Splintered

Chapter Forty-Three: Blood Upon the Snow

***TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR BLOOD, DEATH, AND VIOLENCE***

Hazel swallowed down a lungful of cold air. The motion forced the knife blade nearer to both her delicate skin and hammering jugular.

Vesper's hand tightened over her lips. Clamminess and fine tremors surged from him.

Her act of defiance was child's play compared to Vesper's all-out treason. A death sentence waited for the avox, or worse, if his betrayal were ever to be found out by the Capitol.

The two men waiting in the shadows were both armed with guns. Each winking barrel was trained squarely on her.

One of the strangers wore thick black fabric that shrouded all of his features outside of his eyes. But even they were hard to discern the color of. Unlike his partner, the other wore no disguise. Likely mid thirties with palloric skin and a wide, if a little bony jaw. His eye sockets and cheeks had matching hollows.

He had to be District. It was likely they both were. Even more likely, they were rebels.

How did Vesper get involved?

"Drop it." The masked man barked, his deep eyes locked on the knife in her grip. She'd nearly forgotten the blade. Letting it fall, the weapon clattered to the train floor.

In turn, the sharpness at her neck eased, and Vesper's hand slipped from her mouth. One of the gun barrels lowered a fraction. However, the sight of the unmasked intruder's rifle never wavered from her heart.

"Who are you?" Hazel asked, keeping her hands open, fingers spread.

"Quiet," the bare-faced man snapped. "Anyone else here, Vesp?" He stared past her.

Vesper shook his head, scanning the eerie, empty car for a moment. A faint red streak trailed from the dining doors toward the main lobby.

"Let's get out of here then," the pale stranger said, taking the lead. "We'll head to the rendezvous point, then radio the others."

Vesper acknowledged by taking hold of one of her arms and twisting it behind her before shoving her down the corridor toward the entrance.

Their shrouded cohort brought up the rear.

The lobby was lifeless and empty, nearly every one of the vases of blue roses had tipped over. Loose petals littered the floor along with a multitude of shards.

The glass crackled and splintered as Hazel was lugged forward without a word until the group paused at the threshold of the locomotive. Before them in the darkness, the wedged-open train doors waited.

Up above, the midnight sky was a smear of somber clouds and starlight. The wintry air whipped through a bizarre gathering of trees. Crooked shrubs swelled in every direction. Their branches were bare and spindly.

Gray-green trees rose around them with bark that peeled in papery strips. Instead of leaves, they were bursting with fragrant needles that were vaguely medicinal. Snow coated everything. Yet, not in thick layers, but just enough to powder the ground in a feathery crust.

Unlike the forests of Seven, this was a combination of mountain and desert plants attempting to co-exist. She had no idea how to gauge exactly where they were. It was likely how Sable had described it. Possibly within the very southern boundaries of District Two or Five, but it wasn't easy to discern. The landscape was mostly flat with a few budding mountains to the north.

Within the fine layer of snow, there were clear networks of overlapping footprints and scuff marks. Ones that led to and from the frozen train. The engine car waited too far ahead to discern, and in the opposite direction, the tracks disappeared into the night and the brushy forest. Despite the fact that only the last couple of cars were visible in the foggy darkness, it was clear the locomotive itself was no longer aligned properly on the tracks. The last car veered at a harsh angle, and the wheels of the caboose were completely off their mark.