Black Dove (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter Fifteen

            Perth is amazing. He seems to know all the highways and byways of the country, where to hop the right train, and when to get off. Without him, I don’t know what Darran and I would have done. We get to the railroad by cutting through the thick forest. Darran and Perth chatter on like old friends, which I have to remind myself they are. I trudge along about three feet behind, watching for brambles. When I was little, my mother and father would take Jace and I out for picnics in the woods, so I knew a little about how to watch out for snakes, poison ivy, or bogs.

            We pull out of the gloomy wood and into the tiny railroad station. The leaves and wildlife have encroached on the decrepit building, until one couldn’t tell whether it belonged to nature or to man. Animals scuttled around under the seats, hoarding nuts in the nooks and crannies. One windswept person lolled on the rotting benches, reading a newspaper, stopping at regular intervals to spit some green substance onto the filthy floor. We approach warily.

            “’Ere for de train?” The man says. I’m guessing he’s works on the line from his baggy blue overalls. “Should be ‘ere soon. I’m guessin’ from you attire, dat you going to ‘op it?”

            I am a bit disgusted by this man, I can hardly understand what he’s saying, but Darran speaks in his usual harsh tone, “Yes. You going to stop us?”

            The man laughs, which turns into a wheeze, “I ain’t gonna stop ya…I ‘ate enforcing de rules anyways. The train compinny is not paying much attention, now dat de war is over.” He fingers his scraggly beard. I jump as I hear the whistle, the train whistle, coming. We crouch behind one of the benches as the train, puffing smoke and emitting ear-splitting screeches, slides into the station. A burly man clambers out of the front and begins to talk to the other worker. I crawl over to the red container, and pull open the sliding door. It’s dark inside, smelly, and hot. Dust floats around, making me cough and Darran swear. Perth slides the door shut, leaving us in complete darkness.

            This reminds me of the bunker where I was shot, and it makes me shift uneasily. The train begins to lurch away from the station.

            We tell Perth about our adventures. He doesn’t say much. I do most of the talking, but let Darran explain our escape, I’m still not quite sure how we managed that. His face hardens when he tells about Zoe, and Perth struggles to keep his composure when we tell him about Alyssa’s death.

            “She died a hero.”

            All he does is grunt, and tell us to continue. At the end, I hear him sit back, and let all his breath out in a whoosh.

            “That sure is a fantastic tale. I would hardly believe it if it weren’t you two who told it. Trident, eh? What was that he was saying about causing the earthquakes?”

            I wracked my brain to remember his words. Part of me never wants to relive that horrible experience, but I know it’s important.

            “He said, uh, that he caused the earthquakes with some sort of machine. He was the one who started the power-grabbing.” Perth sits silently, most likely contemplating this.

            “I can hardly believe it, but it does make sense. The world would be vulnerable, and when it is strong people can easily take control. Then why doesn’t he use it again? He could mess up everything again. Why doesn’t he?”

            “I dunno. Maybe it’s out of gas, or something?”

            “C’mon Avalynne. A super weapon. It doesn’t just run out of gas. Plus, he has pretty much the whole world’s supplies at his disposal. So what’s he doing?” Darran asks.

            “There’s only two things that are plausible. Either he’s broken the thing somehow, or he’s waiting.”

            “Waiting for what, though?” I say.

            “Something to happen. I don’t know what, but I have a feeling that we are going into a trap. Once it’s sprung, he will do whatever he wants.” Perth says darkly.

            I shiver at the words. Still, even if it is a trap, it’s our only current path to stopping Trident. If I’m right, and I’m pretty certain I am, Sarge will have the necessary information. All we have to do is make him talk. And slowly, and idea comes to my mind, unfurling like a flower. I think, examine all the outcomes, and decide on it.

            “That was cheery, Perth,” Darran says, breaking the dark mood, “But I’d prefer to take my mind off it for now. If things were normal, I would be in college soon, probably studying engineering like I always wanted to. You, Avalynne?”

            “I don’t know. I never really thought of life outside the refugee camp.” Except for killing Jace’s killers. Is that my only dream?

            “Nothing at all?”

            “Well…don’t laugh, but I always thought I would be good as a singer or something.”

            “You sing?”

            “A little.” I blush a bit, “or something else.”

            “Zoe wanted, uh, wants to be a costume designer. She told me she was fascinated with the sparkly gems and slinky dresses of the celebrity’s pictures, before the war of course. She also wants to find all the Tarka leaf and burn it.”

            I feel a bit hurt that Zoe never told me any of this, but I know she and Darran have a special relationship. What it is, I can’t really tell. Most of the time I’ve been with them one of us has been unconscious, imprisoned, or bleeding all over the carpet. Somehow that wasn’t conducive to a sharing atmosphere.

            We ride the train for the next few days. Perth snags a few things to eat and drink out of crates that were being loaded. We don’t talk much, I just look out the cracks in the walls and watch the world slip by, flowers on the trackside, and the ruined landscape of the cities. Many of them have been bombed, and small shacks are set up by the side of the road. The war may be over, but it’s effects aren’t.

            We get off after a three day trip. I’m sore from being shaken up in the train, and I guess Darran is too, from the way he’s walking. The trip is long and tiresome, and we stop to catch our breath and eat some oranges by the roadside. The birds twitter in the sky and I rip up a bit of my skirt to change the bandage on my neck. It’s almost healed, though I hope it doesn’t get infected.

            “There it is!” Perth sits up and points. I follow his motion and give a start. A large castle-type building. Black.

            “That’s where he lives?” Darran sounded disgusted.

            “It’s been empty for years, it used to be a headquarters for one of the armies but now it’s deserted. The perfect place to set up a base, no?”

            “How are we going to get in?”

            “That’s the thing…it’s solid as a steel door. We’ll have to think hard how to get in without being spotted.” Perth rubbed his fingertips together, deep in thought.

            Something was nagging at me, “How did you know where he was?”

            He turned to me, his face blank and unreadable, “Because Willison is my half-brother.”