The Tremblers

by Raquel Byrnes

  “Tangible?” I asked, not following.

  “A pipework system. Exhaust of some kind or a drainage for slurry from the mine.” Tesla shook his head. “It would be a direct conduit for the gas to escape.”

  “And infect everything within a few miles,” I said, my mouth going dry.

  “There are barracks there,” Ashton breathed, his gaze going to the clock on Tesla’s wall. “Lizzie and all of Defiance will be there trying to evacuate the workers.”

  “But he does not know. He does not know that heat will cause the plague to spread like a wildfire!” I stopped, my lip trembling.

  “If he blows the facility, he’ll unleash the blight into the wind…” Ashton’s face went slack, his gaze snapping to mine.

  I nodded. “He’ll kill us all.”

  37

  Dank air howled through the drainage tunnels as we ran.

  My satchel clanking with hurriedly tossed in equipment, I pushed myself to keep up with Ashton’s long strides. “He said it would get us mid-way into the wasteland in half the time it would take via the electro-rail or surface.” I shook my head. “I cannot see how.”

  “These tunnels extend well past the dome. I’m sure Tesla knows what he is talking about.”

  “But the line stopped in the middle of nowhere.” I tilted the before-the-quakes map of Old New York. “How will we get the rest of the way?”

  “We will simply have to improvise,” Ashton said, looking over his shoulder with a hurried smile that made my throat ache. “You seem to be getting very good at that as of late.”

  I tripped, going down in the stagnant water lining the floor of the tunnel.

  He stopped, helping me up with a concerned look. “You should not be coming.”

  “I have not forgotten your protests.” We turned a corner, and I nearly fell again as the joints of my knees wobbled. “And I still do not care.”

  He let out an exasperated groan and stopped, taking my hands in his. “Please, conserve your energy. Save your health so you can—”

  “Die slower?” I whispered. “Ash, I know what I will become. What I will do.” I flashed on the soldier at the rail station and remembered the feel of his warm blood on my lips. “Let me at least try to do what is right while I can.”

  His shoulders sagged, but he didn’t argue.

  I turned, pretending to consult the map Tesla drew for us, discouraged that my hands would not stop shaking. “We are nearly there anyway.” Taking his hand, I pulled him with me and we ran. Down the corridors, angling downward until it seemed we had traveled more than a story underground. The jostling light of the pith helmet was our only illumination as we waded deeper into the subterranean tunnels of old Manhattan.

  Ashton remained silent except for the occasional warning not to trip.

  I paused, struggling with the weakness in my arms and legs, and leaned on the wall. The bricks, warm to the touch, shifted when I moved. Unstable, the passageway listed slightly giving the impression of a tilting tunnel. It was dizzying, and I shook my head. “Are we lost?”

  Ashton stepped forward, hand at the small of my back, and drew me toward him. “Let me see the map.”

  “I am able,” I snapped, worry racing my pulse as I traced the correct route with my gloved hand. Tesla’s hastily drawn outline of the network of tunnels looked like a garbled web, and I squinted in the dim light. My thoughts seemed harder and harder to wrangle, and my hold on them slipped with every hour. “There,” I said, relieved. “Just ahead.”

  “Can you keep going?” he asked.

  Picking up the stride, aware that time was not on our side, I pushed on at a punishing pace.

  “According to Tesla, these subterranean rail lines run under the entire city.” I panted as we jumped over the fallen beams, twisted rails, and crumbling bricks littering the ground. Before the quakes, the state implemented a venture to utilize underground trains to travel between boroughs and states. The instability of the ground after the Great Calamity rendered the undertaking useless and the project was abandoned.

  “Here is the juncture.” Ashton stepped over a fallen support beam, turned, and held out his hand for me. “The vehicle should be here…”

  “What is that contraption?” I stared at the rail-mounted monstrosity with wide eyes. Covered in cobwebs and nearly no surface untouched by rust, the vehicle resembled a partially built train engine on a wagon. “Tesla used this to travel? It looks as if it might fall to pieces at the slightest jostle.”

  “Quickly, help me locate the fuel compartment.” Ashton swatted at the webs with his jacket.

  “I…this…” The platform supported two seats, side by side, and sat under three arched rails over which a rolling metal cylinder descended, encasing the occupants. I thought crazily of my father’s roll top desk in his office.

  “Here it is,” Ashton unscrewed the lid off a canister in the rear of the transporter and dug in the bag Tesla had given him. He nodded to the seats. “Get on board, Charlie.”

  “What are you doing?” I settled in the seat, noticed the harness, and paused.

  Ashton emptied a bag into the tank, the granules tittering onto the metal like tiny raindrops.

  The rear of the vehicle flared out in a bell shape, in the center of which was the fuel receptacle.

  I glanced ahead, adjusting my goggles, and squinting into the dark of the tunnel. An incandescent bulb in a hood stuck out front and I wound the charging wheel and flicked the switch. It burned bright, wavering a little before settling down. Adjusting the cover, I directed the light to the tracks ahead. The whole design of this, the shape, struck a familiar chord, and I struggled to snag the reason. An errant thought drifted to me. How will we steer?

  “Blast!” Ashton growled as he hurried to the seat next to me. He unraveled something with him, threading it through a hole at our feet. “I didn’t know how much of each ingredient to put in. Tesla told me, but…”

  “Ingredients?”

  “I could not remember the ratio, so I dumped all of it in.” He pulled the cylinder down, securing it at his side.

  We sat inside the barrel, the metal sides making our breaths echo. The only opening was directly in front of us, a glassless window that lent only a small view ahead.

  “Powders.” The light of the igniter illuminated his features as he looked at me through his goggles. “These.” He tossed the three bags onto my lap before touching the flame to the metal wire in his hand. It flared, burning away from us in a trail.

  Confused, I read the labels and my heart vaulted. Potassium nitrate, charcoal, and sulphur. “Wait, this is rocket—”

  The detonation launched us forward at breakneck speed.

  Pressed against the seat, I screamed as I fumbled with the harness, trying to secure it closed.

  Face rippling with the wind shear, Ashton reached over, closing the belt clasps across my lap. He gripped my hand, his eyes alight with fervor.

  We rocketed along the rails, teetering around turns and whipping past countless collapsed arches. Vibrations shook the entire assembly, the smell and smoke of the ignition powder flaring out behind as we raced through the darkness.

  The meager headlight shone on the obstacles and debris on and near the rails. We rattled over something, the clanging enormous as the entire right side ripped from the rails. Tipping up as the rocket thrust propelled us forward, I toppled onto Ashton despite the belts.

  He caught me, holding me close as we barreled along on two wheels, teetering at the brink of complete separation before slamming down at a turn.

  Jaw clamped shut, I tasted blood when my head snapped sideways on impact. We hurtled onward, the fear ripping away until there was only the speed and the wind and my heart racing. I held on, howling my excitement with the scream of the engine.

  Ashton glanced over, his head shaking. “You are a singular woman, Charlie!” He shouted, using his long legs to brace himself through a jarring turn.

  “How much further?”

&nbs
p; “I think we are going faster than recommended,” Ashton yelled back, his hair lashing in his face. “So I have no idea!”

  We veered around a bend, the metal sparking as it scraped against the bricks. Heart ramming, I caught a glimpse of Ashton in the flickering light. He looked alive and free and fearless. This was his element, and I felt lucky to see him as he was meant to be seen. Racing to thwart injustice…a true knight.

  Onward we vaulted through the darkness, my hand and legs shaking with the strain of trying to keep myself upright for so long.

  Ashton too, his hair damp with sweat, tense as our ride seemed an eternity. How long would the fuel last? How far did the rails extend? Flattened against the seat by the forward thrust, I struggled to look out the front window through my wildly thrashing hair.

  “What is that?” I pointed at a growing light, my breath catching.

  “The surface,” Ashton cast about, his hands closing around the braking lever in the floor. “Hold on.”

  “Masks!” I fought the force of the acceleration, digging in the messenger bag at my side, and pulling out two filter masks. Donning mine, I secured it over my mouth and nose, tightening the straps. I wrestled with Ashton’s, clasping it the moment he yanked back on the brake.

  “We’re not slowing down!” Ashton shouted. He strained, wrenching on the brake.

  Metal screeched, the enclosure tearing as we skidded along the rails. The brake handle burned red-hot and snapped off in Ashton’s hands. His gaze shot to mine and we yelled, grasping for one another as we tore from the track. We tumbled, over and over, careening off the walls. Tossed around inside the enclosure, we knocked heads, the blow sending stars across my vision. We rolled on, finally jolting to a stop against the threshold of the tunnel.

  Pain rippled through my side and I gasped, sucking in the air that was knocked from me in the crash. Moaning, I sat up. I pushed open the hatch and crawled out of the enclosure. High-pitched flares of exploding propellant fuel whizzed past my face like minute fireworks as the upturned vehicle creaked and cooled.

  Thin filaments of smoke wafted aloft Ashton’s prone body.

  Metal hissed in the dingy water puddled around us and under that, a dull sound like a howl, moved over us from outside.

  “Ash,” I croaked though the mask covering my mouth and nose. I felt around for our bags and pulled out the cloaks Tesla gave us to wear. “Wells!”

  He stirred, a groan sounding tinny through his filter. “Are we dead?”

  “No such luck.” My legs wobbly, I stood, wrapped the cloak around my shoulders, and pulled on the hood. Adjusting my crooked goggles, I nodded to him. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “They bound it tight.” Ashton climbed from the transporter. He forced himself to his feet, swung the cloak about him and looked at me from the shadow of the hood with his piercing gaze. “It will do. And you?”

  “Unscathed.” I pulled my hood down, glancing at the blood on my hand from a gash at my temple. It did not even ache this time.

  A gust of wind tossed debris down toward us and I shifted, a thread of worry pulling through me. The Wasteland. Burnt orange light glowed just outside the end of the tunnel, and I squinted, unable to see much through the whirling sand and vapor drifting in. As a child I heard countless tales of giant creatures that crawled out of the open chasms straight from the center of the earth. They roamed the wasteland, thundering in the never ending winds of poisonous vapors, devouring anything in their path. “They’re just stories,” I whispered, my voice made mechanical by the breathing filter.

  Ashton took my hand in his, the grounding rivets on his glove reflecting the meager light. He looked down at me through his goggles and shook his head. “No, they aren’t.”

  38

  Howling winds pummeled us with waves of grit and vapor the moment we emerged from the protection of the tunnels. The red miasma flew along the surface of the ground in rippling waves. Sticky and damp, the noxious fog left a residue on everything. The sun glowed deep crimson through the crumbled ruins of countless buildings.

  I stared, taking in the destruction caused by the quakes.

  “Where are we?”

  “What used to be North Hempstead, I believe.” Ashton shouted over the wind. “We’ve a bit more to go. Perhaps a few miles.”

  “Which way?” Every bone in my body ached, a deep pain that felt so cold. I shook within my cloak, hoping the wind and low visibility hid the fact from Ashton.

  Pulling back the sleeve of his coat, he consulted a wrist compass. “That way. Toward the ridge.” Adjusting his mask, he plowed on, shoulder to the wind.

  “There is nothing left of the town.” I followed him, stepping over rubble and rocks. A flare of heated wind pushed past us and the warmth sent my muscles trembling. The sand storm grated over bumps and mounds on the ground, the red mist spinning in eddies over the strange shapes. As we approached, I stumbled back, taking in the form. Skeletal remains half buried in the grit scarred the dirt along our path. The skull was stripped of flesh and stained a rust color, stared at me with gaping sockets.

  “Long gone.” Ashton pulled my elbow. “Do not think about it.”

  I scanned the landscape now uncomfortably aware that bodies littered the entire area. The destruction was all that remained of those horrendous moments when the earth swallowed our civilization whole. A giant sinkhole pitted the ground a few yards off, an entire wagon jutting out. A skeleton, its clothes tattered, hung out of the open door as if still trying to escape.

  “Was there no rescue attempt out here? No burials?” I gripped my cloak tighter. The stickiness of the fog made it harder and harder to draw breath through the filter, and I wondered if we could trust Tesla’s no-canister masks.

  Ashton shook his head, not answering. Instead, he took my hand, veering us to the right.

  A smoldering in the ground caught my eye. The chasm no more than three feet from us churned with vicious heat. Shielding my face with my hand, I gave the seam a wide berth. Spurts of molten rock bubbled up, spewed onto the surrounding ground, and cooled black. A flash of light blinded me as the escaping gasses ignited with a whoosh, the flames splaying out dozens of feet.

  Far off rifts erupted at intervals, lighting up the darkening sky with bursts of fire. It truly hit me that the wasteland was hell on earth. Death and fire. Darkness and destruction.

  “All right?” Ashton tapped the mask at his mouth and I nodded.

  My filter still worked. “Yes, barely,” I shouted.

  The storm picked up and black clouds pocked the low sun. Overhead, a thread of light snapped down to the ground. The answering thunder roared over us, spiking my hair with static.

  “How much farther?”

  “About a quarter mile—”

  The ground shook. I stopped, shocked at the intensity. Rolling vibrations rattled my teeth, and I collapsed to my knees. Terror tore through me. “Quakes?”

  “Not exactly.” Ashton pointed, and I fell back as I looked up.

  A colossal machine lumbered a hundred yards in the distance. The platform supported what looked like several buildings and houses atop a myriad of mechanical legs that crawled like spider appendages across the barren sand. Each booming step shook the ground as it stomped away. Enormous sails flapped atop the monstrosity, harnessing the storm and propelling the entire contrivance forward.

  “What is that?” I stared, aghast.

  “Those machines belong to Wind Reapers,” Ashton yelled over the cacophony of grinding gears and clanging metal. “Best they do not see us.”

  “Is that an entire village?” I stumbled with Ashton as he pulled me back to my feet. Unable to take my eyes from the spectacle, I craned my neck as we continued. “How?”

  “Necessity is the mother of invention,” Ashton said.

  “But no one lives out here.”

  “What you were told is not always true.” Ashton adjusted the colored lens down over his goggles. “Over there.”

  A looming form broke
through the shifting vapors. The outline of a building came into view as we approached. Exposed metal and angular, the refining facility stood against the backdrop of the wasteland like a lighthouse in a sea of fire.

  Low horns sounded overhead as we ran, the sky peppered with airships of every kind. Teeming with moving forms aboard the overburdened ships, they floated just above the ruins. Ballasts dropped down, sand bags and barrels as the flight crews scrambled to keep aloft above the flames.

  “Defiance,” I gasped, pushing myself despite the pain of every breath. “They’re evacuating.” My filter valve rattled with every inhale, sticking at odd intervals and cutting off my air. I felt as if I was drowning in a sea of sand.

  “Quickly, Charlie.” Ashton pointed us to the front loading bay.

  We sprinted the last few yards to the building, and I slammed against the metal door, out of breath and shaking. Together we pushed, moving the sliding hatch a precious few inches with every heave until we could slip inside.

  Exhausted, I leaned against the corrugated wall. Crates and packing material littered the floor of the facility. Discarded tools and woven bags lay strewn across the unmoving machines. The entire floor was still, the automation shut down.

  “This is it,” Ashton said and cleared his throat. He pointed to the lid of a box, the symbols Tesla deciphered were on it. “Wheel tracks.”

  “Fresh,” I concurred, taking in the glistening of the mech-wagon’s oil on the ground. “Do you think he is still here?”

  “Most likely not, but…” he faltered, his chest heaving. “My filter.” His breathing mask whirred and his hand shook with every gasping breath he took. Ashton struggled to unstick the valve, and I turned to help him. The hinge of the flap bent in the collision in the tunnels. It would not operate correctly now with the sand and residue. If he breathed in the additive, he’d be infected.

  I stripped off my own mask.