He is just going through the motions, which is fine by me, but I know the hard part is still to come.
It comes. “I need travel vouchers for all adults,” he says, finally glancing up over his glasses at my face. His boring, emotionless face changes in an instance. It’s just a slight twitch, a flash of recognition in his eyes, but I can see that he knows who I am. Smartly, he pretends not to. I wonder if he’s got a big red security button somewhere underneath his desk. I can see both his hands, but he might be able to press it with his knees.
“Look, buddy, we don’t have travel vouchers, but you probably already guessed that. But we do have this.” I spill the pouch of shiny gold Nailins out onto his desk. “If you keep quiet you can have them all.”
At the sight of the money, the guy’s eyes light up and his fat lips twist into a greedy grin. “Done deal,” he says without hesitation. He stamps four tickets and hands them to me in a stack.
I know we aren’t out of the woods yet. Because the guy is willing to accept a bribe, he is also probably prone to dishonesty, like accepting said bribe while still planning to turn us in to the authorities. At least we have tickets.
With only a few minutes until the train’s departure, we don’t have time to bet on whether the guy will stick to our deal. Instead, we hurry through the automatic ticket turnstiles, praying he’s given us real tickets. With each swipe of one of the tickets, the gates open and allow one of us through.
The train has just pulled into the station, its doors open and waiting for us to board. A few passengers straggle off, but they are so haggard from the long journey that they don’t even look up as we pass.
“Last car,” I say, leading the group into a light jog. The last car will ensure we are away from any other passengers who happen to jump on the train just before it leaves.
We are halfway to the last car when an alarm goes off, blaring through the silent station. Red lights flash. There is maybe a minute before the train departs.
We run.
I hear a shout from behind us and twist my head to see men jumping over the turnstiles. They aren’t looking for a free ride—that is for sure. They are after us. And leading the pack: Rivet.
We run harder. Thirty seconds to departure.
We reach the last car and board. I try the manual door levers but they are jammed. Just in case I’m not strong enough, Cole tries them, too, but reaches the same conclusion. We are at the mercy of the train being on time.
Pressing our faces against the glass, we watch as Rivet’s group splits into two. One group, led by a big black guy with a wicked barbed-wire tattoo around his exposed bicep, heads straight for us, trying to beat the doors. The other group, led by the Devil—also known as Rivet—veers left and boards the train about three cars in front of us, thus ensuring they are at worst traveling with us.
I’m not worried about the second group at the moment. The first group is closing in, running full speed, their eyes heavy with violence.
The doors start to close.
The guys are so close I think they’ll make it. My instinct is to shrink back toward the back of the car, away from the doors. Cole has a better idea.
“C’mon,” he says, urging me to move up to the closing doors. We inch forward until we’ve created a human barricade. The big guy in the front tries to charge straight through us. Without planning it, Cole and I kick at the same time. I catch him hard in the knee and hear a crunch as it bends backwards the wrong way. Simultaneously, Cole lays into him with a boot in the face, using his foot like a sledgehammer.
“Argh!” the dude roars, falling backwards into his friends.
The doors close.
Chapter Eighteen
Tristan
“It’s Rivet!” I hiss. “What do you make of it?”
“Exercise,” Roc says.
“Exercise?”
“Yeah. They’re just out for a midnight run. You know, to keep in shape.”
I am glad to have the old Roc back, the one who jokes in even the most serious situations. “I think we should join them, I’m feeling a bit out of shape, too.”
Roc nods, grinning.
We steal from the alley and jog along the street, moving silently on only our toes. We probably don’t even need to be as careful as we are, as Rivet and his men are making so much noise they wouldn’t hear the grind of a drilling machine following them.
Our quarry reaches the city center and enters the train terminal. We follow as close as we dare. The moment we enter the station, the emergency sirens go off. I whirl around, half-expecting a squadron of troops to surround us, but there is no one.
“Hurry,” Roc says, “we’re gonna lose ’em.”
I spin around and start chasing Rivet again, who’s doubled his speed, heading straight for the turnstiles to a waiting train. Ticketless, his men hop the barrier. Finally, I can see why they are in such a hurry.
Four figures are running along the platform, evidently aiming to board the last car. They are all wearing hoods, so it is difficult to distinguish individual features, other than height. But still I know. There are four of them, one much shorter than the others. Plus Rivet is chasing them. It is her. Adele. Her sister. The other two fugitives.
Following Rivet’s lead, we launch ourselves over the ticket machines. There is no way we are going to catch Rivet’s men, much less Adele and her friends. I extend an arm to stop Roc.
“Wait, let’s see what happens,” I say.
We watch as Rivet’s men split up, half boarding a car in the middle of the train and the other half zeroing in on the last car. We are flush with the doors of the first car, which start to close. One of Rivet’s men tries to jump on the last car but is met by at least two feet, which knock him back.
I slip through the crack in the doors and pull Roc in after me.
My mind is racing. We are on the train. Rivet and his men are on the train. Adele, her sister, her friends. We couldn’t have coordinated it any better if we’d tried.
“It’s like fate,” Roc says, reading my mind. Maybe my father was wrong about fate after all.
“Where are we going?”
As if in response to my question, the train starts moving and the speaker drones. “Nonstop to subchapter twenty-six.”
“Subchapter twenty-six? But that’s where—”
“Camp Blood and Stone,” Roc finishes. It is another classified thing I’ve told him.
“But why would Adele be headed there?” I say, thinking aloud. It hits me like a sucker punch from a one-armed man. “Her parents!” I exclaim.
Roc’s eyes widen. “Yes,” he says. “It has to be. The reporter said they were traitors. There’s nowhere else they would’ve been taken.”
“She’s trying to get her family back. First her sister and now her mom and dad.”
Just then I have a flashback from the last thrilling train ride we had. Waiting in the car. Watching as the two guards switched cars, moving along the train toward us. Slipping onto our train. The fight.
I rush down the car, not bothering to explain to Roc. Reaching the end I tug at the door. It is either stuck, locked, or not a real door, because it won’t budge. I peer through the glass window, looking into the next car. It is empty. So is the one after that. I’m not sure how many cars are empty before I spot movement. I can barely make out moving black blobs several cars in front of us.
“It’s an express night train,” Roc says, approaching from behind. “There’s no car-to-car access. The train won’t stop because of the security alarms either. They’re fully automated.”
“How do you now so much about Moon Realm trains?”
“That’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”
When I turn around, Roc’s grinning. “What’s so funny?” I say.