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“Matri, where are we going?” The question came from the young that Bravo had arrived at the camp with. I looked into his round cheeks and wondered if he’d ever fully realize how lucky he was to have only been in Krovgorod for a couple of days instead of his whole life like the other children.
“Hush now,” I said. “Go sit where I told you. It’s not safe here by the door.”
Cleo joined me once the young had done as I ordered. “We won’t break through the gates without more speed.”
“They’ll manage it somehow, but for now let’s hope the others catch us.”
We were well beyond the station and moving along behind the storehouses and a few of the barracks. It wouldn’t be long until we were in open space, where guards could line up their guns and shoot at will. The sun was slipping low and I prayed it would take the guards several precious minutes to organize themselves and get the weapons in line. If not, bullets would turn the cars into Swiss cheese before we even had a chance to make a decent run at those gates.
Our boxcar cleared the cover of the final building. In the distance, two figures ran from the promenade. Behind them, vampire guards swarmed out of the commander’s building. On one hand, the sight was cause for celebration, because it meant Dr. Death was dead. On the other hand, it appeared that Zed and Carmina had managed to kick the hornets’ nest on their way out. In addition to the guards chasing them, several armored cars zoomed out from behind the building, loaded down with vampires and mounted guns.
Even as I prayed they’d reach us in time, I also prayed that the train picked up so much speed they’d never catch us. The latter meant we’d have a better chance of knocking down those gates and Tuck’s explosive surprise would give us a real chance at freedom. I didn’t want Meridian Six or Zed to die, but I wanted to live. Bravo thought me selfish, but she was young yet.
The train suddenly lurched forward, as if they’d tossed a packet of dynamite into the firebox. I scrambled to grab hold of something, but I fell to the floor of the boxcar and bounced. My feet flew outside the car and I only just managed to grab the edge of the opening to avoid falling out completely.
“Matri!”
The children’s worried cries couldn’t penetrate the force field of blind panic. My upper body wasn’t strong enough to pull myself back inside. My feet could only hang loose, because if I moved and they tangled in one of the train’s wheels I’d be pulled under.
Cleo grabbed my wrists with her boiled lobster hands. She fell back on her rear end and tried to pull me back inside the train. The train rocked roughly. Cleo grunted and pulled, but couldn’t get leverage. “Children, help!”
I felt like I was being stretched on Dr. Death’s infamous torture rack. My shoulder sockets screamed and my legs burned from trying to keep them away from the train’s wheels.
Small hands grabbed onto Cleo’s shoulders and high cries punctuated the train’s chugging progress. My chest scraped over the sharp edge. The pain was welcome because it meant I was moving in the right direction.
“Pull harder,” Cleo shouted.
Another inch’s progress.
Before I could feel too relieved, a loud ping sounded nearby. Three more followed close behind it.
“They’re shooting,” Cleo shouted. “Faster, children.” She lurched back to try to pull me in further.
Bullets peppered the train. Wood shards and shrapnel bit into the skin of my legs and back. No part of me didn’t hurt, and it was only a matter of time until those bullets found my flesh.
I closed my eyes and stopped grabbing onto Cleo’s wrists. Either she’d lose her grip or I’d just slip out, eventually.
The first bullet ripped through my left calf. The hard pinch burst into a throbbing nebula of pain.
I don’t know how long I just hung there, wracked with pain and waiting for the end. But suddenly the pressure on my wrists shifted and strengthened. “Damn it, hold on!”
When I opened my eyes, I saw Bravo looming over me. She squatted at the edge of the car, and had Cleo wrapped around her waist. “Just let me go,” I begged.
Her eyes burned with the sort of conviction I’d lost years ago. “Don’t you dare give up. Not now. Not after everything you’ve done to survive.”
The weight of all of those decisions pulled me down. I’d convinced myself for years that I’d been trying to save the children as much as I’d been saving myself. But the truth simmered deep inside me. I stood by while the Troika hurt those kids because I knew that standing up to them would mean my immediate death. “Get the children away from the door and drop me, damn it!”
“You’ll do no one any good as a martyr.” She threw her weight back. My body jerked and my hips scraped over the threshold. As I slammed onto the floor, another bullet burrowed into my left thigh.
I screamed and
my vision went spotty. Bravo wrapped her arms around me and we rolled. “Close the door,” she screamed at Cleo.
As the door slammed home, cutting out all the light, I went limp from the pain. My left leg would be all but useless if I managed to survive the blood loss. “You should have let me die.”
She whispered, “Too many have already been left behind.”
I swallowed hard. Cold sweat covered my skin despite the fire in my leg. “Where’d you come from, anyway? Who’s driving the train?”
