Elusion

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

THE RIDGE ALONG THE CANADIAN RIVER leading into Lone Star provided plenty of cover for our stealth approach. Better known as west Texas before the war, this region wasn't much more than cattle country and oil fields before Apollo put his stamp on it. Based on my first look at the place in person, there were still plenty of cattle and oilrigs. But I knew that Lone Star made a name for itself for different reasons these days-music and arts.

Apollo loved his music and if someone showed an inkling of talent, they were immediately transferred to Lone Star to work with supposedly some of the brightest in the music industry. Of all the reasons to hate Apollo, this wasn't one of them. He fostered a sense of musical appreciation that couldn't be ignored. Whether it was toe-tapping, string-plucking, knee-slapping, or head-banging music, Apollo encouraged it all. We'd all heard stories about the Lone Star's incredible music scene, but at the moment it was the last thing on my mind. We needed to find a way in without getting caught.

As we crouched behind a few boulders on the ridge discussing our options, two loud horn blasts from an approaching train startled us. We all looked at each other and smiled. This was our ticket in.

Oblivious to the train tracks before, we now noticed them on the other side of the ridge. The tracks seemed to come out of nowhere at first. I traced them back through a gulch with my eyes and realized that the farther away from the gates we boarded, the better. We all discussed our strategy before deciding it would be best to get on a train from farther away.

It was then that I realized we had exhausted our need for Amber Dancer. I wanted to keep her, but I knew it wasn't feasible. It would be challenging enough to get all four of us onto a moving train, much less a horse. And then what? Would we ride around Lone Star on a horse? Texas roots still shone through here from what I'd heard, but I couldn't imagine a scenario where people were still riding horses. I had to let her go.

Jags and I said our goodbyes to Amber Dancer before coaxing her to take off for the hills. She was reluctant to leave at first, but after a few minutes, she finally took off, free to explore.

I caught a tear streaking down my face. Why I struggled to say goodbye to her was difficult to explain. I'd said goodbye to an entire life-a life I hoped never to see again-and I didn't leak a single tear. Maybe it was because I couldn't think about it before. My life was in jeopardy and I didn't have time. Maybe it was all catching up with me, the emotion of leaving everything behind. But I broke.

Jags put his arms around me, comforting me.

"She'll be all right, Mel," he said.

I knew she would. But this journey grew more painful with each step. I didn't know how much more loss I could take. I'd already lost almost every friend I had when I decided to run. I likely lost my brother. And now I'd lost the horse that helped us escape. I just hoped I wouldn't lose Jags, too.

After a few minutes, I composed myself and prepared to press on. We had to hop onto a moving train if we were going to get into Lone Star. And we all concluded that if we didn't get into Lone Star soon, we might die here.

It took us about thirty minutes to find the tracks on the other side of the ridge. We waited to go down near the tracks until we spotted a prime location to hide. As we peered down from the top of the ridge, I spotted a giant boulder just around a bend. Everyone agreed this would be the best place to lie in wait for the next train.

We made our way near the tracks and waited. It was the worst part of anything, in my opinion. Waiting for anything irked me. I hated waiting for my food. I hated waiting for answers to my questions. I hated waiting for the right time to tell Jags how I felt about him. But waiting was necessary sometimes, an inconvenient disruption to my want-it-now approach to life. Yet I found that waiting often resulted in something good, if not better, than if I gave in to my impatience. In this situation, I had no choice.