Of Dreams and Rust - Sarah Fine Page 0,22
to hand me over.
Bajram tilts his head and says no, followed by several other things I have no hope of understanding. Melik’s mouth twists with frustration as he argues with the young man, their voices getting louder by the second. But finally Bajram says something that knocks Melik back a step. Melik’s eyes meet mine for a moment before he looks away. He steps around me to yank Leye up.
The Noor drag us the length of the destroyed dining car, and with each step my blood sings with fear. Was Melik lying? Are they about to shoot us? I twist in Bajram’s grip, trying to look back at Melik, but my captor’s fingers sink into the folds of my overcoat. I want to call out to Melik, to beg him to explain what is happening, but I fear that one wrong word will mean death not only for me, but for Leye. Bajram keeps a tight grasp on my waist as we crawl through the shattered dining car window and into the cold, smoky mountain air. The sun is high over the grasslands now, washing out the brown and white rock of the hills, illuminating a scene of carnage.
I have seen many terrible things in my life. I have witnessed metal spiders swarming onto the killing floor and feasting on the flesh of the slaughterhouse workers. I have seen torn skin and exposed bones. I have heard cries of agony.
And still, this is much worse. The engine and the passenger car at the front, the one that held the only civilians on the train, the place where I had been sitting until a few minutes before the attack . . . they are a twisted, blazing inferno. As I look around, I see none of those old ladies, none of the factory girls, none of the families. I can only assume they were trapped inside. There is no rescue effort, no attempt to put out the fire. The Noor raiders, their guns slung over their shoulders, walk among the dead soldiers, removing rifles and bayonet blades to pile near the rock wall.
Bajram drags me past Musa and Anji. Except for the blood, they look for all the world like lovers. Behind us I hear the shuffle of Leye and Melik, and Leye’s stifled moans as he tries to walk on his broken foot. We weave our way through a maze of dead young men, gray uniforms stained with their heart’s blood.
What is the price for giving my secret knowledge to the rebels? More dead Itanyai boys?
But weren’t these dead boys on their way to Kegu to do the same to the Noor?
Bajram shoves me around a bend, and now I see what happened to the rear of the train. One of the cars was knocked from the rails and rolled down the long incline. Bodies and debris litter the rock field below us. But the other car is still on the track—there are survivors, and some of them are huddled, injured and bleeding, gray faced and silent, against a few big boulders, guarded by more Noor raiders. Bajram pulls me to the end of the line and points to the ground.
“Sit,” says Melik quietly, guiding Leye down. I obey, pulling my knees to my chest, huddling within my skirt and coat, wishing I could disappear entirely. Melik and Bajram converse for a few moments before Bajram jogs toward a knot of raiders near the last car in the train. They are gathered around a body, and I find myself wondering if it is the Itanyai colonel.
Melik squats in front of me. He looks like he has aged five years at least since I saw him last, with lines around his mouth and the thick growth of his beard to hide his youth. His teeth, however, are not chipped like I saw in the wanted poster. Now that I see him up close, I know he is not the Red One. I doubt that would matter to an Itanyai soldier, though, especially now.
“Why are you here?” he whispers harshly. “This was a military train.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I say. I glance at Leye, who is nearly green with the pain from his foot. Despite the cold, he is sweating. “The first car was full of grannies and factory girls.” My throat is so tight I can barely speak. “There were children, too.”
Some of the color drains from Melik’s face. “That can’t be true.”
“Why would you care?” Leye spits out. “You pigs shot