I’d never seen a train that ran underground, never imagined there could be so many people who would need one. And I’d never imagined that Ms. Strepp would have a backup army. I looked back at Strepp’s army. They filled the tunnel, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of soldier-kids, or kid-soldiers. Ms. Strepp must have been collecting them for a long time.

“Once Ratbane killed twenty-three rats in one night,” Tim said. “It was the year of no fuel, and no food had come in months. We ate ’em.”

“You ate. The rats,” I said, not even trying to keep the shock off my face. I remembered the year of no fuel—it hadn’t affected our cell much, except that our crops piled up and some rotted. It had never occurred to me to wonder what effect no fuel would have on other cells. Tim had eaten rats.

Still staring at my feet, I walked right into Ms. Strepp, almost bouncing off her thin, hard body. I froze, waiting to get punished, but Ms. Strepp was looking behind me, holding up one finger.

She nodded shortly. “Train,” she said.

Tim immediately said “Train” to the next pair of soldiers. On and on down the line, our followers heard “Train” and did as instructed: dropped to their stomachs between the tracks, flattened themselves as much as possible, and turned their heads to one side.

We did the same and I tried not to gag at the smell, tried not to think about what might have happened right where my face was. Tim and I looked at each other tensely. I prayed Ms. Strepp was right about train clearances.

In moments I felt the vibration, heard a distant rumble become louder. Soon the train let out an ear-splitting whistle. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached out for Tim’s strong, scarred hand. Even if I had admitted being afraid, he wouldn’t have heard me. But what if the ground vibrated so much that it bounced me right up into the wheels? What if the train rode much lower than Ms. Strepp knew?

This sucks this sucks this sucks this sucks.

The train was right over us, its heat and noise and smells of oil and fuel weighing on me. I wanted to cry. Gripping Tim’s hand, I thought about how back home, I’d be out in the sunlight and fresh air, smelling the clean scent of corn ripening, freshly mown hay, the wild honeysuckle from which Becca and I used to suck the nectar…

My teeth rattled in my head. My brain shook inside my skull. I started to feel sick but was too afraid to even raise a hand to my mouth. Instead I clung to Tim’s hand and tried not to breathe.

Suddenly it was gone. Its rear light shot down the black tunnel and disappeared faster than it had appeared. We all got to our feet, brushed ourselves off. I heard one kid whisper, “Ick,” and another said, “Yeah.”

I felt trembly and embarrassed that I’d been so scared, and my face heated when I saw Tim shaking his fingers slightly, trying to get his circulation going after I’d practically cut it off.

Turning to me and Tim, Ms. Strepp murmured, “When we get beneath the palace, the Loner will set off a bomb big enough to blow a hole in the floor. We’ll swarm up over the rubble, and I want guns blazing! We need to cut the head off this elite monster, we need to spear its heart!” Her drawn, angular face was grim, her eyes dark holes burning with something I hadn’t seen before.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, as Tim relayed the message down the line. I knew something he didn’t: My days of blindly following Ms. Strepp were coming to an end. When I climbed up into the President’s palace, I’d have only one thought in my mind: finding Becca. If Becca was still alive, then Becca was my only mission. If Be

cca wasn’t alive… well, it’d be time for me to strike out on my own. With or without Tim or Nate or whoever was left.

109

BECCA

“HERE WE ARE AGAIN,” I said tiredly, pacing our small cell. It was ironic that they’d decided to call all their little nodes of factories, farms, mines, mills—cells. The cell we grew up in had been a prison cell. We just hadn’t known it.

I sat down on the metal cot next to Nate, unwilling to meet his eyes. Yes, of course I knew his kissing me had been a diversion, a ruse. All the same, it had been… well, not unpleasant.

Then at the same moment, he and I looked at each other.

“You hear that?” he whispered, and I nodded.

People were arguing, faintly. But where? We peered out into the hall, walked the perimeter of our cell, trying to pinpoint the direction. I shook my head.

“It’s above us,” I said, climbing up onto the metal cot. “Give me a lift.”

This was when I longed for Tim, big, muscled Tim who could probably lift me with one hand. The Provost’s son was almost as tall and well-built, but no Tim.

Still, he held me on his shoulders securely, walking where I told him, not complaining.

“This is where the voices are loudest,” I told him softly.

“Can you see anything?” he asked.

“Uhh… nope. Dungeon wall,” I said, tapping against the stones. Then one of my taps went right through and I moved my hand left and right. “Oh, so gross!”

“What? What?” Nate said.

Tags: James Patterson Crazy House Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net