“By train?” Trinity pulls at my hand.
“Train, plane, horse and buggy. Anything works as long as it gets us away from here.” I squeeze her fingers and pat mypocket, making sure the hard drive is safe and sound against my thigh.
“No, I mean there’s a train station. I scoped it out when I was picking my apartment. I know it’s close by. Maybe a few blocks north?”
“Let’s go. Can you keep pace?”
She nods. Her skin’s still flushed from the rave and near-fucking, but that’s not the only thing I read on her face.
I believe, even if I let go of her hand, she’d stay with me. Not because I carry her life’s work in my pocket either.
Her eyes tell me she’s in this, but as we start sprinting, I can’t focus on what that means.
Through the late-morning hustle and all the joggers and dog walkers, we weave our way to a train station more crowded than the damn club.
What is up with Austin in the middle of the week? Don’t any these people have somewhere to be?
We’re greeted by an adobe brick building, complete with clay roof tiles and classic columns. Joining the throng, we hustle inside. The stuffy space sets my nerves on edge.
Tickets. We need tickets.
Trinity drags me toward a counter. “Where should we go?”
I’d love to pause to figure that out, but we don’t have time. Andrei Kruschev just pushed into the building behind us. His beady eyes skim over the crowd. Even though he hasn’t spotted us yet, I recognize that single-minded expression.
We’ve got minutes. Maybe seconds.
I inhale and work on calming myself. If I yell, if I pull my gun, if anyone looks at us twice…
I bend over to whisper in Trinity’s ear. “Go.”
I shove her toward a train with slowly closing doors, the wheels squeaking as they move on the oiled track. “Get in front of me, hop on, and I’ll follow you.”
She gapes, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “It’s moving!”
I grab her arm and hoist her closer. “Do it now, before it picks up speed.”
With her pretty cheeks paler than usual, she takes a running leap onto the metal platform. Based on the excited grin she directs at me, she lands with more grace than she anticipated.
Not me. I knew she had that jump in her.
I follow with a grunt, ignoring the sharp, electric jolt that ignites from landing on my left leg.
Doesn’t matter. We’re on, and we’re safe.
I don’t spend much time on trains, but as I pry open the compartment doors, I can tell this isn’t like the ones in action movies. Other passengers mill around with coffee or snacks, returning from what must be a food car.
A guy walks up and down the aisle, asking seated passengers for tickets.
Note to self: don’t sit down.
Wait. Where the hell did Trinity disappear to? Her bright curls vanished.
Sweat beads across the back of my neck.
“Excuse me.” I wedge past an older woman with unsteady hands who’s struggling not to spill her coffee. Does Amtrak or whatever-the-fuck this is not believe in lids?
I peer into the eyes of every person I pass. Did Trinity bail?
