“All right. Dex, get in and let’s go before the fireworks happen,” Dr. Lyle says.
“Wait,” I say. Here it comes, my big moment. But now I'm anxious and incapable of speaking.
“What’s the matter?” Dr. Lyle asks.
“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Lela says. “He wants to save his girlfriend in St. Paul.”
“She’s not my girlfriend—she’s a friend in trouble,” I correct her and feel my face get hot.
“I’m confused. I thought your friend, Zechariah, was the one who needed help?” Dr. Lyle says.
“He does, but my friend Cassidy will die if I leave her,” I explain. “Dr. Lyle, let me go on the light rail so I can help her.”
Dr. Lyle purses his lips and nods. “All right, I can deliver the medicine to Jessica and her family. Get in, I’ll drive you to the station. We don’t have much time before the gang starts patrolling the street.”
Lela and I both get into the van—she sits in the passenger seat and I climb into the back. There’s two crates filled with medical supplies, food, and toiletries in the seat next to me. Dr. Lyle must have sneaked it all out of the hall sometime this morning.
He steers the van through the back alleys of Forest Lake with considerable speed. My body is jerked from side to side several times from the quick turns onto side streets. In less than ten minutes, we’re at the light rail station. It’s a one-story building with glass doors and a thick green stripe running along all sides of its facade. Dr. Lyle parks a few feet from the entrance and turns to Lela and I. “Do either of you have a gun?” He asks.
“I do,” I say, patting my backpack.
Lela reaches a hand behind her back and pulls out a pistol, presumably tucked in her pants.
“Okay, get inside and find your grandpa,” Dr. Lyle says to her. He then turns to me. “Dex, I’ll do my best to provide help for Jessica and Zechariah. I can’t say I approve of you leaving like this, but it’s admirable what you’re willing to do for a friend.”
“Thank you, Dr. Lyle...for everything,” I say.
He gives a quick nod. “Be careful. The tram will be dangerous. Now go inside before anyone spots us,” he says.
Lela and I jump out of the van and run inside the station. The station is littered with garbage and reeks of mildew. Rows of empty seats fill the small space and holo screens line the walls, probably so light rail passengers could watch the tram schedule and news feeds. But they’re all shut off now, many of the large screens are cracked or ripped from their mounts. Along the far wall stands a counter where the Green Line reps would assist customers. A door behind the counter is ajar.
“You think they’re back there?” I ask, pointing toward the counter.
“Let’s find out,” Lela says. She leads the way to the counter and hoists herself over it. Without warning, the door flings open and Bill steps out with a shotgun aimed at Lela’s face. She lets out a scream and falls on her backside. Bill lowers the gun once he recognizes his granddaughter.
“What are you doing here?” Bill says, his eyes crazed and wide. “I could have blown your head off!”
“I’m sorry, I just...I came with him, okay?!” Lela says, pointing a thumb in my direction.
Bill looks at me with visible confusion and annoyance. “Boy, you’re supposed to be back at your friend’s farm—”
“I know. But I need to ride that tram.” I explain the entire situation with Cassidy to Bill and he listens for a moment before raising his palm to stop me.
“Enough. You’re here now and truth is, we could use the help,” he says, then turns to Lela who’s up now and leaning against the counter. “What about you? Have you changed your mind about coming with me?”
“No,” Lela says. “I’ll help out, but when it’s safe, I’m heading back to the hall.”
Bill nods. “Fine. Let’s go out back then.”
We enter the door behind the counter and after walking through a room of office cubicles, exit through another door leading outside. The light rail tracks run parallel to the back of the station where they wind through the downtown area then further out into the metro. Light rail poles are situated alongside the tracks providing the charge necessary for propulsion, but their wires are silent from lack of electricity.
A few yards from the station is a platform where passengers board the tram. The tram itself is covered in graffiti and dirt, unused for who knows how long. Green Line trams stopped providing transportation to Forest Lake years before IlluMonday. Budget cuts and tram driver strikes are mostly to blame. Last time I rode in a tram was back in middle school. My father loved the Green Line. He rode it to the cities when he still worked with Uncle Richard. Once a month, my mother and I joined him on a trip to downtown St. Paul. He liked visiting the Catholic cathedral in the city and dragged us there every time we visited. His fascination with the old architecture and its history puzzled me. We weren’t Catholic—far from it, but that didn’t matter to my Dad. In those trips I saw him in a different light. Less stoic and more...child-like. A joyfulness appeared that I had never seen in him. Now when I look at the old tram, those pleasant memories of my Dad wistfully exploring the cathedral come back and I wish there were more of them.
We enter the platform and I notice two bags filled with electronic gadgets on the concrete floor. “Lela, load these up in the operator car,” Bill commands. Lela sighs, but obeys her grandfather, grabbing the bags and then disappearing into the open doorway of the tram. Bill turns to me, “Go help Soshi with the generator. We need to get the station’s power going.” He points me in the right direction and just beyond the platform, Soshi is kneeling in front of a large gray cube a foot away from the tracks.
“Hey, is there anything I can do?” I ask, unsure of what use I can be.
Soshi looks at me and shakes his head. “I am nearly finished. The conduits have been rerouted, and the circuitry is ready for the initial priming.”
I’m clueless to what he’s talking about. “Okay. So what do we do next?”
“We need to turn the power on. The main switch is inside the station, but we must wait for Camilla’s signal.”
“Signal? What signal?”
Soshi points beyond the tracks to the mill where Avery and his gang live. “Camilla is on the roof of the hotel across the mill. When everyone in the town is ready to attack, she will shoot a flare to signal us. Then we will flip the switch.”
“How long will it take to attract the Mindless?” I ask. The Mindless have abandoned downtown Forest Lake, so I’m curious to know how Bill’s plan will work if none are in the vicinity.
“Not long. This generator will produce considerable electricity and the Mindless in this area are famished. They have been feeding on electric car parts for months,” he says.
I think back to the Mindless tearing through the minivan near my house, desperate for a morsel of electricity. He followed me like a bloodhound to the basement just by detecting the small charge from my flashlight. I can't imagine how many Mindless a surge of power from the station will attract. “Do you think we’ll be able to escape them?” I ask.
“I am not sure,” Soshi says, fiddling with a wire. “But it is honorable for a man to die to save others. That is bushido, which I think you are familiar with.” Soshi gestures to the samurai sword hanging from my backpack.
I’m quite familiar with bushido. Several books in my room gave me plenty of insight about the samurai code. The tenets of bushido resemble principles my parents taught me from the Bible. Righteousness, courage, love, honor—all those things. But my father didn’t see it that way. He saw it as eastern religious nonsense. A foreign belief system that Christians avoid learning about to stay true to the faith. My curiosity wasn’t deterred though. I pored through my books whenever my Dad wasn’t around, studying the way of the samurai like a Japanese studies major. My interest was fueled by wanting to understand what made the samurai tick, not convert to another religion like my Dad feared. It fascinated me for a time
, but the emphasis on dying was too morbid for me. How ironic that I'm so close to death now.
“It is a nice blade,” Soshi says, snapping me back to the conversation. “I hope you will not have to use it.”
“Me too,” I say.
“My son, Jin, loved katanas like that one. He collected many swords from Japan—our home,” Soshi says, looking away for a moment. “He wanted to teach history on feudal Japan at the university, but...he was working in Minneapolis as an intern when the Mindless came. I do not know if he is alive or dead.”
“I’m sorry, Soshi,” I say. Minneapolis was the epicenter of the chaos of IlluMonday. It’s where Uncle Richard might still be if he’s alive. It’s foolish to think he’s survived, but there’s so little for me to hope for these days—I have to cling to something. Maybe Soshi is clinging to the same hope for his son. “Is that why you’re riding the tram to Minneapolis with Bill? To find your son?”
Soshi’s bottom lip quivers, and he nods. “Yes.”
“I have someone I want to find too,” I say.
“Then we are two samurai on a mission,” he says, flashing a smile.
I laugh at the thought, but it's oddly appropriate.
He turns back to the generator and fiddles with more wires. With a grunt, he stuffs the rewired circuitry into a gap inside the cube and closes the panel, securing the whole thing in place. “It is ready,” he says, standing up and brushing off his dusty knees. The sun is in full view now and it’s only a matter of time before Camilla alerts us. I glance over at the mill—a tin roofed structure with three large grain silos flanking its side. My eyes register movement on top of the silos. Someone is standing up there! A tall man points both arms in our direction and I realize too late he’s holding something. It’s a rifle.
“Soshi, get down—” I yell, but it’s too late.
As I dive to the ground, the gunshot explodes in the air. I feel no pain except the sting of my injured elbows skidding on the dirt. I look behind me and see Soshi sprawled on the floor. Blood is pooling on the ground from his side.
Sixteen
I hurry over to Soshi’s prone body and drag him behind the generator. The dead weight is heavier than I expect and it’s a struggle to move him. Another shot is fired. The bullet smacks the dirt a few inches away from my foot. A quick look tells me the gunman is taking aim again. I hunch over and lock my arms around Soshi’s chest then pull with all my might. I lose my footing and we tumble backward behind the generator just as the next bullet ricochets off the metal cube.
A large splotch of blood has stained Soshi’s left side. Another bullet smacks the dirt near the generator. Someone is yelling nearby—it sounds like Bill, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. I glance down at Soshi. He’s still alive. His eyes are open, but his breathing is getting weak. I take off his coat and use it to apply pressure to the wound. “Soshi, just hang on okay?” I reassure him, knowing the situation looks bleak. “I’ll go get Bill. We’ll get you out of here.”
Soshi shakes his head then clamps a hand around my wrist. “Leave me. Flip the switch,” he says with an intensity that surprises me, reminding me of my father on IlluMonday. Start the car, Dex, and get your mother out of here, my father commands. I listened to him and left him. I don’t want to leave anyone else behind.
“You’re not dying here, Soshi,” I say.
A stream of gunfire erupts behind us. Bullets pierce the dirt around us and clang against the back of the generator. Another gang member has joined the gunman on the silo. We’re too vulnerable here. I’ll bet hit or the missed shots will damage the generator and this crazy plan will fail. “Go,” Soshi says. “You have a mission, remember?”
“I’m coming back for you,” I say, clenching my jaw. He doesn’t respond.
I have no plan except to run fast toward the platform for cover. But I wait for the next round of shots at us. When it comes and then dies off, I sprint to the platform. A steady stream of gunfire follows my steps, pursuing me like the sparkhound a few days ago. Just as it gets nearer I dive behind the platform. The bullets ping against metal beams and the tram’s side. “Dex, get to the station!” Bill’s voice screams from inside the tram. “We’re pinned down in here!”
Before I can respond, more gunshots ring out but this time they come from inside the tram. Bill’s shooting at our attackers. I gaze toward the station. It’s about a yard or two away. I can run along the length of the tram for cover, but it only extends for half the distance. There’s a gap where I’d be exposed to gunfire. I can’t see another route to the station without being exposed. More bullets ricochet off the tram and platform. There’s a pause—I run for it!
The last few days running from Mindless have helped my stamina, but my legs are still sore from all the exertion. Not to mention the lingering headache from yesterday’s fiasco. Despite it all, I pump my legs as hard as possible. Shots ring out around me, but the tram shields me from them. The gap is approaching.
I run past the tram, glancing to my left at the mill. Three men on the silos now. Another gang member ducks behind a pole barn near the tracks. One of them points at me, alerting his friends. A hail of bullets flies all around me. Do these guys ever run out of bullets? I duck my head, increasing my speed toward the station door. I reach for the handle and fling it open. Glass shatters behind me as a bullet pierces the door’s small window. My legs give out and I crash to the floor.
I crawl on all fours to the nearest cubicle and take cover under a desk. That’s when a warm sensation spreads on the back of my neck. I run a hand over it and realize I’m bleeding. Was I shot? No, I’d be dead. I feel around again and grab hold of a glass shard protruding from my nape. Yanking it out sends a convulsion of pain in my upper back. The shard is small and dripping with my blood. In my mind’s eye, I see my mother. Pieces of glass cover her body as she bleeds out in front of me. I shut my eyes and force the memory away.
After a visual check of the rest of my body reveals no other wounds, I crawl out from under the desk and listen for any more gunfire. A spattering of shots continues outside—probably Bill trying to keep the gang at bay and buy me time. I have no idea where the generator switch is inside this station. Or even what it looks like. I imagine it must be on a wall panel of some sort like the circuit breaker in the Gray’s basement, but I’m not sure. Several minutes pass as I search the walls surrounding the cubicles, but it’s a fruitless effort. I’m about to give it up and search the waiting area outside when I spot something behind the open door to the ticket counter we walked through before. I swing the door away and behind it there’s a rectangular glass panel with a myriad of buttons. The buttons look like they light up when the power is running. There’s an oblong metal switch beneath the lights.
I remove the glass covering and flip the switch. The multicolored buttons glow with light and the hum of electricity can be heard throughout the station. Fluorescent lights overheard blink to life and a few monitors in the passenger waiting area turn on, displaying snowy screens. I’m both excited and terrified. But there’s no time to process it all. I jog to the back door of the station and carefully peek out the window. The signal lights on the light rail poles have also turned on. In the distance, I can see more gang members congregating on the silos and on the ground around the mill. Some are pointing toward the station. Others are backing away into the safety of the mill, acknowledging the danger now.
Then I see a red ball of fire stream up into the sky from behind the mill. Camilla’s signal. About time. Some of the gang members see it too, so I take advantage of the distraction. I push open the door and sprint to the platform, clearing the gap before someone yells, “shoot him!”. The firing starts again, but this time I make it to the platform with little effort. The hard part now will be rescuing Soshi without getting shot.
“Bill! Lela! Are you still alive?” I call out, rather sardonically.
“Yes!” Lela yells above the pinging of bullets on metal.
“I’m going to get
Soshi!” I yell back.
“Dex, stay where you are!” Bill cries.
I ignore him and wait for a pause in the firing. I take off my pack and pull out my father’s gun. My aim will likely be horrible while running, but shooting back might give me a better chance of surviving long enough to save Soshi. Flattening my back against one of the platform’s wide beams, I peek to my left. Soshi is still lying in the cover of the generator which is now humming with electrical current. He’s not moving. Could he be?—No, his head moved to the side. I can still save him. The firing ceases for a moment and that’s my cue to sprint to the generator. Without a thought, I aim the gun at the mill and fire blindly. I listen to gang members yelling. The firing starts up again, but none of it comes in my direction. I close the distance and duck behind the generator. Soshi stirs, looking at me with half-opened eyes.
“Soshi, let’s get you out of here,” I say, putting his arm around my neck. To my surprise, he yanks it away.
Thy Kingdom Come (Navitas Post-Apocalyptic Series) Page 11
