411 disembarked in Brooklyn. He sensed the two men outside the door to the Prospect Park Station, waiting for a signal of some sort. They were tense. 411 and his kind could not feel emotion, but they could see it in humans. Fear was blue, and these men were pulsing a rich cerulean, even through the thick stone walls. Somewhere down the line, he could sense the children and the man who wanted to intercept them. He knew they were important to whatever the Mytro was planning. The girl in particular. She wore something that flashed like a phosphor flare through the tunnels. Every Nayzun could see it, even from the Hangar. It was like watching a torch on a dark plain, bobbing in the distance.
411 lived on the tangents, the places where the Mytro just barely kissed the edge of the earth. The Key was moving between those tangents, from the bright lines of the Mytro into the dirt and dust of the human world. Unlike the humans who needed their feet or vehicles to move from one spot to the next, the Nayzuns moved behind the scenes wherever they wished. They rode the Mytro occasionally, but they didn't have to. They could just ride the lines between stations.
Now 411 moved from one tangent to the next, coming closer to the men on the train.
411 remembered all the safeguards put into place to keep evil men from using the Mytro for evil things. Clearly these safeguards were failing, one by one, as the humans began to truly understand the Mytro and its power. The shooting was just the beginning. They felt at ease enough here now to bring their own odd customs to the rails.
The children and the men are on a collision course. Stop them, whined the rails. 411 took another turn and began to trail them, the rails singing his footsteps like a hollow prayer.
YOU ARE READING
Imagine if, right now, clattering underneath your feet was a secret train system that could take you anywhere in minutes. Imagine a trip full of mystery and excitement from New York to Barcelona to the wind-swept coast of Italy to the edge of space...