EverWorld (Book 3 of the Down World Series)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

In the chaos that ensued after the train came screeching to a halt, I was able to kick the detached window frame all the way out. I heard it clatter against the ground just outside the car, which drew the attention of a middle-aged man sitting nearby. Like all the passengers, he had quickly turned off whatever he'd been watching when the alarm sounded, and was now on me like a barnacle.

"Don't," he warned when he saw me raise a leg towards the frame. "We're in a dead zone. Get away from the window."

"But the alarm sounded," I protested, hoping he wouldn't know it was me who had sounded it.

"There's no fire," he countered. "They'll have it fixed in a minute."

Just then the engineer's voice boomed over hidden speakers, repeating the same directive: "Stay in your seats. The cause of the disruption is being investigated."

The man turned to the young woman next to him, who was concerned about the open window. "What if they come in?"

"They won't," he assured her. But his body language defied the calmness in his voice as he all but pushed her in front of him towards the door to the next car.

She was so anxious that she left her purse behind as they headed up the aisle. The few other passengers in this car had already beaten them to it. All around us, the alarm still sounded, bleating out a pulsating cry that seemed to be growing louder the longer it lasted.

An acrid smell seeped in from the open window, a smell I couldn't identify, but there was something about it that reminded me of death.

"Come on," the man shouted from the door, one last half-hearted attempt to "save me" before he saved himself. He didn't wait to see if I was following the order, however, before heading into the preceding car and closing the door behind him.

And that's when I jumped out of the window.

I landed on hard, crusty ground. A small puff of dust so barren it was almost yellow wafted up to meet my nose, and the acrid smell was stronger now. Like sour milk somewhere in the distance, or putrid water.

Inside the train, the blaring alarm finally stopped. Distant voices of the people inside, chattering nervously, echoed out into the stale mustard-colored air. I knew that soon they'd check the window, see me standing there. I had to run.

The air was so thick with the dust that at first I couldn't make out any landmarks. We were only a mile or two outside of the dome, so logic told me we should have still been in my home town. And yet I was on a wide, cracked street with nothing visible on either side.

The dust had now invaded my eyes and my nose. I had to stop for a minute, coughing furiously, stinging tears pooling along my lashes. I tried to shake them away. And yet the dust grew, like it was alive, like it was coming just for me.

I crouched down in the street, trying to cover my head. A hard, cold wind blew over my back, whipping chunks of the hardened earth into my side. My arms were bare, beaten red now by the onslaught.

And I couldn't breathe.

I cupped my hands over my mouth and nose, trying to filter out the dust. Trying to breathe. My eyes clenched tight, engulfing me in darkness. And the dust grew.

And that's when something came flying over me. Something that covered me completely. A blanket or a large coat.

A voice came shouting at me over the cacophony of the wind and the whipping dirt, but I couldn't make out what it said. Some chastisement for coming out in a sandstorm. And then, clearly, the words, "Come on."

But another voice scolded the first. "Leave her."

The two of them fought about it for a second, while I braced myself under the canopy of the blanket, risking an attempt to crack one eye open. But it was useless. The dust caked onto my eyelashes scratched against my cornea, making me jam the eye shut again. And there was nothing to see but darkness under the blanket anyway.