Break The Ice (11 page)

“I don’t know,” I say. Not much is left of the wall. No jagged edges point outwards, ruling out an explosion. “It looks like it–”

“Melted off,” Ted says.

All of them are now standing behind my shoulder.

“The metal melted off. Look at the ground.” Ted steps into what remains of the hall and points.

Taking a cautious step forward, I join him by the edge. Sure enough, there’s nothing but boiling metal covering the railroad tracks. The residual heat reaches where I stand.

“What on Earth caused that?” Mel says.

Somewhere outside, people scream. I can’t see around the corner, but I recognize those screams. Somebody died. My body shudders. I don’t like that I can distinguish that specific scream.

“I don’t think it’s anything from Earth we have to worry about,” I say. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I’m not surprised when they follow me after two steps.

The door separating our car from the one behind us opens with ease. I step through but can’t go far. There’s nothing to walk on after the first three steps. Something severed the car in an impossibly straight line, leaving only a small portion attached to our train car. The other half lies on its side, a hundred feet away. The remainder of the train sits behind it.

A small group of people are crowded next to it. They’re still alive and my racing heart settles down. If they’re alive, what made them scream?

Answering my unspoken question, a man appears from beside the train. He’s limping but not bad enough to stop him from running at the people. “Help me,” he yells. “One of you, help!” He doesn’t make it twenty feet before dropping to the ground.

Blood pools up around his body. I have no idea what stopped him. There was no gunshot, no sign of anything hitting him.

One of the women hiding in the shadows of the overturned car screams. It’s different from before. More real.

A new man steps around the train. He’s laughing, holding a sliver of metal in his hand. The metal glows red. He holds it up and aims it at the people. Without hesitation, and beyond any physics I can comprehend, he fires a shot from the weapon.

I follow the bullet as best I can. It’s moving fast but leaving a trail behind. When it strikes the man lying face down, it sets him ablaze in an instant. The attacker aims again, but I jump down from the train before he fires.

“Hey,” I shout. “Over here.”

He lowers his weapon and turns his head. Like the man at the Orange Cone, blisters cover his cheeks. One eye is missing and, when he smiles at the sight of me, half of his teeth are gone. He spins the metal in his hands before aiming it at me.

If Tinjo gave me a trace of his Dinmow, I hope he provided some instincts to go along with it.

The Sunjin fires again.

I don’t feel anything. No overwhelming pressure, no calming presence, nothing to suggest any Dinmow flows through me. On the other hand, a flaming bullet hit me in the chest, dissolving right after burning a hole in my shirt, and I didn’t feel that, either.

“What are you doing?” It’s Kaitlyn, and she sounds upset. Her voice is quiet but harsh, like she’s trying to yell and whisper at the same time. “Get back up here.”

I take a glimpse behind me. All three of them wait on the train. Even though he’s shorter than both of them, Ted stands front and center in a protective stance. He does his best to keep them from jumping after me.

He’s going to make sure they don’t get hurt. All I have to do is make sure there’s no one to hurt them.

The Sunjin approaches me, slowly at first. His head tilts to the side, probably confused why his attack didn’t set me on fire. He readies the metal rod and fires again.

I’m ready for it this time. The bullet speeds towards me, but I never lose track. I reach a hand out, ready to catch it. Warmth spreads through my fingers when they close around the shot. A dim light breaks through the cracks in my fingers. When the moment feels right, I wind up and hurl the attack back to him.

His body spins from the impact, throwing him to the ground. He rolls twice before landing on his knees and steadying his balance. A thin shard of ice sticks out from his shoulder. He snaps it at the base and tosses it to the side. The crooked, toothless smile returns.

He’s expecting a real match. Not good.

The metal rod falls to the ground, burning the grass growing up through the railroad tracks. The Sunjin shortens the distance between us. He’s flexing his fingers, getting ready to strike.

He’s only ten feet away. My nose wrinkles, an involuntary response to the Sunjin’s stench. Burnt flesh. It’s overpowering, a smell I hope I never get used to. When he’s only five feet from me, I lunge forward, not giving him the chance to strike. I get the first shot in, square on his chin. I’ve never hit anybody before and the punch stings my knuckles.

I must have done something right because he stumbles back two steps and rubs his jaw. There’s a small line of blood trickling from his lip, but he doesn’t care. He spits to the side and takes the next swing.

It falls low. I catch it between my arm and knee, leaving everywhere else open. His free arm jabs again, catching under my ribcage and knocking the air from my lungs. I hop back a few steps to catch my breath, sucking in the smell from around him and coughing.

Instead of waiting a beat, he charges again. Planting one foot against the metal rail, he leans back and kicks high, aiming for my chest.

I bring my hands together and catch his foot. Relying on what I’ve seen in movies, I drop my body, landing in a low squat. With the Sunjin’s foot still in my hands, I kick out his back leg and knock him to the ground.

His head crashes onto the metal railing and his eye rolls back, hiding the tiny flame, and leaving only the bloodshot white showing.

Somebody behind me whoops.

Ted starts clapping. “That was awesome,” he says.

“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” Kaitlyn says. She jumps off the train and hurries over.

“I can’t,” I say.

“You clearly can,” Ted says before his smile drops. He points behind me. “Except he’s back up.”

I spin around in time to catch the Sunjin reaching for his weapon. He grabs the rod and lunges forward. Not at me, but for Kaitlyn.

I shove her out of the way, letting my arm take the hit. The red hot metal burns into my skin. The pain is excruciating, but I’m only paying attention to Kaitlyn, making sure she gets back to the train safe.

“Sam, here.”

I shove the Sunjin away from me and turn around. Dan stands beside the train, his hand extended, open, and empty. My eyes spot whatever he threw and, before I can react, I reach out and stop a pair of scissors from stabbing me in the neck.

Doing the first thing I can think of, I snap the scissors in half and hold each side like a pair of daggers. The second time the Sunjin swings his rod, I duck. Striking with my right hand, the blade slices inside the Sunjin’s elbow, disarming him. I bring my left hand forward, stabbing his inner thigh.

When he falls to his knees, I grab his hair. Using the only trick up my sleeve, I mutter, “Sik mo ple–”

A knife whizzes past my hip and buries itself into the Sunjin’s chest. I let go, and he folds like a ragdoll onto the ground.

Dan runs closer to me. “Are you alright?”

I look from him to the knife. “What the hell was that?”

He shrugs. “Luck, I guess.”

“What a shot,” Ted yells, jumping off the train. “Did you see that?”

Mel runs behind him, cheering.

Kaitlyn stands by my side. “Are you okay?” She pulls my sleeve back to inspect the new burn, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“Are
you
okay? I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”

She blushes a little. “I’m okay. And…thanks. Again.”

The rosiness of her cheeks makes the gray in her eyes intensify, like small stars on a clear night. I can’t stop staring, and my face turns red, too. I need an excuse to look away. A sob echoes from somewhere behind me, and I say, “I’ll be right back.”

The family hiding under the overturned train car hasn’t moved yet. I jog along the train tracks to check for anybody else hiding. Nothing but trees surrounding us on all sides.

“Are you all okay?” I say, approaching the edge of their car. More people huddle underneath than I first saw. At least six adults and ten children, all packed together and staring back at me.

One of the youngest kids raises a hand, but her mother holds it down, watching me behind frightened eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I say. Why are they acting like I want to? “Did anyone call the police?” Still no answer. I pull out my phone. The battery is in the red, enough juice for one call. I tap the touch screen and wait for an operator to pick up. After ten seconds, I check the screen. The call already dropped.

No service. Of course.

“Do any of you have service?” I say, hoping they’ll snap out of it.

“Just leave us alone,” one man says. He’s crouched in front of his wife and kids.

I back away a few steps and check over my shoulder. Everybody is still gathered outside the train. Kaitlyn joined the circle but stands with her arms crossed, staring out at the trees. Mel laughs at something and–wait a second. Mel.

My legs are a little stiff which slows me down, but I do my best to sprint over to the group. I ignore Ted’s applause and pull Mel to the side.

“What’s wrong?” she says.

“The people over there, they won’t let me help them. I figured you might be able to see if they’re hurt. Tell them you’re a nurse and maybe they’ll relax.”

Her expression switches from playful to serious. She nods. “I don’t have anything to bandage them with if they’re injured,” she says.

“I don’t think they are. They look scared, shaken up, but I can’t get them to talk to me.”

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She brushes past me and hurries over.

“Where’s she going?” Ted says.

Ignoring his question, I face Dan. “Is your family alright?”

“Yeah. We had all gathered in our private car after breakfast. If we’d have been in the dining car still…I don’t want to think about it.”

“That’s good,” I say. “Where were you headed?”

“California,” he says. “Although I’m not quite sure we’re anywhere close.”

“The last state sign I saw was Utah,” Kaitlyn says.

Ted laughs. “That explains a lot. There’s nothing out here but nature.” He exaggerates a shudder.

“There’s no use,” Mel says behind us.

I turn around to see her frowning and wiping off her hands.

“They won’t even let me near them to check. Sorry.”

“Can you blame them?” Kaitlyn says. “That Sunjin killed somebody in front of them.”

“Sun…jin?” Dan says.

Ted throws his hands in the air. “I don’t think I can deal with another alternate universe explanation at the moment.”

“It’s a long story,” I say. “I can explain it later. Does anyone have a working phone?”

Everybody reaches into their pockets at the same time.

“My 4G has a small signal,” Kaitlyn says.

Weak, but there. “Open up your maps, see if we’re anywhere near a city.”

Her fingers tap away at the screen until a small blue cursor appears on a map. “A little over three miles from some place called Worren. Still almost sixty miles from Salt Lake City, though.”

“I’m sure there’s a train going up that way,” Ted says, balancing himself on the rail. “Or maybe a bus. I’d prefer a nice, safe bus.”

“Pull up the walking directions,” I say “I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“Shouldn’t you wait here for the police?” Dan says.

I shake my head. “There’s no time. We need to keep moving.”

“Then let me come with you,” Dan says.

The four of us stop staring at the screen simultaneously.

“What about your family?” I say.

“They’ll be safe waiting here. Plus, they have each other, and I’m going to go stir crazy if I stay around this train another hour. I have a friend in Salt Lake. It’ll give you guys a place to crash at the very least.”

“I don’t know. I think–”

“I’m already going to miss my father’s funeral because of whatever destroyed this train. I have the right to at least find out what caused it.”

I take a deep breath. He has a point. “I hope everybody wore comfortable shoes.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was a long story,” Dan says, scratching his head. “But you forgot to mention one detail earlier.”

“What’s that?” I say.

“It sounds crazy.”

“Just a little,” Ted says.

I grimace at him. “Not helping.”

“What? It
sounds
crazy, one hundred percent. That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Let’s say I believe you,” Dan says. “Is that why you’re in Utah? Is something happening out here?”

“Yes,” Kaitlyn and I say.

At the same time, Mel and Ted chime. “No.”

“It’s complicated,” I say.

“Even more than already?” Dan says.

We walk alongside the railroad tracks for a minute, silent, giving me time to think. Tinjo never explained why he sent us to Utah. Only that people waited for us. Did he mean Dan? There’s no way he planned the train crash. Could he have? My head hurts from imagining it. None of it makes any sense. Not yet.

The railroad tracks cross over the only road I’ve seen for the past three miles. There’s a sign off to the side.
Hwy 6
. I step off the tracks and onto the asphalt. The solid ground feels weird under my feet.

“We’re not far,” Kaitlyn says. “The outskirts of the town should be right past that bend up ahead.”

All around us, the mountains have been lowering. With every mile we walked, the dense forests thinned themselves out. By the time we reach the bend and the small town of Worren spreads out before us, there’s not much of the mountain left. Until you get to the other side of town. Even this far away, I can see the cascading hills in detail.

We enter the town, tired and stained with sweat and blood. The heat isn’t as bad here like back home, but it’s not pleasant, either. An earlier conversation we all had pops into my head after I wipe my forehead with a bloody sleeve.

“We should find new clothes,” I say.

Two streets into town, we find ourselves in the middle of a small town strip. Not many people pass by, enough to fill out the thin sidewalks. Assorted shops stretch down the street, reminding me of Lake Shore. Before the destruction.

“Over there,” Kaitlyn says. “It’s gotta be as good as any other.”

Inside, the place looks identical to most clothing shops I’ve been in. Expensive, business clothes up front. Jeans line the walls in all direction. Two girls stand at the nearby cash registers, ignoring our entrance.

I scan the different sections laid out in blocks, looking for something specific. Women’s comes first, followed by children. On the far side of the store, I spot a sign for Men’s Apparel, a clearance sign tucked away in the corner. Without saying anything to the others, I head straight for the clearance.

I find a few shirts that remind me of the gift bags Mel brought in the hospital, each one more elaborate and showy than the last. Countless t-shirts with giant logos take up eighty percent of the rack along with others thick enough to keep me warm in winter. At the end, I pull off a thin v-neck with a small eagle embroidered onto the sleeve. XL. $2.99. Good enough.

It takes me two minutes to relocate the register, tucked away behind a mountain of unfolded clothes. Only one of the girls is still standing behind the desk, untangling a mess of hangers. She smiles as I approach.