I awaken at dawn, slowly peeling open my eyes, colder than I've ever been. The cold is unfathomable. I feel as if someone has thrown me into a meat locker and slammed shut the door, and not let me out for a week.
The fire is long-extinguished, now ashes, covered in ice. I look up and see that the entire ground is covered in ice - and that all the trees are covered in ice, too. Everything, down to the smallest branch, hangs with ice. I can't believe it. An ice storm.
The world is as beautiful as it is cold, everything frozen, shining in the early morning light. I feel as if I've wakened in Superman's palace.
I try to move, and feel my body covered in ice, stuck to the tree. I raise my arms and shoulders, and I break off small particles of ice. Ben has fallen asleep beside me, leaning against the same tree, and Bree is asleep on my other side. Two feet away is Logan, lying exactly as I left him, against his own tree. Everyone is asleep but me. They all look frozen. In fact, they all look dead, and for a moment, I wonder if they have all frozen to death.
My heart beats wildly as I sit up. I shake Bree. Penelope wakes, looking up at me, her eyes sleepy, then, finally, Bree opens her eyes, too. I flood with relief. We're not dead, yet.
I reach over and shake Ben, then get up and shake Logan. Thankfully, they each wake, although they all look frozen, half dead. I know we can't lay here anymore.
"We have to get up," I say. "We have to keep moving. If we don't, we'll freeze to death. Let's go. On your feet," I say, summoning my toughest voice, needing to mobilize them.
I help pull them up, and slowly, each of them begins to rise, the sound of ice cracking as they gain their feet. Logan tries several times, but can't seem to get up on his bad leg, which is covered in ice. I'm hoping the ice helped reduce the inflammation, at least. I bend down and drape one of his arms over my shoulder, and Ben takes the other. Together, we hoist him onto his feet. My back reels as I do so: he feels like he weighs a thousand pounds.
Logan groans as he gets to his feet, and he wobbles, unsteady.
"I can't stand," he says.
"We'll walk you," I say.
I look at Ben, he nods back, and together, we begin to walk Logan, he leaning heavily on us, limping on one leg. Bree hurries up beside us, holding Penelope. I take one last look back at our little campsite, at the frozen fire, at the sparkling woods all around us. I'm glad to leave this place.
We hobble through the woods, the four of us, walking into the breaking day, each stiff and exhausted. We reach an open clearing, and find the train tracks and continue alongside them, our feet crunching with every step on the ice. It must be ten degrees. I've never been this cold in my life. It is a mind-numbing cold, one that prevents me from thinking clearly.
"Where are we going?" Bree asks, finally shattering the silence.
I'm wondering the same thing myself. All I know is that we are heading north, to some remote town in Canada that probably doesn't even exist. With each step, I feel more and more the futility, the impossibility, of our mission. We are slowing down with each step, too, and I'm seriously doubting if we will even survive to nightfall.
"I don't know," I answer Bree, truthfully.
I look for shelter as we go, but see none. Nothing but endless trees and train tracks, and the frozen river to our side. No sign of any towns at this point, no boats, no old houses - nothing. We are in the midst of a vast stretch of wilderness, and we walk and walk. With every minute, it's getting colder, harder, and my legs ache even more.
"Stop," Logan says.
Ben and I stop and turn and look at him. He is groaning in pain, his face drawn, too pale. He looks like a walking corpse.
"I can't go on anymore," he says. "Leave me here. You'll be faster without me. I'm not going to make it anyway."
"We're not going to leave you," I say.
Logan pulls his arms off of our shoulders, and suddenly collapses down to the ground. He lies there, not moving.
"I can't go on," he says, lying there.
We all exchange a worried look.
"Leave me," he says. "I'm serious."
I don't know what to do. I know that I can't leave him. But if he refuses to walk, I can't force him to.
I realize he's right: we're not getting anywhere. He is slowing us down. But at the same time, I don't care. I think back, remember when he helped me. He wouldn't let me die, for any reason. And I'm not about to let him die. Especially since he hurt himself saving Bree's life.
"We can stand here all day if you want," I say down to him. "We're not leaving you. If you can't walk, we'll make camp here."
Logan weakly shakes his head, too tired to argue back.
As I stand there, listening to the wind howl, feeling colder than I ever have, trying to figure out what to do, suddenly, I hear a noise.
Ben and Bree must hear it, too, because at the same time, we all turn and look at the horizon.
I stand there and watch the horizon, and wonder if my ears are playing tricks on me. First, there is a low rumbling, like the sound of an engine. At first I wonder if it's a slaverunner boat, racing up the Hudson somehow, despite the ice, coming to get us. But then I realize the engine sounds different. Like some kind of vehicle. Maybe a truck.
I look all around, and see no signs of a road. Yet somehow, the sound is getting stronger, closer. I even begin to feel the ground tremor beneath me.
"A train!" Bree yells, excited.
The second she says it, I realize she's right. I can't believe it. I have no idea how it's possible. A train? Running? I haven't seen a running train in years. But then again, I've never been on this side of the river.
But a train to where? From where? Operated by whom? It doesn't seem possible.
Sure enough, as I continue to look, there, on the horizon, there begins to appear a large, rusted, freight train, moving right towards us, on the tracks. It chugs along, moving slowly, kicking up huge clouds of exhaust.
I realize this could be what we need. It could be a godsend. If we can get on that train somehow, maybe it will be heated - or if not heated, maybe at least protected from the elements. Whatever it is, it has to be warmer than being out here. And we could get on it, and rest, and wherever it's going, it is, at least, heading north. And who knows? Maybe it's actually going some place civilized?
We have no choice. Here we'll freeze to death.
"Logan, you have to get up!" I yell at him. "There's a train coming! We have to catch it!"
"No," he moans.
Ben jumps into action: he reaches down, and with all his might, he picks Logan up. He grabs him by his shoulders and drags him to his feet, Logan moaning. I come over and help, and we manage to get him up.
Logan opens his eyes and looks at me.
"Logan, please," I say. "You saved me once. Let me save you. Let us save you. Please. Survive. We don't want to be without you."
Logan's eyes open for a moment, then he nods, relenting.
We stand to the side, as the train comes towards us. Luckily, it's going slow, probably about five miles an hour. My guess is that they're conserving gas.
But it's perfect for our purposes. It will give us a chance to actually jump on it, and to get Logan on board.
We wait as it passes, watching, and I see that it is about twenty cars long. The cares are made of an old, weathered wood, and some of the doors are open, revealing empty cars. I wonder again what its purpose is.
We get into position, and I drag Logan close to the tracks.
"Logan, you have to help us," I say. "When we get close, Ben will jump up and open the door. He'll pull you up and I'll push. Bree, when Ben jumps up, you jump up with him and get inside. Everybody ready?"
We all turn, as the next car comes.
"NOW!" I scream.
Ben jumps up into the car, turns and reaches out a hand. Beside me, Bree jumps up with Penelope, easily getting into the car. I shove and push Logan with all I have, and Logan does his best to make one last effort, as he grabs Ben's hand and pulls himself. Ben, to his credit, yanks Logan with all that he has. I gave him one final shove, and he goes head first into the car. His legs are sticking out, but he's in.
The car has gone past me, so I race to catch up. My legs are moving slowly, stiffer than I thought, and I slip. The train is getting farther away.
"Brooke!" Bree screams out.
I regain my footing, and force myself to run faster, the cold air cutting my lungs.
My dad's voice rings in my head.
Come on soldier. Come on!
I run through the pain bursting through my frozen limbs, breathing hard. I run faster than the train, catch up to the car, then reach out and grab Ben's hand. I step up on the iron latch, and he yanks me in. I go tumbling into the train car.
I sit up, look around, and can hardly believe it. We are in. We made. All four of us. Penelope barks.
I burst into laughter, victorious laughter. It is contagious, and we all sit there, laughing. We have made it. We are out of the cold, and we are moving.
It is much warmer in here, compared to the bitter cold outside. This is the break we needed, what we needed to de-thaw. To rest. Even better, it gives us a vantage point from which to view the countryside as we go, allowing us to look out for any towns - or anything - as we pass.
"We made it," I say.
I look down and see Logan smiling, lying on the floor. Bree and Ben sit close by.
"The question is, to where?" Ben asks. "Where is this train going?"
It is the same question I'm wondering myself.
"Wherever it is," Ben says, "it can't be good. I'm guessing that the only people organized enough to run a train must be slaverunners."
"It could be some sort of government or military unit," I say. "Maybe even that town in Canada Logan was talking about."
But even as I say it, I know it's unlikely. I know that Ben is probably right.
"And what if it's not?" he asks.
"The way I see it, it gets us out of the cold and gives us a vantage point to scout the countryside. If we pass any towns, any shelters, any structures, any boats - anything good - we can always just jump. Being stranded in the wilderness wasn't exactly helping us."
Ben shrugs, unconvinced.
"It's risky," he says. "We don't know who's running this. Or what's waiting for us."
A part of me knows he's right; but at the same time, I don't see what choice we have. We just have to ride this train out, see where it takes us.
And hope and pray for the best.
I open my eyes, immediately alert. Something is wrong. I look around and see Bree, Logan, Ben and Penelope, all lying asleep in front of me. Muted afternoon light comes in through the slats in the wood. Everything seems peaceful enough. But I know something is wrong. I can feel it.
And then I realize: we are not moving. The train has stopped.
I try to get my bearings, to remember. I'm sitting exactly where I put myself when I came in, right along the slats of the train door, so I could look out. I remember sitting here and watching the countryside pass, for hours. I looked out on one side, and Ben on the other. We promised to let each other know if we saw anything worth jumping for. But I watched for hours, and saw nothing. There was nothing but wilderness, and desolation. Snow and ice as far as the eye could see. It was a barren wasteland: like crossing the face of the moon.
And then, at some point, I must've fallen asleep. So stupid of me. I should've stayed awake, on guard. But as I look around, I see the others have all fallen asleep, too. We were just so tired.
And now, we are stopped. I don't know why. Or where. I look out and see nothing but wilderness.
My heart is pounding, as I wonder what the destination could be. Should I wake everyone? Should we jump out now?
Before I can decide, I hear a noise. At first, it is faint, then it grows more distinct. Approaching us are footsteps in the snow and ice. The crunching gets louder, as several sets of steps approach. I brace myself, wondering who it can be. I have a feeling that whoever it is, it can't be good.
I look around at the others, my first instinct to protect them. I reach down to my waist, feel my knife, and place my hand on it, ready to use it if I have to.
"Ben," I hiss.
He doesn't respond, asleep.
"Ben," I hiss again.
Finally, he opens his eyes, blinking several times, disoriented.
"We've got company."
Ben sits up, alert. Logan, now awake, too, slides his pistol over to Ben, who takes it.
Suddenly, the train door slides open, light flooding into the car. The light is blinding, and for a moment, I can't see what's happening. I kneel to the side, out of sight; luckily, Ben, Logan and Bree are off to the side, too. We all hide in the dark corners, and there is no way that anyone could spot us without looking carefully. My heart is pounding in my chest, as I wonder who it could be.
I hear the muffled cries and groans of several people, and moments later, bodies are hurled across the threshold, into the car. One after the other, bodies land on the floor with a thud, in the car with us. They are bound and gagged, hands tied tightly behind their backs, their feet tied together, and they hit the floor hard, squirming. I realize that someone must be throwing them in.
They are captives. But to whom? And why? And where are they taking them?
I brace myself, wondering if anyone will follow, if I will have to fight.
But the train door slides closed just as quickly, and slams shut with a bang. I hear a new sound, one which makes my heart drop: it is the sound of a heavy metal bolt, being slid into place. And then, I realize: we have just been locked in.
The train starts up again, and we begin to move.
I am overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. A part of me wants to get out immediately, as a kickback reaction, to break open the door. I hate being locked in, anywhere. And now I feel like a prisoner.
But another part of me forces myself to stay calm, to figure out what's going on. And possibly to wait. After all, there are no good options out there, either.
Ben drops the gun, and I lower my knife. The four of us exchange a wary glance, staring at our new guests.
"Brooke?" Bree calls out nervously.
"It's okay, Bree," I say out confidently across the car.
The six captives turn at the sound of our voices; they squirm up, and look over my way. Enough light comes into the slats so that I can make them out. They are our age. Teenagers. Emaciated. They look tired, sickly, freezing. They look like the walking dead. They stare back at me with desperate, hollowed-out eyes. One of them, a girl with stringy brown hair clinging to her face, has managed to get her gag free.
"Please, help me," she whispers out to me, her voice hoarse. "Please, untie me. I beg you."
I look over at Ben, and he nods back.
"Don't do it," comes a voice.
Logan is sitting up, struggling with his leg. "Don't untie them."
"Why?"
"You don't know them. You don't know how they'll react."
"I'm not going to hurt you," the girl hisses at Logan.
"I know she won't hurt me," he says. "But they might draw attention we don't need."
I look between her and Logan, debating. Logan is such a cynic; I don't share his views. And I can't help feeling terrible for her.
I hurry to her, and use my knife to cut the ropes behind her wrist. I then cut the ropes tying her feet together. She immediately leans forward and rubs her wrist and ankles, breathing hard, tearing off her gag.
She surveys the train car, looking frenzied, wide-eyed.
"You have to get out while you can," she says in a rush, frantic. "You don't understand. You don't understand what they'll do to you."
She looks all around, like a crazy person, as if looking for a way to escape.
"Who is they?" I ask. "Who are you? Where are they bringing you?"
"I have to get out," she says, jumping to her feet. "I can't let them take me."
"Take you where?" I ask, growing increasingly alarmed. She darts her head all around, then suddenly, she stands and sprints across the car.
"Wait!" I scream, worried for what she will do, worried that she will draw attention to us. Logan was right. I shouldn't have untied her.
But it's too late. She darts across the car, and runs to the small door that connects the two cars. She tries to pry it open, but it won't give.
She leans back, and kicks at the wood with her bare feet. She kicks again and again, even though she's cutting her own feet. Whatever it is she's running from, she's truly desperate. She throws her body through the wood and finally shatters it. A gust of freezing air enters the car.
"Stop!" I yell, running to her.
But I can't get her in time. She jumps in between the cars, and then jumps down, landing barefoot in the snow and ice.
She doesn't seem to care. I watch her, and she keeps running, sprinting as far away from the train as she can.
Suddenly, the train slams to an abrupt stop, sending me flying across the car and slamming my head into the wall.
I turn and look between the slats, and see her running across the field. Then I see a slaverunner. He steps up, holds out a gun, and fires.
"No!" Bree screams, standing beside me, also watching.
He has shot her in the back, and she lands face first, dead.
The slaverunner turns and stares at our car. I feel as if he's looking right at me.
"I'm sorry," Bree says. "I shouldn't have screamed."
My heart sinks to see the slaverunner begin to approach our car.
"We have to get out of here," I say urgently.
"They're coming!" Bree screams, still watching through the slats. I turn and look: slaverunners. Tons of them. They're coming right for our car. We're finished.
I was so stupid. I shouldn't have freed the girl.
"We have to surrender!" Ben says. "They'll kill us."
"No!" I scream, determined to never be captured again. "We won't surrender. When they open the door, fire!"
I hold my knife, ready to hurl it.
Suddenly, the door is unbolted, rolls back.
As the first sign of them, Ben fires. To his credit, he hits the first slaverunner right in the chest. He falls face first, into the car.
As he does, the slaverunner's handgun comes spilling out of his hand, sliding across the floor towards me. I pounce on it.
I take a knee, my back to the far wall, and open fire. I take out one after the next. Ben takes out more himself. The bodies are piling up. I can't believe it, the damage were doing.
I am wondering how much ammo I have left, when suddenly the wall opens up behind me. I had no idea there was a sliding door on the other side of the car, too, and now I realize that my back wasn't against a wall, but against a door. It opens behind me, and I feel hands grab me, yank me backwards.
The world and the sky go hurling past me, as I go flying through the air, and land hard on my back in the snow. I feel my head and back hit the ice hard, feel the wind knocked out of me.
Dazed, on my back, I look up at the blue sky, at the clouds, and then see several slaverunners standing over me, scowling down through their masks. Before I can react, one of them raises his boot.
The last thing I see, coming right down for my face, are his thick, rubber treads.
And then my world goes black.
