Nate had watched the fire that night, unable to look at Reed—too scared he’d see Brick’s bloodthirsty want mirrored in his eyes.
A barking voice announced fresh steamed buns, and Nate’s attention rapidly shifted to the thought of a greasy, hot breakfast. A man bumped into Nate while eating one, oily juice dripping into his beard when he mumbled an apology with his mouth full. The tech in Nate’s coat could buy dozens of those pillow-soft buns full of spiced gull.
At least the sickness wasn’t affecting his appetite.
Nate ambled toward the rails with his hands stuffed in his pockets to keep stock of the wire and rattling buttons. An approaching train hummed in the distance—the first of the morning. The trains passed at a regular enough cadence that as long as he got up on the track soon after one had gone by, it was a safe bet that he could get to the next ladder before the following train arrived. Once in a while, people miscalculated and jumped to avoid being struck.
It never ended well.
There was no sense in climbing halfway up the ladder to wait for a train to go by, so he paused in the breeze below the rails. It whipped between the buildings, cooling the sweat at his neck and stirring his hair. He brushed away the tickle, and something lifted him from his feet and tackled him into the gravel.
He didn’t have time to scream.
Dirt and dust filled his open mouth, his nose. His teeth rattled, and his bones shook, and he lay there, helpless and terrified, as pain rammed him like blows from a hammer.
A hollow crack sounded, and another, each reverberating through his body, shaking him apart. Heat and light flared behind his eyelids and seared his skin. He managed to roll and cover his head, dimly aware that he was still alive and nothing was really hitting him at all.
It’s an explosion.
When the sounds stopped, he registered the wheezing of his own breath and the high-pitched ringing in his ears. And the heat.Gods, it burns.He crawled away from it, coughing on dust and spittle, his eyes watering and each blink gritty.
Everyone around him was white with dust. Someone stumbled by bleeding, the red on her face vivid against the chalkiness. Nearby, a body lay in the dirt, unmoving. And above them, a half a block away, the tall railway was just. . .gone. Obliterated.
Rubble smoked and steamed below. Half of the station remained, flame creeping along the beams, the overhang. Anyone who had been on or below the rails must have died in an instant. The few windows that had remained on the buildings to either side of the rail were gone now. Glass glittered in the street, reflecting the flames.
Nate gathered himself up, wiping the dust out of his eyes. He felt along his body, but nothing seemed to be broken. He’d narrowly escaped the worst of the explosion and the falling rubble.
His hands trembled.
He’d only been near an explosion once before, when an accident had rocked one of the workhouses a few blocks from Bernice’s apartment. That night, Nate ran to check on her, forgetting in his panic that she’d died days before. The fire outside shone through the open window and flickered on her empty bed. Unable to get back to sleep, Nate had picked the lock on Bernice’s safebox and found a faded ticker-paper clipping. According to the ticker, he’d died in the same fiery car wreck that had claimed the lives of his parents—Vivian and Tariq Land. The bodies had never been recovered.
Overcome by the memory now, Nate narrowly avoided getting trampled by the crowd swarming away from the fire. He ducked behind a low wall and gulped wet breaths, trying to calm the sickening race of his heartbeat.
A high-pitched wail pierced through him. He jammed his palms against his sore ears, but it didn’t muffle the frantic sound.
What is that?
And then it sparked.
A train whistle and brakes shrieking in tandem.
The oncoming train was crashing.
Curiosity took over, despite the screaming instinct to stay hidden.
Nate peeked over the low wall and gasped, his dirty hands covering his mouth. The train approached too quickly, barreling toward the flaming gap in the railway where the explosion had demolished it. He watched, frozen in place, as the train careened over the edge and crumpled like foil in the rubble.
The sound of it was awful—he felt it in his jaw and clamped his teeth against the pain. Screeching and tearing. Metal against metal. The lead car lit up with a scarlet fireball and thick black smoke, and only then did the rest of the train groan to a horrible stop.
Gathos City trains had a dozen cars. Only two were lost, and one more dangled from the jagged edge of the ruined track. Flames licked toward the rest, climbing the twisted wreck of the lead cars.
Nate drew himself to stand, his knees shaking.The cars are full. They’re full of people.
Heat blasted his face. A crowd began to gather at a safe distance on each side of the elevated rail. People were shouting about the Breakers, cheering for them.
The train whistle gurgled and died, and Nate’s stomach turned when he recognized the muffled sound that replaced it.
The surviving passengers were burning.
