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Amalia threw her good hand over her mouth so not to shriek, and more to keep the creeping smoke out.
He rolled to his side and faced her, his eyes boring right into hers. “We’re going to crawl, on our stomachs.”
“What?” He couldn’t be serious? Could he? Her clothes would be ruined and she needed her—Amalia reached up and pulled down her case. The letters would not burn, no matter what, she’d get them out, even on her stomach. Because after he was gone, they’d be all she had left. Forever.
“Smoke rises. It’ll be the easiest way. Trust me on this.” He slithered forward. “Follow me. Hold on to my ankles and when we get to an exit, I’ll pull you out. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I can. I trust you.” Amalia settled herself back and grabbed onto the cuffs of David’s pants.
“All right.” He lowered himself all the way down. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Eighteen
Every single foul four-letter word General Warren screamed on that hill reverberated through David’s head as he crawled on his belly down the smoke and panic-filled corridor. Amalia’s hand clutched his left ankle. He slowed down as much as he could so not to dislodge her, especially as she was working with only one hand.
The thick, black air above them was like tar and filling the can-like compartment fast. With all his strength he skidded forward, slithering around bodies, ignoring the screams. His eyes burned, but finally a curtain flapped revealing the blue of the sky through an open door. He pressed down to stand and—crash.
A burly man who’d hoisted a brass edged trunk on his shoulders tripped. His load was airborne, headed right towards David. He rolled to his side and threw his hands over his head.
Thwack.
Right across his back. Ow.
But there was no time to think. The smoke sank lower. He pushed up again, but his chest wouldn’t move. The trunk pinned him to the floor. David twisted and tilted. He needed it off, now. But the angle—he couldn’t get the right angle. And the weight bore down on him, pressing into his spine. He coughed louder. He tilted his chin, the blue—so close but so far...and the weight grew heavier and heavier, until something soft brushed past him.
A grunt and a groan above him and the trunk thudded off to his side. And he could breathe.
“Come on, David, get up.” Amalia tugged at his arms, yanking him towards the door. He blinked, his eyes burning, as his body and mind struggled to make sense of the situation. Had Amalia just tossed the huge weight that near killed him? Was that possible? The woman was tall, but still...though there was no time to think. They needed to leave.
With all the strength he could throw into his muscles he rose up and grabbed Amalia around the waist as she threw an arm around his neck. The two ran for it, not stopping until they hit the grass and ran smack into Will, Meg at his side.
“Jesus.” Will slapped his back a few times. David spun and thrust Amalia in his partner’s outstretched hands.
“Make sure she’s okay.” He bent down, hands on his knees, coughing. A million fears raced through his mind, not the least of which was the potential danger lurking in the mass of passengers on the ground, choking and screaming and calling out for assistance. Somewhere in the crowd was the person who caused this.
This couldn’t be an accident, couldn’t be a coincidence. No one had that much bad luck. He raised his neck and locked eyes with Will. “Get her out of here. Now,” he managed to say between gasps.
His partner gave him a curt nod even as Amalia started to protest and raced off towards the tree line, Amalia in his arms, Meg at his heels. David sank to his knees for a moment, eyes closed. He was out of practice. Who’d have thought he could do endless marches wearing wool and multiple packs in the full sun?
With a few thumps on his chest with his fist, David managed to calm his breathing down enough to stand once more. He scanned the crowd to make sure no one was watching before he scurried in the direction his partners took Amalia. A few feet into the woods, he found the three hiding behind a tree. He sidled up to Will, as Meg and Amalia straightened each other’s garments.
“What was that?” he asked the other man.
“I don’t know.” Will shook his head. “I’m sorry, David. I’m so sorry. We patrolled every inch of that train before we started. I didn’t see the crash, but...”
“It wasn’t your fault. I know you did your best, better than anyone could.” He gave Will a nudge in the side.
“Why would anyone do that?” Amalia was on her feet.
Oy her volume. So much for keeping her hidden. He had to resist putting his hand over her mouth. He settled for a small shush. Which she promptly ignored. The woman recovered quickly. She’d even somehow managed to tidy her garments—neat and pressed and ready for action.
“Someone couldn’t risk all those people’s lives to kill me?” Amalia tossed her hair.
Meg was the one who shushed her this time, and she reluctantly obliged, lowering her voice a smidge. “Why?”
“We don’t know.” David tugged at his hair. “But we’ll find out.” He ran his tongue over his teeth as a map lit in his mind, each marker representing part of the task, the job, just like when he was working on a mission for the army. He turned to his partners. “Question as many people as you can here and get that information to Indianapolis as soon as possible. Afterwards, meet me in Delaware. If you arrive first, start coordinating with whatever security the Truitts already have in place.”
“We’re going to travel by rail and you’re not?” Meg knit her brow.
