The Queer Rebels

Chapter 7: Driving

Marcy reaches out and squeezes my hand, the action a silent decision before she even speaks.

"We've made it this far. We're not turning back now."

"Good," Harry says, and I nod in relief and agreement. "Now let's get out of here."

Christopher grabs the handrail next to the open train door and lowers himself down to the tracks. Marcy and I shoulder our packs, grab our flashlights, and follow. Harry is the last to leave, sliding the door closed behind him.

We walk along the edges of the tracks towards a single flickering fluorescent light on the platform. It's a long walkway bordered by a low cement wall topped by a metal railing. It disappears into the darkness. I stop to stare. "How long does this go?"

"The tracks, or the platform?" Harry asks from behind me.

"Both, I guess." I turn my head to look over my shoulder.

"Well, the tracks go on for hundreds of miles. Or that's what I've heard." He stops next to me. "But this platform? Eh, doesn't matter. The exit is right here." He gestures to a break in the wall that I hadn't noticed.

Christopher is waiting, and then he and Harry both lead the way down a set of cement stairs.

The night air kisses our cheeks as we descend into the shadows under the elevated station. I flick on my flashlight to make sure I don't stumble down the stairs. Even with their tech, I would like to avoid the pain of injury.

Next to me, Marcy also flicks on her flashlight, but both Harry and Christopher walk down the stairs with ease. Either they can somehow see in the dark, or they've taken these stairs enough times not to worry about tripping.

At the foot of the stairs, we push through the bars of a high-gate turnstile to exit. When we step beyond the train station, a sleek vehicle is parked at the curb.

It's black in the starlight, low to the ground, and has four doors. Marcy and I both freeze. "Is that a patrol car?" I ask, because it looks just like the vehicles that the guards drive.

"It's okay," Harry says, his tone light. "Christopher is an excellent driver. And this is a lot quicker than walking!"

Christopher steps forward and opens the back passenger door for us. "I'm sure you are both tired and famished. Hop in. Our camp is only about a ten-minute drive from here."

With a glance and a nod, Marcy and I both take off our backpacks. Our chance to change our minds has already passed.

After Marcy gets in, I slide into the back seat beside her. I jump a little when Christopher closes the door after me. It doesn't slam, but suddenly, I feel trapped. Maybe I'm just tired and hungry, but doubt creeps in.

I reach my hand out to Marcy, and she takes it, anchoring me.

A moment later, Christopher and Harry slide into in the front seats. Christopher presses a button, the electric motor hums to life, and the dashboard illuminates. White numbers and dials dance on a screen bordered in bright red.

Soon, we are moving.

Very few people have cars in Dimstad. Only wealthy people and the authorities have their own vehicles. The rest of us take the trams, with the very occasional taxi ride. "Where did you learn to drive?" I ask.

"In a previous life," Christopher answers. "It's a useful skill to have."

"He's older than he looks," Harry says with a laugh.

I'm not sure what to say to that, so I don't say anything, just turn my head to look out the window.

The ride is so smooth—and the view from the passenger windows so dark—that I can only tell we're moving by looking through the front windshield. The headlights reveal a few trees along the road, but I can't make out any significant landmarks.