But living in the dark was circumstance. Living in fear of it was a choice. The tether trembled but Q could not tell if it shook from Raya’s terror or his own. The only thing worse than being lost was being lost in the dark, and the only thing worse than being lost in the dark was being alone in it.
Prussian blue. Viridian. Vermilion. Red ocher. Charcoal black. And a splash of cadmium yellow. The lagoon drowned Raya’s voice but could not hide the colors her scream had clawed into the night. Q tore off his coat and kicked off his shoes. Ice coiled around his spine, anchoring him to this liminal space.
He looked at the water, unable to remember the last time his vision had been good enough to study his reflection. His watery face stared back at him, waiting for him to choose the soul they were to share. Q pulled his shoulders back. He filled his lungs with as much air as he could and caught the scent of a looming storm.
“How deep is the gallery’s reflection pool?”
Frequently Asked Questions
The Elsewhere Express
Passenger Handbook
Raya
The lanterns grew smaller and vanished entirely as Raya’s portrait dragged her to the bottom of the lagoon. She kicked and flailed, stirring silt that turned the water murky, but left the terror surrounding her crystal clear. The only wall that stood between her and death was the fragile flesh she wore, all that she relied on to keep blood, bones, and breath inside her. It was an utterly pointless suit, which, instead of armor, came with a mouth, a built-in breach. Lips were the most unreliable of gates through which the air she desperately needed exited in gurgling bubbles of every size. Raya was not surprised by the betrayal. Lips were weak, easily unlocked by sweet whispers and soft kisses or burst open by screams of rage or pain. Earlier, just before her portrait had pulled her into the water, her lips had let a secret she was keeping from herself slip out in one word:Stay.
Abandoning her old life to stay on the Elsewhere Express was not an option Raya had thought she would ever consider, but the constant pull of the tether made it difficult to keep from being tugged in its direction. Q’s desperation to remain on the train at all costs flowed across their invisible bond as though they shared arteries andveins. And now that death was close to breaching her walls and flooding her lungs, she could think of nothing other than how the Archive’s map would crush Q when she was gone. She couldn’t let that happen.
Raya’s last breath escaped just as the portrait’s painted fingers finally let her go. Raya pushed off the muddy floor and swam toward the memory of light and Q. Both remained out of reach, like all things that lived only in your mind. Her lungs burned. Raya clawed at the water, rapidly losing the strength to hold on to the last of her will and her secrets. The more she thrashed, the more her secrets slipped from her grasp, frothing and floating away.
Han, she thought, was right. All secrets eventually surfaced, and as Raya swam up, she braced herself for the downpour. Warmth flowed through her tether and cut the lagoon’s chill. It hugged her heart, slowing its wild pounding. Q was close. Raya twisted around, searching for him in the dark. He hooked his arm around her, their tether binding them as tightly as the train’s couplers linked its cars. They swam upward, their fears halved and their strength doubled, each of them trying to save the other.
A kaleidoscope of raindrops sliced through the water, infusing it with color and light. Aqueous paintings appeared around them, a labyrinth of watercolor portraits of Raya at every age. Raya flailed, searching for a way out. The underwater gallery extended in every direction. A current circled Raya’s waist and wrenched her from Q, pulling her toward a portrait of her fifteen-year-old self. The younger Raya sat at a white dresser, applying a tube of deep red lipstick.
Raya tried to swim away but the current surged, hauling her and Q into the gallery’s latest show.
Q
It was dry inside the painting of Raya’s childhood bedroom. Under different circumstances, Q might have wanted to linger in it. Paintings had always been his refuge, regardless of how little of them hecould see. A sanctuary was a sanctuary no matter what size it was. But this painting did not provide any comfort. Though the painting of Raya’s bedroom offered air, it was difficult to take a breath with the tether trembling as much as it did. Q shivered as though the secrets that the gallery was about to reveal were his own.
Raya ran to the lavender bedroom’s door and tried to open it. It was locked from the outside. She pummeled it with her fists. “Let us out!”
“That’s not going to work.” Q drew her away from the door. “Your portrait pulled you into the pool and a current dragged us into this painting. I think we aren’t going to be allowed to leave until we see the exhibit.”
“We can use the map.” Raya’s eyes flashed wildly. “Where’s the train?”
Q reached for his pocket and froze, remembering that he had torn his coat off before jumping into the water. “It’s in my coat.”
Raya dropped into a painted bed, groaning into her hands.
“I’m sorry.” Q sat next to her.
“It’s not your fault.” She glared at her fifteen-year-old self. “It’s hers.”
The painting came to life. Raya’s younger self looked into the dresser mirror and swiped a dark shade of red over her lips.
“That’s my mother’s lipstick,” Raya said. “I stole it. I thought it would make me look older.”
Her painted version layered on mascara. She checked her reflection and added another coat.
“I lied about my age when I auditioned for a gig at a neighborhood coffeehouse,” Raya said. “I don’t think the manager believed me but she hired me anyway. This is a painting of the night that I was going to sing there for the first time. Before this evening, I had only ever performed at the children’s hospital.”
“Rasmus wasn’t lying about being good at reading people, then,” Q said. “Youarea musician. That’s why you can hear the train’s songs.”
Raya’s younger self reached for a makeup wipe, brought it to her lips, and tossed it into the bin before it could touch her mouth.
“She should have changed her mind.” Raya stared at the painted girl’s red lips.
