Jack McDevitt - Eternity Road

“We knew this would happen,” Avila said. “it’s only a mechanism.” She lowered herself into a seat. The others follwed her example.

The grassy shelf moved past and then it was gone and the forest closed around them. Some of the interior lights blinked out.

Their fears were mirrored in one another’s eyes. Crowded together at the rear of the conveyance, they watched the moon dance through a dark network of tree limbs.

It was too dark to see clearly out the windows, but occasional posts and trees rushed past, and within moments they were moving far faster than any had ever traveled before. They sighed and gasped and held on while the train swung into a long curve. Simultaneously, it rose, climbed, soared above the treetops. Flojian invited the Goddess to protect them.

They were in the realm of hawks now. Fields and lakes swept past.

“Karik survived it,” Quait reminded her.

Avila admitted that maybe this had not been a good idea after all. The animals swayed and snorted, but they did not seem as uneasy as their masters.

“I hope there are no sudden stops,” said Shannon. He pushed his battered hat down tight on his head and managed a grin. “This’ll be one for the grandkiddies, right?”

The landscape rose and fell, but the train stayed steady. It seemed to be moving at a constant rate now, a terrifying velocity. Trees and rocks blurred.

Avila sat staring out the rear window. The green strip and its guardrail were still with them. “It must mark the trail in some way,” she said.

“Maybe we’re attached to it,” Flojian suggested.

“I don’t think so. It’s too low. There’s no way we could be traveling along its surface.” Her eyes slid shut. “On the bridge, the green strip was broken. I wonder whether ihere was a lime that this thing used to cross the river.”

Occasionally, when the vehicle rounded a curve, they could look ahead and see a cone of light stabbing through the dark. “That’s what we shot out,” Chaka said. “There must be a light at both ends.” They leaped a creek and sailed effortlessly through a cut between ridges. The ridges melted away; ruins appeared below them, around them, and then they were slowing down, settling back into the trees. They glided into another esplanade, stopped, and with much gurgling and hissing, settled to the ground. Extra lights came on inside the carriage and outside.

“Vincennes,” said a female voice. “Watch your step, please.”

Chaka jerked around to see who had spoken. There was nobody. Her hair rose.

The doors opened.

“Who’s there?” demanded Quait, on his feet with his gun out.

“It came from in here,” said Avila.

Outside, a steady wind blew. Chaka could see a stairway, leading down. And benches. And a small wooden building, quite dark. Beyond that there were only woods.

“This is our chance to get out of here,” said Flojian.

They exchanged glances. It wasn’t a bad idea. While they thought about it, the chime sounded again and the doors closed.

“That was quick,” said Chaka.

Quait and Shannon moved into the next carriage, guns drawn, looking for the source of the voice.

The train lifted and they were under way again.

“They won’t find anything,” said Flojian. “That was a spirit.”

“I think he’s right,” said Avila. “At least about not finding anyone. We’ve been through this whole vehicle. There’s no one else on board.”

The open space slipped by and they were in the woods again, racing past clumps of trees and springs and rills. The land fell away and they sailed over a gorge. Chaka’s heart stopped. Water appeared beneath them. Then more solid ground, and the lights picked out a sign: SOUTHWEST AGRICULTURAL CENTER. It was gone almost before they could read it.

Quait and Shannon returned to report they could find no one.

The moon had moved over to the west. They sat close together, talking in hushed voices. Occasionally someone got up and announced he, or she, was going to check the horses. Someone else always volunteered to go along. Nobody traveled alone.

They stopped again, after a time, and the disembodied voice startled them once more: “Terre Haute,” it said. The doors opened and the wind blew and the doors closed.

“Nobody is ever going to believe this,” said Avila.

They cruised through the night, gliding over broad forest and ruins growing more and more extensive until finally the forest was gone altogether and they were moving above a wasteland of brick and rubble.

The vehicle slowed and began a long westward curve. Water appeared to the north. It looked like a sea.

They accelerated again. When the moon came back, Chaka saw beaches, surf, and ancient highways. The conveyance rocked gently, gliding across sand, water, and patches of grass. The coastline gradually turned north. They stayed with it.

The land broke up into islands and channels, littered with wreckage, piles of stone, rows of crumbling brick houses.

“Look,” said Flojian, his face flattened against the window.

A cluster of towers of incredible dimensions rose out of the dark. They literally challenged the sky, soaring beyond any man-made structure Chaka would have thought possible. They were softened by fading moonlight, and seemed to be anchored in water.

“The City,” breathed Chaka. The city in the fourth sketch.

The train was slowing down.

Walls rose around them. They passed what appeared to he other trains, lying dark and still. They drifted over a channel, crossed a small island, coasted past long, low buildings with enormous stacks, and then glided out over open water again.

The water gave way to a stone wall. The stone was polished and glittered in the lights of the train.

Then they were inside a tunnel. The wall (which had become gray and rough) moved past slowly and finally stopped.

The conveyance settled to the ground.

The lights came up and the doors opened. “Welcome to Union Station.” said a voice. “Everybody must exit here. Please watch your step.”

They stood on a platform in the midst of absolute silence, surrounded by the horses and their baggage and the darkness that rolled away and away from the illumination cast by the coaches. It was cold again. Frigid.

“Any idea where we are?” whispered Shannon.

“Union Station.” Chaka tasted the strange words.

The doors closed. The vehicle rose a few feet, and began to move forward. They watched it go, watched it glide into the dark. Its lights glowed for a time and then they vanished, as if it had gone around a curve.

“What now?” said Flojian. His voice echoed.

Avila used a match to light an oil lamp.

The platform was about twenty feet wide, with trenches on either side. More platforms, parallel to this one, stretched away into the dark. No ceiling was visible.

“We should wait for dawn,” said Flojian. “Get some sleep, and don’t walk around too much.”

“I’d sleep better,” said Shannon, “if I knew we were alone.”

“Are we indoors?” asked Quait. “There’s no wind,” said Avila. “And no stars.”

The platform surface was cement, but it was covered by several inches of dust and dirt. There were posts and handrails, to which they secured the animals. Quait found a wooden bench. He broke it up and they used it to start a fire. But nowhere did its light touch wall or ceiling.

“I agree with Jon,” said Avila. “Let’s find out where we are.”

The tunnel through which they’d entered was gray and unremarkable. “Maybe it really is mechanical,” said Flojian. “I think that possibility scares me even more than a demonic explanation. Can you imagine what a fleet of these things, running among the five cities, would do to river traffic?”