by E. C. Jarvis
“I thought I was going to be allowed to get some rest.”
“You can be restful and useful at the same time, Cid.” She smiled as he rolled his eyes at her and headed off toward the train.
It didn’t take long before the smaller group became surrounded by an awkward silence. Holt still walked by her side; it seemed as though he were making a point of doing so. Kerrigan walked a few paces behind them both, almost as if they had their own guard—or chaperone.
They passed by the manufacturing district. She couldn’t remember which of the warehouses had held the Professor’s airship, the start of her insane journey that had taken her to places she’d never dared imagine. She tried not to think of the timid and hopeless girl she had once been walking these streets, chasing after Cid and naïvely thinking she could save the Professor and go on to live a happy life.
“Two blocks east,” Holt said as he looked down at her, his eyes full of intent.
“Huh?”
“The warehouse. I stalked you through that alley,” he said, pointing to a dark gap between two buildings.
A laugh escaped through her nose. She’d been blissfully unaware of his existence back then. To think he could have grabbed her and snapped her neck at any point on her way back to the warehouse after meeting with the mercenary made her realize just how lucky she had been.
“I guess I wasn’t very observant.”
“You were not. You still aren’t.”
“Oh?”
“You should be mindful of potential threats at all times. Each time you round a bend, someone may be lying in wait. You should listen for footsteps coming towards you and check in the windows of buildings for the reflection of anyone awaiting your approach.”
“Who would be awaiting my approach? No one knows we’re here. Isn’t that a little paranoid?”
“Pirates,” Kerrigan said from behind them, making Larissa jump a little. She’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Pirates?”
“It would be safe to assume the city has been overrun.”
“Indeed,” Holt said, though he didn’t turn to look at Kerrigan.
“Because the pirate airships were gathered together in the skies? Because the trains aren’t running? That’s your assumption?”
“That, and the fact that not a single person on those fire trucks and enforcement vehicles was either an enforcer or a fireman.”
“Indeed,” Holt said again.
“You could tell that from so far away?”
“They had no uniforms, and they waited until the battle was over. They were probably scavengers looking to pick coins from the pockets of the dead and steal anything of worth from the downed ships.”
“Oh. That doesn’t bode well.”
“Indeed,” Holt said as he gripped her arm slightly. “We are being followed.”
“What should we do?” She turned to look, and Holt physically jolted her sideways to stop her from looking behind.
“They are keeping their distance for now,” Kerrigan said. “At least two of them, possibly a third.”
“You have weapons?” Holt asked.
“I have a pistol, not many bullets.”
“Blades?”
She heard Kerrigan grunt. It was more a grunt of irritation than an answer to the question.
“May I have one?” she asked.
Kerrigan caught up to them and walked at her other side, reaching across and passing her a dagger. It was army issue, and he must have either been given it by Vries or had retrieved it from one of the dead Marines. She didn’t like to ask which. She immediately turned it over and passed it across to Holt, who took it without hesitation.
“If I’d have known you would do that, I wouldn’t have given it to you.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you I was going to do it.”
“You may as well have the pistol,” he said as he reached into his belt.
“Give her the other blade,” Holt said.
“Why?” Kerrigan asked.
“Her aim is questionable.”
“I would argue, but I think there is a lamppost nearby that may agree with Holt,” she said.
“You have improved since then.”
“But still questionable?”
“Kerrigan is more accurate with a gun. It is simply a matter of placing the right weapons with the right people. Don’t be disheartened.”
“You have an interesting way with women, Holt,” Kerrigan said.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Larissa tried her best to suppress a smile; the act of stopping the grin made her cheeks hurt. She should have been worried about the people following them, but she wasn’t frightened at all. After surviving through so much, the notion of being attacked by a couple of thugs when she was shoulder to shoulder with the two best fighters she’d ever met wasn’t frightening in the least. The playful banter had at least served to make her forget the aching in her feet, but as they fell into another awkward silence, the pain returned to the front of her mind and she felt a little lightheaded. Perhaps wandering through the city without a rest hadn’t been such a good idea.
“I think we may have a problem,” she said as they turned into the residential district, great grey apartment blocks stretching up into the sky. Despite the late hour, there would have normally been a few candles burning in a few windows, but the entire street was dark. Even the streetlamps were unlit. It sent a chill down her spine.
“Go on,” Holt said.
“I was planning on cutting across the city using the cab system, but it was dangerous enough beforehand. I don’t want to risk going down there if it’s riddled with thugs and pirates, and I’m not sure I have the strength to walk all the way across the city without a rest.”
“Where are we headed?” Holt asked.
“Near the Hub…the center,” she corrected herself. The domed structure which had once served as an obvious beacon from almost any point in the city had not been rebuilt as far as she could see. She felt a twinge of regret tug at her heart with the memory of it.
“We will use the cabs,” Holt said, giving a nod to Kerrigan. The Colonel stepped away from them briefly to collect a lantern from a hook outside one of the nearby buildings. He struck a match and brought light to the dark street, and the three of them headed down a flight of steps leading to the cab system.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cid tripped as he stepped into the train carriage. His toes caught on the step, his legs flew out and bashed into the sides of the doorframe, and he stumbled ungracefully into the dark.
“Take it easy, Cid,” Narry said as he joined him.
“That’s what comes from not sleeping well for days…weeks…months,” he muttered as he moved along the carriage. It was completely empty—not that he’d expected anyone to be inside. A musty smell hung in the air, along with an undercurrent of something nasty not unlike rotting meat. The seats had a neatly formed layer of dust clinging to the material. Behind them, someone struck a match and lit a lantern, the light casting shadows along the walls. Cid pressed on, opening the door to the next carriage, hoping to find the buffet car.
The buffet car was another three cars down the train. Every carriage was empty, save for the discovery of a ragged old coat which had been abandoned across a seat. Saunders insisted on wrapping it around his cousin’s shoulders, which she didn’t protest, as she was soaked to the bone and shivering as they walked. The buffet car itself was neatly laid out with tables between the bench seats. Old marks of cup rings shone beneath the dust layer on the tables. Cid headed directly to the catering stand, his mind filling with visions of well-cooked steak, boiled potatoes, and heaps of steamed vegetables. His stomach gurgled, the sounds filling the silence and echoing over the footsteps of those behind him.
“Whose stomach was that?” Sandy asked.
“Mine,” Narry said.
“I thought it was mine,” Cid said as he leaned over the bar and unlatched the piece of wood serving as a gate.
“I guess we’re all hungry,” Sandy said. “Let me know if you find any pastries back there, will you? I want something sweet to get rid of the taste of mud in my mouth.”
“Will do, Miss.” He crouched down and pulled open cupboards to peer inside. Someone placed the lantern on the edge of the bar above, giving a little light to help him see.
“I’ll check the rest of the train,” Lieutenant Saunders said. Cid grunted in response. The cupboard was filled with cans, and he pulled them out one by one, placing them up on the bar behind before moving onto the next.
“Beans, soup, preserved turnips? I suppose hoping for pastries might have been a bit much,” Sandy said.
“We can make a feast out of those with a pot and a stove. Blessings from the Goddess of Soil and Seed in canned form,” Narry said as he collected the cans. “Say a prayer for thanks, Cid.”
“Bloody hell,” Cid muttered under his breath, regretting having stayed behind when he should have gone with Larissa. He slumped down onto his backside and rested his back against the cupboards behind him. The rest of the cupboards were bare; either they’d never been restocked or had already been cleared out by scavengers. Either way, his dream of steak seemed doomed to remain nothing more than a dream. He didn’t feel much like saying a prayer; he wasn’t sure he cared for the Gods any longer after everything they had put him through—and everything they had done to Larissa.
He sat in silence—save for the quiet clattering and clunking coming from nearby as Narry appointed himself the role of chef, a quiet whistled tune accompanying his efforts. How the man could act so happy and contented after the harrowing experience they’d just been through, Cid would never know.
“He tried to talk me into being his girlfriend,” Sandy whispered from somewhere above and behind Cid. His eyebrows knitted together as he craned his neck to look up. She sat on a stool by the bar, leaning her face on her hands, elbows on the wood.
“Narry?” Cid asked.
“Sergeant Boswell. He was such an idiot, always trying to talk me into kissing him or sleeping with him.”
“Ugh.” Cid turned to face the cupboards again, not sure how to respond and equally unsure why she was sharing this information with him.
“No matter how many times I turned him down, he still kept on. I wonder now if I should have just said yes. At least once. It wouldn’t have been so terrible really, and then I would have that as a memory rather than regret.”
“Shouldn’t you talk about this with your cousin…the lieutenant?”
“Gods, no. I don’t think he wants to think about me being with men, or thinking of men in that way. Especially not men he was in command of and responsible for. I think that’s part of the reason I always denied Eddy, you know? So as not to upset Tobin…Lieutenant Saunders. I didn’t want to give him a reason to leave me behind or send me home. I thought it would be a great adventure, a chance to get out of the same dingy walls and see something wonderful, or do something useful. I didn’t expect to see people die. I didn’t expect to care about people who were going to die.”
“People die whether you’re stuck behind dingy walls or not. It’s no reason to lock yourself away forever. Better to have met him and felt something, have memories, than to never have met him at all.” Cid closed his eyes, and for the first time in days, he thought of Elena. The sheen on her skin, the shine of her hair, the spark of intent behind her eyes. She was the first woman in more years than he cared to count who had genuinely wanted him. Being stuck on the hard floor of an abandoned train the opposite site of the world from her brought the reality of the situation crashing down around him. Had he promised he would go back? What a stupid promise to make. The thought of her sitting in the grand palace, looking out across the skies, waiting for his return made him angry. He should never have encouraged her. He should have been harsh and cruel and cast her aside. Sure, she may have felt bad for a short while, but at least she could have moved on and found someone of her own kind to comfort her. He could have died in that muddy field—should have died—and no one save perhaps Larissa would have cared. Certainly no one would have known to send word to Elena of his demise.
“Good point,” Sandy said, disturbing his train of thought. She sounded as miserable as he felt. They certainly weren’t doing a good job of cheering each other up. “So many dead,” she added quietly.
“Chances are a lot of them would have died during fighting with Eptora anyway… Oh, for fuck sake.”
“What is it?”
“The war…if they attack Eptora…if they succeed…” He paused, not wanting to imagine it. If even a small percentage of those airships or troops got all the way to the palace, Elena would be slaughtered.
His jaw ached as his teeth ground together. Even the smell of food cooking couldn’t subdue the knot of stress forming in his throat, constricting every breath.
“Aren’t we trying to stop the war?”
“That is the intention,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not that we’re doing much good here. Not that we could do much about it even if we weren’t stuck here.”
“There’s still hope. At least no one will know we’re coming.”
“For all the bloody good it’ll do us.”
“How’s your prayer coming, Cid?” Narry called.
Cid bit his tongue, mumbled a swear word, then silently cursed for swearing at a priest when he should be saying a prayer.
The sound of the door opening at the opposite end of the carriage had Cid jumping to his feet. Saunders returned with a determined stride. “Come with me,” he said, pointing at Cid.
“What is it?” Sandy asked. She moved off the stool, making as if to follow after them.
“Nothing. Stay here. Cut out the lamp and stop the cooking.”
Cid followed after Saunders in silence. He didn’t know why the Lieutenant wanted him to come see whatever it was they were going to see, unless it was some mechanical device requiring his attention. He perked up a little at the thought, then quickly told himself to stop being so foolish. If it were that simple, Saunders wouldn’t have told them to cut out the lamp.
They reached the last carriage at the front of the cars. Saunders stood beside the door leading to the platform, looking carefully in both directions. It was still dark outside, and as far as Cid could tell, there was nobody out there. Saunders stepped outside and waved for Cid to follow. They stalked along the side of the coal car, half jogging, until they reached the engine. Saunders stepped to one side and directed Cid into the cab. An ominous smell assaulted his nostrils, and he didn’t quite have time for his brain to process what it was before he looked into the cab. He turned away in revulsion the moment he saw what was inside. Two decomposing bodies hunched over the controls—the engineer and the fireman.
“Gods,” Cid muttered as his stomach churned. At least he hadn’t eaten the Friar’s cooking before coming out here.
“There are more. Inside the station.”
“All murdered?”
“Every last one. Rail workers, enforcers. Normal people…women and children.”
“Gods.” Cid turned away and faced down the length of the train. He should have known it wouldn’t be so simple. They had just escaped one dangerous situation and landed themselves right in the middle of another. He glanced across the city and groaned out loud. To think, Larissa had gone out there, walking into Gods only knew what kind of mess. “What the hell do we do now?”
“No one has been here for a while. These bodies are old, maybe weeks. We should be safe enough staying, provided we don’t do anything to draw attention to ourselves. We should rest, and while we wait for the others to return, it may be prudent to prepare this train to leave. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’ll have to look it over. Make sure there’s no damage to any of the controls. I’d need help moving those.” He pointed to the two dead men.
“I’ll help. We can decouple the far carriages and move up to the closest one. It will make for
a faster escape when we’re ready to leave. I’ll check the bodies inside the station. Maybe the enforcers haven’t been picked clean of their weapons.”
“You can stomach going in there?”
“When the alternative is the potential need to fight an unknown enemy without anything to defend ourselves with? Yes. I’ll manage. I just hope the Colonel and your friends don’t take too long doing whatever they’re doing.”
“Or run into the people who did all this,” Cid said, worrying anew for Larissa. “I look forward to the day when all this madness ends.”
“It’s not over yet,” Saunders said. “Go get some rest and have something to eat. I’ll take the first watch... Let me know if you find any smokes.”
“I thought you said you’d quit.”
“I feel the need to un-quit.” Saunders pulled himself into the train and began moving one of the bodies. Cid’s stomach wasn’t grumbling any longer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kerrigan fell back behind Holt and Larissa. His shoulder blades itched knowing they were being followed, and he half expected to wind up with a bullet in his back as they descended the steps leading into the darkness. Though he hadn’t seen their pursuers, who had quite a knack for stealth, they were there, and if Holt agreed, that was good enough. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge or appreciate the man, he was secretly glad for his company, even if it meant Kerrigan was somewhat of a third wheel.
No lanterns burned in the cab corridors below, and the air was thick with a musty smell. He regretted not asking Vries to spare a few men to come with them. As capable as the three of them were, they wouldn’t be much use if they stumbled across hundreds of thugs and became trapped in such an enclosed space.
They reached the bottom of the steps and came to a large area with gates leading to several tunnels arcing off in different directions. The lantern light cast an ominous yellow glow against the drab grey walls, shadows bouncing from the plinths holding up the roof at several points. Kerrigan gripped the pistol and moved off to the side, keeping his back to the walls as he carefully checked around the nearest plinths for any hidden people awaiting an ambush. Holt passed the lantern to Larissa and mirrored Kerrigan’s actions in the opposite direction.
