“Let’s get stuck in, then.”
***+***
5
THE TRAIN
Clouds hung heavy with rain overhead and the night was dark. With the trees looming around and the train tracks failing to gleam in front, there was a slight feeling of déjà-vu.
Everything was different, though. I held a fully charged nonLee and wore the bulletproof vest Bane and Eduardo had forced me into – it felt much like wearing an ancient corset. ‘Why me?’ I’d protested, since there weren’t any more, but they’d ignored me. Nasty feeling it might be the Holy Father’s spare, or something.
Silent and resigned, Jon had stayed in the Citadel. Carla and Francesco were with him – safer for the train guards if not for Jon. Avoided known Resistance members being caught with us if this all went pear-shaped, more importantly.
Pear-shaped . My hands were shaking. I wrapped them more tightly around the butt of the nonLee. The plan was sound. Father Mark thought so. Carla thought so. Francesco thought so. Eduardo thought so. And Bane thought so. I thought so too.
All along the hundred metres of track before the signals lay our team, two by two, over half of them unarmed – Eduardo could only spare ten nonLees. Those lying where the front and rear carriages should stop had the guns, but the others all had their jobs.
My mouth was going dry. My hands still shook. Bane lay there beside me in the blackness. Despite agreeing in principle, he’d refused point blank to allow me to come unless my hormones had settled down. But I’d managed four days now without bursting into tears or throwing myself at Carla’s throat, so here I was.
A dark shape suddenly sprang up from where it’d been using a non-electric rail as a pillow and ran up the opposite slope, lay down and was magically absorbed by the deep shadows.
“Little Lion can hear a moth,” came Father Mark’s voice on my earpiece.
The train was coming.
“Postmen, the package is in the post,” murmured Bane into his little radio mic. “Postmen, last check. Cuckoo,” he finished, saying his code name to confirm his own readiness.
“Brown Bird,” I said. “Command, check.” Not that I was command, that was Bane.
“Trout,” the Swiss Guard several metres to my left said through my earpiece, and his partner immediately followed with, “Salmon. Fish, check.”
“Hippo.”
“Alligator. Aquatics, check.” That was Jack...
“Gecko.” And that was Kyle...
“Grass snake. Reptiles, check.”
“Pussycat.”
“Gerbil. Pets, check.”
“Fox One.”
“Fox Two. Foxes, check”
“Hyena.”
“Little Lion. Meat Eaters, check.” Father Mark, of course.
“Giraffe.”
“Elephant. African, check.”
“Snail.” Jacques...
“Bumblebee. Bugs, check.”
“Dove.”
“Pigeon. Birds, check.”
“All postmen…” A cough from the thing in my ear. Probably Pussycat, aka Sister Krayj. “All post persons ready,” murmured Bane dryly, though he’d been merciless in drilling the quips off the airwaves – all the commands were phrased humorously instead. “Postal service, final check.”
The drivers – Stamp, Letter, Envelope, Frank, Airmail and Boyracer – all signed in. The trucks were waiting only a very short distance into the forest.
“Postal service ready,” confirmed Bane. “Pay attention, everyone, this is it. Sorting office, ready?”
“Red, check.”
“Green, check.”
The train was audible now, over the sound of the wind in the trees.
“Okay, Red and Green, get sorting.”
With perfect coordination the signal glowing green above us in the darkness disappeared and a flashing red and green one materialised, just a fraction to its left.
The train was approaching; any moment now it would come around that bend and see that fake signal. We’d decided against Carla’s idea of a ‘gentle’ derailment, so if they didn’t stop, it was over.
A moment ago I’d been shivering with cold from lying here so long, now my hands were
***+***
5
THE TRAIN
Clouds hung heavy with rain overhead and the night was dark. With the trees looming around and the train tracks failing to gleam in front, there was a slight feeling of déjà-vu.
Everything was different, though. I held a fully charged nonLee and wore the bulletproof vest Bane and Eduardo had forced me into – it felt much like wearing an ancient corset. ‘Why me?’ I’d protested, since there weren’t any more, but they’d ignored me. Nasty feeling it might be the Holy Father’s spare, or something.
Silent and resigned, Jon had stayed in the Citadel. Carla and Francesco were with him – safer for the train guards if not for Jon. Avoided known Resistance members being caught with us if this all went pear-shaped, more importantly.
Pear-shaped . My hands were shaking. I wrapped them more tightly around the butt of the nonLee. The plan was sound. Father Mark thought so. Carla thought so. Francesco thought so. Eduardo thought so. And Bane thought so. I thought so too.
All along the hundred metres of track before the signals lay our team, two by two, over half of them unarmed – Eduardo could only spare ten nonLees. Those lying where the front and rear carriages should stop had the guns, but the others all had their jobs.
My mouth was going dry. My hands still shook. Bane lay there beside me in the blackness. Despite agreeing in principle, he’d refused point blank to allow me to come unless my hormones had settled down. But I’d managed four days now without bursting into tears or throwing myself at Carla’s throat, so here I was.
A dark shape suddenly sprang up from where it’d been using a non-electric rail as a pillow and ran up the opposite slope, lay down and was magically absorbed by the deep shadows.
“Little Lion can hear a moth,” came Father Mark’s voice on my earpiece.
The train was coming.
“Postmen, the package is in the post,” murmured Bane into his little radio mic. “Postmen, last check. Cuckoo,” he finished, saying his code name to confirm his own readiness.
“Brown Bird,” I said. “Command, check.” Not that I was command, that was Bane.
“Trout,” the Swiss Guard several metres to my left said through my earpiece, and his partner immediately followed with, “Salmon. Fish, check.”
“Hippo.”
“Alligator. Aquatics, check.” That was Jack...
“Gecko.” And that was Kyle...
“Grass snake. Reptiles, check.”
“Pussycat.”
“Gerbil. Pets, check.”
“Fox One.”
“Fox Two. Foxes, check”
“Hyena.”
“Little Lion. Meat Eaters, check.” Father Mark, of course.
“Giraffe.”
“Elephant. African, check.”
“Snail.” Jacques...
“Bumblebee. Bugs, check.”
“Dove.”
“Pigeon. Birds, check.”
“All postmen…” A cough from the thing in my ear. Probably Pussycat, aka Sister Krayj. “All post persons ready,” murmured Bane dryly, though he’d been merciless in drilling the quips off the airwaves – all the commands were phrased humorously instead. “Postal service, final check.”
The drivers – Stamp, Letter, Envelope, Frank, Airmail and Boyracer – all signed in. The trucks were waiting only a very short distance into the forest.
“Postal service ready,” confirmed Bane. “Pay attention, everyone, this is it. Sorting office, ready?”
“Red, check.”
“Green, check.”
The train was audible now, over the sound of the wind in the trees.
“Okay, Red and Green, get sorting.”
With perfect coordination the signal glowing green above us in the darkness disappeared and a flashing red and green one materialised, just a fraction to its left.
The train was approaching; any moment now it would come around that bend and see that fake signal. We’d decided against Carla’s idea of a ‘gentle’ derailment, so if they didn’t stop, it was over.
A moment ago I’d been shivering with cold from lying here so long, now my hands were
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