The doors of the 21 train slid open with a hiss, and a wriggling mass of tourists and locals shuffled their way out onto the platform. The stream of bodies flowed towards the main foyer of the train station, while those waiting on the platform moved to fill the space.
Zaharah shuffled at the back of the group, pushed along in this weird locomotive form of osmosis. A blast of air conditioning hit her in the face as she crossed the threshold into the train. Soca filtered through the speakers, filling the cabin with an upbeat energy. She guided everyone to a booth in the back on the right side, opposite a group of European men. They prattled on about plans to go to see this touristy thing and that touristy thing.
She stuffed their luggage under the navy, padded seats, and slipped in next to Jade. Her sister had eyes out the window and Skorpi jumped from her shoulder to the table, his legs making metallic clinks against the surface. Roddi and Pharah sat opposite, the former checking over Shala while the latter good lost in the swirling wood patterns on the table.
They'd been quiet during the wait for the train, fidgety, even. Zaharah leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes briefly. Fatigue caught up with her, settled deep into her bones. The ride to New Andros would take a while; she could rest.
A muted hiss filled the cabin, followed by the low hum of the engines. The 21 pulled away from the platform into the bright sunshine beyond the station. Light cut through the window and lay in a square on the table. Skorpi turned circles in it, the holo finish on his coat casting a rainbow of colours over their booth.
Jade nudged her and angled her phone so Zaharah could see. On the screen was a list of articles with thumbnails. Zaharah scrolled through the list, her chest tightening with each headline she read.
Family Perishes in Boating Accident.
Vigil Held for Zaharah Cyan at the Dawson Pocking Pitch.
Full Military Memorial Held by Makana.
Cylean Cybernetics Celebrates the Life of Zander Cyan.
Zaharah tore her as away and grasped a handful of her shirt right above the ache in her chest. It was all a lie. Everything was a lie. They were all gone, including her and Jade. Seeing the faces of her parents and sisters awakened a deep burning that tore through her gut. It had always been there, she knew, but she'd turned her mind away from it to focus on the here and now. Being back in the 700 meant confronting everything she left behind, and she wasn't ready.
Get it together. She swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned back against the cool seat, burying her face in her backpack and taking deep breaths to quench the flames tearing through her. Markus was right, and she wished he was here with them. Then maybe they'd have some sense of direction instead of stumbling around like lost children.
Zaharah lifted her head and cast her gaze out the window. The train charged into a tunnel, one lit but with gold and aqua lights. Junkanoo Tunnel, as the locals called it, because it was bright and exciting and invigorating, just like the festival. But most of all, because it led to one of the 700's best-kept secrets.
"Hey," Zaharah said to the group. "We're about to get a view." Sunlight streamed into the cabin as the train breached the other end of the tunnel.
Out the widow, the midday sun turned Goombay Plaza into a shimmering spectacle, surrounded by tall poincianas and reclaimed limestone monoliths. At its center, the statue of the conch blower stood five stories high, one leg stretched out behind, the other bent at the knee with a foot braced against a platform. Her body was angled east to the sunrise, her head bent back with a conch horn held to her lips. Dreadlocks flew behind her head, giving the whole piece a sense of motion.
Zaharah didn't care for sculpting, so much so that when the opportunity to take that artistic path came up, she'd shoved it to the side. Her hands favoured brushes and pencils more than clay and chisels. Still, even she marvelled at the workmanship of the conch blower. She'd been fortunate enough to meet its sculptor before his passing five years ago and worked with the University alumni who kept the statue maintained.
People milled around the circular park, taking pictures in front of the statue or climbing the steps to the House of Parliament. The building hugged the park, stretching ten stories high, windows winking in the sunlight.
As the train drifted by, tourists on board rose from their seats to snaps photos and marvel at the sculptural wonder. If they freaked out this much over the conch blower, the diver in front of the university and the mermaids at the Special Defence Force base would send them into hysterics.
"Damn," Roddi breathed, his gaze out the window. "It's been ages."
Zaharah scrunched her brow. "You used to live here? In the 700?"
"Yeah. I lived with my older brother in the Pigeon Run. We'd ride the 7 past here to go home."
At the sound of that name, a cold jolt went down Zaharah's spine, and she exchanged a glance with Jade. The Pigeon Run wasn't a name frequently heard in their household growing up. The only reason Zaharah knew about it was through a teammate who lived there.
"If you don't mind my asking, how did you end up in Denden?"
Roddi shrugged a shoulder and leaned back in his seat. "It's cool. I don't know what happened to our parents. For as long as I could remember, it was always me and my big bro. We lived in a shabby little apartment on the east side. I went to school, he went to work." He shook his head like a disappointed parent. "I didn't understand what work meant for him until DEU broke down our door one night. My brother went to jail. I went to Denden. That's the short version."
"I see," Zaharah cast her gaze downward. "That must have been horrible being torn away from your only family like that." We're all kindred spirits, she added in her head.
He breathed a laugh. "Denden is full of tragedies."
"Right." Zaharah gave a slight smile, remembering when Pharah had said the same to her back in the biodome.
They continued their ride in silence, save for Shala and Skorpi beeping and talking at each other. Roddi and Jade kept his eyes in their phones, Pharah had fallen asleep after they passed Goombay Park and Zaharah watched the passing scenery.
It took four hours to get to the New Andros Station on the upper east side. When they stepped out the automatic doors, the sun stretched their shadows long. Across from the station was a restaurant take away called the Marching Crab. The lots beside it was stuffed with cars and merriment drifted from within, intertwined with the enthusiastic voice of a sports announcer.
North of the train station was a shuttle surrounded by the few tourists who'd made the ride all the way out here. One by one, they stepped onto the shuttle, ushered by a man dressed in dark blue and gold finery. "Be sure your tickets are visible," he said in a bright, cheery voice.
Zaharah inched closer leaning over to catch a glimpse of what was going on. A family of three stepped up and the mother flashed a card at the conductor. A red card with a gold wing.
She reached into her bag, unzipped the pocket on the back and pulled out card Elliot had given her. This is your ticket to see him, he'd said. But this one was different, gold with a red wing.
"Zaharah."
She whipped her head around at the sound of Pharah's voice. "Yeah, what's up."
"Jade has the directions. But it's a two-hour walk from here. It'll be close to dark by then."
She flashed the card. "It's a good thing we have a ticket for the shuttle then."
"Is that the card Elliot gave you?" Roddi asked. She responded with a nod and shuffled on her feet. "But...?"
"It's different." She lowered her voice. "The tickets they're giving that guy are red."
"So this will single us out." Roddi swore.
Pharah kissed her teeth. "We've already come all this way. We may as well go and it's not like we have any other options." The edge in her voice belied how tired they all were.
I agree, Jade signed. We have nowhere else to go.
"Alright." Zaharah squared her shoulders and led the group to the sleek black shuttle. It reminded her of a tour bus, except without a celebrity's name and face smacked on its side. Most of the tourists sat inside, but their buzzing anticipation transcended the windows. She stepped up to the conductor but kept the card palmed so he wouldn't see it.
The man gave them a friendly bow and a smile that could light up a night sky. "Are you all here to visit the Icarus?"
Icarus... Her heart quickened at the sound of the name, but her mind couldn't decide which emotion to associate it with. "I-I guess." She flashed the card with a shaking hand.
The conductor's smile faltered for the barest second, and he accepted the card with a gloved hand. "Are these people all with you?"
"Yes." Her stomach clenched hard, and she swallowed to keep her lunch down. This was the end of the line for them. If this went south, they'd have to accept defeat and whatever consequences came along with it.
"Please come aboard, we'll be leaving shortly."
They stepped up into the shuttle and grabbed some vacant seats up front. Zaharah stuffed their bags underneath. The doors slid shut, locking them in with the tourists and the chatter and their own dread. She clutched the micro metal to her chest as the shuttle took off. It zoomed down the street, faster than a shuttle should, the engine's hum undercutting the EDM coming through the speakers.
Zaharah's leg shook, making the micro metal clink in her lap. Outside the window trees drifted by, dotted by orange, late-afternoon light. She wasn't familiar with the New Andros area, other than it was one of the last parts of the 700 to be completed, and most of it was still dense forest.
As the shuttle slowed down, Roddi nudged her and pointed out the window. Through a break in the trees was a wide road flanked by a little white building, and at its end sat an airship. She couldn't see much of the ship itself beyond the balloon, which was emblazoned with a gold Icarus, the same one that graced the back of the hoodie Pharah wore. The inside of the shuttle turned into a disco as people snapped photos and recorded video.
The music softened and the conductor's voice came over the intercom a moment later. "Everyone with a red ticket, this is your stop." He pulled the shuttle alongside the little building and the doors opened with a hiss.
The buzzing energy amplified as the tourists piled out of the shuttle, leaving only Zaharah and her group.
"Everyone else, sit tight. You stop is but a short way from here." And the music filled the shuttle once more.
Zaharah shifted in her seat and clasped her hands together. A line of people formed outside the little building, all smiling faces of parents and excited chatter of children. She envied their unabashed, carefree happiness.
The shuttle released a hiss and continued down the road, through the trees, the EDM music shifting to the lighter sounds of Bordereaux. Into The Sun, one of Zaharah's favourite songs from back in high school. She'd listen to it while did reps on the field behind... Her memory went dark again. Behind where? She rubbed circles over her eyes. It would come back to her... eventually.
After ten more minutes of riding, the shuttle came to a metal gate, and Zaharah squinted at the buildings beyond it. The taller trees had been trimmed down to bare limbs and trunks in preparation for the storm. A winding drive led through the property, up to the two story building at its center. The shuttle drifted onto the grounds and rode past small homes with clipped lawns and hibiscus hedges.
They rolled to a stop in front of the biggest one, a two story behemoth with Victorian era influence. Exposed brick, big windows, a cylindrical tower ad clay tiled roof. Kind of tacky, Zaharah thought.
"Last stop," the conductor said over the intercom. "Thank you for riding with us today."
The group stood and quietly gathered their things. A few times, Zaharah caught the eyes of Roddi and Jade, saw the worry there. She wished she could tell them everything would be fine, but with the way this day was going, she wouldn't surprised if a dragon descended from the skies to burn them to a crisp.
She stepped off the shuttle behind everyone else and onto the cobblestone leading up to the front porch. Standing on said porch was a man dressed in grey slacks with a dress shirt, vest and tie. His salt and pepper dreadlocks were freshly tightened and pulled in an intricate braid that hung down his back, a square, black-rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose.
Jade looked at Zaharah with a raised eyebrow. You recognise him?
Zaharah shook her head.
As the shuttle pulled away, the man descended the steps but stopped a few feet away. His eyes roamed over each of them in turn, corners of his lips quirking into a frown.
Zaharah was about to speak, but Skorpi popped his head up from Jade's hood with a beep and trained his gaze on the man. He beeped again, louder, screechier, a shrill sound that made them all jump. The mechpet scurried down Jade's body to the ground and closed the distance separating them from Cammi.
He knelt and scooped Skorpi up in his gloved hands, and Skorpi ran over his head and around his shoulders, beeping like crazy.
"Who the hell is this guy?" Roddi asked, his voice a low whisper.
Shala rose from his hood and jumped onto his head. "Based on Skorpi's behaviour, I'd say he's an old friend."
The man cleared his throat and rose to his full height. "Excuse my manners," he said in a smooth baritone, while extending his hand. "Cameron Sanders. My friends call me Cammi."
Zaharah looked at the offered hand, then up at Cammi. "Any relation to an Aleesha Sanders?"
His smiled faded, and he retracted his hand, tucking it away in the pocket of his slacks. "Indeed. She is my sister."