Page 82 of Dead Wrong

Kaine met us by the line of trees at the edge of the clearing, no longer wearing the militia garb he had before. He now wore a plain pale brown sweater and a pair of jeans, the edges frayed at the bottom. “It’s a short walk to the road,” he said, his gruff voice less harsh outside of life-or-death peril. “Then we’re off to the train station.”

I nodded, Bastien and I following him as he led us through the wooded area.

“Kaine, may I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he said, tossing a sly grin over his shoulder at me. “Speak your mind, Greene.”

I flinched at the use of my surname but continued, “Azzy—I mean, Azrael. Is it true that the others call him Rudderkin?”

“Aye,” Kaine replied, seemingly not surprised by my line of questioning. “They do. Those close to him still know him as Azrael, though. We trained together as younglings, we did.”

“And he’s the leader of the Rebellion?” I prodded, still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea.

“Aye, he is.”

“Since when?”

“Since the first Rudderkin up and died.”

Oh. Maybe Rudderkin was more of a title, then?

“How long ago was that?”

Kaine eyed me, his stride slowing. “A while ago. You’ll have to get the rest of the story from him. It’s not something that gets talked about.”

His answer didn’t do much to alleviate the anxiety buzzing in my stomach, but I nodded, falling back in line with Bastien. About a half hour later, we broke through the trees and found ourselves on a dirt road. An automobile sat in the embankment, hidden by the brush lining the woods. It looked dated, with faded paint and long scratches across the sides. Kaine produced a set of keys from underneath the chassis, using them to unlock the trunk and handing us both a set of clean clothes to change into. Bastien helped me dress the wound on my shoulder, promising to heal it once he was able to get some rest. After changing, Kaine climbed into the driver’s seat. Bastien and I took the back seat, and soon enough, we were on our way.

The afternoon sun had stretched long by the time we arrived at the train station just outside of the Magi City. The station itself was quiet, with only a few figures lingering on the platform as we waited for the train to arrive. Kaine had already handed us our tickets while we drove, and I took the time to read over the stub.

One-way ticket to Brierwood. Travel time: three hours. Private cabin.

Bastien’s ticket read the same, and by the time the train had pulled into the station, my eyes were heavy, and my shoulder ached, and I yearned for sleep.

Kaine ended up in a separate cabin than we did, but he was just next door, so he warned us that he could hear everything that went on in our cabin.

I didn’t get the joke at first, but Bastien wouldn’t look me in the eye, which clued me in.

The train departed with a whistle, and we were on our way to Brierwood.

“This is cozy,” Bastien said, leaning back in his seat and propping his feet up. “It’s like that place we stayed when we went to the opera house in the city. You swore that you’d never let me book accommodations again and that the room looked like a fancy closet.”

The specific scenario didn’t rise through the din in my mind, but I nodded along, not wanting him to know how much I’d forgotten of our past. Even now, I could barely conjure up a memory at random without a flood of others tagging along, resulting in a deluge of flashing faces and conversations with zero context.

It was exhausting, to be frank. Most of the time, I just pressed them all down, withdrawing into the cramped corner of my mind where I was able to process the current happenings around me.

Bastien’s eyes fluttered closed a few minutes into the ride, his breathing evening out and his mouth slightly open. I lay across the seat opposite him, the distance between the two of us minute, but it felt like a chasm that only grew wider the longer I stared at him.

He obviously still cared about me. Why else would he have risked his life to come and find me during the raid? Why else would he have given so much just to bring me back to life?

So, what was this terrible dread that kept swelling in my gut? It was as if that lifeline I’d felt, the connection between Bastien and I, had become twisted and tangled, clinging to all the anxieties and doubts I couldn’t abate, until it sank into my stomach, a knotted, thrashing beast.

I wanted to sleep. To calm my mind and dull the edge of pain from my shoulder. But the longer I lay there, the faster my thoughts bombarded me till I was gasping for air, and my pulse thundered in my chest.

Bastien stirred, but I didn’t want to face his questions, so I hurried out of the cabin and down the long corridor to the vestibule at the end of the carriage. The door slid open silently, the whipping wind filling my senses all at once and quieting the noise inside my head.

I braced myself against the railing, focusing on taking deep breaths through my nose. The landscape moved by at a dizzying pace, streaks of greens and greys blurring together to create an endless feed of muted colors that lulled me into placidity.

With my mind quieted, I was able to reflect on the last few hours.

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