Tom Isbell - The Capture

The glow of the town was closer now, lighting up a chunk of sky. Hope tapped Diana on the shoulder, and the fiery Sister tossed her backpack into the dark. She jumped out after it. Scylla and Helen followed, then Flush and Twitch. Before Hope left, she turned to me and met my eyes. I had the feeling there was something she wanted to say … just as I did. Something like I’m sorry . Maybe something more.

But neither of us spoke.

Instead, she leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek, and leaped from the train.

Now that it was just Four Fingers, Argos, and me, Four seemed suddenly afraid. He began edging away from the opening.

“No,” he began saying. “No! No! ” Even though the wind muffled his voice, it was more than loud enough to wake the others.

My mind scrambled. “You remember Frank, don’t you?” I asked. “Up in the mountains? The old guy who gave his life for us, so we could be brave and do brave things for others?”

“Fraaank.” He elongated the name in a way that told me he remembered. How Frank had fed us and hid us from the Brown Shirts and taught us all those skills. How he’d invited us into his cabin and told us about his family—even given us the clothes of his dead sons.

“So now we need to jump, because that’s what Frank would want us to do.”

Four Fingers nodded—he seemed to suddenly understand—and without waiting a moment longer, he threw himself into the darkness. I heard the crunch of his body against the ground.

That left Argos and me.

“You ready, boy?” I said.

“He might be, but you’re not.”

Dozer. Before I could react, he swung his meaty arm across my shoulder. I felt the sharp blade of his knife pressing into my neck, dimpling skin.

“Where’re you going?” he asked. “Or should I say, where did you think you were going?” He laughed, his sour breath splashing the side of my face. “The next time you wanna take off in the middle of the night, you might want to think about leaving the moron behind. He’s not so good at keeping quiet.”

My eyes darted to the doorway, but the knife dug in farther, a trickle of blood dribbling down my neck. “Don’t even think about it, Limp : your life ends here.”

In that fraction of a second I saw it all: our escape from Liberty and the trek to the new territory. The Less Thans held captive beneath the tennis courts. Frank in the mountains. Hope and the other Sisters. Cat. Good-bye.

As Dozer reached back to give my neck a final slice, we were both slammed to the floor with a violent thud. Dozer’s knife clattered to the side. When I got my breath and turned my head, I saw Argos shaking Dozer’s withered arm like it was a rat he was trying to kill.

“Get him off, get him off, get him off!” Dozer screamed, but Argos had no intention of letting go.

I stumbled to my feet. By now, the others were awake, trying to make sense of what was going on. Angela and Lacey were reaching for their knives.

“Come, Argos,” I said, but for once he didn’t listen. He continued to twist Dozer’s arm as though snapping a wishbone.

“Argos, no!” I cried.

I should’ve known better.

Argos looked at me with questioning eyes, and Dozer used that opportunity to kick him in the ribs. Argos yelped and went sailing through the air, flying out of the boxcar and into the night. I heard his loud whimper as he landed in the ditch.

Anger swelled in my chest. “You shouldn’t’ve done that,” I said.

“Why? What’re you gonna do about it?”

Stepping back as though about to kick a game-winning field goal, I launched my foot forward until it collided with Dozer’s groin. He let out an oomph and doubled over, grimacing in pain.

“Don’t you ever kick my dog again,” I said.

I turned and threw myself out of the boxcar, landing on the edge of the rail bed and rolling hard down the gravel slope, watching as the train receded farther and farther into the distance.

HOPE WAITS ANXIOUSLY. BUT when there’s no sign of Book, she can’t stand there any longer, and she races alongside the track, imagining the worst. First Mom, then Dad, then Faith. She cannot add Book to that list.

When she finally catches sight of him, crouched over Argos, it takes everything in her power to stifle sobs of relief. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Book nods. “Had a little run-in with Dozer,” he says, his hands shaking. Her eyes drop to Argos, who favors a back leg. When Book scratches him behind the ears, Argos pants as though everything is fine.

Hope notices a thin line of blood on Book’s neck and can’t help reaching for it, dabbing it with her fingertips. Book recoils slightly, and for a moment their eyes meet. They’ve touched before—they’ve kissed—but this gesture feels profoundly intimate. Hope pulls her fingers back.

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