Tom Isbell - The Capture

Hope turned to one of the Sisters and shouted, “Scylla, run! Everyone else, follow.” Scylla took off and we tried to catch up. Flush did his best to guide Twitch.

Scylla didn’t stop until she reached the engine. Then she turned and waited. When the car approached, she squatted down and jumped high enough to grab hold, landing a foot in the opening. She wedged her back against the wall and pushed against the door with all her might. It groaned open with a shriek.

One by one, the other five Sisters joined her, then the Less Thans. Finally, it came down to Four Fingers, Argos, and myself, running alongside the train.

But there was a problem. Even after watching everyone else, Four seemed confused. And I was so badly out of breath, there was no way I could force him onto the train by myself. I looked to the others for help.

Dozer glared down from the freight car opening. “Leave him,” he called out, then disappeared into the shadows.

Hope and Scylla jumped down from the train, then ran until they caught up with us. Scylla grabbed Four Fingers’s left arm, Hope latched onto his right. At first he resisted. Then Hope counted out loud. “One, two—”

On “three” they tossed him into the black interior of the boxcar. He staggered to a standing position and smiled.

Scylla and Hope leaped into the boxcar next, leaving only Argos and me.

“Come on, boy,” I said, badly out of breath, my legs churning as fast as they could. “Your turn.”

Argos soared through the air as effortlessly as if he’d been doing this his whole life. His claws scraped the wooden floor as he slid halfway across the car.

My turn. Exhausted as I was, I could do this. But then, just at that moment, Flush called out at the top of his lungs, “BRIDGE!”

I looked up, frantic. The train was cresting a slight rise. In the near distance, spanning a dry ravine, was a narrow bridge with metal guardrails. Once the train reached it, there’d be no room for me. If I didn’t get on now, I never would.

Now that the train was heading downhill, it began to pick up speed—faster and faster, the clickety-clack louder and more insistent. The bridge was growing closer and I was running faster and my heart was hammering harder and it was all happening way too quickly, clickety-clack , clickety-clack .

The train was pounding down the incline now, getting farther and farther away. Panic swelled in my chest. I could barely breathe. Barely catch my breath at all. My legs were rubber. I wasn’t going to make it.

“Come on, Book!” Flush yelled.

And then others began screaming too. “Come on!” “You can do it!” “Jump!”

The train was steaming downhill. The bridge was only forty feet away. The clickety-clack of wheels on rails was mesmerizing and awful, like some drumbeat leading me to my death. Louder and faster, the sound pounding in my ears.

And for that brief moment, it wasn’t the train I thought about, or my exhaustion, or what would happen if I failed. What I thought about was Cat. My friend, Cat. The one who I’d abandoned, who at that moment was either being butchered by Brown Shirts … or already a tasty meal for wolves and worms. I shouldn’t have left him behind.

Flush shouted, “Jump!”

With every last bit of strength, I raced forward, caught up with the car, then took off, my one good leg pushing against the earth, my hands and arms straining for the boxcar, sailing through air in a silent forever.

Thwack!

My body slammed against the side of the train, but only my torso made it inside; my lower half dangled off, feet and legs kicking blindly. Hands grabbed for me, but too late. I was slipping, and the girders of the bridge were closing fast. Once my legs slammed into those metal beams, I’d have no chance of holding on. My legs would be crushed, and I’d be ripped out of the train and hurled beneath its wheels.

The Less Thans and Sisters did their best to grab hold, but my fingers slipped, my clothing tore, and I started sliding back out of the boxcar. My legs kicked wildly, drunkenly, and I was consumed by a wild panic. In another instant I’d be dead. Gone. Sliced in two.

Help me! I wanted to scream. Someone, please help me!

Good-bye to Flush and Twitch and all my friends from Liberty. Good-bye to life. Good-bye to Hope.

That’s when I felt the yank on my hands. My wrists were tugged with what seemed an otherworldly strength and I was flung inside the boxcar … just as the girders of the bridge whooshed past.

I went sailing through air until I slammed into a crate on the opposite side of the car. Stars popped before my eyes and my head swam. I caught my breath. I was safe. I was alive. I had made it.

And when I looked up, there stood Four Fingers, a goofy smile plastering his face. He had just saved my life.

When I cast a glance at Dozer, he walked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

THE TRAIN RUMBLES THROUGH the night. They don’t know where they are, only that they’re heading west, and far to the north is the Flats with its cracked mosaic of dry lake bed.

Morning brings a sharp diagonal of light slicing through the open doorway. Afraid they’ll be spotted by Brown Shirts, they slide the door shut, and in no time they’re dripping sweat, breathing their own stale air. They spread out as much as possible.

There’s one exception: Dozer and his three pals. They huddle in a far corner with Dozer atop a crate as though it were his throne, Red, Angela, and Lacey surrounding him like obedient knights. They lean forward and speak in hushed voices. Every once in a while, Angela turns her head and shoots Hope and Book a pointed look.

“What’s that about?” Hope asks Book.

“Whatever it is, it’s not good.”

“The sooner we get off this train, the better.”

Book’s brow knits in confusion. “We just got here. And weren’t you the one who suggested getting on this thing in the first place?”

“Yeah, but at camp we sometimes heard trains going through the town south of us. I’m guessing this is that train.”

“So that’s perfect. We’ll just get off there.”

Hope gives her head a shake. “The town is run by Crazies.”

She can see the hair rising on Book’s arm. And no wonder. On the march east, they came across a band of Crazies. They were scraggly and gave off a rank smell and looked like they hadn’t bothered to shave or shower since long before Omega. They’d somehow survived the bombs twenty years earlier and now lived a life of violence and squalor. A group not to be messed with.

“But now that Dozer’s on this train, he won’t want to get off,” Book says.

“That may be true, but we have to.”

“Should we tell some of the others?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

Hope is just rising to her feet when a voice bellows out, “Where do you think you’re going?” It’s Dozer, towering over her, arms crossed like a sultan.

“Back to my friends,” Hope answers. “Do you mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. ’Cause it’s time we had us a little trial.”

He nods over his shoulder, and Red, Angela, and Lacey sweep in from either side. They grab hold of Scylla, Diana, and Helen and toss them toward Hope and Book. The five of them now find themselves in the very middle of the boxcar.

“What’re you doing, Dozer?” Flush asks.

“Holding a trial. What’s it look like?”

“Is this because of Cat? ’Cause the others didn’t have anything to do with that. Only Book.”

“Perhaps,” Dozer says, eyes sparkling with mischief, “but they all have something to do with treason. And if you’re sticking up for them, it makes me think you’re on their side, too.” Just like that, Dozer grabs hold of Flush and pushes him into the middle as well.