Chapter 26 #2
The head of security, bound but very alive, takes my place as Acel and the Nomad haul him over into the crate and nail it shut. The server gets her own crate.
I glance to make sure there’s enough space for breathing. This is a passenger train, not one of the Company’s, and the head of security, as well as the server, are just trying to make their way through life like the rest of us. No reason they should suffer a concussion. Or death, for that matter.
“On to phase two,” says the Nomad, “which I know you’re all excited for.” He shoots a teasing glance in my direction. I roll my eyes and make my way toward the train car door—the one that leads to the front of the train. Lars and Acel have already beaten me there.
Don’t worry, Acel signs, nudging me on the arm. We won’t let you down.
Better not, I sign back, though my lip twitches—and so does his.
Lars disappears into the next car. I remain in the gap between the cars for a moment, watching the ground blur past beneath us. Somehow it feels even faster out here, probably because of the wind beating against my face.
“You ready?” the Nomad asks, leaving Venus behind to keep watch.
I shrug, then start climbing. One would think scaling a moving train would be more difficult, but the railing makes for easy handholds. And there’s a reason the Nomad assigned me this job. After braving tightropes, balance comes second nature.
At the top of the car, the wind slaps against my face, but I steady myself easily. Behind me, the Nomad’s boots clamber loudly.
I put a finger to my lips and glare. He lifts his palms in apology. That might work on this car, where the only inhabitants are Venus and two people currently nailed into a crate, but once we reach a more populated car, it’s going to be a problem.
I leap. My heart flies out of my chest as I sail through the air, but my feet land sure on top of the next car.
We’ll have to time this perfectly. We need to be on the caboose when the trains intersect. And that’s if—and it’s a big if—Lars and Acel pull off their part.
Still, as I get used to the perpetual sway beneath my feet, I pick up speed. The Nomad does too, his footsteps much quieter now.
We’re two cars from the caboose when a shout slices through the wind.
Both of us spin around to find a guard climbing onto the roof. Not the head of security. This one has the Company’s insignia on his jacket.
Of course, the Company would have someone watching the passenger train, in case there was a delay that caused the trains to meet at the crossing. And judging by his speed, they’ve employed a fae. Irritating, considering how much of this Company’s business is built on kidnapping faeries.
The guard lunges for me. I misjudge the distance, thinking he’s too far to catch me. He isn’t. His fingers clamp around my ankle and yank. My body slams against the roof of the boxcar, and my jaw cracks against hard metal. Pain sings through me. My pulse roars.
I twist, yanking my ankle out of his grip. He isn’t prepared, and when he lets go, I flip onto my back and kick him in the face. He yelps, then pulls a knife from his pocket.
Normally knives don’t scare me—if I have one of my own. But all passengers were searched before boarding. I’m unarmed, and if he’s reckless enough—
The knife comes careening through the air.
It’s not an expert throw. It spins wildly—good and bad. It might hit me with the hilt, but catching it will be nearly impossible.
All of this I process in a blink.
No time to dodge. No time to reposition.
I throw up my arm and block.
The blade slices across my forearm, scraping bone before bouncing off, causing the hilt to crack against my forehead. Pain explodes behind my eyes. Blood gushes, the wind whipping it across the man’s face.
The knife skitters off the slanted roof and vanishes into the wind.
This would be a convenient time for the Nomad to turn around and help me, but he’s too busy calculating.
“We just passed the landmark!” he shouts, staring at his watch, counting seconds. “At this speed—”
Too fast, I sign, horror rising. We’re going to miss the crossing by twenty seconds.
I land another kick to the guard’s face, knocking him unconscious.
The Nomad stares at the downed man for a beat too long, then yells, “Lars and Acel must be running late!”
Or they failed, I think. Which would be disastrous. For the mission, for our escape, for everything. We can’t jump the train at this speed. By the time the engineer slows down enough to be safe, we’ll be back in the Company’s guarded territory.
Options flash through my mind. None good.
The railing that serves as walls around the train tracks is charged, thanks to the faerie dust generators the Company supplies. They’re set slightly lower than the train itself, but that doesn’t do us much good. Not when we’d fry as soon as we made contact with the metal.
But.
The posts are capped in a material that repels the current. Which would be more helpful if the caps weren’t flying by us at an impossible speed, barely a whir in my vision. Not to mention, each cap can’t be more than a foot-length wide.
The horn of the other train blares in the distance. The Nomad and I glance at one another, a singular thought shared in that one look.
Too far. The other train is too far away. We’ll fly by the bridge before we ever cross paths.
That leaves us with one choice.
I struggle to think of how to communicate my plan to the Nomad, but it’s not as if rail capping has made it into my sign inventory, and I don’t have time to write.
The only sign I have that’s of any help is jump.
The Nomad stares at my hands, then glances up at my face, not bothering to hide that he’s clearly questioning my sanity. Or perhaps my spatial awareness.
I point toward the railing.
“Do you enjoy the scent of your own burnt flesh?” he shouts over the wind.
Frustrated, I point again.
“I don’t understand, Wanderer.” There’s no mocking in his voice.
It occurs to me that the Nomad isn’t going to understand until he sees my plan in action. Which means I need to jump with time for him to process before we make it to the bridge.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I spin, racing in the same direction the train is moving. Reach the side. Launch myself into the air, my only hope that the intuition I gained at the circus doesn’t fail me.
My right foot lands on one of the caps, but my momentum is still dragging me forward.
Instead of resisting, I flow with it, bounding through the air, my left foot bouncing off the next cap.
I continue like this, bouncing from cap to cap, until my momentum slows enough that I can balance without wavering, my heart climbing up my throat.
The train barrels off, leaving me behind it.
I run, jumping from cap to cap, across the railing, following the train, waiting. Watching.
A figure flies off the side of the train. My body doesn’t halt, but my breath does.
The figure lands true.
I race toward the bridge and toward the Nomad, telling myself the entire way that my relief has nothing to do with his safety and everything to do with the mission.
By the time I reach where the Nomad is precariously perched on top of one of the railing caps, the passenger train is long gone.
“Do tell me,” he says as I approach, “was it your intention for me to follow you? That’s what I gathered, though now that I’m considering it, I’m wondering if you meant for me to stay behind. Or perhaps you were wanting me to jump, but only because you want me dead.”
I don’t have the signs to tell him we don’t have time for this, so I point to the train rounding the mountain instead.
“We’ll have to be careful to time this right,” says the Nomad.
I shoot him a glare.
He practically winces at himself. “Although you appear to be decent at sensing changes in velocity without my commentary.”
You too, I sign. He’s not wrong—I’m surprised and, despite myself, somewhat impressed that he made the jump.
As the Company train’s horn howls, the engine fast approaching, the Nomad catches me watching him and winks. “Together then?”
I squeeze his hand.
And jump.
The fall is startling and scoops my stomach up into my ribcage, but it’s the impact that tears the breath from my lungs.
Just as the train’s horn lets out another blaring howl, my feet hit the tin roof, then the soles of my boots slip, sending my knees careening into the metal.
It should be painful, but all I can do is tremble and grip the divots in the roof with my free hand.
My whole body shakes, except my hand, still clamped in his.
“You did it, Wanderer,” the Nomad says, looking pleased. I glance upward.
We pass under the overpass, the other train long gone.
Hopefully the others will have time to escape before the guarded checkpoints.
The Nomad planned a rendezvous point, but considering Lars and Acel failed to slow the train, I can’t help wondering if we’ll all make it there.
And whether the Company will force the others to hunt us down.
But that’s a problem for later.
“You’re wounded,” says the Nomad, glancing at where the blade sliced my forearm. Quickly, he tears a piece off the bottom of his tunic and wraps it around my arm. “We’ll have to clean it later,” he says. I don’t argue.
The Nomad and I race across the top of the train, and my stomach flies every time we jump between cars.
In his research, the Nomad had found that the centermost car was the least likely to be guarded.
When we reach the middle, we climb down the side of the car.
The door to the storage car is locked, but the Nomad picks it quickly, and we slip inside.
After a few turns through the dark, I hoist myself into the next car…and freeze at what waits for us inside.