by David Estes
Her eyes are moist, but not with sadness. Her pride at having known Cole is just spilling over. I hug her.
We’ve lingered for far too long, but it seems to have energized both of us as we stand up. Although we’re sick, there’s a slight bounce to our steps. I feel like we might still make it through this.
But those feelings can’t possibly last.
Chapter Four
Tristan
Elsey is about to follow her father into the water, but I grab her arm. “Elsey—no!” I shout.
She looks at me blankly. “But Father told us to follow him,” she says. I have a feeling she would jump into the lava flow if he did first.
“I don’t think he’s thinking clearly,” I say. “I’ll go pull him out.”
My head jerks up as I hear a splash. Ben is bobbing in the center of the reservoir, staring at us. “What are you waiting for? There’s a tunnel here.” Without further explanation, he ducks under and kicks downwards, sending tiny ripples chasing each other to the shore.
Elsey manages to squirm away from me and dives in, making almost no splash. Roc looks at me and shrugs. “After what we just did, I wouldn’t mind a quick dip.” I can always tell when Roc is lying—like now. His lips are pursed, his eyebrows raised slightly. He wants to look brave, but I can tell he’s scared. Like I said, water’s not his thing.
“You first,” I say. I want to make sure no one follows us. I still have no clue where Ben is taking us, but I have to trust him.
This time I don’t kick Roc in the butt. He’s scared enough as it is, so I let him dabble a toe in the water and then wade in slowly. Once he’s waist deep, he pauses and I can tell he’s trying to gather his nerve. Plugging his nose, he plunges into the inky stream.
Before following, I turn and scan the area up to the buildings. There’s no sign of movement. The shadowy silhouettes of the downed troops blot the edge of the city. I catch a whiff of burning when I breathe in. Whether it is a lingering reminder of the bombing from three days ago or a new fire, I don’t know.
I turn back to the water and slip in, pushing off of the rocky embankment to propel myself forward. Expecting complete darkness, I don’t bother to open my eyes, sweeping my hands to each side to dive deeper, while churning my feet like a propeller.
Ten seconds pass and still I go deeper. I push forward with my hands, reaching out, trying to touch something, an arm or a leg, anything to tell me I’ve caught up to Roc, but I feel nothing. Nothing. And then…
Crunch!
Sharp pain lances through my fingers as my knuckles glance off hard rock. I pull them back sharply, tucking them to my chest for a moment. I’ve reached the reservoir floor without finding anyone. Finally, I open my eyes and feel the cold water swarm around my eyeballs.
As expected, blackness surrounds.
I swivel my head to the right, seeing nothing but oil. Twisting back to the left, I see it. A light. A beacon. A surprise. Off in the distance, something bright is bobbing through the pool, moving away from me.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been underwater, but my breath is becoming short. My instincts are urging me to kick to the surface and breathe, but I know I can’t. I try to push all thoughts of air out of my head as I kick hard, chasing the light.
As I swim, more lights appear on either side of the first one, except these are stationary, like the sentry lights that guard the tunnels of the many inter-Realm trains. I am gaining on the light.
When I reach the stationary lights, I find they are embedded in the wall, illuminating the entrance to a tunnel. An underwater tunnel! Ben isn’t crazy, after all. He knew exactly what he was doing.
The moving light is in the tunnel and I can barely make out shadowy figures flitting about it. I’m not sure how long has passed since I entered the water, but my lungs are aching for air. From its entrance, the tunnel appears endless, a never ending chute to nowhere, or somewhere—it’s definitely one or the other.
I grit my teeth and kick harder, shoveling the water to either side with my hands. Thankfully, the tunnel is wide enough to use my whole body to move me forward, and I feel a surge of water around my ribs as I move faster through the abyss. Chasing. Chasing. Chasing a damn light that seems to move ceaselessly away from me.
My movements grow frantic as my body, my blood, my brain demand air. I push harder and harder, straining against my own limitations. The light moves upwards and disappears, and I fear it’s gone out, plunging us all into darkness and death.
I push on.
My vision gets blurry and I feel lightheaded.
I push on.
One kick. Two kicks. Three kicks. I have nothing left.
But I find something more. I push on.
I feel strong hands grab my tunic and pull me up. I gasp, splutter, take deep breaths that are half-air, half-water. Choking, I cough, trying to expel the intruding liquid.
“Slowly, Tristan. Breathe slowly,” Ben says, rolling me over onto my back.
I obey, deepening my breaths—in between each gulp I’m still coughing—and trying to relax my heaving chest. Gradually, I open my eyes to see Roc, Elsey, and Ben hovering over me. They all appear to be perfectly fine—while I’m a mess.
“Who hates the water now?” Roc says, smirking.
I’m too tired for a comeback. Plus Roc does appear to have handled the long swim better than me. I take three heavy breaths and start to feel better.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“See for yourself,” Ben says with a wave of his arm. I roll over and look past him, at where he’s gesturing. Everything’s blurry at first, so I blink a few times to clear my eyes. Something comes into focus. It’s a…a…
“Train?” I say, not really believing my own description.
“Traaaiiinnn,” Roc repeats slowly, sounding out the word for me like I’m stupid. “T-R-A-I-N. Spell it with me, Tristan.”
I ignore him and push up to my feet. Indeed, it’s a train, gleaming silvery and metallic, even under the dim glow of the lights inset into the brownish-gray rock walls. We are in a small bunker, accessible only via the train that stands before us, or the watery tunnel from where we arrived.
“Does it run?” I ask stupidly.
“Of course,” Ben says. “All of the secret trains have been maintained by the Resistance for many years.”
“The Resistance…” I murmur, remembering my history lessons. From what I can remember, the Resistance was formed and destroyed in the same year, in 475 Post-Meteor, before I was born. My father and his armies crushed the Resistance like a bug before it could ever really do any real damage to the government. “But the Resistance was destroyed,” I say.
“You’ve been reading sun dweller history books, I see,” Ben says. “The real story is much darker and more complicated than your father wants anyone to believe.”
My mind whirls. But if there are still secret trains maintained by the Resistance, then that means the organization still exists. That there are still people out there fighting. “Tell me,” I say, my throat aching from swallowing too much water.
“Maybe later—we’ve got a train to catch.”
I have so many questions, but Ben hasn’t led us astray yet, so I follow him to the train doors, which open automatically as he approaches. Elsey is clinging to his side.
“Will the train whisk us away to a better place?” she asks innocently.
“I can’t see how it could take us to a worse place,” Roc grumbles.
“We’ll see, Elsey, we don’t know whether subchapter 1 has been hit yet,” Ben says, not sugarcoating the situation, even for his youngest daughter. I can see how Adele got so tough. Her father probably always gave it to her straight—the real story, not some children’s fairy tale. A harsh truth perhaps, but the truth nonetheless.
We step onto the train, which is spotless, in better condition than even the sun dweller trains. The seats are gray and hard, lined up efficiently along the edges like a military convoy, with plenty of room i
n the middle for satchels of weapons and ammunition. At least that is how I guess the space was being used by the Resistance. Correction: is being used by the Resistance. I’m still trying to get my head around what Ben said.
While Roc and I take a seat with Elsey between us, Ben presses a black button on the wall and speaks into an intercom. “It’s Ben, requesting immediate train transport from subchapter 26.” His leg is covered in blood, and I start ripping shreds off my tunic so he can bind his wound.
There’s a bit of static, and then a female voice comes through loud and clear. “Ben? Is it really you? We thought…we thought you were dead.”
“It’ll take more than a traitor prison camp to kill me.”
“And Anna?”
“Anna is below. My daughter is going after her.”
“Do you think she’s—”
“Yes,” Ben says firmly, glancing at us. “She’s alive, I know it.”
“Adele has been all over the news,” the voice says.
“Look, Jinny, I’d love to catch up, but…”
“Right, sorry. I’ll get you moving right away. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later…but Ben?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sure glad you’re alive—and we’ll be pulling for Anna, too.”
“Thanks. Over.”
Before Ben can sit down, the train starts moving, beginning slowly and picking up speed as the lights flash off and we’re thrust into absolute darkness.
I feel a scrape against my arm as Ben sits next to me, grunting slightly. “Mr. Rose—I mean Ben—are you okay?” I ask, handing him the strips of my tunic.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the fabric. “I think so. I’m not sure, but I think the bullet missed the bone and lodged in the muscle. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”
“What happened to your ear?” I ask in the dark.
“That horrible soldier with the sword sliced it off,” Elsey interrupts from my other side. I turn, half-expecting to see that face that reminds me so much of Adele, but see only a black void.
I turn back and say, “He cut your ear off?”
Ben chuckles, which seems odd given we’re talking about his missing ear, which is likely being examined by the star dweller soldiers as we speak. “Nah. Just the tip, I reckon.”
“Oh, just the tip. No big deal then,” Roc says. “Sorry, guys, I’m not used to all this violence. I think I might just catch a transfer back to the Sun Realm at the next stop.”
I laugh and it hurts my throat, but still feels good somehow. “Oh, I think you fit right in, buddy. I’m not sure what won you the battle—your clunky sword work, or the deranged look on your face while you swung that pointy hunk of metal like a madman.”
“You taught me everything I know.”
“I don’t remember the day I taught you Fearsome Expressions 101.”
“Yeah, you were absent that day, so I had to do self-study,” Roc retorts. Elsey giggles. I can sense Roc grinning in the dark. Somehow we are always able to joke. Somehow it makes things easier.
“Ben, can I ask you something?” I say.
“I’ll tell you all about things later,” he says.
“No, not that,” I say. “Something else. About Adele.”
“Sure.”
“Why’d you teach Adele to fight?”
“Because she wanted to,” he replies simply. It’s not the answer I expected at all. I thought he might say So she could defend herself, or Because it’s all I know, or even Because it’s a dangerous world out there, son. I don’t know, something like that.
“How’d you know that she wanted to learn?”
“Because one morning I took Adele out back, behind our house, and showed her a few things. You know, how to kick, how to punch, that sort of thing. I was mostly just messing around, having fun with her. Roughhousing. The next morning when I went out back to train, Adele was already there, practicing her kicking. She always loved to kick. Every day after that she showed up, without being told. When Elsey was born, she never seemed interested, so I didn’t push her. We did other things together, but with Adele it was all about the training.”
“I liked cooking with Mom,” Elsey interrupts.
“And your doll.”
“Molly!” Elsey exclaims. “Oh, dearest Molly, my only doll. She and I used to go on the most incredible adventures together. To defeat evil witches and dark wizards and meet fantastically handsome knights.”
I can’t help but to laugh. Roc’s cracking up, too, and Ben’s deep chortle rises above us all. A proud father.
“How’d you learn to talk like that, El?” Roc asks.
“Like what?” Elsey says innocently.
Ben chuckles. “She loved reading old throwback books with my wife, about princes and princesses and kings and queens. Something about the formal way they spoke just stuck with her.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty silly,” Roc says, tickling Elsey on her stomach, which earns another squeal of laughter from her.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. I think back to what Ben said. Because she wanted to. He’s the opposite of my own father, who always encouraged us to do certain activities with the back of his hand or his belt. It was never a choice. Learn to fight or face his wrath. Ben is a good man. The best kind of man. A role model. I’ve barely just met him, but already I want to be like him. I’ll follow him to the molten core of the earth if he asks me to.
I’m in the game.
* * *
A few hours later the lights come back on and the train slows, pulling to a stop next to a dimly lit stone platform. A half-dozen people are gathered to meet us. They remind me of Ben: strong and capable, heads held high, tight lips that are quick to smile and then spring back to serious again. They are each wearing various shades of brown tunics that have seen better days, littered with patches and ragged edges.
To my left, Elsey is asleep on Roc’s shoulder, and he on her head. To my right, Ben is wide-eyed and alert, as if he hasn’t slept at all. I couldn’t sleep either, but chose to pass the time in silence.
As the train doors ease open I feel my stomach lurch with hunger. The greeters push their way inside. “Ben!” the woman in front shouts as she sees us. Ben is on his feet in an instant as the woman charges him, hugging him fiercely. She looks to be in her early forties, with the beginning of wrinkles under her amber eyes and creasing her broad forehead. She wears a long, brown ponytail with just a touch of gray around the edges. Her jaw is firm, her lips full. I stand up next to them and wait in uncomfortable silence as they embrace. I feel somewhat embarrassed at the emotion they display, especially given Ben is a married man.
My confusion is erased when Ben releases the woman and says, “Tristan—meet my sister, Jinny.”
I break into a smile and extend a hand. Smack Instead of shaking my hand, she slaps me across the face, stunning me. “That’s for being the son of the President,” she says. Then she hugs me tightly, pulling her head into my chest. I don’t hug back—my arms flail helplessly past her back—because I’m too shocked.
When she releases me, she says, “And that’s for joining the Resistance.”
“I, um, I, well…” I blubber.
“What he’s trying to say is that he’s pleased to meet you,” Roc says, extending his hand. When Jinny takes it, he says, “Can you show me how to do that slap you just laid on Tristy here? It could definitely come in handy.”
Jinny laughs while I continue to try to figure out what the hell is going on.
“My sister can be rather opinionated,” Ben says.
“Father?” Elsey says, rubbing her eyes groggily.
Ben’s head whips around, as if he’s forgotten about his youngest daughter. With a single large step, he moves to her side, puts a tender arm around her shoulder, and says, “Elsey—there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Jinny steps forward, reaching her hand out slowly, as if she’s afraid she might frighten her.
“Hi, Elsey, I’m your Aunt Jinny.”
For a second I think Elsey might be angry as her eyes narrow, but then she rushes forward past Jinny’s outstretched arm and throws her petite hands around her back. When she pushes back to look up at her aunt’s face, she says, “But why didn’t you ever visit?”—her head swivels to face her dad—“And why didn’t you ever tell me you had a sister, Father?”
Ben’s eyebrows arch and he smiles lightly. “I’m so sorry, El. I had to keep Jinny’s existence a secret for everyone’s safety. There are bad people that wanted to take her.”
“Like they took you and Mother?”
“Exactly like that.”
As she pulls away from Jinny, Elsey’s hands move to her hips and a scowl appears on her face. The expression reminds me so much of Adele. “Are there any other relatives I should know about?”
Ben laughs. “I’m afraid not,” he says. “Your mom is an only child and it is just Jinny and me.”
“Then I suppose I can forgive you…this time,” Elsey says, once more smiling.
“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat at the train door. I turn to see a towering, dark-skinned guy with a day’s worth of stubble. He’s wearing a dark brown tunic cut off at the shoulders. Powerful, muscular arms hang loosely at each side, like rock-crushing sledgehammers. “We should really move inside,” he says.
“Ram,” Ben says, “it’s good to see you again.”
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
“Thank you.”
“Ramseys—meet Tristan Nailin.”
“I know who he is,” Ram says, his eyes dark and glaring. “Follow me.” Without another word he leaves the train, clearly expecting us to follow. He doesn’t like me—that much is obvious.
“Sorry about him,” Ben says.
“No problem,” I say. “I’m used to all kinds of reactions to me. I think I prefer Ram’s to most.”
