We splash through a deep puddle of marsh and I can hear the shouts of more administrators heading our way. I’ve assumed that by now they’re certain I’m not willingly turning myself over.
After a few minutes I notice that I’m a few strides ahead of James and then, almost in shock, I remember everything Jed had given me, the strength, speed and stamina. I guess I forgot why I was running.
Just then, the sound of something loud and blaring assaults me; like cars honking and grating together; metal on metal, although hysterically metrical. Suddenly James and I stumble out onto a long dirt road and I realize the sound I’m hearing is a train only twenty feet away. It rushes by, its wheels turning and clicking in a frantically methodic rhythm while the cars rumble past.
I turn around, hearing the sounds of the administrators approaching and when James touches my arm and points down the road, I see a small, black car driving our way. I stare into the forest behind us for a split second, seeing the faces of the people racing toward us, before James pulls me across the road and into the woods on the other side.
“We can’t cross it,” he shouts above the whirring train; there’s no way but back.
We stand only feet from the train for what seems like hours only I know it only spans seconds. My hair whips behind me from the force and with one last glance at the car approaching, I turn back to the train.
“We’re getting on it,” I state, shoving the trepidation away.
James’s expression morphs into disbelief. “You’re crazy.”
I shake my head. “You’re crazy if you think there’s any other way.”
I see him look from me to the train and back, his eyebrows knitted together as the thudding and clicking envelops us in a hysterical cloud of noise. I can feel our pursuers getting closer with every heartbeat and with each second, it quickens. “Now,” I tell James and begin to run. I can feel his footsteps behind me as we try to match the train’s pace. The gravel feels unsteady underneath my feet and I’m too busy watching the carts to notice what’s ahead of me. I reach out to grab the metal railing joining two carts together, feeling the train yank me off my feet and with a yelp, I stumble onto the steps. I scoot over as quickly as I can, feeling my sweaty hands slipping up and down the metal bars, while I reach for James’s hand and pull him on behind me.
We stand there for a moment in breathlessness, feeling the trees swish by us at a dizzying pace. The train isn’t a passenger one, so although there are steps and railings, the cars aren’t joined together by normal doors. I look past James and spot the handle to the sliding door of the car, facing outwards towards the road.
“Can you push open the door?” I yell to James above the noise, pointing to the handle. He hands me his bag and I take it with damp hands. I see him lean out across the gap, his feet precariously placed on the steps, and reach for the lever. My heartbeat quickens and I clench my fists, an image of James falling coming to my mind, catching the breath in my throat.
I see him grasp the handle and push while I silently pray he won’t fall. After a few attempts, the door slides open a few inches with a groan. Some unknown emotion fills me as James slowly crosses the gap toward the door; not relief because we aren’t safe yet, but that feeling you get when you know relief is coming soon. James stumbles into the car and I let out a breath of air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. He leans out and gestures for me to hand him the bags. I do and begin to shuffle toward the door. I stand on the edge of the steps and lean sideways, reaching for the handle, but James’s arms are longer than mine and my fingers barely grace the edge. I can hear the rushing and clicking in my ears as the wind whips around my face and body, tugging at my hair and
After a few minutes I notice that I’m a few strides ahead of James and then, almost in shock, I remember everything Jed had given me, the strength, speed and stamina. I guess I forgot why I was running.
Just then, the sound of something loud and blaring assaults me; like cars honking and grating together; metal on metal, although hysterically metrical. Suddenly James and I stumble out onto a long dirt road and I realize the sound I’m hearing is a train only twenty feet away. It rushes by, its wheels turning and clicking in a frantically methodic rhythm while the cars rumble past.
I turn around, hearing the sounds of the administrators approaching and when James touches my arm and points down the road, I see a small, black car driving our way. I stare into the forest behind us for a split second, seeing the faces of the people racing toward us, before James pulls me across the road and into the woods on the other side.
“We can’t cross it,” he shouts above the whirring train; there’s no way but back.
We stand only feet from the train for what seems like hours only I know it only spans seconds. My hair whips behind me from the force and with one last glance at the car approaching, I turn back to the train.
“We’re getting on it,” I state, shoving the trepidation away.
James’s expression morphs into disbelief. “You’re crazy.”
I shake my head. “You’re crazy if you think there’s any other way.”
I see him look from me to the train and back, his eyebrows knitted together as the thudding and clicking envelops us in a hysterical cloud of noise. I can feel our pursuers getting closer with every heartbeat and with each second, it quickens. “Now,” I tell James and begin to run. I can feel his footsteps behind me as we try to match the train’s pace. The gravel feels unsteady underneath my feet and I’m too busy watching the carts to notice what’s ahead of me. I reach out to grab the metal railing joining two carts together, feeling the train yank me off my feet and with a yelp, I stumble onto the steps. I scoot over as quickly as I can, feeling my sweaty hands slipping up and down the metal bars, while I reach for James’s hand and pull him on behind me.
We stand there for a moment in breathlessness, feeling the trees swish by us at a dizzying pace. The train isn’t a passenger one, so although there are steps and railings, the cars aren’t joined together by normal doors. I look past James and spot the handle to the sliding door of the car, facing outwards towards the road.
“Can you push open the door?” I yell to James above the noise, pointing to the handle. He hands me his bag and I take it with damp hands. I see him lean out across the gap, his feet precariously placed on the steps, and reach for the lever. My heartbeat quickens and I clench my fists, an image of James falling coming to my mind, catching the breath in my throat.
I see him grasp the handle and push while I silently pray he won’t fall. After a few attempts, the door slides open a few inches with a groan. Some unknown emotion fills me as James slowly crosses the gap toward the door; not relief because we aren’t safe yet, but that feeling you get when you know relief is coming soon. James stumbles into the car and I let out a breath of air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in. He leans out and gestures for me to hand him the bags. I do and begin to shuffle toward the door. I stand on the edge of the steps and lean sideways, reaching for the handle, but James’s arms are longer than mine and my fingers barely grace the edge. I can hear the rushing and clicking in my ears as the wind whips around my face and body, tugging at my hair and
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