I pressed the button. “Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello? Please, can you hear me?”
Static…and then, “You don’t belong here, Onyx bitch.”
Ice flooded my veins, quickly morphing into frostbitten rage. “Listen, you shit-stain, you best?—”
The carriage jolted hard enough to throw me off my feet and into the far wall headfirst.
I came to on the ground, but the world looked odd, and it took a moment for my brain to recalibrate and adjust its perspective. I was pressed to the cabin wall, which was now flush to the ground. We’d been derailed, and the whole contraption was now on its side.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I pushed to my feet, blinking back the blood trickling into my eye. I prodded it. Dammit, it was deep. Probably would need stitches. No way to know how bad it was without pain to guide me. My hands trembled as I pulled a roll of bandages from my pack, winding some around my head to staunch the worst of the bleeding. First aid was essential with my condition.
The Academy was another fifteen minutes by tram. I’d have to go on foot and outrun anything that came after me. Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe the mud men were gone. Maybe they just wanted to play and knock over the tram and?—
The crunch and squeal of metal told a different story. They were tearing it open like a tin can.
Shit. I had to get out, but there was nothing to break the cabin window with.
Wait. Was that a hatch? Of course, a hatch in the floor which was now facing me. I ran my fingers over the surface, searching for a latch, some way to get it open. I brushed over a hexagonal indent. The perfect fit for a metal nut? Or was it key? It had to be a key. I needed a hexagonal key!
The crunch and groan of metal was replaced by soft growls.
The mud men were inside.
Dammit, where was the damn key?
I spotted a hook by the radio with a key symbol painted above it, but the key was gone. It must have fallen when the tram derailed. It had to be here somewhere.
I fell to my knees, palms sweeping over the ground. Come on, come on. Please! My chest was too tight, my breath coming in shallow, fast gasps, and black dots danced in my vision in time to the throb of my head.
Heavy footsteps echoed toward me along with gruff grunts and growls. Rocks settled in my belly.
Please, please, please… My fingers brushed something cold and hard under the control panel. I hesitated, gripping it tighter. Could it be...? My breath hitched as I pulled it free and squinted in the dim light—yes! The key! Hands shaking, I quickly inserted it into the hatch and twisted. It turned a little, then got stuck.
Something crashed behind me, and the thud of footsteps grew louder—too close. I was moments away from discovery. I set the key back to the start position, then twisted again, hard enough to bruise my fingers. It snagged before turning all the way. The hatch popped open, and dizzy with relief, I fell out into the storm, into the sheets of rain that soaked me instantly, blinding me momentarily before I could tug up my hood.
I rushed to the front of the toppled carriage and pressed my body to it, shrinking into the growing gloom and the chaos of the storm as I studied the terrain. Any second now, the monsters would reach the control room, and once they got there, they’d discover the hatch—and come for me. I’d give anything to have my toxin-covered knuckle dusters or blades with me now. But those items had been prohibited. I’d managed to smuggle in a vial of toxin hidden in a cushioned pocket of my bag, but it was useless without a way to inject it, and who knew if it would even work on these mud men.
Fighting was not an option, not against these monsters.
Running was my only choice, but it would put me out in the open. A target. The alternative was the forest, and the host of deadly things that resided there. Nope. I’d take the slow, lumbering mud men any day, and anything else that wanted me would have to break cover and come for me.
Something smashed behind me.
My cue to move.
I burst into a sprint, falling into a focused rhythm that ignored the elements, the roar of triumph from the monsters behind me, and the fact that I was now prey.
I ran—pack bumping the small of my back, legs pumping, lungs working to keep me fueled—and ate the distance, flying across the wet ground along the tracks, thankful for the grip and the stability of my boots.
This I could do all day—run without breaking much of a sweat, without tiring. I could run for miles. Not magic, not Weave power, but something else. Something innate that I’d never understood, but damn, I was grateful for it now.
The ground shook, the air trembling as the Horrors closed in.
Do not look back. Keep moving.
