by Greg Dragon
“Are you okay, El?” I ask. Cole and Tawni have walked away, on a mission to find the least conspicuous way into the city.
“I am now,” Elsey says.
“But before?”
“I tried to be optimistic, like Father always taught us,” she says, wrinkling her button nose. “But I was depressed sometimes. If it wasn’t for Ranna I would have felt so alone, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Tried to run away?”
“Maybe.” Elsey looks at me with a seriousness that is far older than her age. “Do you miss Mother and Father?”
“Of course, El.”
“Oh, so do I. So much I can hardly breathe sometimes.”
“We’ll find them,” I say, making a promise I intend to keep.
“I’m so glad you made friends, Adele. How long have you known Cole and Tawni?”
After hearing how tough things were for her, the last thing I want to do is depress her with my sad story in the Pen, and how, until a few days ago, I’d felt even more alone than her. But I also can’t lie to my sister—never could. “I’ve known them a little while.”
“And Tristan? I know you told me the story, but have you really only been interested in him for a few days?”
“I’m not interested in him, El. Not really. I just want to know why I get a headache whenever he’s around, that’s all.”
“Mmm,” she says.
I don’t have a chance to ask her what she means by that because the others return, excited.
“We found a route that’s pretty dark the whole way to the center,” Cole says, smiling.
They’re still thinking about getting real food, but I’m thinking about what to do afterwards. We can’t stay in subchapter 16—not with Rivet and his gang roaming somewhere nearby. We need a plan to get to the Northern subchapters, specifically subchapter 26, where my dad might be a prisoner. Camp Blood and Stone.
“Okay, food first,” I concede. “Then what?” I hate asking the question without having some brilliant suggestion, but I can’t seem to think. Sometimes I feel like I’ve only got two brain cells, and even when I rub both of them together nothing seems to happen. This is one of those times.
“We’ve been talking about that, too,” Tawni says. “And I think we’ve got it figured out. Why do we need to keep trekking through the dangerous inter-Realm caverns, being chased by a gang of bloodthirsty men with a license to kill us, when we could ride all the way north?”
“Ride?” I say. “You mean, like on a train?”
“Of course a train, what else? They have night express trains, direct from subchapter to subchapter. We could disguise ourselves as nomads, cover our faces, and buy a ticket. Even if they recognize us, we’ll be long gone before anyone has a chance to do anything about it.”
The thought of saving us hundreds of miles of walking and getting to my dad faster at the same time is tantalizing, but it also screams suicide. “I don’t know…” I say. “Seems a bit risky.”
Cole says, “This whole thing is risky. All I know is we’ve got to do something unexpected or we’re gonna get caught. Let’s give it a try, and if we get caught, I promise to let you say ‘I told you so.’”
“I’ll relish the opportunity,” I say, not mentioning the fact that if we get caught we’ll be dead.
The city is beckoning to us, and the thought of food is making my mouth water. As planned, we pick our way through the city via alleys and small side streets, staying out of sight like ghosts in the night.
Eventually we find a small café that seems to be open and still taking customers.
“Showtime,” Cole says, gesturing to Elsey.
I scowl, still not completely comfortable with my sister’s role in our operation, but I bite my tongue and manage to keep my thoughts to myself. Before I can even consider changing my mind, Elsey gives me a quick hug and sneaks away, sticking to the shadows, moving toward the café, which is conveniently located on the corner of our alley and the main street.
I watch as she spots a Dumpster and moves behind it, peeking out at the road.
A family of four passes her: a mom, a dad, two girls. They remind me of my own family in the old days. The girls look happy, holding hands with their parents and skipping along. It’s good to know that even in the Moon Realm some people are still happy. Of course it helps that their parents haven’t been abducted and their city bombed, but still, happy is happy.
Elsey wisely ignores the family, waits for a better target. An old man with a bad limp and a rickety old cane hobbles past. Perfect. Elsey evidently thinks he’s a perfect candidate, too, because she sticks her head out a bit further and must make a noise, because the man stops and peers into the gloom.
He changes direction and moves toward her, taking ages to reach her behind the Dumpster. I tense slightly, ready to spring into action if needed. I’m not sure what I expect; I guess that maybe the old man is faking his injury and will suddenly smack her over the head with the cane and carry her away. Not surprisingly, he doesn’t.
Apparently, Elsey is able to convince him to help, because he hobbles off a minute later, and Elsey gives us the okay sign using her index finger and thumb. I reply with a thumbs-up.
Waiting for the man is as boring as watching rocks being eroded by the flow of an underground stream. He takes so long. I swear he must be in there negotiating a peace treaty, not just ordering some food. In any event, I manage to keep my eyes open until he reemerges holding big cloth bags. He struggles under the weight of the bags, readjusting his grip and switching arms several times before finally reaching my sister. I see her hand him the pouch of Nailins as payment. As we’d instructed her, she waits until the man limps onto the street and out of sight before tiptoeing back to where we’re hiding.
Her eyes are wide with excitement and her smile gleeful. “How’d I do?” she asks.
“You were perfect,” I say, meaning it.
“You did really well,” Tawni adds.
“Your first solo mission was a complete success,” Cole says.
Elsey beams. By the way she looks at him I think Cole’s compliment makes her the happiest.
It’s amazing what a little money can buy these days. The spread of food is impressive, even with four of us eating. We each get a sourdough roll, two pieces of bacon, a sizable hunk of some kind of cheese we never could’ve afforded growing up, a sort of root we call hyro, a cinnamony potato dish, and a small flask of warm tea. The icing on the cake is literally the icing on the cake. We split two pieces of dark chocolate cake with chocolate icing. Down in the Moon Realm—at least in our subchapter—chocolate is scarce, and very expensive, so the fact that the café had it, that we could afford it, and that the old man thought to ask for it, is a small miracle. My only mistake: eating way too much too fast. By the time I finish eating I’ve crossed the line between pleasantly full and disgustingly stuffed.
“Uhhh,” I groan.
Elsey is nibbling daintily at the corner of her cake. “You okay, sis?”
“Other than being on the verge of throwing up, I’m fine.”
“Here, a little extra cake might help wash it down,” Cole suggests, pushing the chocolate toward my face. I don’t even have a chance to tell him how obnoxious he is, because the food is coming back up.
I barely have time to turn my head before I throw up. Although it’s disgusting and unpleasant, I feel better afterwards. I even let Cole’s antics go without revenge.
When we finish eating, we pack the leftover food (which isn’t much), and begin the second phase of our plan: operation night train.
I’m still not very comfortable with the idea, but I’ve committed to it, which means I’m going to do everything in my power to help us be successful. It’s just the way I am. For me it’s all in or all out—no middle ground, no wishy-washy, no excuses.
Continuing to use back streets, we manage to get pretty close to the rail station. We hide in the shadows, performing reconnaissance, waiting for the rig
ht time to make a move. The area around the station looks pretty deserted, although every once and a while someone passes by and goes inside. In the entire subchapter, the lighting is the best in this area, which is good for most travelers. Unfortunately, we aren’t most travelers, and would prefer utter darkness.
After twenty minutes or so of no one passing us, Cole hisses, “We can’t wait here all night.”
“Now or never,” I agree. We each don the hoods attached to our tunics. It’s a cool night, so the hoods are unlikely to draw any special attention to us.
We leave the safety of the dark and stride out into the light. We walk side by side, at a normal but purposeful pace, eyes ahead, ears listening for any signs of discovery. With every footstep I expect to hear a shout, a whistle, alarm bells, something. Something saying We gotcha!
We make it inside the terminal without drama.
The ticket window is straight ahead. As we previously agreed, I take the lead on buying the tickets. I walk up, trying to appear confident, like I buy train tickets all the time, like I belong here. At the same time I keep my head lowered slightly, trying to cast a shadow across at least part of my face.
“Three adults and one child for the next train to subchapter twenty-six,” I say, attempting to keep my voice steady. I lock my knees to stop them from shaking.
At first the guy behind the counter—a short, grumpy-looking fellow with gray stubble and more nose hairs protruding from his nostrils than most people have in their nose—is indifferent to me, his voice monotone, like a robot.
“Three and one to twenty-six,” he repeats. “Next train available…”—he pauses, consults a timetable—“…departs in six minutes. Express train.”
He’s just going through the motions, which is fine by me, but I know the hard part is still to come.
It comes. “I need travel vouchers for all adults,” he says, finally glancing up over his glasses at my face. His boring, emotionless expression changes in an instance. It’s just a slight twitch, a flash of recognition in his eyes, but I can see that he knows who I am. Smartly, he pretends not to. I wonder if he’s got a big red security button somewhere underneath his desk. I can see both his hands, but he might be able to press it with his knees.
“Look, buddy, we don’t have travel vouchers, but you probably already guessed that. But we do have this.” I spill the pouch of shiny gold Nailins out onto his desk. “If you keep quiet you can have them all.”
At the sight of the money, the guy’s eyes light up and his fat lips twist into a greedy grin. “Done deal,” he says without hesitation. He stamps four tickets and hands them to me in a stack.
I know we aren’t out of the woods yet. Because the guy is willing to accept a bribe, he’s also probably prone to dishonesty, like accepting said bribe while still planning to turn us in to the authorities. At least we have tickets.
With only a few minutes until the train’s departure, we don’t have time to bet on whether the guy will stick to our deal. Instead, we hurry through the automatic ticket turnstiles, praying he’s given us real tickets. With each swipe of one of the tickets, the gates open and allow one of us through.
The train has just pulled into the station, its doors open and waiting for us to board. A few passengers straggle off, but they are so haggard from the long journey that they don’t even look up as we pass.
“Last car,” I say, leading the group into a light jog. The last car will ensure we’re away from any other passengers who happen to jump on the train just before it leaves.
We’re halfway to the rear car when an alarm goes off, blaring through the silent station. Red lights flash. There’s maybe a minute before the train departs.
We run.
I hear a shout from behind us and twist my head to see men jumping over the turnstiles. They aren’t looking for a free ride—that’s for sure. They’re after us. And leading the pack: Rivet.
We run harder. Thirty seconds to departure.
We reach the last car and board. I try the manual door levers but they’re jammed. Just in case I’m not strong enough, Cole tries them, too, but reaches the same conclusion. We’re at the mercy of the train being on time.
Pressing our faces against the glass, we watch as Rivet’s group splits into two. One group, led by a big black guy with a wicked barbed-wire tattoo around his exposed bicep, heads straight for us, trying to beat the doors. The other group, led by the demon—also known as Rivet—veers left and boards the train about three cars in front of us, thus ensuring they’re at worst traveling with us.
I’m not worried about the second group at the moment. The first group is closing in, running full speed, their eyes heavy with violence.
The doors start to close.
The guys are so close I think they’ll make it. My instinct is to shrink back toward the back of the car, away from the doors. Cole has a better idea.
“C’mon,” he says, urging me to move up to the closing doors. We inch forward until we’ve created a human barricade. The big guy in the front tries to charge straight through us. Without planning it, Cole and I kick at the same time. I catch him hard in the knee and hear a crunch as it bends backwards the wrong way. Simultaneously, Cole lays into him with a boot in the face, using his foot like a sledgehammer.
“Argh!” the dude roars, falling backwards into his friends.
The doors close.
* * *
I can see them through the glass, several cars back, pacing around, punching the walls, acting like they’re on drugs. Maybe they are. Something to make them even more violent—as if they need that.
At first I think there might be a way for them to get to us while the train is still moving, but now I don’t think so. We’re seemingly safe for the moment. I know it won’t last.
We haven’t spoken since the train started moving. I don’t think any of us has the words, or knows what to say. Even Elsey seems to be lost in her thoughts, perhaps mulling over the flash of violence she witnessed by me at the train doors. Tawni is standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, staring out the window as the rocky tunnel flashes by. Cole is seated, his head down, one foot tapping rapidly on the floor.
According to Cole, who seems to have a pretty good handle on these sorts of matters, the train ride will only take two hours, being an express. Although I know we’re traveling at hundreds of miles per hour, the ride is so smooth it barely feels like we’re moving.
An hour goes by in silence. Typically I’d be comfortable with the quiet, as I grew used to it during the endless hours I spent alone in the Pen, but for some reason I can’t stand it now. With every second that goes by, the screaming in my head gets worse, until I can’t take it anymore.
“Urrrrr!” I grunt, making a weird growling, gurgling noise from the back of my throat.
Everyone looks at me. Elsey grins nervously. Tawni raises an eyebrow. Cole laughs, of course. “Are we there yet?” he asks, purposely sounding as whiny as possible.
I take a deep breath. I need to calm down, try to get a grip on the anxiety I’m feeling. I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack.
“I hope so,” I say, trying to sound tough. I’m secretly dreading our arrival, afraid of not being able to protect my friends, my sister. Afraid of what Rivet will do. Afraid of what Rivet will tell me about Tristan if I get the chance to ask him. At the same time, the waiting might be worse. It’s like pulling a splinter of rock from your foot. Although the pain is minor with it in your skin, over time it becomes more and more uncomfortable, until it’s unbearable, leaving you making weird grunting-gurgling noises like some sick animal. Left untreated, the splinter pushes deeper into the skin, becoming a part of you. The only treatment is to pull it out, swiftly and painfully. When the doors open at the end of the line, we’ll have no choice but to remove our own rock splinter.
“What are they going to do to us?” Elsey says, sounding like a normal kid, instead of my older-than-her-years sister.
I want to reassure
her, but I also don’t want to lie to her. I hesitate for a moment, trying to formulate the right words, but Cole answers for me. “Nothing,” he says. “They’re not gonna touch any of you. I’ll make sure of that.”
Coming from Cole, it isn’t just talk. As he cracks his knuckles, I can see a level of determination in his face that exceeds even his normal level of strength. As much as it comforts me, it also scares me, not because of what he might do to Rivet and his gang, but because of what they might do to him. Although I don’t voice it, I vow at that moment to do whatever it takes to protect my friends, even if it costs me my life. There are some things more important than your own life. Like friendship, and love, and trust, and goodness.
We speak very little during the final hour, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me anymore. I’ve made my vow, as has Cole, so there’s nothing else to talk about. We have no strategy, except to run from Rivet until we’re forced to stand and fight. Then we will fight.
I feel the train slowing and my heart skips a beat.
Chapter Twenty
Tristan
“It’s Rivet!” I hiss. “What do you make of it?”
“Exercise,” Roc says.
“Exercise?”
“Yeah. They’re just out for a midnight run. You know, to keep in shape.”
“No chance they’re in pursuit of Adele?” I say sarcastically.
“Nah.”
I’m glad to have the old Roc back, the one who jokes in even the most serious situations. “I think we should join them, I’m feeling a bit out of shape, too.”
Roc nods, grinning.
We steal from the alley and jog along the street, moving silently on only our toes. We probably don’t even need to be as careful as we are, as Rivet and his men are making so much noise they wouldn’t hear the grind of a drilling machine following them.
Our quarry reaches the city center and enters the train terminal. We follow as close as we dare. The moment we enter the station, the emergency sirens go off. I whirl around, half-expecting a squadron of troops to surround us, but there’s no one.
