we’re going to take back the capital.”
“Oh my,” says Anji, looking them over as my heart flutters painfully. “So you are soldiers.”
Leye nods. “The rebels won’t expect us to come this way.” He lifts his coat, and I see why he looks so bulky. His rifle and knife are strapped to his body. “The conductor knows. There are two trains behind us as well.”
“And we are cover for you,” I say quietly. “Because this is a civilian train.”
Musa has the good grace to look ashamed. “You are in no danger now. Especially if you get off in Vuda.”
I look over his shoulder at the craggy mountainside hanging above us. We are headed into a pass carved between two high hills. “How far is it now?” My mind is spinning. Judging by what the ticket seller said, I am the only person apart from these soldiers who is going to Kegu, and now these boys know that. Can I make it to the capital and slip away to warn the rebels? Will I have to get off in Vuda and figure out how to travel the rest of the way? Will there be any other civilian trains, or has the military commandeered the rail line?
“We’re nearly at the peak of our journey,” Leye tells me, and from the way Musa rolls his eyes, I can tell this is something Leye is particularly interested in. “We are a mile from the highest altitude we will reach, and after that we’ll descend into the valley where Vuda lies. As the crow flies, we are not far from Yilat. Maybe thirty miles or so—if you want to trek over the high passes or descend to walk through the long canyon. But by train, once we leave Vuda, we skirt the mountains and enter Yilat from the northeast.” He touches my shoulder and winks. “Without civilians.”
I bite my lip and look ahead, at the high pass. There is snow crusted on either side of the rails. It’s odd, this soft beauty next to the hard metal snake of the rail. I wonder—
The world roars and a burst of fire flashes before my eyes. The entire dining car jerks and squeals, then flies up into the air, spinning like a child’s toy. I am crushed and tossed, turned upside down and inside out, punched and jabbed and smashed. As the lights go out and everything breaks and flies apart, my ears fill with pleas and shouts and screams, some of which are surely my own.
Chapter
Five
WHEN THE WORLD stops moving, I find myself staring up, not at the ceiling, but at the floor. On either side of me are shattered windows and bodies, bleeding and thrashing, groaning and crying. A hand clutches at my sleeve. Anji, bleeding from a deep gash on the side of her head, pulls herself closer. “Help me,” she says in a rasping voice.
Within this dining car, amidst the spilled dumplings and overturned teacups and napkins that flutter like flags of surrender, some of the soldiers are pushing themselves to their knees, helping their brothers do the same. Others lie still and broken. I grab one of the napkins and press it to the side of Anji’s face. “Hold it there,” I say, hoarse and panting.
Someone grabs my hand. It’s Leye, his wide, friendly face a mask of pain. He’s lying next to me, with some of his comrades piled on top of his legs. “Are you all right?” he asks.
I do a quick inventory. My head hurts, but I am thinking, though not beyond the moment. My chest aches, but I can breathe, and my heart is beating fiercely. My ears are ringing as sharply as a shift whistle, but I heard what Leye asked. My limbs feel as if they have been pulled out of joint, but all of them are still attached, and I can move them. And my lips are buzzing with numbness and cold, but I can speak. “I’m fine. What happened?”
He slowly sits up, hissing as he tries to move the other men off him. “Derailment.”
“There was an explosion,” says Musa. “Could be an ambush.”
I glance over to see him on his feet. He moves carefully over to Leye and lifts the bodies of unconscious and dead friends to free his comrade’s legs. I move in the direction of a trickle of cold air, thinking to escape that way, but only a narrow gap remains between the crushed window frame and the roof of the car. Beyond