thirty-nine
I slept more than I have in days, my eyes forcing themselves closed after our conversation fizzled out. I could tell that the archangel slept as well – his pug-like snores woke me at least three times throughout the night.
I’d have been annoyed if it weren’t such a ridiculous thing. The archangel, most powerful of them all, snores in his sleep.
He denied it, of course. We argued about it for the first part of our journey this morning while we trudged over fallen trees. The edge of the woods was covered in them, more fallen than still standing.
The suburbs themselves are even more destroyed than I remember. Two years of peace for us in the city meant the destruction was focused here. The further we walk, the worse it gets. There is devastation on every block, with few houses still intact.
Moss grows over windowsills; vines creep up weatherboard houses. Sand coats the streets, a thin layer in the centre that builds towards the porches of each house. Though it’s not sand blown in from the desert – in parts it glows the same hellfire red that I saw within the cracks of the chasm.
We walk towards Queenscliff through a suburb I’ve been to before. Cherry Hills was once a beautiful place, known for its greenery. A place where people would visit just to stare at the leaves on the trees. Just to sit in the local park and enjoy the peaceful quiet of being away from the city.
Now, the quiet unnerves me.
Since we left the estate, there has been a shift for both of us. It’s as if we’re more focused, more determined, but also more haunted. Vince told us where to go, which likely means that it’s a trap.
The whispers in the trees as we travel the rest of the way through the woods make the hairs on my arm stand tall. Shadows creep alongside us as we walk. We speak less than we have been, wary of what watches from the darkness.
The shadows don’t curl around us while we walk. In fact, they don’t move at all. They do nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to indicate that they belong to someone else. The thought does nothing to put me at ease.
Nearly two days of walking to reach Queenscliff. Two days too long. Jeremy may be alive now, but two days is enough time for that to change.
“We should take the train.”
I remember the area well; the train line that stops nearby runs through Queenscliff. If the train is running, we could make it there today.
“No.”
The archangel answers so quickly it warns me there’s no room for argument.
“What do you mean, no?”
I grab his arm, pulling him to a stop beside me. His eyes narrow on the hand that holds him, but I don’t let go. “If we take a train, we could be there by the end of the day. It’s daytime – the trains are running. I see no reason why we should travel by foot and delay ourselves an extra day.”
The archangel sighs, his features softening. “I just think it will be safer to stay on the streets…”
He pauses, as if he’s waiting for something. “Where there’s open sky, and we’re not trapped in a moving tin can.”
He sounds almost… nervous.
My brows rise, my mouth twitching. “Are you afraid of trains?”
“I’m not afraid of trains. I simply dislike being confined to small spaces.”
He starts walking again and I fall into step beside him. My laugh is deep, almost unrecognisable. “You’re afraid of trains!”
The archangel has fears. The more I get to know him, the more human he seems. I find comfort in that knowledge – that a being as powerful as him holds fears of his own.
The look he gives me is full of disdain, which only makes me laugh more.
The sound turns to a girlish giggle, and I take a deep breath to control myself. “Regardless of your aversion to modern travel methods, it’s going to be much quicker than walking. We have to try.”
The archangel lets out a growl, but I see him nod out of the corner of my eye. “Moving tin can of death it is.”
The station is as deserted as I expected it to be. Some parts have caved in, bricks splayed across the floor. But the tracks are clear, which gives me hope that this line is still active.
Despite the lockdowns, the world leaders decided to keep trains running between cities. Not just as a means of transportation for trade; if there were humans stuck in the depths of the suburbs, they would have a way home.
The archangel tenses the moment we’re underground, his eyes darting back up the stairs to the open sky. He lets out a sigh. “This is why you don’t make deals with humans,”
he mutters.
I roll my eyes, jostling his side to throw him off balance, but he hardly moves, and it only makes him chuckle.
We wait at the station for a long time. The archangel paces back and forth while I sit on the ground with my forearms resting on my knees. “Will you just sit still for five minutes?”
I snap, his incessant movement becoming increasingly aggravating.
“Could’ve been halfway to Queenscliff by now.”
I pick up a piece of broken brick and throw it at him.
He dodges it easily, the act of aggression only fuelling his amusement. “Didn’t anybody teach you that it’s not very polite to throw things?”
I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my face, making my words less intimidating. “Bite me.”
“Gladly.”
His smile is full of mischief, his eyes dancing playfully.
I’m thankful for the sudden sound of wheels clicking against train tracks. Our attention snaps towards the incoming train, the archangel tensing yet again.
I don’t know what I expected the train to be like. I suppose in the city they still fill to the brim during the day. I hadn’t expected it to be this silent.
We step through the doors, the archangel ducking to avoid hitting his head. There’s not another soul in sight. An eerie feeling settles over me when the doors close behind us. A chill that rushes down my spine, raising hairs along with it.
“Something’s not right,”
I whisper, looking over to the archangel, who nods in agreement. He looks torn between nausea and concern.
I take a step towards the doors in between the carriages. The archangel follows closely behind me, his body tense and his hands flexing at his sides. I press the button, a gust of wind hitting us as the doors open. I step in between them. The archangel is standing so close that his warmth spreads down my back. The simple near-touch is enough to set my skin on fire.
The doors behind us close when the ones in front open. The archangel jumps slightly. “Angel death trap,”
he mutters.
If this feeling of unease hadn’t grabbed hold of me, I would have laughed. “Faces war without flinching, but this is what scares you?”
I click my tongue as if I’m disappointed in him. “I thought you were tougher than that.”
A creak in the carriage we left behind makes both of our heads snap in its direction. My skin grows cold as an icy breeze sings through the carriages.
I turn back to where we were headed, towards the driver’s compartment, hoping it will be empty. The trains no longer rely on humans to drive them; no one wanted to be the ones to do so.
The archangel lags behind as I keep walking, frost blade held tightly in hand. I wish I had something bigger – a gun, a sword, superhuman strength. I’m not fussy.
An odd feeling tugs at me, the invisible rope around my torso growing stronger.
I hear my name in the distance. A plea for help from far down the train. It sounds…
It sounds like Jeremy.
The door to the next carriage opens and I step through it, not waiting for the archangel to follow me. The part of my brain that should be in charge of making decisions tells me to wait for him, that we should stick together. But then it sounds again. The voice that promises I’m safe calls my name.
Jeremy is here.