They twinkled as the train rushed by. She stood to peek outside, needing to stre
tch her limbs.

  Of course, the train hit a lump on the track, jolting hard enough she lost her balance. Jool caught her and drew her into his lap, keeping her from falling.

  She stared at him. Mere inches away. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Said in a low voice she’d not heard often from him.

  Sitting in his lap proved pleasant, and she tried to prolong it by running her hand over his bristly cheek. “You should stop shaving.”

  “Grow a beard?” He snorted.

  “You should. I think you’d look dashing.” She stroked her finger along his jawline.

  “Then I guess I’ll have to grow one.”

  “Anything about me I should change?” she asked teasingly. She tingled with warmth as she felt a hardness pressing against her bottom. Definitely more than a friendly erection.

  “You’re perfect.” Said as he shifted her to the seat beside him and tucked his hands in his lap. A shame it was dark. She’d have liked to see if his cheeks changed colors.

  Then she clued in on his words. She leaned against his shoulder. “I’m glad you came with me.”

  “As if I’d let you leave without me.” The most flirtatious thing he’d ever said to her. “What will your aunt say to your bringing me along?”

  “About time,” she blurted out. Her cheeks heated. “That is—I mean—” She finally settled on saying, “She’s heard a lot about you.”

  The lulling motion of the train put her to sleep on his shoulder, drooling. But he didn’t seem to mind. They both dozed on and off, eating the paltry snacks they’d brought because the train no longer offered a meal service. The onboard lavatory only offered a grayish water to rinse the hands.

  The trip would take a few days, and though it stopped along the way, it never sat still for long. While people got off, fewer and fewer got on. As they entered the wastelands—comprised of agricultural fields that showed only stunted growth—houses became farther apart.

  Most chose to live in the cities with all the amenities. Only the farmers preferred the wide-open spaces, and even then, as their crops died, many of them chose to shift to the cities, too, everyone looking to the government to feed them.

  It saddened her to see the once fertile fields now lying fallow.

  As if echoing her thoughts, Jool said, “How could we let it get this bad?”

  Greed. A nonchalance toward the future. A willful blindness to their actions.

  Late afternoon, as she drowsed, Jool shifted and then shook her awake. “Onaria. Wake up.”

  “What? Are we there?” she mumbled, rousing enough to rub her eyes.

  “Trouble.”

  The word brought a chill that woke her thoroughly. “Where?”

  He pointed. Outside the window, the dead fields still streamed past, but racing through them on motorbikes spewing fumes were bandits. She’d heard rumors of them, even as the news neglected to report on their antics. They wore goggles and scarves concealing their faces, intent on racing the train.

  They zoomed out of sight, and she heaved a sigh of relief that turned into a squeak as the train jolted. There was a screaming of metal as it braked. Jool held her tight as they came to a bumpy stop.

  Choo. A release of steam was followed by an ominous lack of movement.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Robbery, I imagine. They’ve been having problems outside the city zones.”

  “We’ll be fine,” she said aloud, mostly to reassure herself. “I have nothing of value.”

  Except the bandits weren’t after objects, but food. They came banging on compartment doors, thrusting themselves inside, desperate men and women armed with weapons, hands outstretched demanding payment.

  Onaria didn’t hesitate, grabbing her bag with trembling hands, while Jool handed over the last of his stale bread.

  “That’s it?” the stranger asked, his cheeks gaunt and grizzled, disparaging their meager offering.

  “There’s nothing left in the cities,” she said almost in apology.

  “Or you’re hiding it from me.” The fellow grabbed her and yanked her close, drawing a protest from Jool.

  “Leave her alone.”

  “Or what?” The tone matched the sneer.

  Jool bristled. “She’s a lady.”

  “You don’t say? Never had me a lady.” There was a mocking in the way the bandit said it. “Maybe you should come with me. A dessert to go with the dinner.” He moved toward the door, still gripping Onaria by an arm.

  Sliding quickly, Jool blocked the way. “Unhand her.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” snarled the bandit, shoving at Jool.

  To her shock, Jool shoved back. “I said unhand her. Starvation is not an excuse for depravity.”

  “Maybe you should come, too. You’ve got enough meat on your bones, and once you’re in the stew pot, none will know the difference.”

  The very suggestion of cannibalism raised her gorge.

  Jool appeared shocked as well. But not enough to concede. “You’re not leaving this train with either of us.”

  Brave words that swelled her heart. Who knew a hero hid within the man?

  The bandit released her long enough to swing at Jool. The first fisticuff missed. The second snapped Jool’s head to the side. The bandit grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the cubicle wall hard enough it shook.

  Poor Jool appeared dazed.

  “Brute!” she hollered before snatching the only thing of substance in the room, her purse packed with her treasures. She swung, and it connected with the head of the thug. He turned her way to snarl, “Bitch, I’ll—”

  “Don’t call her that!” Jool mustered his wits and threw himself at the bandit, the momentum rushing them across the short space to the window. The impact was hard enough to pop it from the frame. Jool knew enough to let go when the bandit teetered.

  Crunch.

  They both leaned out the window to see the thug lying at an unnatural angle on the ground.

  “He’s dead,” she gasped.

  “Better him than you.” Jool drew her away from the window.

  “What now?” she asked. “His friends will come looking.” She wrung her hands as she paced the tiny space.

  Only she fretted for nothing. Someone did notice the body, but rather than mutter something about vengeance, grunted before yelling, “Jorner is dead.”

  “Then that’s one less mouth to feed. Sling him on the back of a bike and let’s move out before the soldiers arrive.”

  With a roar of motors, and a callousness that chilled, the bandits left. It was only later she realized they’d not taken the dead man to bury. At least she had no food in her belly to lose.

  The train continued on its trek, leaving behind the grizzly scene—and all the hope she’d had left.

  3

  After the attack, Onaria didn’t say much. The shock of it shook him still as well, so he understood.

  Society was devolving as people gave in to desperation. The robbery of the train made him wonder if he’d made the right choice in leaving the city.

  The countryside proved only slightly better air quality wise. Even out here, the ravages of pollution affected the land. The greenhouses had been abandoned after it was realized there was nothing that could be done to stop the outbreak of red mold, a side effect of the chemicals used to grow bigger and better crops. The virulent spread forced growers to burn their plants, only to discover the soil remained contaminated and unusable.

  The pastures were bare, animals long gone, dead of disease, starvation, and slaughter as people sought to survive. The only thing now left in those fields was the scrubby grass standing in tufts, inedible even when boiled.

  The occasional hint of sunlight proved nice, and each time a ray split through a cloud, Onaria pressed her face to the window. A flower seeking the sun. A woman who’d ended up in his lap, and never once called him out on the fact he had an erection the entire time. She had to have
felt it. His male ego would surely die if she considered it of no consequence.

  At the final stop, last of the line, only a handful of people disembarked.

  “We’re here,” she huffed happily.

  A reminder that they were both still alive. Together. It might be too late for them as a species, but there was still time with Onaria.

  He took her bag and slung it over his shoulder, which caused her to gape in surprise. Usually she carried her own things, but he’d been reading a lot lately, especially the older stories, back in a time when the division of the sexes was more pronounced.

  He also gripped her hand. Firmly. She didn’t pull away.

  Stepping past the station platform as the few other passengers disappeared, they realized there was no one to meet them.

  Onaria frowned. “I wonder where my aunt is.”

  “When did you last speak to her?”

  “A few days before the phones went down the first time.” Which was ten days before their trip. “She was the one to tell me I should come. I tried calling the moment the lines came back. When she didn’t answer, I told Lorhj, the neighbor, to pop in to check on her. I haven’t heard back, though, because we left the next day.”

  The feeling in his stomach had him gripping her fingers more tightly. “How far is it to walk?”

  She grimaced. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  In the end, they hitched a ride with an old fellow who’d come to see if the train brought any supplies. It didn’t. Whether it never had any to start with or the bandits took everything didn’t really matter.

  Their feet dangled over the edge of the trundling flatbed truck, the exhaust chugging smoke, but it was the only one on the road. They passed abandoned houses, some with the front doors left ajar as if their owners ran out and forgot to shut them. A clothesline with clothing hanging, some by only one remaining pin, flapped in a stiff breeze.

  “I don’t understand why they’d leave for somewhere worse,” Onaria said, practically having to shout over the noise of the engine.