A Broken Time

by Anna Oney

  Clancy’s last words to Fawn before shoving her into the depths of the dark pit echoed through her racing mind, holding her breath hostage in her chest.

  “We have Juniper. We have Juniper.”

  Peering downward, Fawn counted the rows of windows from the bottom of the train station all the way up to their floor.

  “We’re on the fourth floor.”

  “There’s no telling how many of them are inside,” Noelle chimed in, filling a canvas bag she’d found with ten loaded magazines.

  “Right,” Fawn said as she strolled toward the closed exit door. “We’ll need to get a jump on whoever’s inside before tackling the men outside. If we shoot them down from up here, we’ll risk someone indoors seeing them go down. It’ll give away our position.”

  Davlyn and Noelle followed suit, taking their stances behind Fawn as she arrived at the door.

  “Just so y’all know,” Fawn said, slowly turning to face them. “They have Juniper. I’m not leaving without her.”

  “I’m with you all the way, cousin,” Davlyn said, her bow drawn and an arrow nocked. “All the way.”

  “Same here,” Noelle joined in with her canvas bag full of ammunition hanging from her shoulder. She clutched her rifle, her pointer finger resting an inch above the trigger. “You ladies are my family now.”

  Squinting, Fawn was reminded of the slap in her eardrums from Big Sneed’s pistol.

  “We need to keep quiet if we’re going to make it out of here,” she said, motioning toward Noelle’s chosen weapon. “They’ll be on us quick if you fire that thing off.”

  “This rifle has a built-in sound suppressor,” Noelle replied. “They won’t hear a thing.”

  The halls of the fourth floor were covered in Amtrak memorabilia from when the station was in its prime. Black and white photos of women dressed in frilly, puffed blouses, fluted skirts, and oversized hats stacked with feathers, bows, or flowers stood beside their men, who were clothed in trousers, neckties, single-breasted frock coats, and top hats for the grand 1912 opening.

  As Fawn and her companions descended the steps from the fourth floor, visions of she and Pete running up and down these stairs as children clouded her thoughts.

  “I’m gonna get you!” Pete had shouted up at Fawn in a game of tag. “You and your stubby legs don’t have a chance!”

  Fawn cleared the last step of the fourth floor, stepping onto the third. Holding a fist up to the height of her shoulder, she signaled for Davlyn and Noelle to stay put. Being the oldest, she felt it was her duty to secure their safety. Her plan was to deal with any threat she came across by herself.

  Inching her way to the nearest corner, Fawn’s nerves were roused by the sound of a muffled conversation. The three women weren’t as lucky with the third floor as Fawn peeked around the corner and spotted two men engrossed in a discussion.

  “When is Commander Asher supposed to get here?” asked a man with a long, sunken-face and broad-shoulders, his hands clutching the strap of the automatic rifle slung across his chest.

  “Sometime this evening,” a stockier, squared-jawed man replied, cradling his own automatic rifle. “I heard he’s going to make Fawn sit through her boyfriend’s execution.”

  “Who? Hunter?” the long, sunken-faced man asked, his brows drawn.

  “Yeah. I suppose she has it coming for murdering the commander’s sons,” the stockier man replied. “Hunter was just sleeping with the wrong female.”

  The two men laughed, clouding Fawn’s thoughts with images of Hunter’s face, stricken with pain. She reached behind her shoulder and drew an arrow from its quiver, nocking it in place as she crept around the corner. With the two men in her sights, she pulled back the trigger to her anchor point, so that her index finger touched the corner of her mouth, and then released the arrow into the sunken-faced man’s throat.

  Frozen in his stance, the squared-jawed man stared at his comrade bleeding to death on the floor. Without a thought, she drew another arrow, and sent the squared-jawed man off permanently. In less than seven seconds, Fawn had shot down the unexpecting men. The polished wood of the floor around their bodies became slicked red with her victims’ blood.

  Fawn waved Davlyn and Noelle over, signaling to them that the coast was clear.

  “My God,” a once gung-ho Noelle whispered, her voice unsteady. “You just killed those guys.”

  A wave of guilt came crashing down on Fawn as she realized these men were either husbands and brothers, or fathers and sons to people who loved and needed them.

  There’s no glory in the killing, her father had once told her. The glory comes from having the skill to defend you and yours from harm.

  Davlyn’s eyes drifted ahead of them where the floor was littered with the men’s bodies, and then to Fawn who stood stoic beside her.

  “Cousin,” she said, resting a hand on Fawn’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “We need to keep moving,” Fawn replied, striding down the hall, where she stepped over the bodies. “Hunter’s in danger.”

  The third-floor hall was lined with color photos of the major rehabilitation the station undertook in the 1990s. Except for themselves, the rest of the floor was devoid of all life. Fawn took up the front, while Davlyn took up the back. Noelle strolled between them looking way out of her comfort zone. They were making their way down the flight of stairs when Noelle came up beside Fawn.

  “Were you and Davlyn injected with anything?” she asked, her shaky voice barely a whisper.

  Fawn paused midway down the stairs, prompting Noelle to do the same, which alerted Davlyn, who was three steps behind them, that something was up.

  “No,” Fawn replied to Noelle, as Davlyn arrived a step above them. “Blythe added me to the list for administered vaccines, but it never really happened.”

  “Blythe’s one of the good guys,” Noelle said, fiddling with the bag of ammo she’d slung over her shoulder. “Vance, too.”

  “What’s up?” Davlyn chimed in. “Why’ve we stopped?”

  “Were you injected with anything?” Noelle asked, peering upward to meet Davlyn’s questioning gaze. Davlyn brought her fingers to her inner elbow and wearily nodded.

  “Me, too,” Noelle continued. “It’s a location device. Commander Asher uses it to keep tabs on everyone with the tracker monitor.”

  “This may sound like a stupid question,” Fawn asked, looking about, checking to make sure their surroundings were clear. “But is there a way to turn this location device off?”

  “Yes,” Noelle replied as they resumed descending the stairs. “We need to get our hands on the reversal serum.”

  Coming to the last step, Fawn stretched out her arm, preventing Davlyn and Noelle from going any farther. Both nodded, clinging to their weapons, as Fawn stepped onto the creaky wood of the second floor. Her sight was pulled toward a window at the end of the empty hall. The bottom had dropped outside. Sheets of rain made the landscape barely visible.

  Peering around the corner across from the window, Fawn spotted a trail of glowing, golden drippings and footprints. The tracks led to the first door to the right of the window. The door was slightly ajar. She emerged from around the corner and had to stop herself from plunging into the room. The urge to peek inside was strong as she leaned forward, listening for shuffles of feet against the hardwood floor.

  “Are you coming in or not?” came Joy’s voice from within the room.

  Easing the door open, Fawn stuck her head inside. The room had a black-and-white checkered tile floor, and was lined with six steel boxes with glass doors. The glass was fogged and ice crystals had formed at the bottom of each chilled box. Shelves stocked full of syringes piqued her interest.

  “The generators outside,” Joy said, drawing Fawn’s attention to the back of the room. “Keep the refrigerators running,” she winced, clutching at her side.

  A twenty-something-year-old disheveled Joy sat beside Stella on an off-white, granite-topped counter. A glowing, golden liquid stea
dily dripped from Joy’s toes as she dangled her feet from the counter. Her messy blonde waves of hair were fastened into a scruffy ponytail at the side of her head. Splatters of gold were soaked into the bottom of her knee-length coral dress. A deep cut adorned her left cheek, leaving a trail of dried, glowing gold to her jaw.

  “The serum your friends need is in the second to last one,” Joy continued, removing her hand from her side, revealing a blooming golden wound punctured through her hip.

  “Is that gold stuff supposed to be blood?” Fawn asked.

  Taking Joy’s nod as confirmation, Fawn stepped inside, easing the door closed behind her until she heard the soft click of the doorjamb.

  “You okay, Joy?” she asked, stepping forward. “Did you get into a fight?”

  “No,” Joy replied, hopping down from the counter. “And yes.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fawn said, bringing her palm to her forehead. “I’m having a little trouble processing this. How,” she said and paused, stretching her arm out to Joy’s wounded hip. “How can you be hurt right now? You’re already dead.”

  “The living,” Joy replied, wincing as she brought a hand to her side. “Can’t hurt me, but other spirits can. The army of The Faultless are a stubborn bunch, but I think I persuaded a good number of them to join Wakiza’s warriors for the battle to come.”

  “Battle?”

  Joy groaned and looked to the ceiling.

  “I’ll never understand Father and His Soothsayers’ rules about wiping the memories of the visitors behind the veil,” Joy said, brushing past Fawn’s shoulder.

  Soothsayer, Fawn thought. That sounds oddly familiar.

  “It should,” Joy said, opening the refrigerator. She let the cool air envelope her and sighed. “My word,” she said and paused, turning toward Fawn. “That feels good.” Grabbing two syringes filled with the serum, she hissed and brought her free hand to her side.

  “Doolie mentioned them to you when he took you beyond the veil,” Joy said. “You know, when Big Sneed shot you?”

  “I remember being shot quite well,” Fawn replied, grimacing at the memory of the bullets stealing flesh from her thigh and hip. “But I don’t remember anything about a . . . a veil.”

  “I can’t go into detail about the battle because the Soothsayers say the outcome of it is constantly changing. But there is one coming. One you and your friends need to be prepared for.”

  “Why does the outcome keep changing?”

  “Because of the main players’ choices,” Joy replied, handing Fawn the chilled syringes. “They may set their mind to make a certain decision . . . but when the moment actually arrives, they change it. Free will is aggravating to deal with sometimes. Especially when there’s warfare looming over the future.”

  Makes sense, Fawn thought, gripping the syringes. The choices we make decide our futures.

  “Exactly,” Joy replied, patting her thigh for Stella to join them. “But it’s impossible to make the right decision all the time.” Stella licked Joy’s hand upon reaching her mistress’s side and met Fawn’s squinted, questioning gaze. “You’ll see in coming days,” Joy continued, scratching behind Stella’s ears.

  Swallowing back a catch in her throat, Fawn scanned Joy, taking in her battered appearance.

  “You’ll heal, won’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Joy replied, waving a hand through the air, dismissing Fawn’s concerns. “This is nothing. I’ll be good as new in a few.”

  Whispers of Davlyn and Noelle rounding the corner outside the room reached Fawn’s ears. Having forgotten they were waiting on her to tell them the coast was clear, Fawn assumed they grew impatient.

  “Fawn,” Davlyn hissed through the hall. “Where are you?”

  “You don’t think she would leave us, do you?” Noelle asked.

  Both of their voices quieted as they advanced down the hall. Fawn rushed toward the door and opened it just as they reached the end of the hall. Joy’s glowing, yellow footprints could only be seen by Fawn as Davlyn and Noelle had passed by them without a thought.

  “In here,” Fawn whispered, urgently waving her hand. “Hurry up.”

  Clutching their weapons, both ladies turned on their heels to face Fawn. Lowering her bow, Davlyn’s cheeks became flushed. She bared her teeth at Fawn who stood in a doorway about four yards from where she and Noelle stood.

  “From now on we’re sticking together,” Davlyn grumbled.

  Fawn ushered her companions inside the room and hurriedly closed the door behind them. Joy and Stella had once again disappeared, leaving Fawn to finish what she had started. Syringes in hand, Fawn offered them to Noelle who knew exactly what needed to be done. Noelle set her rifle on the counter next to them. Fawn watched with anticipation as Noelle tapped the barrel of the syringe that was filled with a clear liquid laced with silver particles. Noelle pressed down on the plunger, spurting the liquid from the tip of the needle, startling Davlyn who staggered backward.

  Balancing the plunger of the syringe upon the pad of her thumb with her pointer finger curved slightly around the barrel, Noelle stepped toward Davlyn.

  “You ready?”

  Davlyn licked her bottom lip, narrowing her brown eyes at the dripping needle.

  “You first.”

  Noelle took an exasperated breath and drummed her fingers across her inner elbow. “Just searching for a vein,” she said, studying her flesh. Her eyelids were widened by a purplish-blue strip becoming more distinctive beneath her fair complexion.

  “How do you know so much about this?” Fawn asked, watching Noelle insert the needle into her vein.

  “Blythe taught me last year,” Noelle replied, pushing down on the plunger. “I helped him complete his rounds for the last community the NWA took over. Until . . .” Her gaze transfixed on the black and white checkered tile. “I caught Big Sneed’s eye.”

  Fawn recognized the shame plaguing Noelle’s unblinking, troubled eyes as they were overrun by sudden tears. That feeling of utter hopelessness and anger festering in the pit of her soul that forced her to inwardly scream, Why?! Why me?! Why’d it have to happen to me?!

  Nothing more was said on the subject as Noelle finished pumping her veins with the serum. She wiped her cheek and took hold of Davlyn’s forearm without asking and repeated the motions she’d done on herself.

  Fawn led her friends through the door, agreeing they would stick together as Davlyn had said. Rounding the corner, they came upon a hall with a row of three horizontal windows. Each window stood at about the height of Davlyn and Noelle’s chests. Petite Fawn crept below the closest window and snuck a peek outside on her tiptoes. The downpour of rain had begun, flooding the low parts around the building, resembling the moat of an eighteenth-century castle. The rusted wheeled railcars looked as though they floated upon tracks that had merely disappeared under the water’s current.

  The three men guarding the front of the building had abandoned their posts. Assuming the three out back had done the same, Fawn’s stomach convulsed with the probability that they had sought shelter from the storm inside the train station. Fawn knew their best bet would be to scale these second-floor windows. The roof was moderately slanted. They’d task themselves with finding a safe place to reach level ground.

  “We’ll exit here,” Fawn whispered to Davlyn and Noelle. “I’m thinking those six guards outside got sick of standing in the rain.”

  Davlyn and Noelle were both taller and weighed more than Fawn. As a group they decided that Fawn would go last through the window as she wouldn’t be difficult to pull up. It took some force to open the window, as the moisture from the rain had warped the wood of the frame. The wind found its opportunity to agitate Fawn further as she was slapped in the face by thick drops of rain being blown indoors. Shaking her face partially free of the drizzle, Fawn motioned for Davlyn to come forward as she was the largest of the three women.

  Fawn situated her bowstring across her chest, and then intertwined her fingers before her. Positi
oning herself in front of the spurting window, she lowered her hands a foot above the floor. She peered up at Davlyn who’s eyes darted twitchingly to the howling, open square in the wall.

  “Find your footing,” Fawn said, parting her palms, but keeping her fingers laced together to create a step for Davlyn. “And be careful.”

  Hoisting Davlyn up proved to be difficult, as she nearly tumbled backward once her stomach landed on the slick windowsill. Noelle stepped in to help Fawn push Davlyn’s backside upward until Davlyn managed to crawl through the window. By the time Davlyn became situated on the roof, red markings adorned each of her forearms from catching herself from falling through the window’s frame.

  “You all right?” Fawn asked a panting Davlyn.

  Through the rain pounding against her back and the thunder booming around her, Davlyn managed to give thumbs-up. “Good,” she replied. “You’re next, Noelle.”

  Noelle handed Davlyn her automatic rifle and canvas bag full of ammo. It was easier for Fawn to lift Noelle as she weighed less than her cousin. Davlyn helped Noelle find her footing on the moderately slanted roof. Both ladies outstretched one of their dripping arms, lending aid to Fawn below them.

  “Come on, cousin,” Davlyn called through the wailing wind. “Your turn.”

  On her tiptoes, Fawn reached up. Her arms were stilled midway through the window. Squeaking footsteps approached the corner ahead of her She wrenched her arms from her friends and mouthed, “Go,” guiding her bowstring over her chest.

  Clenching her jaw, Davlyn stared back at her cousin and drew her bow. “No way,” she countered.

  “I said, go,” Fawn whispered — her bow drawn. She stepped backward as the sounds of the footsteps drew nearer. “Now.”

  Brows raised, Davlyn exchanged an ill-tempered look with Noelle and tipped her head, prompting Noelle to shuffle down the side of the roof. Within three seconds they had disappeared from the window, leaving Fawn to tend to this gaining threat as she had commanded.

  The two boys Fawn had caught urinating on the secret passage came to a slippery halt around the corner. Fawn snatched an arrow from its quiver behind her shoulder and nocked it in place. Upon meeting Fawn’s gaze, the tallest boy’s feet were swept beneath him by the water dribbling to the floor from his soaked clothing. The tallest boy tried steadying himself by grabbing hold of his scrawny friend, resulting in them both falling to the floor.