Dawnrunner

Chapter 21

My old room on board the Dawnrunner looks exactly as it did the day we arrived at in Adelaide. The deep red walls and stain wood are flawless. Only the shattered window gives any indication of the damage that was done that day.
My purple backpack is long gone, lost somewhere between Sofia and Amsterdam, but some new clothes have been laid out for me, and I change gratefully. Afterwards I lie on the bed listening to the sounds of the wheels rumbling. There are no magnetic tracks here, but with no need to stop as we hurtle towards our destination we’re making excellent time. Looking across I see Rachel’s bunk, empty. She is still in the medical car in critical condition, but at least she’s out of surgery. I haven’t been allowed to see her yet. It’s probably a good thing. When I do, I’ll probably end up saying something stupid like “You can’t leave me,” or “We’ve come too far,” both of which are true, but aren’t things she needs to hear now.
Fighting back tears, I roll over and try to sleep.

The feeling, or rather lack of feeling, wakes me as the train comes to a stop. Looking out the window it takes me two tries to realise we’re not in Sofia as I had expected. All around are tall, ancient-looking buildings, spreading out in every direction. Beyond them runs a great wall, at least as dominating as the one around the Sanctuary, but with no domed roof. The sky is a familiar mass of black clouds, redoubled in strength since the activation of the Amsterdam machine. As I climb out of the cabin, I’m overwhelmed by a single, horrifying thought: I have no idea where we are.
No soldiers try to stop me as I start to walk the length of the train down the platform. There are dozens of them, carrying crates or weapons, talking in hushed voices. Most of them are wearing strange uniforms – black and red with a gold cross on the left shoulder. It’s not until I pass a pair laughing loudly that I recognise the language they’re speaking as Italian.
At the far end of the platform stands the dark-skinned captain who met us when we arrived in the jeep. He waves me over and for a moment looks as though he’s going to salute me, then thinks better of it.
“Miss Webb,” he says, politely but curtly. “It’s good to see you up and about.”
I owe everything to the guards from Sofia but right now I can’t just do polite. “Please,” I whisper, barely breathing. “How is she?”
“I’ve just come from the doctor. He tells me she is going to be fine... thanks to you.”
I feel the air return to my body so fast it nearly knocks me over onto the platform. “She’s ok?”
“It was a clean shot, and nothing critical was damaged. She was very lucky. But none of that would have mattered if you hadn’t got her back to us when you did. That was some impressive driving.” A grin splits his face as he finishes. I’m too far away in my mind to even register the praise.
“Where is she now?” My head spins back in the direction I just walked, looking for the medical carriage.
“We moved her. The Dawnrunner is well-equip but it’s nothing compared to what they have here. Even before the cataclysm these were some if the best hospitals in Europe.”
My brain sprints across the bridge from worrying about Rachel to trying to figure out where I am. There is no need to articulate my thoughts as they are perfectly clear on my face.
“You’re in Rome!” A young man is speaking now, a lieutenant, I think. “It’s the last great fortress for the resistance against the GE. And it’s not just us… he’s here! Now the final battle can begin!”
The Captain fixes the young man with a withering stare, and the lieutenant immediately stops talking. I feel like asking for more details, but there is enough of a warning on the man’s face to tell me better of it. Instead he turns to me and speaks.
“It will be some time until you can see your friend. In the meantime, there is someone else who would like a word with you, right away.” He doesn’t offer a name and despite the screaming in my head I don’t ask. Instead I let him guide me out of the station and into the city lights.

I’m riding in the back of a car with deep leather seats, a silver crest on the hood and a driver with a black cap up front. He doesn’t talk to me but it is clear from his demeanour and aggressive driving that he is military. Being driven around immediately makes me uncomfortable, and I struggle to hold back the flashbacks of Christy’s breakdown when she told us she was being forced to leave the Sanctuary. I cringe at the thought of my own excitement, now long since extinguished, and push myself deeper into the cushioned leather. For now, this feels safe – at least, safe enough. I am calm enough to take a few deep breaths and by the time we arrive I am almost relaxed.
The building we arrive in front of is undergoing a crisis of identity. It is enormous, with multiple levels and two distinct halves. The left is dominated by classical stone and giant pillars, while the right has been completely rebuilt with steel and concrete. In the centre sits a large pair of doors, guarded by a man and woman. They watch in silence as I step out of the car, then part to the sides and salute as I walk by. I know better than to try to return their gesture so I just smile politely.
The hallway inside the building stretches for what seems like miles. Here the clash between the ancient and the modern is visible everywhere I look. Recently constructed walls are adorned with famous paintings, and thousand-year-old statues sit next to contemporary art. I brush away the thought that this is exactly the kind of place – in exactly the kind of city – that I would have liked to visit, before I was plunged neck-deep into a war that until recently I had no idea was even being fought.
At the end of the hall sits a door painted gold. It’s beautifully carved from wood and everything about it says it might as well be the gateway to another world, with all manner of monsters and demi-gods hiding on the other side. I feel a familiar tightness in my chest as it swings open.

The room on the other side of the door is empty except for the three of us: Me, Lazarus… and Michael. As I enter he is replacing his eye patch, and for a moment I glimpse the scars that hide beneath. White bandages stand stark against his dark uniform, holding tight his left arm.
“Carliah…” The word is barely a whisper, full of longing. I say nothing as the cross the room in a few easy steps and collapse into his chest. I feel his good arm wrap around my shoulders, holding me. It doesn’t take away everything that’s happened, or the fear that still grips me, but it’s warm and safe and right now it’s all I can think about.
“I’m so glad you’re alright. When you drove away, I feared the worst, for all of you.” I push back and look up into his face. With my fingertips I trace a line down his cheek, seeing in him all the emotions I’m struggling to keep inside myself. “If I could have, I would have gone with you. I never wanted to leave you…”
My finger reaches his lips, stopping him. “You save me. You save all of us. We were prisoners in that place. You set me free.”
His face changes in the space of an instant. The warm emotion drains like water and a stern tension fills every muscle. For a moment I think it’s Lazarus returning, interrupting our reunion, but quickly I realise the reality is much worse: it’s still Michael, but something is very wrong.
“You’re not free.” His voice is cold and hard. Instinctively I withdraw until I’m no longer in his arms but standing in front of him, staring with wide eyes. “Don’t you see, Carliah? You can’t be free, not now, not as long as you’re with me. I’m fighting a war that you should never have been a part of!” Michael turns and begins walking across the room. I watch in stunned silence, trying to understand.
“I want to be with you!” I scream. I barely recognise my own voice anymore, but I don’t care. “This war, the clouds, the GE, they don’t matter, as long as we survive! As long as we’re together…”
When he faces me again his eye is burning with an anger that makes me want to run away. “I can’t keep putting you in danger! Every time I make a decision people die… sooner or later, it will be you, and I couldn’t handle that.”
I feel my throat is closing and I can barely breathe. “What are you saying?” I ask as I stand frozen, watching him. When he speaks it is as though he is pulling my heart from my chest.
“Tomorrow morning, you and your friends are returning to the Sanctuary.”