An exhilarating work of speculative fiction that enthralls readers from the very first page. The author skillfully crafts a frozen dystopian world, where the remnants of humanity are confined to the Pyre, their only refuge against the frigid landsca...
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THE OLD BETTY
SOMEWHERE IN THE BARRENS, WINTER 430PT
AGE OF INDUSTRY
Chapter 2
The sun is out, and the snowfall is heavy, leaving ten meters of visibility in all directions. In full winter gear, as if stepping into a biohazard zone, Madame E and Thor step out onto the platform. Despite their attire, they stiffen as the cold fills their bones, forcing their bodies to adapt. The platform is an eight-by-eight piece of steel that connects the Captain's Laissez-faire chamber and the Eatery where the soldiers eat under the Old Betty head cook, Boomstick. A young Coal Hand, posted on the platform, clutches the wooden repeater rifle in his hand at the sight of his Captain. He steps a few paces forward, trying to hide the pain in his black mittens from the nipping White Mother. He looks outwards at the Barrens, turning slightly to avoid the wash of snow flying up from the sides of the Old Betty. A wall of white pours overhead as Thor escorts Madame E towards the Survey Room at the front of the train. Two platforms before the engine, they walk up twelve ice- and snow-covered metal steps with care. Another Wanderer, a girl Madame E recognizes as Bertha, a recent graduate from the darlings, stands at the top, holding the door open.
"Captain," she says through her scarf-covered face with gleeful brown eyes.
Madame E nods at Bertha.
"Enjoy your time," Thor says, waving his goodbye to Madame E, who accepts the dismissal as he descends the steps to return the quartermaster train cart. Madame E enters the Survey Room. It's dry and cold. Like an ice box. The door slams behind her, immediately muffling the loud noise of the train and deafening wind.
Three men stand at a table. On the table is a map of the Wanderlands—the red marker of their destination, Coalsprings, as well as the blue marker, the Old Betty. Behind them, on the wall facing towards the engine, four girls sit at a long table mounted to the wall, with many buttons and rectangular metal boxes. Each wearing a headset and a microphone in hand, they're writing and jotting incoming and outgoing information.
And from the table, the eldest of the crew, Conductor Velheim and second in command of the Old Betty, stands straight as a pin. "Alas, the phoenix has risen from her cage."
Velheim, smiles through his white-and-brown beard and silver-framed glasses. Above his breast pocket is an embroidered golden compass and silver pen—signaling his role as the navigator—on an all-black, winterized tunic. He's unarmed, a personal preference from his time on the Virginia Snow. Or that's what he says, but Madame E knows that instead of a pistol, Velheim always held a bottle. He's a heavy drinker and has lots to chat about. Give him a beer and a set of ears to speak down and he could fill your brain until you're overflowing with "then and how."
His stories always end the same, however: the dreaded final voyage into the Passage and his cowardly Captain who hightailed back after significant losses. And the final blow—the beloved Virginia Snow melted down for scrap.
