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I throw open the door and grab Lola, pulling her out with me. “There’s no time for technical jargon. What the hell is an ATS system?”
“Automatic Train Stop,” he recites dutifully as we enter into the control room. “Usually it’s trigger by debris or something in the tracks. If it’s snowing hard, that would be enough to trip it.”
“Wonderful,” I grumble, pulling her out in front of me and placing her in the engineer’s seat. “I need you to turn it off.”
She gives me a look like I’m crazy. “Seriously? We don’t know what triggered it. We need to go out there and check first, or we’re going to end up damaging the train.”
My pulse won’t stop pounding in my ears. “What’s the worse that can happen?”
“We get derailed,” she replies. “And then it’s game over. You’re not going to be able to fix that without heavy machinery, and nothing is going to be able to get out here with all this snow.”
I slam my fist into the windshield. “Goddammit!”
“I’m sorry, but if we need to check the tracks. I just hope it isn’t something serious,” she says, sounding genuinely apologetic.
But it’s not her fault. I’m the one who took the risk of bringing us so close to danger, and now I’m paying the price for it. Nikolai already grilled me over the phone about it the last time I called him, and now I’m going to have to admit that I was wrong to do this.
My pride won’t allow me to admit defeat yet, though, so I’m going out to check for obstructions.
“Stay here,” I demand, pulling the switch to open the door. “I should only be a minute.”
She nods, but as the door opens, she grabs my arm. “Wait! The ATS system should be on the left side of the train. Just look down at the bottom near the wheels.”
I smile, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, Lola.”
Her cheeks flush pink as I pull away, but I don’t have time to revel in the delicate nature of our emotions right now. I have to get this train back up and running, or we’re not going to make it to Texas.
The moment I step outside I know we’re in trouble. Without a coat, the wind feels like it’s blowing straight through me, numbing me from the inside out as I take my first steps through the fresh snow. It’s all the way up to my knees, and I have to push my legs through it just to move toward the front of the train.
Once I reach the tracks, the way becomes easier. Even though there’s snow piled high on either side of the train, the actual railway is mostly clear. I let out a breath, and it’s frozen in midair, the moister turning to little pinpricks of ice and swirling away in the next gust of wind.
I clench my teeth, baring the sub-zero temperatures like I used to do as a young boy in Russia. I’ve been spoiled by a life of luxury in the United States, but every once in a while, I’m reminded that suffering is baked into the human experience. It’s impossible to avoid, even when you’re one of the richest men in the country.
My legs are already numb when I reenter the snow on the left side of the tracks, scanning the wheels of the train for something that could be interpreted as an Automatic Train Stop. It can’t be that difficult to spot. It’s only on one side, so I should be able to locate the difference.
At first, I’m unable to find anything, but then I realize it’s because there’s so much snow caked onto the side of the train that it’s probably hidden from view. That would also explain the obstruction. If I could clear off some of that snow, I bet we could start the train up again and be on our way.
I raise my foot, kicking at the snow to break it off the side of the train, but it’s too frozen to come loose. I’m going to need tools, and probably a bit more manpower. Thankfully, I have both on the train.
The snow is blowing so hard now that I can barely see, and my body becomes more rigid with every step that I take. It’s dangerous to be out here without a jacket or a hat, and I can’t imagine that the Italians are making much more progress than we are right now. They’re probably trapped on a frozen road, unless they’ve taken helicopters to get to us, and then we’re in trouble.
But the weather is too treacherous to take such risks, so we’re most likely safe until the day comes and the sun melts some of the snow.
I tune out the external elements, retreating deep inside myself mentally to brave the cold as I make my way slowly back around the front of the train. My first impulse is to imagine I’m still sleeping with Lola, our bodies generating a comforting aura that’s more than just warmth. It’s safety, relaxation, and maybe even… love.
The door to the train creaks open before I can reach for the handle, and Lola uses both hands to pull me in. I stumble onto the train, having to catch myself on the wall because my legs refuse to work. I can’t feel a thing.
“I was about to come out there and get you,” Lola says, her expression twisted in deep concern.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my heart beating much faster than it should be. “I wasn’t out for that long.”
“Nearly half an hour,” she says, shaking her head. “And you don’t look good. You’re so pale.”
“I’m not pale,” I reply, but when I look at my reflection in the window, I see a ghost instead of a man. “I might take a tea or something,” I mumble, trying to retain my footing as I walk toward the next compartment.
“Wait, stay there,” Lola says, rushing past me and blocking the door. “I’ll get it. You really don’t look good. You should sit down. Maybe we can turn on the heat.”
“No!” I blurt.
