First Gear - Eve Langlais Page 0,6

“How could we let it get this bad?”

Greed. A nonchalance toward the future. A willful blindness to their actions.

Late afternoon, as she drowsed, Jool shifted and then shook her awake. “Onaria. Wake up.”

“What? Are we there?” she mumbled, rousing enough to rub her eyes.

“Trouble.”

The word brought a chill that woke her thoroughly. “Where?”

He pointed. Outside the window, the dead fields still streamed past, but racing through them on motorbikes spewing fumes were bandits. She’d heard rumors of them, even as the news neglected to report on their antics. They wore goggles and scarves concealing their faces, intent on racing the train.

They zoomed out of sight, and she heaved a sigh of relief that turned into a squeak as the train jolted. There was a screaming of metal as it braked. Jool held her tight as they came to a bumpy stop.

Choo. A release of steam was followed by an ominous lack of movement.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Robbery, I imagine. They’ve been having problems outside the city zones.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said aloud, mostly to reassure herself. “I have nothing of value.”

Except the bandits weren’t after objects, but food. They came banging on compartment doors, thrusting themselves inside, desperate men and women armed with weapons, hands outstretched demanding payment.

Onaria didn’t hesitate, grabbing her bag with trembling hands, while Jool handed over the last of his stale bread.

“That’s it?” the stranger asked, his cheeks gaunt and grizzled, disparaging their meager offering.

“There’s nothing left in the cities,” she said almost in apology.

“Or you’re hiding it from me.” The fellow grabbed her and yanked her close, drawing a protest from Jool.

“Leave her alone.”

“Or what?” The tone matched the sneer.

Jool bristled. “She’s a lady.”

“You don’t say? Never had me a lady.” There was a mocking in the way the bandit said it. “Maybe you should come with me. A dessert to go with the dinner.” He moved toward the door, still gripping Onaria by an arm.

Sliding quickly, Jool blocked the way. “Unhand her.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” snarled the bandit, shoving at Jool.

To her shock, Jool shoved back. “I said unhand her. Starvation is not an excuse for depravity.”

“Maybe you should come, too. You’ve got enough meat on your bones, and once you’re in the stew pot, none will know the difference.”

The very suggestion of cannibalism raised her gorge.

Jool appeared shocked as well. But not enough to concede. “You’re not leaving this train with either of us.”

Brave words that swelled her heart. Who knew a hero hid within the man?

The bandit released her long enough to swing at Jool. The first fisticuff missed. The second snapped Jool’s head to the side. The bandit grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the cubicle wall hard enough it shook.

Poor Jool appeared dazed.

“Brute!” she hollered before snatching the only thing of substance in the room, her purse packed with her treasures. She swung, and it connected with the head of the thug. He turned her way to snarl, “Bitch, I’ll—”

“Don’t call her that!” Jool mustered his wits and threw himself at the bandit, the momentum rushing them across the short space to the window. The impact was hard enough to pop it from the frame. Jool knew enough to let go when the bandit teetered.

Crunch.

They both leaned out the window to see the thug lying at an unnatural angle on the ground.

“He’s dead,” she gasped.

“Better him than you.” Jool drew her away from the window.

“What now?” she asked. “His friends will come looking.” She wrung her hands as she paced the tiny space.

Only she fretted for nothing. Someone did notice the body, but rather than mutter something about vengeance, grunted before yelling, “Jorner is dead.”

“Then that’s one less mouth to feed. Sling him on the back of a bike and let’s move out before the soldiers arrive.”

With a roar of motors, and a callousness that chilled, the bandits left. It was only later she realized they’d not taken the dead man to bury. At least she had no food in her belly to lose.

The train continued on its trek, leaving behind the grizzly scene—and all the hope she’d had left.

3

After the attack, Onaria didn’t say much. The shock of it shook him still as well, so he understood.

Society was devolving as people gave in to desperation. The robbery of the train made him wonder if he’d made the right choice in leaving the city.

The countryside proved only slightly better air quality wise. Even out here, the ravages of pollution affected the land. The