ICE AND BONE

The train barreled down tracks made of bone and ice. Inside, Christine mourned the too-short autumn. She’d hoped to see the colorful changing of leaves and smell the crisp air, but she would only get blistering winds and an early winter.

Maybe next year. If she stayed that long. 

She sat in the passenger car with her legs crossed under her, and her cell in her lap. It was cool from the cold air leaking into the train car, and she warmed it with her thumb over the screen. The soft plastic gave way beneath the touch, and the backlight lit up. It displayed the name of the song currently buzzing in her ear, and Christine skipped it. And the next one. And the next. 

Nothing sounded good, so she listened to the buzz of conversation around her. The passenger car was small, intended for the crew during storms or surges, but it transported others on occasion. The walls were bare except for intermittent windows and the sconces that illuminated the aisles. The amenities were basic with only a thin rug covering the stiff plastic and metal beneath their feet. It did little to absorb the train jumping over imperfections in the bone tracks. It was a well traveled route, and even the thick bone was worn down by massive freights. It likely wouldn’t be repaired until summer, though. If then. Such infrastructure was often forgotten in the Bastion’s long list of maintenance issues. But the ride was cheap, and Christine got what she paid for. 

A pair of men sat across from each other in the other aisle. They spoke quietly, leaned over a switchboard of knobs and bulbs embedded in a square of fleshy fabric. A woman laughed from where she sat curled up with a tablet illuminating her face. A young man leaned over her shoulder to see what she looked out, and he smiled as well. Behind her were two men in heavy vests with a woman across from them. Christine was raised to not stare, but she spotted the cuffs around the woman’s wrists and the logo emblazoned on the mens’ chests. Solace and Hart mercenaries. Prisoner transport. The three were mostly silent except for the flick of a pocket knife. 

Christine, however,  traveled alone, but there were people waiting for her. They might even meet her at the station if they arrived on time. Maybe they would drive her home, show her the new apartment and everything they'd saved when they moved. 

Christine knew they threw most of her belongings away. She’d given them permission, but a part of her hoped they kept some stuff. Maybe one of her old blankets? Or her books? She had a couple vintage hardbacks that she’d asked they keep, but they might have gotten swept up in the cleaning. 

She imagined them rotting in a landfill, small waste scavengers gnawing on the pages. She grimaced and looked back at the cell. It remained paused, and Christine’s thumb hovered over the play button. 

The screen cut to black, a snap fizzling through the earbuds. Christine barely had time to react before the train lurched to the side, hung in suspension for one frozen moment before crashing back down in the upright position. The cell was wrenched from her hands, someone screamed, and Christine scrambled against the seat. The lights flickered, shivering before extinguishing with a burst of static. The cabin lit up with an eerie green glow as bioluminescent fungus lit the aisles. 

Murmurs rose from the other passengers, and something hung heavily in the aisles. It smelled like ozone. Christine tried to swallow the shard of dread lodged in her throat, but one look at her bag confirmed her worst fears. The fabric lifted and fell with small movements as Christine opened the pouch. The sensor was small, easily fitting in the palm of her hand when closed. But its mouth was wide open, and tendril-like tongues danced erratically.

That was bad. 

Several passengers stood, but Christine barreled past them towards the door at the front of the car. She needed to get to the control cab. 

An ungodly screech tripped her mid stride, and it was quickly followed by screams of the passengers. Christine nearly buckled from the cold shiver that gripped her spine. She shook it off and pushed open the narrow corridor separating the cars. The walls were thin, allowing the freezing draft to push through the windows. Beyond there was no horizon line between the snow and the slate gray sky, and Christine felt naked. Exposed. She pounded on the door to the control cab. The metallic “Employees Only” sign rattled against the door, but there was no response. In her hand, the sensor’s mouth remained gaping. The thin skin was warm against her fingers, the core humming as the tendrils continued to twitch. One briefly licked her wrist, and she heard the eerie cry in the distance. 

She pounded on the door again. 

“Let me in!” she snapped. 

She lifted her fist, but the door opened before she made contact. 

A man stood before her, his face screwed into a scowl beneath the brim of his hat. A bead of sweat perched on his nose. 

“Go sit down and wait in-”

Christine shoved the sensor into his face before he could reply. He jerked back as one of the tendrils licked at him. 

“What-?”

“It’s a surge,” Christine said, breathless. “A rift surge.” 

“In December?” he scoffed. 

A haunting cry answered for Christine, and the man’s face went pale. They waited in silence, but there was no further movement or sound.

“Come inside,” said the man, and Christine eagerly followed him into the control cab. 

It was small, lit only by one of two lanterns dangling above an elaborate console. The lanterns were filled with several jelly-like balls that pressed against the glass and pulsed light. A woman appeared from a hole in the floor. She reached up to the dial on the lantern, turning up the brightness. The light gleamed off the sweat on her brow.

“Max Graves,” the man said. “I’m the conductor. That’s Alyssa, my engineer.”

“Christine Moon,” Christine replied. “I’m with the Preservation Society.”

Max looked at the sensor in her hands, “That explains that.”“What happened?” Christine asked. 

The conductor shook his head and sat heavily in the seat before the console. It was dead, all buttons useless and screens dark.

“Something hit us and knocked out the electricity. Power’s out and I can’t get the intercom to work let alone a signal out to the bastion,” Alyssa replied. 

“Backup generator?”

“Dead. Surge must’ve knocked it out with the main engine.”

“Combustion engine?” 

The conductor scoffed, “Ms. Moon, this is a short-range cargo train in December. We don’t have that sort of infrastructure.” 

Christine chewed her lip and looked at the sensor. It continued to quiver.

The conductor followed her gaze, “You can read that thing?”

“Kind of,” Christine replied. 

“Can you at least tell if an anomaly’s coming?”

“I can make an educated guess.” 

“Shit.” 

The door clanged, and Max startled to his feet with a curse.

“Sergeant Nadya Jabal,” came a voice from the other side. “Open up.”

Max grumbled something under his breath as he stood and opened the door. 

“What-”

A woman pushed her way in. She was tall with a crisp jacket emblazoned with two patches - one for the Bureau and one for the rangers. 

“What happened?” she demanded. 

“Electricity’s out,” Max responded. 

“Back up generator?” 

“Nope.”

“Combustion engine?” 

Max threw up his arms, “What do you think this is? A transcontinental freight? It’s a cargo train! No, there’s no combustion engine!” 

The woman, Nadya, pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze flickering to Christine. 

“Who’re you?” 

“Christine,” she replied, lifting the sensor. “I’m with the society. There must be a storm nearby and hit us with an EMP of sorts.”

“I’m not worried about the power,” Nadya said. “EMPs don’t screech.” 

“The station knows we’re out here, and I pinged our location half an hour ago. They’ll pick up the surge and send someone out for us,” Max said. 

“If that fails, we can always just wait for the power to come back. The surge should recede soon, right? Eventually the main engine or the backup will come back online,” continued Alyssa. 

“That’s a lot of assumptions,” Nadya replied, nodding to the sensor. “How accurate is that thing?” 

“It’s a warning system,” Christine replied. “It can tell when something is coming or nearby. Any more specific than that…I can make an educated guess.” 

“What’s it saying now?” 

Christine looked at the sensor, at the tendrils curling in the mouth. It was difficult to see the individual colors in the dim lighting, but she didn’t need to know the color when a sudden tongue flicked out fast enough to sting where it slapped against her thumb. She opened her mouth to respond, but any words were drowned out by the blistering sound of metal wrenching from metal. An ungodly wail followed, and it rattled Christine’s bones.

Several tendrils whipped outside of the sensor’s mouth. 

“Some warning!” Nadya spat, whirling around.

The door of the control cab swung open on a violent wind, and gray light from outsid spilled through before it was extinguished like day flipping to night. A heavy slap heralded the shadow, and daylight peeked through each flap of skin stretched over jagged wings. It was massive, larger than the train car, and it blundered towards them with ripped metal dangling from twisted, blood-soaked claws. Then the sky was the ground and she was thrown bodily into nothing. Wet snow cradled her as she fell, cold ice seeping through her jeans and biting at her bare hands. Something crashed around her, and the sharp jab of pain shocked a yelp from her lips. Instinct drove her deeper into the snow, hands over her head as she curled around herself. And waited. 

She only dared to lift her head after the world stilled. She slipped in the snow as an iron grip on her arm hauled her to her feet. The world righted itself, and Nadya yanked her forward. Christine stumbled after her wordlessly, and they clambered into the remnants of the passenger car. The entire front of half of the cab was gone, ripped in half with the control car half buried in the snow across from them. For a long, dreadful moment, Christine imagined her limp body buried beneath the snow and jagged metal, her lungs crushed and body broken. 

“Focus!”

She blinked as Nadya snapped before her nose. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Christine said, her voice foreign to her own ears. 

Nadya disappeared a second later, and Christine exhaled a puff of smoke into the freezing air. Her jeans were soaked, and snowflakes clung to her hair and eyelashes. She lifted a hand to try and brush it away, but her fingers were sticky and slick. 

Blood. 

For a moment she panicked, thinking those jagged metal teeth of the car had bit into her, but no. It wasn’t her blood. 

Scarcely a few feet from her was a body face down. He wore a dapper suit, but it was twisted around him like a straight jacket. His lips were blue where they kissed the blood soaked floor beneath him. He was pinned in place by the metal railing lodged in his throat.

Christine looked away. She didn’t want to see the rest of the scene. She didn’t want to see the dead eyes or blank face of a stranger soaked in blood. She wiped her hand on her pants and tried to stand. 

Frantic voices filled the train. The two mercenaries from the back were standing, their voices clanging in the open car. One stood with his back to Christine, but she could see his arm disappear down the throat of a heavy artillery gun. Its arms wrapped around his shoulder and chest, securing it at the elbow. 

Beside him was another man, his hands on a slim crossbow and behind them was the woman in cuffs. She moved to stand but one of the men snapped at her. She quickly took her seat again, her glare dark and furious. 

“The hell was that?” the mercenary spat. 

“A surge,” Nadya replied, voice cold. “Please tell me you have more fire power than that.” 

One of the men, the one with dark hair and crossbow shook his head, “We’re prison transport. Technically the artillery is overkill.” 

“Shit,” Nadya looked back at Christine and then around. “Did anyone else survive?”

No one said anything. The carnage was answer enough. Before the surge, the majority of passengers crowded near the front of the car, but all that was left of the first few rows was jagged metal and shredded fabric that pulsed faintly with micelux fungi. 

“Did you see what did this?” she asked instead. 

The other man, the blonde, answered this time, “A bird. Big and ugly. Any guesses as to why it’s so far from the rift?” 

“The surge,” Christine replied. “It must have driven it north.” 

“Well it should go back south. Weapons are useless if we can’t hit the damn thing, and we have no way of knowing where it is!” 

“The sensor!” Christine gasped. “I dropped it when the train split, but it can tell if it’s coming.”

“We’ll need it if we stand a chance,” Nadya said.

She turned to the mercenaries, “Watch our backs.” 

The mercs exchanged a look, and for a brief moment, Christine dreaded a fight. But the moment passed, and she turned to the snow in relief. She didn’t look at the splashes of red mixing with water. Instead she focused on finding the sensor. It was small, the size of her palm, but it was dark. Assuming it wasn’t buried or thrown across the wreckage, it would stand out against the snow. 

The cold air bit into her, chilling her deeper than just her skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, anxiously looking up at the sky. It remained gray and unmarred. Nadya joined her, her mouth open around unspoken words, but she was cut off by a disgruntled moan. Christine froze, but Nadya leaped into action. She darted forward to the control cab, and Christine saw the source of the sound. Max dragged himself halfway into the snow.

“Are you injured?” Nadya asked. 

“A little dizzy,” Max responded, lifting a hand to his head. 

His fingers were smeared with red. 

Nadya tugged him to his feet, bracing against his weight as Max fell into her. 

“Keep looking,” she told Christine before guiding Max back towards the train car. 

Snow billowed around their feet, and a small object rolled into the mud. Christine darted forward and snatched up the sensor, cradling it to her chest as she hurried after them. 

Her feet were freezing. Her tennis shoes did little to keep out the snow, and her socks were soaked. The sensor, though, seemed unharmed. Its mouth was still open, tongues lazily catching snowflakes. 

Her foot caught and sent her careening back into the snow bank with an ‘oof’ as the sensor slipped from her hands. 

She grimaced and fumbled around for the sensor. Her hand hit something else first. 

The wind stirred, and Christine felt her stomach twist. 

It was an arm, clothed in a thick cargo material that was darkened with leaking blood. The end of the sleeve was empty save the jagged rip of fabric. 

Christine swallowed hard and moved around the jacket slowly as if not to wake its occupant. She grabbed the sensor and quickly cradled it to her chest. The snow continued to seep through her thin shoes, and she turned to hurry back towards the train. It was then the brilliant crimson caught her eye, and she desperately wished it hadn’t. It was the rest of the sleeve accompanied by the mangled stump of a wrist. It was attached to a body slumped beneath a massive sheet of torn metal. The body was already stiffened with death, and her eyes were blank moons staring in the abyss. Her lips remained twisted in a ghost of a scream. Her wrist still oozed thick, dark blood that melted the snow around her into a grizzly slush that stained Christine’s knees. It was peppered with stark white snowflakes that failed to immediately melt on the rapidly cooling viscera. It looked like a steak, expertly cooked rare and dusted with salt. Her stomach churned, and Christine immediately recognized her. 

Alyssa. The engineer.

“Moon!” 

Christine jumped as Nadya poked her head out of the passenger car. 

“Keep moving!” 

Christine scrambled to obey. She ripped her eyes from the body and hurried after Nadya. Nadya helped her back into the train car where Max was slumped against the wall. The dark haired mercenary crouched beside him, rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a few bandages. 

“I thought you said you were transport,” Nadya asked, brow arched. 

“I was a field medic with the rangers,” he answered flatly, moving the conductor’s hat. 

“The rangers?” Nadya blinked in surprise. 

“Oh thank God,” Max muttered. “At least-”

“Hush!” Christine snapped. 

The sensor stirred in her hands, it trembled as a red tongue tasted the air. Almost on cue, a chilling cry echoed in the distance. 

Everyone froze. It was the prisoner who broke the silence. 

“We’re sitting ducks here,” she hissed. “If we stay put, that thing is going to kill us all.” 

“We’re safer sheltered,” Nadya replied. 

“Some shelter,” the blond merc muttered. 

“Someone will get us soon,” Max said. “Detroit has anti-aircraft capabilities. They’ll shoot that bastard down.” 

“Maybe,” Christine worried her lip between her teeth. “I mean, the zeppelins are still pretty new. I don’t know that they’ll want to risk it…” 

“See! We’re on our own!” the prisoner leaped to her feet. “We should make a run for it.” 

“Sit down!” the mercenary barked. 

“I’m not about to be bird food,” she spat. 

“If you don’t sit down, it’s not the bird you’ll need to worry about.” 

“Trevor!” the other mercenary stood, but the tension only diffused slightly. 

Christine watched the sensor. It relaxed, but its mouth never fully closed. 

“There is a chance,” she said slowly, “that it’ll just leave.” 

“The bird?” Nadya asked. 

Christine nodded, “It’s only this far from the rift because of the surge, so as the surge recedes, it might go with it.”

“Might,” Max said flatly. 

Christine smiled apologetically, “Might. But it doesn’t seem to be after us specifically. It tore open the train, but isn’t interested in any of the dead, so it’s not hunting. It’s probably just confused, so if we wait it out, we can either make a break for it or rescue will come.” 

“Okay,” Nadya said, “We’ll call that Plan A. If it doesn’t retreat with the surge and rescue doesn’t come, we may need to be more proactive. It’s only going to get colder, and I don’t know what our food and water situation is.”

She nodded to herself, “That’s our first step. We need to see what our supplies look like. As morbid as it is, we’ll need to go through everyone’s luggage and take inventory. That will give us an idea of how long we can wait for the chimera to leave or for rescue to come. Then we’ll discuss Plan B. Moon, if that sensor so much as twitches, speak up. Trevor and…?” she turned to the other mercenary in question.

“Call me Cal.”

“Trevor and Cal, I want you guys on full alert and ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Me, Max, and the prisoner will search for supplies.” 

“Who put you in charge?” Trevor scoffed, but Cal put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Keep an eye on Esther,” he said, “and I’ll keep an eye on the sky.” 

“We need all eyes on the look out,” said Nadya. 

“And we need eyes on the prisoner,” Cal countered. “The last thing we need is an escaped convict.” 

His voice didn’t leave room for argument, and Nadya pressed her lips together. Her shoulders stiffened as she turned to stomp off, but there were no further disputes. 

Christine disagreed. She thought a power struggle was the last thing they needed.

She looked at the sensor, but it barely stirred. Her fingers were bright red against the rough, black casing, and she tried to move the stiff joints. She needed gloves. 

The thought of sifting through luggage made her throat tighten, but she tried to imagine she was just…shopping. In a very cold and disorganized store. 

With the sensor in one hand, she stood on shaky legs and moved to the back of the train where some of the luggage was still in the overhead bin. She stood on her toes and reached for the clasp, but another hand beat her to it. 

The bin opened as Trevor stepped back. He stepped away, artillery resting on his arm as he looked away from her and back into the train. 

“You okay?” he asked even though he wasn’t looking at her. 

He kept his eyes trained on the prisoner, Esther, as she made a show of struggling with the cuffs on her wrists. She shot Trevor a dark look. Trevor didn’t move. 

“I think so,” Christine replied. 

She pulled down the suitcase and pulled at the zipper. Her fingers didn’t work quite right, but it eventually gave out. It fell open, revealing a haphazard mess of women’s clothes. They spilled out over the seat. A couple pairs of pants, some socks and underwear, and an elegant red evening dress. Christine ran her fingers over it, wondering who it belonged to. 

Then she shook her head and rummaged deeper into the bag. 

Behind her, she heard the others moving around. Max cursed under his breath and Esther complained the cuffs were too tight. Trevor told her to shut up, and Nadya said something about searching the snow between the passenger car and the control room. 

Christine pulled a pair of thick, wool socks over her hands. 

“This is a waste of time,” Esther bit, dropping a bag at her feet. “We’re sitting ducks here.” 

“You got a better idea?” Cal asked. 

He stood at the opening of the train, his attention on the snow beyond. 

“We make a run for it.” 

Trevor barked a laugh, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to be bird food?.”

Nadya climbed back into the car, “We have enough supplies to keep us warm, and enough food to last a few days. We can even melt snow if we need water.”

“Which will mean fuck all if that bird decides to take us out. Or something else. It’s a surge, right? God know what else is going to-”

As if on cue, the sensor yawned in Christine’s hand. She yelped in surprise, and everyone fell silent. The sky remained unmarred, but the smell of ozone stung Christine’s nose. 

“Look,” Cal said. “Out there.”

A few hundred yards out a shimmering mist hugged the snow and distorted the light, like a flashlight through a prism. Rainbows shifted and danced through the air between what looked like cracked glass before quickly disappearing.

“What is it?” Trevor asked. 

“Probably just a refraction of light,” Christine responded. “A visual anomaly, but…we should still avoid it.” 

“So much for the surge receding,” Max muttered grumpily. 

A distant cry responded. Christine looked to the sky anxiously, but only snowflakes stirred. 

“Where is it?” Trevor murmured. “Is it in the clouds?” 

“Staying here is suicide!” Esther spat. “It ripped this train to shreds with a single claw, and you want to just stay here? It’s circling us, for god’s sake!” 

“You wanna try to fight that thing?” Trevor spat. “You see the damage it can do. The moment we leave shelter, we’re dead men.” 

“Staying here with me cuffed will kill us just as soon!” 

The air trembled with the force of the bird’s next cry, and Christine felt it rattle in her chest. It was nearly impossible to tell which direction it came from until finally a shadow crossed over the snow. It sped past, taking with it a vortex of air as it dropped hard onto the train car behind them. Metal rending blended with the sounds of the bird as it twisted and screeched. The train rocked hard, and Christine hit the floor. The impact jarred the bones of her knees, and she hissed as she struggled to right herself. The rug seemed to fracture under her hands, shards of glass-like light appearing between her fingers, but she felt no pain. She ignored it and struggled to stand. 

Something heavy hit the roof. 

“Fuck this!” Esther screamed

She lurched forward and tumbled out of the train car and into the snow. 

“Esther, no!” Cal screamed after her. 

There was no crossbow in his hands as he reached out for her. The light beneath Christine flashed before the cracks spidered over the rug before falling like water onto the ground. It coalesced there in a pool of pale purple light. 

The realization hit Christine around the same time Cal’s foot disappeared into the soul pit. A burst of steam erupted around him, as he careened forward, narrowly missing grabbing ahold of Esther as she leaped into the snow.

A dark shadow fell over them as if night came early, and Esther craned her neck back in horror. She never had a chance to scream before the bird bodily slammed into her. Christine finally got a good look at it. 

“Bird” was a generous description. It had wings but only barely. Thin membrane-covered appendages jutted out from the bulbous, amorphous body. There was no clear head or tail, only a mass of trembling flesh that steamed when it hit the snow. Yellowed eyes rolled in their sockets, unseeing as the capillaries busted and blood filled the pupils. Seemingly disconnected claws lashed out viciously, scoring the snow, the train, itself. It screamed again, but Christine couldn’t discern where its mouth was, or if it even had one. 

It threw its body, brash and uncoordinated as its thin wings pummeled the ground. One of the rolling eyes met Christine’s gaze and held it. Maybe it was adrenaline or the human need for empathy, but Christine swore it saw her. And in it, she saw only fear and pain. A twisted agony so raw it froze her blood. Nearly stopped her heart. 

A single breath passed and then the beast's wings caught wind and it shoved itself off the snow with uncomfortably bent limbs. The largest limbs were something like hands with three devilish claws crowning each. Speared on one was Esther’s torso. Her legs fell as the beast took off, and sound returned in time for them to thud wetly in the melted, muddied snow. The legs twisted like a contortionist’s, and the guts were strewn across the snow as if they were the tightwalker’s rope. They steamed in the freezing air, melting the ice around it into a halo of bloody slush. 

Christine stared at them for a long time, trying to remember what they looked like when they were attached to a human. 

Then reality slammed back in, and a jagged scream pierced the air.

“Cal!” Trevor darted past her, practically ripping the artillery from his arm. Christine stumbled after him, sliding to a stop just before the soul pit. An odd mix of horror and relief crashed over her. 

Cal was alive, his eyes wide and face deathly pale. Trevor jumped out of the train and scrambled around the simmering pale purple pool. Cal lay on his back not far from it as he struggled to push himself onto his elbows. 

Trevor dropped behind him, hooked his elbows under his armpits and dragged him back several feet with one long, hard pool. 

Cal screamed, but it was quickly muffed as he slapped a hand over his face. He slumped back against Trevor as the lower half of his leg slid deeper into the pool. The denim was immediately devoured, and the skin sloughed off in melting globs until only the bone was left. Then the pit went still with one last bubble, as if satisfied. 

Christine watched in horror. 

“The bag!” Trevor yelped. “Cal’s bag! Someone get it!” 

Nadya appeared silently, leaping out of the train with the canvas bag in hand. Trevor snatched it from her, and rummaged through it. He yanked out a long tube with an even longer needle capped on the end. Trevor ripped the needle free of the case with his teeth before jabbing it deep into Cal’s thigh. The effect was immediate. 

As the stem rush deflated, Cal’s body seized, and what remained of the jagged flesh on the end of his leg stitched back together around the exposed edge of bone. Skin, muscle, tendons, and denim all fused over the wound until no more blood seeped into the snow. Then it was over, and Cal slumped back against Trevor. 

“Shit,” he said. 

No one replied. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky turned from grey to black, and not even the moon broke through the cloud cover. Christine sat with her thighs to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her chin ached where it pressed into her knees, but the constant chill biting through the jackets kept her frozen in place. 

Two of them were hers. A lighter jumper and a heavier coat meant for chilled days, not long snow-filled nights in the open. The third jacket didn’t belong to her. She didn’t know whose it was, and she didn’t ask when Nadya handed it to her. She simply put it on and ignored the dark stain by the zipper. If she didn’t think about it, maybe it would stop being blood. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

The others were silent behind her, but she doubted they slept. The chimera never truly left after its last attack. It circled somewhere behind the cloud cover, crying and shrieking. Its torn voice was difficult to pinpoint, but they never saw it. 

The sensor lay near her feet, mouth still open but its tongues were still. Occasionally one would quiver, and Christine would smell ozone on the wind, but nothing else. The soul pit closed about an hour ago, but her eyes were still drawn to where it was as if waiting for it to open back up and swallow the entire train whole. 

Cal was alive and in good spirits, all things considered. He was buried beneath piles of blankets until only his pale face peaked out. His lips were blue, but he managed to crack a smile. He was likely the only one of them that would get any sleep, and that was only kind of a blessing. 

Christine knew how stem rushes worked in theory, but nothing could prepare her for the grizzly melding of flesh, fabric, and bone. The wound was sealed instantly, but it took the ragged remnants of Cal’s boot and pants with it. The skin around the stump was tinted a disgusting green where it was layered with cargo fabric, and splotches of bright red contrasted the stark white of the swollen mass of flesh. 

Christine only got a glimpse before it was swiftly wrapped in a jacket and Cal was moved, but she still saw it every time she closed her eyes. 

So she kept her eyes open and didn’t think about the not-blood on the zipper of the jacket that wasn’t hers. 

Someone stirred, but she didn’t turn until they sat beside her. Max wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was broad. He had a kind face that was only just beginning to line, but the exhaustion under his eyes aged him. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and settled next to her with a grunt. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, voice low. 

“Can you?” Christine replied. 

“Mm.”

They both stared out beyond the wreckage of the train. New Detroit was only a few miles away. Walkable if the landscape wasn’t drowned in snow and patrolled by a chimera. No one dared step out to cover the remaining half of Esther’s body. It was another thing Christine didn’t think about. 

“Have you ever been to New Detroit?” Max asked after a beat of silence. 

Christine nodded, “My parents live there, but I haven’t been back in…years.” 

“Why come back?”

“Work. Kind of. After the Society dissolved in Chicago, I figured I might as well go somewhere familiar. Somewhere I have a couch to crash on for a few weeks.” 

“Detroit’s my home base too. Born and raised and even brought my wife back.”

The light was low, but when he moved, Christine could see the small smile on his lips. 

“What’s her name?” she asked, eager for the promise of mundane conversation.  

“Melissa. Most people call her Lisey though. We met a few years back at a coffee shop,” he chuckled. “It was like a movie. She was there with her daughter, and there were no seats left. I was there doing…I don’t even remember what I was doing. But we got to talking, and the rest is history…sometimes I hate this job for taking me away from her. I think this might be my last trip.” 

“I don’t blame you. I’ve spent my entire adult life studying anomalies, but I don’t think I like being this close to them.”

Max chuckled, “Not the fieldwork type?” 

“I have asthma,” Christine cracked a smile. “And flat feet.” 

Max shifted back onto his elbows, and Christine rested her chin on her knees. 

“Do you think anyone is coming for us?” she asked. 

Max sighed, “I don’t know. Probably. Eventually. The question is, will we still be here when they do?” 

Christine pressed her lips into a thin line. She had no idea what sort of defenses New Detroit had, much less what could be mobilized. A chimera like that required serious fire power, and Christine wasn’t confident the board would authorize a zeppelin or anti-air artillery for a single, small cargo train. 

“How far from the bastion are we?” 

“Around 70 miles. 45 more minutes and we would’ve been there.” 

Christine huffed a puff of air and watched the white cloud dissipate, “So close. We could make a run for it. Get there in a day.” 

“Or get ripped in half and carried off to God-knows-where by a fucked up bird thing. I’m with the ranger. We have a better chance of sitting tight.”

“Mm.” 

The conversation petered out, and any hope of levity disappeared with it. Eventually Christine closed her eyes, and when she opened them, it was gray again. There was still no sky behind the wall of clouds, but somehow the night had passed and morning came. 

Christine’s stomach growled, but she didn’t stir from her spot. There was movement behind her, and Max startled awake at her side. 

Nadya knelt with two granola bars extended. 

“Good morning,” she said. 

Max scoffed as he took a granola bar, “Fucking lovely, ain’t it?”

Christine looked at the bar. It was rhubarb flavored. She didn’t know what rhubarb was. She looked back at Nadya.

“How long do you think the food will last?”

“Two days,” Nadya said. “We won’t be feasting with full bellies, but it’ll be enough to keep us warm and awake. 

“Provided something else doesn’t unawake us first,” Max grumbled through a bite of granola. 

Nadya gestured to the sensor, “Any word from our friend?” 

Christine shook her head, “Just what we’ve heard ourselves.” 

“Shit. Does it have nothing better to do than circle us?” 

“Not really,” Christine replied. “It…we have no way of knowing what it’s doing when it doesn’t know itself. It’s probably only here because it’s familiar terrain.”

“I wish it would die already,” Max grumbled. 

“Wishing won’t get us anywhere,” Nadya said as she stood. “Focus on staying warm and keep an eye out for the chimera and for rescue. Hopefully the wreckage stands out enough against the snow, but if the weather turns, we might have to find a way to signal a rescue ourselves.” 

Christine lifted her head, alarmed, “What do you mean?”

“If it snows too much, the wreckage will get covered, and we’ll just look like another mound of snow. We can probably make some sort of banner, though. There’s enough brightly covered fabric, and we could spread it out…” 

“I saw a red dress yesterday,” Christine said. “We could probably tie that to something and get the wind to catch.” 

“There’re lantern bugs in the engine room,” Max interrupted. 

Nadya’s attention snapped to him, “What?” 

“Lantern bugs. They act as emergency lights. If they survived the crash, we might be able to get them bright enough to signal. ‘Course we’ll also be signaling the beastie.” 

Nadya’s jaw stiffened, “And you didn’t mention this before because….?”

Max rolled his eyes, “I was busy with the dead bodies and imminent danger. Besides, they’re not really useful otherwise. They don’t provide any heat, they’re toxic as hell, and like I said, they’re also great for signalling the beastie. As far as I’m concerned, they’re better off buried until we’re sure some really big guns are here.”

“That’s a good point,” Christine said, grimacing. “Trying to get them even now would be risky. We know the chimera doesn’t respond well to movement. I doubt bright lights will make it happy.” 

Nadya looked out into the snow scape, her brow pinched and eyes squinted. A stray snowflake caught in her eyelashes, and she blinked it away. 

“Let’s hope they’re easy enough to get to if the time comes,” she said. “I don’t trust this weather.”

And for good reason. An hour later, Christine watched with sinking dread as snowflakes steadily covered more and more of the train. The cold was bitter, it bit into her cheeks and stung her nose raw. She tied one of her old shirts around her face, but it did little except reflect her own bad breath back at her. They tied the red dress to some jagged metal along with a few other articles of brightly colored clothing and kept it tucked at the back of the train car.

The wind whistled past them, and Christine gathered the leftover jackets and blankets. Nadya and Trevor moved Cal slowly behind cover, his low curses interrupting the blistering storm. Christine scurried after them, quickly moving to cover him back up. He shivered violently, his face deathly pale and blue lips pulled taut in a grimace. He looked somewhere just past her with glassy eyes, and Christine tucked the coat around his neck, pulling up the hood to cover the lower half of his face. 

His entire body froze, and his eyes widened, “Look.”

Christine spun around in search of the chimera, but there was no blundering form or distant screech. No, all she saw was a small mass hanging beneath the clouds, lights flickering along its body. 

A zeppelin. 

She could have cried. 

“They’re here,” she gasped. “It’s a zeppelin!” 

“Get the banner,” Nadya snapped. “Quickly!”

Christine leaped to her feet, scrambling for the red dress, but even as brightly colored as it was, it still looked gray in the dull morning light. Christine prayed it was enough as she helped Nadya tie it off to the wreckage. She grabbed at a sleeve, waving it around as if that could signal the zeppelin. There was no response from the mass as it drifted over them. Spotlights swept over the snow, barely breaking through the gray sky but swiping over them all the same. For a moment Christine was blinded by stark white before it was snatched away, and she stared up with wide eyes. They had to see them. They had to. “Did they see us?” 

“Get the lanterns!”

Christine didn’t know if they were talking to her, but her legs moved nonetheless, and she leaped out of the train car. The snow grabbed at her legs, pulling her down to mid calf. She quickly freed them and stomped through the snow towards the lump that was the engine room. Spotlights swept the ground a short distance away, but she turned her back to them. The snow bit her knees as she fell before the mound and shoveled snow from where she thought the entrance was. More hands joined hers, and Max grabbed a steel rod, moving it out of the way. It was dark inside, and Christine prayed the lanterns were intact. She crawled into the gaping maw and felt around for the lanterns. Everything was sideways, but she found the remnants of the console. It was twisted and pockmarked with holes, but on the ground before it were the two lanterns. They were dark, and one of them was busted. Grey ooze seeped out, but the other looked intact. She felt her breath catch as she snatched it up. It was a large cylinder, and it was slick with ice. She lugged it after her, dragging it back out of the engine room. 

“Oh thank God,” Max wheezed as he grappled with it and helped her pull it into the snow. 

“Please work,” Christine whispered. 

Max flicked the switch, and the thick bodies inside the cylinder twitched with a dim green light. Then went out. Max tried again.

“C’mon,” Christine breathed. “Please, please, ple-”

Christine smelled ozone, and she whipped around to see the dark shadow cast the train and piling snow into a black void. 

The shriek was delayed, and Christine swore she blacked out for a moment. Someone yelled something, and there was a flurry of movement that meant nothing to her. The shadow seemed to watch her with predatory eyes, and she didn’t dare move as it danced across the snow just outside the train’s gaping maw. 

Then snow exploded as the grotesque mass landed hard before them, fleshy wings batting at the wind as limbs flailed. Christine felt more than heard the muffled boom as it filled the train. It was a sharp contrast to the screech the chimera loosed as it flailed backwards. Light filled the train again, and Trevor half kneeled, his body twisted around with the artillery swallowing his arm to the elbow. It pulsed with a pale, salmon colored light, and the muzzle sphincter slowly shrank closed to prepare for the next shot. He yelled something, but it fell on deaf ears. 

The chimera clambered back into a righted position, and the stench of ozone scorched Christine’s nose. One of the beast’s scattered eyes rolled towards her. It stared through her, the white nearly crimson from busted blood vessels and the iris swimming with an inky fear. It rolled away, and Christine wondered if it saw her. If it saw anything at all.

She ripped her gaze away and whipped her head around in search of something she could do. Anything but sit there uselessly. 

“Push it back!” Nadya yelled. 

She stood with a wide stance, Cal’s crossbow braced against her shoulder, and the sights spread out before it. It was silent and barely moved as it launched a flurry of arrows into the chimera. The chimera screamed, and Christine felt it echo in her bones. It dropped into her stomach like a lead ball, and she swallowed the bile it displaced. 

“Move!” she yelled to no one in particular.

Her fingers slipped over Max’s hand, and she sprinted back towards the train, towards cover. The chimera’s wings beat a storm into the wind, and snow and ice pummeled her as she slipped and stumbled through the slushy mud. She grappled for the edge of the train car, the jagged metal pressing through the soaked wool socks on her hands. Christine hauled herself up and dove inside, hitting the floor hard.

Another muffled boom, and the chimera leaped back with a bitter hiss. It threw a wave of snow into the train, and Christine’s face stung as the ice bit into her skin. She ducked for cover behind the remnants of one of the seats. She grappled for a handhold and for an idea, anything she could grasp. Her heart felt frozen in her chest, and no amount of breath could warm it. It hurt, but she ignored it as her gaze fell on Cal. He was awake, his eyes wide.

Christine locked onto him, grabbing his arm and yanking him behind the seat. He cried out in surprise but quickly snapped his mouth shut, using his other hand to drag himself after her. He wheezed into her ear, his fingers curling in a death grip around her wrist as another screech shook the train. 

“Where’s Max?” he yelled over the muffled boom. 

Christine whipped her head around, but she couldn’t see him. She shook her head, and Cal tried to sit up. 

“Shit, there’s no way that zeppelin can get to us with that bastard in the way!” 

Christine craned her neck, trying to see the zeppelin. It still hovered beneath the clouds, but the spotlights were gone, making it little more than a ghost in the haze. Her heart sank. If the chimera caught sight of it, if it turned its attention, would the zeppelin flee? Or worse, would it be shredded by those ghastly claws? 

Christine didn’t know what kind of fire power a ship like that carried, and it didn’t seem inclined to show its hand. It simply watched as the chimera flailed and screamed between muffled booms. They needed the chimera gone. Or distracted. 

Bright green light lit the chimera in an eerie halo. It flicked off. Then on. Three short bursts, three longer ones, another three short ones. 

Christine caught sight of Max, still crouched out in the snow, the lantern propped up against him. Christine met his gaze and held it. Three short bursts. 

“You idiot!” Cal spat. “You’re gonna bring it right to you!”

Three longer bursts.  

If Max heard, he didn’t react. He continued flicking the lantern on and off as he stood on shaky legs. Another muffled boom, and a flurry of snow as the chimera stumbled back. Flashes of green light illuminated its black skin stretched taut over bubbling flesh, and it whipped around, gaze set on Max. 

“Run!” 

Christine’s throat burned raw, and Max did exactly that. 

But he took the lantern with him. 

“Max!” 

“What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

Christine watched as the green light disappeared behind the hulking shadow of the chimera as it tore through the snow. Three long bursts. 

She felt faint, the world was muffled. She couldn’t tell the difference between an inhale and an exhale, but she felt the warm sting of a tear dangling from her lashes. She blinked and it fell onto her cheek. 

A hand grabbed her upper arm and hauled her to her feet. Nadya’s face was dark red, her eyes wide and wild. Her once perfectly sculpted hair was tangled in frizzed strands around her face.

“Go!” she spat, shoving Christine towards the train’s opening. 

Just beyond she spotted the shadow of the zeppelin creeping forward. Long tendrils unfurled from beneath it, dropping into the snow and then dragging along it. Christine vaguely registered them as ladders. 

She still couldn’t breath, but she let Nadya haul her towards the zeppelin. Her feet felt numb and clumsy as she stumbled. Trevor wasn’t far away, and he gestured to the zeppelin with his free hand. 

“It’s clear! Go!” 

“Max!” she wheezed. 

“I’m trying,” he replied, voice raw and desperate.

The wind whipped her face, the chimera screamed, the green light flashed in quick succession. Christine turned her back, watching as Nadya wrapped her arm around Cal and hauled him upwards. Christine pivoted, running back and throwing his other arm over her shoulder. She was shorter than him and Nadya both, but she hoped she at least helped with the balance. Helped with something. She couldn’t look away from the green light even as she dragged Cal after her and Nadya. 

The ladders dangled like tentacles from beneath the zeppelin. It was nearly silent, hovering above them like an indifferent specter. 

A muffled boom. 

Cal grabbed onto the ladder, twisting the rope around his arm and hooking his foot on one of the steps. He braced, and the ladder swung as it slowly lifted up.

“Grab on,” Nadya said, pushing a ladder towards her. 

Christine looked back towards the green light. It remained on. 

“Go!” Nadya screamed, pushing her into the rope. 

Christine stumbled, her body snapping obediently. She mimicked the way Cal wrapped his arm in the rope, and her stomach lurched as the rope jerked upwards, lifting her feet from the snow. She flailed, trying to find a foothold. 

“Trevor, come on!” Nadya screamed from below. 

If Trevor replied, Christine couldn’t hear it over one more muffled boom. 

Then the only sound was the roaring snow and the distant cry of the chimera. Christine squeezed her eyes shut and dug her fingers into the rope until her nails bent inside of the wool socks. She was sure she would vomit if she hadn’t left her stomach in the snow. She almost didn’t notice the burst of hot air that encased her as she fell bodily onto a hard floor. 

“It’s alright,” a voice said through the fuzz. “You’re okay. You’re safe now.” 

Christine realized the fuzz was her own strained breathing. She tried to inhale, but it stuck in her chest, and she choked and wheezed. Her ribs ached, her lungs screamed, her head spun. 

Someone draped a thick blanket around her shoulders. Someone else pulled her deeper inside the zeppelin. In the background of her consciousness, people argued. 

Something cold pressed against her face, and air rushed against her lips. It tasted bitter and familiar, and when she inhaled, it tunneled through the blockage in her chest and broke into her lungs. She gasped around a lungful of air, choking on her own spit as her body fought for oxygen. 

“Anomalous signature 1500 meters away and retreating,” a man announced. 

“All survivors accounted for,” said another. 

“Max,” Christine wheezed through the mask pressed to her face. 

The room spun around her, and she tried to raise her voice, but all that came out was a strained wheeze. She shrank back against the wall and closed her eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they pricked her finger and confirmed her bio passport, a tall ranger led her to the hull of the zeppelin. The belly. It was a pale orange color with spidering veins pumping fuel through them. A thin, soft mesh coated the flesh, and she trailed her fingers along it as she made her way to a window. The zeppelin’s skin was pinched and bluish where it fused to the glass, and there was a chill to the air around it. Christine wrapped her blanket tighter around herself and watched the snow pass below. Slowly, forms appeared and the lumps went from smooth hills to jagged lines of buildings. Flat roofs of long abandoned buildings watched her, and once filled streets wound through her vision. 

Behind her, Nadya spoke to one of the officers. In her reflection, she was stiff with straight shoulders and head raised, but her voice trembled ever so slightly. 

Trevor was nearby as a doctor crouched over Cal, but he caught her eye in the window and stood. 

Mud streaked across his face, and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. 

“You good?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied, looking back out the window.

Below lights became more frequent and she spotted signs of life. 

A car trundling down the snow covered road, its headlights pinpoints of light behind the plow. A squat building with warm lights spilling out and a jagged apparatus on the roof with a red blinking light. And beyond that, the great wall of New Detroit. White keratin spires connected by thousands of steely threads, intertwined into an impenetrable wall. 

“We did everything we could,” Trevor continued, and Christine squeezed her eyes shut.

Trevor kept talking, “He saved us. Sacrificed himself to-”

“Stop,” Christine snapped. “I don’t want to hear it.” 

Trevor grimaced. His hand awkwardly hovered over Christine’s shoulder before finally dropping onto it. His hand was heavy, grounding. It was more comfort than any words could be. 

She opened her eyes as they passed over the wall and into the New Detroit Bastion. The city was alive and pulsing with blue and green lights. An ad for a new gut-focused symbiote pet caught her eye. The small creature displayed was pale with cartoonishly large eyes and a massive grin that welcomed her home.