Chapter 2: Train-hopping
The late summer sun shone down through the eager brown leaves that were not content to wait till fall to break free. Rough bark on the tree I sat against dug slightly into my lean back. It didn’t bother me, however, as the smell of freshly cut grass from the Grad Lawn and the sweet songs of birds flooded my senses. The few clouds that hung in the sky rode the gentle breeze, occasionally casting a cooling shadow over me. The hypnotic scratching of my pen on the page in my lap could have easily sent me off to sleep. Instead, my concentration was broken by a voice sweeter than the birdsongs that had me so enamoured.
“E-excuse me.”
Looking up from my half-filled page, I slid my glasses back up the bridge of my nose. The girl standing timidly before me had straight hazelnut hair reaching down, just past her shoulders. A single fringe hung just above her green eyes. Light freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose. With both hands she held a small collection of books against the front of her slender thighs – many of which I recognised from my first year.
“I’m- I’m lost… I’m late for my bio-chem lecture and,” she paused and shuffled nervously, looking down at her feet, “I’m supposed to be—”
“—supposed to be in LT2.102,” I interrupted. Though appearing calm and collected, both my heart and my mind were racing. Closing the notebook and standing to my feet, I ruffled my short sandy-blonde hair and looked about, gaining my bearings.
“LT2.102,” I whispered to myself before addressing her, “That’s Mr. Asper’s class – not one you want to be late to, if you can avoid it.” I shot her what I believed to be a comforting smile before adding, “I think I can take you there.”
From the corner of my eye, I spotted an old man dressed in flowing, dirty brown robes standing several feet away. The top of his head was bald but encircled by long white, matted hair. If it weren’t for the white, blood-stained blindfold he wore, I would have been certain that he was watching us. From underneath the blindfold, two trails of blood streaked over his cheeks, sinking deep into the wrinkles and scars of his face, and down to his chin. The other students simply walked around him as though he were a common sight.
“That would be great!” the girl broke my focus on the old man. “By the way, I’m….” she paused momentarily, checking her enthusiasm, before continuing again in a soft tone, barely greater than a whisper, “…Lucia.”
“Sedulus.” I replied distantly. I just couldn’t shake the image of the old man.
“Sed?”
“…Huh? Yeah?”
“We have to go Sed,” she requested with a rather authoritarian tone.
“Yep, ok.”
“Sed, we have to go. We have to go now. Sed…”
“…We have to go,” Veus finished, standing by the doorway to the stairs, leaning against its frame. Sleepily rubbing my eyes, I sat up from the improvised pillow of my slightly torn and blood-stained suit jacket. The fading, warmthless light of the winter sunset cast long shadows through the room from the broken frames of the window and rubble strewn across the floor. We had slept away most of the days’ light – or, at least, I had.
“…Where?” I asked with a dejected sigh, forgetting for a moment in my exhaustion that I was talking to a cold-blooded assassin of the Verum.
To my surprise, Veus met my question by shooting an almost sadistic smile back at me over his hood and leather-clad shoulders. It was the kind of smile that implied that he knew something I didn’t. The kind of smile that both reassured me and terrified me in the same instant. Turning back to the doorway, Veus answered.
“We have a train to catch.” And, without so much as another glance, my captor left the room, down the stairs to the street. Not sure what else to do, I quickly shielded my icy blue eyes with my glasses and swung my dark jacket onto my shoulders as I followed. My head told me to run; screamed out at me and begged me to run. But I didn’t. I simply couldn’t.
At the bottom of the stairs, the smell of burnt flesh still lingered, though the flames of the over-turned APC had long since died down. Silhouetted by the setting sun, Veus limped away, already several meters ahead of me.
As night fell, we arrived at a large brick structure. A rickety track, raised high above the ground, exited the station and carved its way through the ruined slums of Southern-Nex. The enormous building appeared to be the epicentre of this war-zone; reaching up out of a circular clearing surrounded by the shattered remains of envious hovels. A mountainous set of slate stairs lead up from the street to the gaping mouth of the monolithic hub, which was toothed by rust-infested turnstiles. Veus stopped at the foot of the staircase and, again, produced a small, leather-bound book from within the jacket draped over his hooded jumper. Retrieving an ink-stained pen from the book’s spiral bindings, Veus quickly scribed several lines before returning the small tome and beginning the ascent up the stairs. With each step, the pain of exhaustion flared through my aching muscles.
Passing through the gaping arch-way, Veus defiantly vaulted the archaic turnstile. For a man with such a noticeable limp, he was unbelievably nimble. Trying to maintain some semblance of order, I attempted to push my way through the small gate, as was intended by its design. Its out-stretched arms, however, refused to turn the way I had expected them to. My thighs collided heavily with the steadfast barricade and almost caused me to topple over it. Realising just how rust-locked it was, I clumsily climbed over the device and hurriedly scuttled after Veus, laughing quietly to himself.
The building was composed of a single cavernous room, separated in the centre by the wood and steel train-track. The line, level with the ground of the raised building, was guarded by no more than a thick yellow line painted onto the dusty floor. The walls were dotted with several small alcoves housing dark blue doors – no doubt leading to the more official areas of the station. Our foot-steps echoed loudly throughout the area as we headed toward yet another set of stairs that hugged the brick of the wall, leading to an overpass high above the track.
Moments before reaching the stairs, I was startled by the sight of an old man slumped into the last alcove. He had a menacing look about him – a certain nefarious gleam in his eye – and appeared to be preparing to pounce. Veus, spotting the hermit, simply held his jacket and unzipped jumper wide, revealing his assortment of blades, and shook his head as a silent warning. The foul-smelling man again receded, albeit unwillingly, into his makeshift hovel. I could still sense him struggling to suppress the urge to attack, as though Veus were merely holding him back with a feather. Totally unmoved by the encounter, Veus never slowed. Laboriously he began to climb the final set of stairs.
The flight led to a raised concrete walkway with non-existent glass walls and roof. The ominous echo of our steps was now replaced with the resounding crunch of shattered glass beneath our feet as we began to pass over the track.
Half way across the bridge, Veus stopped suddenly and stood quietly for a few seconds. For reasons I can’t explain, I got the impression that his eyes were closed. Several metres behind him, I followed suit and closed my eyes, attempting to hear something my dependence on sight had concealed. Nothing. I gradually opened my eyes only to see that Veus had not yet moved. Slowly, Veus’ head turned to his immediate left as he appeared to focus off into the distance, out the towering doorway through which the track exited.
“When the Alliance declared this area of town a war-zone,” Veus began unexpectedly in a soft voice that beckoned me closer, “they were faced with a dilemma. They couldn’t afford to leave the trains running normally, as it would provide the Verum with the means to transport ‘troops’ quickly throughout the war zone. They also refused to stop the trains completely in any way – whether on the tracks or not. They feared that they would provide ‘rebel soldiers’ with cover from which they could ambush unsuspecting Raiders.” He paused momentarily, gripping his left shoulder and rotating his bent arm, causing it to let out several loud cracks. “They wouldn’t hand us an advantage”
“So what did they decide to do?” I asked with a raised eyebrow after a contemplative pause.
Veus chuckled slightly. “The only thing they could do; make the trains run endlessly without stops.” After this seemingly redundant revelation, Veus’ tone instantaneously became very sharp as he barked, “Jump!”
As he turned suddenly toward his line of sight, Veus ran to the edge of the overpass and leapt. His jacket and hood fluttered behind him as he soared through the air. His long dark hair angrily whipped at his face. Was he insane!? With a metallic thud, Veus landed on the roof of the train’s leading carriage. The moment his feet connected, he rolled backward over his shoulder and into a crouching position. He began quickly speeding off into the distance with the train. I paced around nervously for seconds, running my fingers through my hair, muttering how ludicrous this was. Realising that my opportunity was quickly fleeting I sped to the window as adrenaline kicked in.
I saw solid ground retreating behind me. I felt the air rush through my hair. I sensed time stand still for what seemed like forever. My suit jacket snapped repeatedly in the air behind me. I was flying. For that instant, all worries about being stranded in the war-zone left me; all fear of being captive to the Verum, all memory of the horrific crash that had stranded me here, fear of not having the security of solid ground. It all faded away for those few seconds, before I spotted the last carriage of the train fast catching up with me. My heart sunk. Standing in death’s cross-hairs, all of my life’s regrets echoed through my mind. I wish I had never let Lucia go.
Blinding pain and a deafening pop brought me screaming back to consciousness. My body convulsed as agony coursed through my body, emanating from my left shoulder. As the pain very gradually subsided to a piercing ache, I felt… straw tickling the back of my neck and tangling itself into my hair. Dreamily staring up into the blue sky in my endorphin-fuelled trance, the rhythmic clunking of the train on the tracks nearly lulled me back to sleep.
Groggily, I let my head fall to my right. The wooden door of the caboose had been rolled aside revealing a rolling field of rooftops. The high-rises of Nex were nowhere to be seen. The damage to the surrounding buildings convinced me, however, that we were indeed still in The City of Light. Not a single rooftop in sight sat above the tracks. It was as though our train was sailing over a moonlit sea of concrete and debris. With a grunt and plenty of effort, I rolled my head back toward the star-spattered sky beyond the destroyed roof of the carriage and let it fall again, this time to my left. Veus sat in the corner on a small crate, his sight fixed on the horizon. Languidly, he looked down toward me with his expressionless face. The unmistakably stale scent of Senium hung in the air and caused my nose to tingle.
“When I said jump, I meant to land on your feet”
Gradually his stern face broke into a vague smile as though he had been trying to hold it back.
“Wh-what happened?” I asked with little more than a whisper.
“You dislocated your shoulder. Not too seriously, though I wouldn’t recommend you do it again. We’ll be at Arcis within the next few hours. Try and get some rest.”
“Arcis Verum!?”
Surely he was joking. For years the Alliance had been searching for the rebel’s stronghold; Raiders had scoured the war-zones and interrogated countless Verum soldiers trying to find it. For years the Verum had jealously guarded its location. And now, at the war’s peak, I – a government researcher – was being escorted there? I suddenly shuddered; thoughts of all the possible tortures that could be awaiting me at the end of the line raced through my mind. Veus simply nodded before resuming his midnight vigil of the rubble sea.
I passed in and out of conscious countless times over the hours that followed. Endorphins and second-hand Senium repeatedly sent me off to sleep. However, every single time I awoke in a sweat moments later. My dreams were haunted by images of Lucia – and of the old man. I had never met him before; that I was sure of. Nevertheless, he inhabited my dreams as though he belonged.
After waking from a restless sleep for the last time, Veus helped me to my feet as he informed me that we were here. To my relief, the track had come to a constant, relatively sharp bend and was forced to slow to a crawl.
Jarringly, I hopped out of the carriage down to solid ground. The jolt sent a short, sharp pain through my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, my eyes closed tight in an effort to ride out the pain. I focussed my senses on smells and sounds to distract myself from the ache. My ears were met with the sound of running water – a stream or a river. It was a sound that I hadn’t heard since my years at grad school. Feeling a push from Veus behind, I begrudgingly began walking forward blind. As the pain eventually passed into memory, my eyes opened to an incredible sight.
Two massive towers stretched high, from which a considerably smaller stone wall extended to house countless conjoined gothic-style buildings. The most notable feature, outshining even the watchtowers was an enormous cathedral, no smaller than four stories, with a bell-tower extending high from its roof. As we neared the structure, countless stain-glassed windows became clear – though, from here, I could not make out the images they depicted. Connecting to either front corner were smaller, plainer buildings, made in the same style. Both of these two buildings were all but identical to each other. Unlike the cathedral, these buildings bore two rows of arched windows with clear glass panes. Outside the lofty walls, a deep, wide channel was cut from the paved clearing through which the strong currents of a river coursed in front of the towers like a moat. The place seemed to be abandoned.
As we neared the causeway linking us to the monumental constructions, the true height of the towers became apparent. It was dizzying to look up at them. However, it was only as I did that I noticed a faint, high-pitched beeping that seemed so out of place. The more I focussed, the sound seemed to be echoing throughout the compound.
Veus assuredly walked into the centre of the hauntingly empty courtyard. Spinning to face the towers, he raised his empty palms up to their peaks, as though in surrender, his eyes fixed on the twin structures. As I, too, turned to the towers, I spotted several shabbily clothed Verum rebels standing upon balconies in each dark tower. One rebel in each tower stood beside a shimmering gold bell, grasping it’s pull-string.
From the distance, I distinctly saw one of the rebels salute. Turning to catch Veus’ response, I saw that he was already headed for the heavy wooden door of the cathedral. From all around me, the sound of children’s laughter filled my ears as hidden youngsters emerged from all about the courtyard and followed in Veus’ wake.
As the towering arched doors creaked open, we stepped we were immediately greeted with a red carpet, running from where we were over floorboards to the raised stage at the front of the auditorium. Only three rows of pews at the rear of the atrium, where we had entered, were divided by the carpet as the rest of the room was empty. Moonlight flooding into the room wore the brilliant colours of the windows lining the walls. A story or two above us toward the front of the hall was a semi-circular balcony, on either side of which two thin red banners hung to just above the floor.
“Veus!”
From an archway to the side of the stage came the excited call of a young boy who quickly followed his exclamation. He would have been no older than five. His over-sized clothes rustled as he ran toward Veus who knelt down on one knee as the child neared.
“Hello Modus,” Veus said softly, catching the child in a hug. Standing to his feet and ruffling the boy’s medium-length auburn hair with a gloved hand, Veus added, “how’ve you been short-stack?”
Modus simply laughed and nodded – an unspoken ‘good, but better now’. Turning to me, he wrinkled his nose, asking inquisitively, “who’s this guy?”
It was only now that I noticed the child’s mismatched eyes. His right eye was a shimmering blue, the left a pale green.
“Hello there Alveus.” The familiar voice of an old lady greeted before Veus had a chance to introduce me. Simultaneously, as though we shared the same name, we turned to the call. What I saw shocked me to the core. It was a face I hadn’t seen for years – I had been certain she had passed long ago. I could tell by the glint in her eye and the sudden loss of happiness from her face that she recognised me too. I tried to speak. There was so much that I had wanted to say for all of that time. However, the reunion and my speech were both stifled by long-repressed anger. In my confusion, only one simple word escaped.
“Mom?”
