But Simon knew that was going to change. Their luck couldn’t hold forever because there were more people awaiting rescue than he would have imagined.
Wertham walked over to join Simon, carrying a bowl of stew and a bottle of water. The old Templar popped his faceshield open, revealing his tired and haggard features.
“More volunteers arrived tonight,” Wertham said as he settled in beside Simon.
Volunteers were what they called the people that managed to wander into their sanctuary on their own, without being guided in by a Templar. It was good that people were hearing about the Knight Train, as it was being called, but Simon knew that such knowledge being so widely spread would mean their undoing as well. If that many people knew about them, the demons would discover them before long as well.
Simon gazed down the long tube. The people huddled in small groups around tiny fires that barely staved off the chill that permeated the ground even as deep as they were. Many of the people curled up in blankets or big coats.
“How many volunteers?” Simon asked.
“Thirty-two.”
“Did we have enough to feed them?”
Wertham nodded. “We did. But we can’t keep scavenging enough by hand to feed a group like this. We’re going to need a fleet of lorries before long. And go farther to get it.”
“I know.”
“If we don’t run out of food, we’re going to be found out.”
“I know.”
“And we’re running out of space on the train.”
Simon sighed and felt exhausted. Hopelessness flickered within him again. When the idea had first occurred to him—to update one of the abandoned pulling engines in one of the storage spurs in the Paddington Nation Rail line and use the train to take survivors from London—it had sounded easy.
Now, with the successful arrival of every newcomer, it edged back toward impossible.
“I know that, too. Is there any good news?”
Wertham grinned. “We’re still alive.” He offered a toast with his water bottle. “To luck and pure hearts.”
Simon echoed him, touching his bottle to Wertham’s briefly before they drank.
Knuckling stew from his beard, Wertham looked at Simon. “Have you slept?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
Simon shook his head. Ever since he’d stopped going outside the tube and had concentrated on making the necessary adjustments to the pulling engine, he’d lost all track of time. He figured the HUD could tell him, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been inside his armor, either.
“I can’t remember.”
“You need to get more rest.”
“I will,” Simon said. “As soon as we get these people out of here.”
“How soon before they have the engine converted over?”
“A few hours. A few days.” Simon shook his head. “I don’t know. McCorkleson doesn’t know either.”
Ian McCorkleson had proven a godsend. He was an old man, in his late seventies, but still had a mind as sharp as a tack. He couldn’t do all the physical labor himself now, but they’d recruited able bodies from the volunteers to help with the engine refitting.
All his life, McCorkleson had worked on the trains as a mechanic. He’d even been one of the first to help design the MagnaPUSH electromagnetic engines that were supposed to be the wave of the future. Japan and other countries had already started using maglev trains, but those depended on current running through the rails.
Instead of being powered by electricity, the MagnaPUSH engines operated by accessing the natural electromagnetic fields of the earth, cutting the operations costs dynamically. Plans had been in motion to start converting the pulling engines over the next ten years. The technology had still been on the drawing boards in the commercial shops.
But Templar technology had always been more developed than the rest of the world. The Templar had planned to fight the war against the demons if they ever came, and they’d enlisted the brightest minds to their cause. The Templar designers had been using NanoDyne technology a score of years before MagnaPUSH had become a reality.
Simon had worked with the NanoDyne engines, experimenting with them on skateboards he’d built. Some of the maglev skateboards had been released on the market, but none of them were anywhere near as powerful as the ones Simon had designed. But he had learned nearly everything there was to know about harnessing the power available through them.
The Templar had gotten the NanoDyne engines from some of the unmanned Templar Underground. After the massacre at St. Paul’s Cathedral, several of the area’s Templar compounds were seriously undermanned. Or totally abandoned. That had been part of the intent as well, making sure there were enough supplies left behind for the survivors to be able to stretch over a period of years if they had to.
McCorkleson hadn’t believed how sophisticated and compact the engines that Simon had provided had been. Part of the problem was figuring out a way to properly balance and place the engines so they wouldn’t tear loose of their housings the first time they were powered up. They’d had to reinforce all of the structures.
“McCorkleson wants a few more days to test the engines,” Simon said.
“You had it up off the rails yesterday,” Wertham said.
Yesterday. Simon couldn’t believe that had been yesterday. It seemed like only a few hours ago.
“The balance wasn’t right. We’ve got that corrected, but he wants the housings tweaked.”
“Personally, I don’t think we have days,” Wertham said. “We’re going to run out of resources for these people, get discovered by the demons, or get overwhelmed by refugees.”
“If we have to wind the engines up, and escaping the city will probably mean that, they could leave us behind. Or self-destruct.”
Wertham thought about that for the moment. “I can see the problem with that.” His brow wrinkled. “But if we don’t leave soon, we’re either going to be discovered or we’re going to have to leave people behind
