Hours after sunset, Audrey and the remaining escort vehicle were traversing through the rail corridors of abandoned suburbia at a much slower pace. A guide wheel on the Hi-Rail brace had bent out of shape from the collision landing, hampering their need for haste to escape the city limits.
Low beam headlights scanned the way, occasionally picking out the shell of a car body that was pushed aside by the plate welded prow at the front of the truck. Rolling in the draft of Audrey's trailer just behind them, Tiny tried to recall what it had all looked like before the anarchy.
Leaning his elbow out the Corolla's open window, he could recognize sports fields and libraries, corner stores and school buildings sagging in the silver moonlight. His reverie came undone at the alarming thump coming from the boot of the car.
"Mama! There's something moving back here!" The big man yelled at the radio receiver on the dashboard.
"Where?" Carrion's dry voice asked through the speaker.
"It's in the bloody car!" The pitch of his words rising with fear.
In the cabin of the vanguard truck, Weary took a hold of Carrion's hand, smothering the handset before she could respond.
"This time we're stopping to help him." Came his earnest warning.
Jerking her left hand out of Weary's hold, the trucker sized him up with her good eye, lips pinched in a silent snarl. After a tense delay she depressed the button on the handset:
"Can you see it?"
"No! I think it's coming from the boot. Something's kickin' in there!"
"Brake. We'll come check it out. Don't get out of the car until you see us!"
The battle truck came to a standstill, engines cutting off to bask in the eerie silence. Descending from the cabin on either side, Carrion prowled over the ballast stone with the rifle stock couched at her shoulder in preparation to fire while Weary had the axe in his right hand, adjusting his fingers to find the right grip to strike their potential threat. As they came out of the dusk to find Tiny sitting nervously in the driver's seat, Weary motioned at him to exit the vehicle slowly.
Letting himself out of the vehicle cautiously to join them, Carrion described to Tiny a levering motion in the air with a free hand, pointing back at the sedan's console. Comprehending the unspoken hint with a thumbs up, he and the others took their positions as they held their breath.
Releasing the boot lever, the rear end of the vehicle sprung open on croaking hinges. Poking the barrel at the unfolding limbs of the stowaway, Carrion and Weary were surprised to find a young woman holding out her hands for mercy.
"Liu!" Tiny exclaimed. "What are you doin' in there?"
"I'm sorry, but I had to get away, it's not safe in Sanctuary anymore!"
"It's not safe out here either girl." Carrion relaxed her arms to lower the rifle.
"When I heard you were leavin' I had to come. What chances would I or any of the others have if you never came back with that water. Safer out here than in the tunnels when the Clans find us."
"She can replace Mack and Whip." Weary added. "Another set of eyes on lookout."
"Well, you've made it this far. Keep Tiny company." Carrion answered, accepted the change in circumstance.
Smiling in thanks at the three figures, Liu stepped out of the bonnet and stretched the cramping ligaments that had been torturing her since leaving the underground.
"You won't regret it! I can hunt, and I'm a great cook too!"
* * *
After the discovery of Liu the stowaway, the crew from Santuary followed the parallel rails into an unfamiliar industrial zone, Audrey's headlight gaze exposing a network of tracks that seemed to bottleneck through a kilometre of shunting yards and maintenance sheds. Easing her foot on the pedal as they rolled into the territory, Carrion folded down the sun visor above her, where she had pinned the copy of the map.
"Crystal Brook Junction."
Braking the truck to a standstill, the passenger door opened to allow Weary to drop down from the cabin, rifle slung over a shoulder as he stepped over the tracks to explore the area. Navigating his way down the bluestone rubble, the scene blacked out as though the spotlights on a play had been dimmed, the headlights and engines of the vehicles turned off to keep themselves disguised while they waited for him to discover any egress through the Gordian knot of rails.
Using the profiles of the surviving buildings to hide behind, Weary took advantage of the angle of the moonlight entering through open windows in the ruins to see what their contents were, judging the rooms and warehouses within seconds as he hurried to find the signal box.
Nothing else stirred, not even the breeze, exaggerating every trip and stumble he made into telltale echoes reverberating off the brick walls. Bruising himself on an unseen pole that struck him across the shin, he kept his balance and limped out of a supply shed, scrambling over the side of further tracks to reach a tiled building. Cautiously taking the exposed stairs that ascended to the second level, he peaked into the broken glass to discover rows of signal levers rusting in the starlight.
Ducking under the half door that was nailed into its frame to enter the raised signal room, Weary stared in disbelief at the number of switches he had to chose from. For minutes he paced the floor, rubbing away the accumulated dirt to try and read the numbers moulded into the iron bar levers. He had been hoping to discover names, titles, something he could identify with on the map.
Nothing but numbers.
His train of thought was distracted by a noise outside. Slipping the rifle sling from his shoulder, the ex-medic crouched low as a rabbit, listening for further confirmation that someone else was moving amongst the rail yards. As time passed without further disturbance, he watched the nightscape from the windows before feeling confident enough to continue examining the switches.
Wiping away the dust from an enamel plate discarded on the floor, he realised he had just found the key to solving the puzzle. It was a sign that had fallen down from the wall, showing a diagram of the tracks with accompanying serial numbers that matched those on the levers to demonstrate to the signalman where each switch could align.
Squeezing the release mechanism as he leant his weight back to force the rusting joints to give way, the grind of the shifting tracks protested in the dead night air. With the last switch in place, he gathered the rifle leaning near the wall and quickly departed the building to rejoin the others waiting for him.
As he descended the wrought iron stairwell, an unseen hand caught him by the ankle and yanked it through the gap to make him fall the remaining metres. Winded as his ribs caught on the edge of the steps, he tried to yell for help, croaking in pain as he kicked his trapped ankle free of his oppressor.
A silhouette rose from behind the stairs as he struggled to breath, wielding a steel bar that intercepted with the hand railing as it shielded Weary's skull from splintering. He deflected the next blow with the stock of the rifle, only to have it torn out of his hands and realigned in preparation to fire.
The thunder of a gunshot startled Carrion and the others still waiting in the vehicles, scanning the bleak moonlight for any indication of what had happened. Instinct made her turn the ignition switch to engage the battery, flooding the yards ahead in a blinding white beam. Standing over Weary's crumpled form, the scavenger cringed at the sudden exposure, unsure of which direction to escape the spotlights.
Knocking the head of his axe into the closest knee after playing dead, Weary brought the assailant down with an initial strike, followed by a rapid series of bludgeoning whacks until exhaustion stayed his arm from continuing.
Taking back the rifle from where it had fallen on the blue-chip embankment, the ex-medic winced in pain as he searched his pockets for one more round, reloading the chamber in time to threaten the shadow of another scavenger that was running towards them.
Sliding his boots on the rubble to pause at the sight of the wounded man aiming the barrel at his head, the figure crouched to scramble back from whence it came on its hands and feet, galloping from view. Limping away slowly toward the lights, Weary kept facing the direction of the assault until he was back inside the truck cabin.
"Let's get out of here before the Clans get here."
"You find the signal box?" Carrion asked.
Coughing as he tried to suck in air, Weary reached under his survival jacket and produced an enamel plate that had been punched by a bullet, the slug caught halfway where it had curled through the metal surface on the reverse side.
Nodding in confirmation, the passenger opened his clutch bag to find a needle and thread.
"Should be a clear run out of the city now, I switched everything to redirect us north."
The symphony of Audrey's pistons turned over, stirring the battle truck into motion as it began to move forward, flowing with the bend of the tracks that led them out of the junction.