“What about Cassius?”
“Isn’t time.” I crane my neck up to the ceiling-the right-side windows now framing the stars overhead. The circular entrance door lies slightly ajar, busted open from the force of the crash. Getting to it might be a problem, but it’s our only way out. The firelight advances in the distance.
Avery lays her hand on my shoulder. “Over and out?”
I nod, wondering exactly how we’re gonna get up there.
But Avery’s on it, pulling herself up onto the armrest of the nearest seat and standing across what used to be the center aisle. Pressed against the flooring, she grabs onto the next closest armrest and uses it to pull herself into the top row of seats. She crouches for a moment before making the final push.
I look up at her, perched in the sideways chair like she’s climbing a tree. This is going to be much harder than she just made it look. It’s like doing pull-ups, and I hate doing pull-ups. Can’t do more than ten. Luckily I’ve only gotta do two to get up and out of the car. Come on, arms. Don’t wimp out on me now.
Before I totally psych myself out, I move to the nearest seat and grab onto the armrest a few feet above my head.
Then I pull mass hard, trying to pretend like this is just another skill test. My muscles strain as I press my feet against the bottom armrest and launch myself upward.
After clearing the first pair of seats, I yank myself over the aisle and into the final top seats. Avery bends down and grabs the edge of the opening, letting her body go limp until she’s hanging in the air directly below the doorway. I sit on the armrest and watch her pull herself up onto the side of the train. Seconds later, she spins around and drops her arms through the opening.
“Just like climbing up into the vent,” she smiles down like the most beautiful monkey I’ve ever seen.
I flash a worried smile and grab onto her waiting hands, pressing my feet against the back of the seat so I can push out.
With Avery’s help, I lift myself out from the cabin and into the steaming-hot night air.
We stand on the curved siding of the Chute, careful not to slip. I look to the right: nothing but zigzagging train cars stretching on into the darkness. Then I turn around and see the flames spreading from the back. The very last car stands attached to the track, though just barely.
The Good Samaritan in me screams to head back down into the car and help some of the other passengers, but then I remember that Avery and I are fugitives, that we stole this ride. The longer we stay here, the greater chance the government will find us. Or maybe even Cassius. Avery steps to the edge of the car, sitting with her legs hanging over the side.
I move to join her. “What now?”
“We can’t stay here, obviously.”
I nod. “There was a Fringe Town a ways back.”
She shakes her head. “They’re hostile. We’ll head in the opposite direction. Northwest.”
I stare into the unknown. Shadowy rock formations jut out in the distance. Maybe they’re not rocks at all. “It’s dark. We’ll get lost out there.”
Avery pushes herself from the train, landing with a thud on the dusty ground below. “The stars, Jesse. You’ve seen ’em enough. They’re just a little farther away, that’s all.”
I follow, landing in an undignified heap beside her. My ankles rattle with a buzzing pain.
“I know the Surface,” she continues, “ever since I was a little girl. I know what to do if we get lost.” She grabs my hand and pulls me into the night. Even with the fire behind us, the darkness swallows us quickly.
After a minute of running, we stop and turn to survey the wreckage. The fire’s gobbled up a quarter of the Chute already, but it doesn’t seem so threatening all of a sudden, like it’s not even real. I feel a pang of guilt as we turn and walk away. The emergency fire systems are probably starting to kick in. It won’t be long until the flames are put out completely and a government squad is summoned. We made the right choice.
I repeat this mantra in my head, but it still doesn’t feel right.
“Keep your eyes peeled for lights,” Avery says.
I shake my head. “I wasn’t serious about heading into a Fringe Town, you know.”
“I know, but we need a place to sleep. Windstorms are common in this area. Towns will have shelter.”
“They’ll also have Fringers,” I reply. “Or have you forgotten that fun little mark on the side of my face a few days ago?”
“We’ll pretend we’re one of them,” she says, climbing up a gentle hill. “We’re certainly filthy enough.”
“Nomads,” I suggest.
She nods.
“And we’re… we’re desperate for water and shelter for the night,” I continue, “and we’ll be gone by morning.”
“ If we run into trouble,” she says. “Most of these towns are deserted.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” I pause. “Avery?”
She turns, looking at me. “What is it?”
“You were serious back in Portland, right? About being on my side?”
She stumbles forward, grabbing me up in her arms and hugging me. This time I hug her back.
“I’ve never been so serious about something in my life,” she whispers. “Look at all we’ve survived so far. I’m not letting you down, Jesse.”
I rest my head on her shoulder, hands pressed against her back. “I think I believe you.”
She lets go, stepping away. “We need to get as far away from the Chute as possible.” She scans the flat expanse around us, pointing. “That way.”
I nod and we take off through the darkness, guided by little more than the moonlight.
32
Cassius regained consciousness just as the flame retardant foam began to blanket the inside of the cabin. It wasn’t going to help anyone around him. They’d been burned to a crisp long before the system switched on. The car itself was reduced to a metal shell, heated up until it stung to touch it.
Unlike everything around him, Cassius wasn’t burned. He lay in the middle of a bed of flames, but they passed through him, ignoring his tender skin. His senses were alert, his mind sharp and refreshed. If his insides weren’t all raw and bruised, he’d think he had suddenly become invincible. It was the most painful form of invincibility he could imagine.
He pulled himself from the bathroom floor, searching for clothing to cover his naked body before heading out into the night. Most everything had already been mutilated by fire. Retardant foam buried what managed to survive.
He paused a moment to stare at the bodies-the blue-haired girl lying still in the corner, the businessman crumpled in a heap below his chair. The force of the explosion had killed most of them before the flames could do anything.
He had done this. Whether he had meant to or not didn’t make any difference. This wasn’t a killing in the name of the Unified Party. This wasn’t part of a mission. This was a massacre.
Glancing around the cabin, he found a body lying in the corner of the room least ravaged by the fire. Like all the others, the man was dead, but the foam had reached him before the fire had a chance to completely destroy his body. Most of his clothing remained intact, despite many scuffs and burn marks.
Cassius began the unpleasant job of stripping off the man’s jeans and pulling them over his own legs. They were much too loose, but he was able to tighten the belt to an acceptable length. With great difficulty, he yanked off the man’s shirt, tearing it at the shoulder as he tried to work it around the guy’s limp arms. It was horrifying work, pulling the clothes off a dead body, but he didn’t have any other choice. The guy was already gone. Cassius needed it more than he did.
Stumbling into the night air, he turned to survey the wreckage he had caused. The train cars curved into the darkness beyond him. As he stared at the fallen Chute, his frustration with Madame began to turn to doubt. Twice now this had happened, and she knew why. Yet she wouldn’t tell him. Not without a price. Not without Fisher.
