by Patti Larsen
“Trio.” My name is whispered from his lips, over my mouth, his hot breath stirring feelings I'm unable to put names to. “I have to tell you. How I feel.”
Yes. This is what I want, too. Maybe when he does I'll know what these emotions are, what this pounding in my chest means, this need to feel his bare skin against mine. More. I want so much more from him than just this kiss.
These words.
“Trio,” he says. “I love you.”
Love. My heart opens, my soul sings. Yes. Love.
No.
No, it can't be.
This is wrong. Suddenly I'm on my feet, pulling away from him, frowning, shaking my head. It can't be love. He's not for me.
Not.
Before Beckett can speak, I spin and run from him, heart hammering in my chest, guilt twisting in my gut though I have no idea why the idea of loving Beckett is impossible for me.
***
Chapter Fifteen
I'm not sure what I was expecting from the city I so desperately needed to reach, but it seems the same as any other we'd traveled through. Well, not quite. The tracks are mostly clear here, only bits of debris blocking the way from time to time and even Chime and Ande agreed they aren't big enough or dangerous enough to warrant slowing down.
I should feel triumphant as the train approaches the sprawling metropolis across the water, heading right to the huge island housing everything familiar to me. I know this place, feel like I am coming home, and yet nothing is as it should be.
The train slows as we near the water, blue and green glittering in the distance. Two of the crew hop down, walk ahead even as Duet pulls up next to the train. We need to be careful here, I don't need Chime to say it. Abandoned train cars lie in rusting piles, reminding me of the yard in Los Angeles, though Chime and her people were familiar with their place of origin. The multiple tracks ahead of us hold who knows what threats? Not to mention the hulking metal boxcars occupying the rails we ride.
I jump down to join the two boys in charge of switching the tracks, adding my strength to theirs. The inner workings of the switching stations are long gone to rust and require a great deal of effort, the electronics meant to run them automatically dead and cold.
The SUV engine sounds loud behind me as Duet leaps from the driver's seat, the truck still gliding ahead on its own with Poppy behind the wheel. My sister's ichor slides into the metal of the switching station, the green glow flaring a moment before the tracks groan and move aside, just in time for the train to take its new, safe path. Ande grins and waves out the window as if he wasn't worried even for a moment and I catch Duet grinning and waving back.
The two crew members return to the train but I stay with Duet, the pair of us walking the track while Poppy sings behind the wheel of the SUV and Ande keeps us company while the train slowly makes its way forward.
It's not until the tunnel looms he finally puts on the brakes, steam hissing out, metal grinding to a halt. I return, mount the steps, join Beckett and the others as they gather in the engine doorway to hear what Ande has to say.
He's peering at his trusty map, making me think of the precious, fragile one I relied on, still safe in the dash of the SUV. But this map is covered in rail lines, one in particular Ande scowls over.
“I didn't know there was a tunnel.” He's frowning when he meets my eyes. “This could be bad.”
“Why?” Chime leans back against Brick who steps aside so she staggers a little. Bright redness touches her cheeks and when she goes on, there's an edge to her voice, anger fed from embarrassment. “It's just more track, isn't it?”
“It is and it isn't.” Ande looks up, meets Socrates's eyes. “This is no ordinary tunnel.”
The young genius nods. “It's a long way underground and under water,” Socrates says. “You're worried about oxygen levels for the fire.”
“Not just that.” Ande gestures out at the boiler, relocated from the engine to the coal car. “The fire itself is toxic, the smoke we produce. If we stall under there, get trapped, the fumes could be deadly very quickly.”
“That is even if the tunnel is still intact, the track clear.” Socrates is nodding. “We need to go in there and find out.”
There's only one logical way to do so. I turn to Duet who grins at me, the slow morphing of her metal half pulling at her lips.
“I'm going,” she says, spinning around. I follow after her, swing down to the ground and into the cab of the SUV. Poppy hops into the back, the puppies and the dog at her side. I hesitate, want to tell her to stay with the train, but is anywhere really safe? And in all honesty, if she's not safe with Duet and I, nothing can protect her.
Beckett is calling after us as we drive off, probably because of Poppy. I catch her waving to him with a giggle and a wicked look in her eyes before she turns back and meets my gaze.
“My turn to leave him behind,” she says.
I can only laugh.
Duet doesn't seem concerned as she barrels forward, the tires of the SUV grinding over the gravel between the rails. Green-tinted beams shine from the headlights as we enter the tunnel at a rapid clip. It's not long before she has to swerve, humming happily, to avoid a train engine long since abandoned. At least it's not on the track ours follows, especially since there doesn't seem to be a switching station available. Duet drives with reckless abandon through the darkness while Poppy leans forward, wide-eyed but unafraid.
I wish I shared their enthusiasm. Even the dog, seated at my feet, keeps his head down as if he's afraid to look.
It's not long before we're pulling to a halt at a platform, the path for our train clear, though the rails surrounding are packed with derelicts. There are areas, as we turn and go back, where cars have tilted from their tracks, precariously close. It's possible we might rub a few on our way by, but luck is with us this track is open all the way to Penn Station.
How do I know its name? I just do. It's not Grand Central, I'm certain. Has to be Penn Station, with the sprawling Madison Square Garden above.
Memory flickers, the sounds of people, the rush of air as trains enter and exit the station. Noise, loud voices over the speakers, the smells of food and press of many bodies. I've been in this station before, many times.
Many times.
We return to the train as quickly as we left, though the drive back is a blur to me as I struggle to remember more. By the time we enter the sunlight, the engine hissing steam before us, my frustration is enough I've lost my sense of satisfaction we've finally reached New York City.
Duet waves at Ande, not even leaving the SUV. “Follow,” she yells before spinning again and driving back into the tunnel.
The train expels steam, ready for action, slowly building speed as it follows. Duet's mad dash is now a crawl as she waits for the train to catch up. The way may be clear, but Ande's fear of the engine failing inside, of a lack of oxygen in such a closed space creating an issue, keeps me turned in my seat, eyes locked on the dim light on the front of the locomotive.
It's a much slower trip in again. And this time I'm aware of the press of the walls of the tunnel, the knowledge we are far under water. I hadn't noticed the sound of our wheels splashing through puddles when we made our first headlong journey, but this time the noise of the gathered water makes my heart beat a little faster, my shoulders tighten as I imagine the roof collapsing on us, salt water from above flooding the tunnel and killing us all.
Duet reaches over, touches my hand. “Worry wart,” she says, grin clear in the glowing green light from the dash.
Yes, I am. I always have been. I try smiling back, feel my tension ease. We're almost there.
So close.
We pass one of the more worrisome cars and I wince at the sound of metal grinding. Chime will be shrieking in fury and I can only imagine the sadness on Ande's face as his poor train is damaged by the passage. But they come through all right, not pausing or slowing. We'll deal with any damage later. Right now, they have to keep going.
; The platform approaches. I spot it up ahead, feel relief. We're not under water anymore, haven't been for some time. Instead, we're below the very city I've been drawn to, deep in the heart of Manhattan. And the statue, the one that pulls me, it must be close.
I can almost hear her calling my name.
***
Chapter Sixteen
Duet pulls up to the platform, passes it. Parks. I climb out, the dog at my side, puppies happily wriggling their way to the ground with Poppy beside them even as Duet hops down and turns. We stand there, watch the train hiss to a halt next to the concrete walk.
Chime jumps down, looks around. It's not as I remember Penn Station, this dark and dank terminal. The original building is long gone, the beautiful architecture destroyed in favor of the sports stadium now resting above us. But in my time, for I know now it's time that's changed, they've done more to restore the history of this place.
I step forward, catch the edge of the platform, heave myself up to Chime's level, only to turn and catch Poppy as Duet gives her a boost. Two puppies, a dog and my sister later and we're all standing outside the train, paused and waiting as if something should be happening.
I turn to Duet, feel her hand touch mine. Her face is almost split by her grin of joy. Green ichor flows over my hand and a shudder of unreality runs through me. The moment she touches me I feel the world flash—
I'm eating birthday cake, singing with two girls who look exactly like me while the woman smiles and claps and tells us to blow out our candles
I'm back, Duet's eyes meeting mine. She nods. I'm not the only one flashing out—
A Christmas tree glows softly beside me as I squeal in delight over the pink sweater I've unwrapped while my sisters do the same, all matching, all pink, all perfect
Duet's grip on me jerks me out of the vision though I know her reaction to what we're seeing has nothing to do with freeing me from it—
She stands in a glowing white light, smiling and waving at me. I know her, she's me, one of us. Is that Clone One? This is wrong, all wrong, she can't go into the light. She needs to stay, here with us, she can't go
Duet smiles at me, the touch of her human flesh warm and familiar. “Welcome home,” she says.
The train hisses softly behind us as it releases the last of its steam, counterpoint to her words while I struggle with the memories. My memories, of childhood, of my sisters. Of Clone One.
Where was she going and why did I feel the need to stop her?
No one moves or even seems to breathe as they watch us. It must be obvious to them, from the looks on their faces, we're going through something, my sister and I.
“Up,” I say. “We have to find the statue.”
I'm almost running through the underground, to the stairs and the air above. I can hear them behind me, but it doesn't matter, I don't need them. Just Duet, clutching my hand as I race up the stairs and into the light outside.
7th Street greets me as I exit and turn southeast, toward the water. Battery Park. I know where I am, sort of, everything distorted. Huge buildings cast dark shadows as the sun begins to set, but there's lots of light yet. More than enough as I race down the dead street, not caring or worrying if there are Shambles or Brights or Howls or even Crawlers.
The water calls me. Calls me on. I know where I am.
Where she is.
Someone grasps me from behind, pulls me to a halt. I stop long enough to find Beckett panting, gasping for breath.
“Wait,” he says. “Wait for me, Trio.”
I should. I want him with me. But I need to go and he's slow, too slow.
They all are.
They've caught up by now, the crew, my friends, even Poppy, with Shine and Shade. That makes me pause, the sight of the slim girl and the two exhausted puppies. The pull weakens as I face my friends. Only Vander seems unaffected by our run.
“I have to go.” I meet their eyes, one at a time, though I don't bother talking to Chime. Her anger is obvious. “Please, understand.”
Socrates bends in half, but he's nodding, pointing. “Liberty Island,” he says. “You're going to the statue.”
I nod, bounce on the balls of my feet.
“Then what?” He straightens, looks at me with real curiosity. “We're coming with you, Trio, but we have to know what will happen when we get there.”
My insides ache with the need to fly. It takes so much effort to force myself to breathe, to slow. I call up the calm at last, let it ooze its way around me, finally easing the desperate pressure I feel.
“I don't know,” I say. “Won't until we get there.”
“This is stupid.” Chime glances around, clearly nervous. Why am I not? “Not only are you running through a city we know nothing about, you're not even being careful. This could be a trap.”
Tension ripples through the calm and while I've never liked Chime, the feeling mutual, for a moment I wonder if she could be right. Aside from the one recent Crawler attack, we've actually had it rather easy this last leg of the journey. If they know where we are, that we're coming, why aren't they here? Penn Station is our obvious destination.
Where are the Crawlers?
I turn to Duet. Her face is flat, unemotional as though she, too, weighs the options.
“Together,” she grunts. “But hurry.”
We're much more careful as we make our way, though this city doesn't offer the cover of debris I found in Los Angeles. Somehow New York has been saved the outward ravages of the Sick, the abandoned vehicles and piles of garbage. But it's as quiet as any other place we've visited, though I feel life here where I didn't at times elsewhere. It's likely we're being watched, I'm aware of that now. I should send my friends away, to keep them safe, but I can't bring myself to say the words.
They won't listen to me anyway. It's written on their faces. Though Chime and her crew, outside of Ande, would willingly abandon us, I think.
It's a long walk, over to West Street, all the way down the water-sided way to Battery Park. The sun is almost down when we reach it at last, the grass and shrubs here not as over grown as I expected, almost as though someone still cares for this green space.
But it's not the vegetation holding my attention as I stride the cleared paths all the way to the edge of the water. No, it's the tall, stately woman in the distance, standing firm on her own little island, most of her back to me as she looks out into the Atlantic Ocean.
I come to a halt at last, the orange glow of the failing sun lighting her. I stand in the quiet, listening to the sound of the waves against the rocks, the soft hush of wind through the abandoned park, smell the scent of salt and decaying shellfish mixed with the call of seagulls as they float above, almost suspended as they hover over us on extended wings.
My friends, the crew, are all looking at me, even Duet. Even the dog and Poppy and Beckett. Waiting, expecting me to leap in to some kind of action.
Nothing. No further prompting comes to me as I stand here and breathe in the ocean. I've arrived. Disappointment bites deep as the pull eases, fades, leaves me.
I'm as lost as I ever was.
“We need a boat.” Beckett comes to my rescue. “To reach the island.”
His words are enough, like permission for them to speak, to move and look around, the activity of the others settling the surge of panic I feel when I understand there will be no easy answers.
Why am I surprised by that?
Kids start to explore. I watch Socrates and Vander drift off, the latter well covered despite the fading sunlight.
Beckett leaves me and I let him, Duet too. It's only me and the dog, looking out over the harbor at the cold green woman, at the destiny I've been pursuing, the task I know I still need to perform. I'm so lost in my desperation, in flogging my mind for more answers, I'm not aware he's next to me until Brick speaks.
“I'm sorry,” he says, one hand settling on my arm. I glance up at him, concentration shattered.
“I am too.” I hug myself, but he doesn't rele
ase his hold. “I wish there was more.”
“But there is.” He pulls me toward him and I'm almost embarrassed. Surely he doesn't still claim to have feelings for me?
When I turn to deny him, I see the darkness overtake his face, feel his fingers dig in even as the first of my companions screams in the distance to the rumble of an approaching engine.
“She had to know,” Brick says. “Where you were going. And now she does.”
***
Chapter Seventeen
Crawlers everywhere. I don't resist Brick as he pulls me back, away from the view to face the interior of the park. I gesture to the dog to hold off his attack before he's harmed. There are too many of them, Crawlers rounding up my friends, the crew, flooding the green space, even for Duet and I to handle. We need to wait, to see where this takes us.
Who she is. Though in my aching heart, replacing the powerful urge to be here, I think I already know.
The lead truck pulls to a halt while the ground troops stomp forward. Cade appears from the passenger door, descends, smirking even as he offers a hand to one of the Crawlers exiting behind him. The soldier steps forward, pulling the rounded metal helmet free.
She smiles at me, waves from inside the white light
My sister clone's expression is soft, almost kind as she tosses her helmet to Cade and begins to remove her gloves slowly, one finger pull at a time, while my friends are dragged forward, shoved to their knees before her.
Her laugh is as familiar as my own as she approaches me. Her brown eyes glitter, touches of amber warming them, her smile as welcoming as any I've ever seen. I love her, have always loved her.
She is my sister.
“Finally,” she says. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”
Though my soul cringes from the truth, I fight the urge to believe this is part of the task, that I've found her too and we can do what we need to do.
“I like the names you've given yourselves.” She pauses, touches her fingertips to her flawless cheek as she looks up and away as if thinking. An artful expression I know she's practiced. She of all of us was the most interested in being noticed. “Trio.” She kisses me softly on the temple. “Duet.” I can't look away from her, though I hear my damaged sister grunting near me. How did they subdue her? “Lovely.” She laughs again, tinkling music. “Then you can call me Solo. I like it so much more than Clone One, don't you?”
