The Boundless by Kenneth Oppel Page B

caboose. It’s cozy, and he likes Sticks. He was looking forward to the stories the old guard might tell. He tries to brush off the dried mud his trousers have left on the bedsheets.
    â€œNever mind that, lad,” Sticks tells him.
    â€œThank you very much for your kindness,” Will says.
    The caboose guard claps him on the shoulder. “You’re quite welcome, lad. Quick now, and with a bit of luck you’ll finish off the night in your own bed.”
    Mackie is already leaving by the forward door, and Will hurries after him, out onto the platform and down the steps to the gravel.
    Despite the moon and stars, the night is startlingly dark. It takes him some minutes for his eyes to grow accustomed. His feet crunch in the gravel as he walks past one dark boxcar after another. Far in the distance he thinks he hears an impatient hiss of steam from the Boundless’s engine—or it might just be the sound of the wind in the trees. He has no idea where they’ve stopped, or even what time it is; he forgot to check the clock before he left. He hurries to keep up with the sullen Mackie.
    From the glowering wall of forest beside him emanates an oppressive silence, broken occasionally by a fierce scuffle of leaves. He thinks he catches the flash of eyes low to the ground. Mackie seems not at all concerned, and just keeps walking.
    â€œDo you think there’s bears in the woods?”
    â€œWorse, probably.” Mackie doesn’t even glance at him. “Saw a Wendigo around here once.”
    Will’s skin crawls. “Really?”
    â€œLuckily, we was moving at the time. Threw itself at a cattle car. Nearly ripped the door right off.”
    Will walks faster. The train stretches ahead in a long, slow curve. At regular intervals red lanterns hang from its side. Will remembers from his father that the brakemen hang red lanterns when the train’s been ordered to stop, to send a signal all the way down the cars. When the train gets under way again, the lantern lights are green.
    After a few more minutes Will sees a bright white light up ahead. This one swings.
    â€œThere he is,” says Mackie. “He’ll take you on.”
    Will can’t say he’s disappointed exactly, but he feels a bit apprehensive about meeting a string of strangers in the darkness. The two of them pass a few more freight cars. Will can see the other brakeman’s tall silhouette.
    Will still isn’t used to his lopsided one-shoed gait, and when he stumbles on the rail ties, Mackie takes his arm to steady him.
    â€œThis the young gent?” says the other brakeman, walking to meet them.
    â€œThe very one,” Mackie replies.
    In a sudden splash of lantern light, Will catches sight of a shadowed face with a nose that looks like it’s been broken one too many times.
    Will’s throat clenches. “But—” He looks at Mackie in terror. He backs up, ready to run, but Mackie’s grip tightens on his arm. “That’s him!” Will cries.
    Swiftly Brogan strides toward him. Something clenched in his hand flashes darkly. Will tries to wrench his arm free. Why won’t Mackie let him go? And then some desperate instinct springs inside him, and he throws his full weight against Mackie. The brakeman staggers, nearly dragging Will down with him, but Will twists free. Half-blind, he runs back toward the rear of the train. He has no breath to shout for help. Brogan’s boots crunch in the gravel behind him.
    With his one shoe Will is clumsy, and he can barely see his feet.
    â€œKey’s all I want!” gasps Brogan. “Gimme that key, boy, I let you live!”
    Will knows he’s lying. He casts a wild look at the woods, five yards to his left, and doubts he’ll make it in time before Brogan catches him. On his other side the train is an unbroken wall but for the gap beneath cars. The quick puffs of Brogan’s breath are getting louder.
    Will gives himself