Dawnrunner

Chapter 6

Rachel is asleep by the time the train begins to move. I, on the other hand, sit on my bed wide awake and listening to the chorus of noises the vehicle is making as it completes its pre-launch process. The exterior door, which is already shut once, shifts slightly inward and a lets out a small hiss from the pressure seal, rendering the compartment air-tight. Simultaneously, the vents above us burst to life, drawing out the carbon dioxide and flooding the room with refined, processed air. From below the carriage comes an almost imperceptible whirl accompanying the charging of the motors that are responsible for moving the train out of the station. The small screen in the wall blinks twice, before settling on a menu displaying the twin icons of the GEPHR and the Valkyrie satellite network. After a few seconds a recording of an attractive woman with carefully styled hair and makeup appears on the screen, offering to take passengers on a virtual tour of the train and its history. A map of the island is fixed on the wall beside the screen. On it a northward path is traced in bright red, indicating the route the train will take into District 4, bypassing the nuclear power plant and continuing to the Sanctuary gate at Darwin. An announcement over the speakers declares that the train is about to depart, to which Rachel responds by snoring softly, and with the grinding of steel against steel the train lurches forward.

The bright lights of the capital of District 6 disappear in a matter of minutes as the train clears the city and the darkness of the central territories envelopes us again. Under the dome, night mode is in full effect, and the only lights come from the sea of buildings and street lamps visible from my cabin window. In the shadows, the new growth which is slowly overtaking the once barren landscape is racing by. The edges of the tracks are overgrowing with new weeds, and small pockets of plants and trees, some as old as the dome, stretch out in the distance. There are signs of animal life too, most native to the island, others brought over to preserve them from the effects of the cataclysm. I strain my eyes to catch a glimpse of something big running in the dark, but the lights from the train vanish too quickly and rob me of my chance.

Blearily I blink awake and try failingly to determine how long I’ve been asleep. The woman on the screen seems to be in the middle of a rambling narrative in mute. From the images behind her head, she’s talking about the island before the cataclysm. Rachel is missing, so I lazily turn up the volume and lie back down.
“In the years before the dome introduced artificial rainfall to the island, much of the Australian mainland was covered by as many as 10 unique deserts, including parts of the Central Australia territory. This forgotten territory, which existed for 5 years from 1926 to 1931, was revived by the Global Effort after the reclamation and designated District 7, culminating in the construction of the Alice Springs nuclear power plant…”
The carriage banks to the left as it catches up to the rest of the train, which has turned slightly westward. All at once the power plant in the narrative collides with my view from the cabin window.
The plant is truly enormous, easily the size of a small city and bathed in light of its own making. A giant wall surrounds the exterior of the complex, giving way to row after row of buildings. They converge on a massive column, which stretches up towards the very centre of the dome. It is illuminated on all sides by giant spotlights so that it has the appearance of an enormous beacon: the beating heart of the Sanctuary. I am vaguely aware of the digital guide’s efforts to explain how the central column is the source of energy for all of the dome’s vital functions, from the converters which provide breathable air to the systems for weather control. The last threads of my attention are shattered by the announcement over the speakers that the train will stop temporarily to charge to capacity for the journey to Hong Kong.

The Alice Springs complex – and to a certain extent, the entire of District 7 – is in every way a carefully designed fortress. Though roads do exist, very little human or freight traffic is accepted by car or truck. The majority of the personnel and supplies assigned to the region arrive there via the Dawnrunner or a domestic charter operating on the same rail line.
The train slows to a crawl as it approaches the southern wall of the complex. It comes to rest in front of a massive gate protected by what appears to be an entire squad of GE troops. About a dozen men and at least two women in military uniforms and carrying assault rifles move out from their stations and begin to walk the length of the carriages. The troops divide into pairs, one member of each holding a large scanner, which they use to check under and between each of the cars, the other looking in each of the windows as they walk past.
15 minutes later the gate splits vertically down the middle and the two sections disappear into the walls on either side. The guards stand at attention as the train carrying the leader of the Global Effort, an army of scientists, soldiers and at least two paid passengers moves quietly into the station.
As the train grinds to a halt, the lights in the cabin switch to a red hue, which floods the room. Every five minutes an automatic message warns non-essential staff and passengers to remain in their quarters and to not attempt to leave. The only sounds are the guards calling to one-another and the cycles of the generators as the train’s internal batteries are brought to full charge.
A distressed beeping from my phone steals my attention. The message on the screen reads ‘Signal Blocked’ leaving only the Valkyrie emblem in a slow pointless rotation.
The entire ordeal lasts less than an hour, during which time Rachel is nowhere to be seen, and I barely breathe.

“Where the hell were you?” I scream at Rachel as she bursts through the door. The light in the cabin has returned to normal and my phone is beeping happily at the reconnection.
“I got locked in the dining car!” she cries back, pouting, before sitting down on the bed. “I thought I could get back here before we went inside, but the minute we got near that place the whole train went into lockdown or something.”
At the mention of the dining car I realise how hungry I’ve become. “What’s the food like?” I ask as I attempt to bring my hair under control.
Immediately Rachel’s face brightens. “Pretty good actually. Although none of the military guys seem to eat what’s onboard. Must be a soldier-thing.” I roll my eyes and shoot her a look that says ‘keep your ‘soldier-things’ to yourself,’ then grab my bag and make my way out of the room.

“‘The City of Rebirth,’ was the name given to Darwin after the reclamation by the Global Effort.” The woman on the screen is talking in badly-rehearsed intonations, making her seem bored with her own story. “This city, which had already been rebuilt twice under the impetus of enemy bombs and devastating natural disasters inside of half a century, would be transformed into a living gateway between the Australian Sanctuary and the rest of the world…”
“That’s it! I’m sick of her voice,” Rachel declares as she turns of the screen. I indulge myself with a satisfied smile and turn back to my book.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say in a pacifying tone. “We’re nearly there.”
Outside the window, the concentrations of buildings have been increasing steadily for hours, most noticeably around the town of Katherine, which rushed by in a blur of onlookers as the train barrelled determinedly through the old station.
“That’s good,” she replied. “I’m getting sick of this train as well.”
For a moment my mouth hangs open. “We haven’t even left the Sanctuary yet,” I tell her. “And it’s over 4000km from the gate to Hong Kong.”
“I know that, but we travel so much slower on land!” For a terrifying second ‘patronising Rachel’ threatens to rear her head – just the thing for an extended journey in a confined space. “Once we reach the tunnel it will take no time at all.”
We’re still arguing when the train pulls into Darwin’s East Arm.

“Honoured guests, loyal Special Resources personnel, Military Reserves and service crew: Welcome!” The man speaking is Commander-General Lowe, head of the GEPHR, standing in the main dining car which has been converted into a kind of miniature reception hall. A banner behind his head reads ‘Special Event: Send off by the Commander-General!’ Surrounding him is at least half a dozen steel-faced security officers with their hands hovering over guns. Rachel and I are standing at the back of the room, having debated at length and failed to come to any positive conclusion about the strange turn of events.
“He’s not staying in Darwin,” Rachel whispers in my ear. “He’s leaving the Sanctuary… for the first time in a decade. I heard one of the guards talking.” I say nothing as the Commander-General continues.
“For many of you, this will be your first time leaving the GEPHR Sanctuary. While it is imperative you follow the instructions of your security details, I urge you all to make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime experience…”
I catch myself scanning the crowd for a certain face: Dr. Christy May-Lee. After a few minutes I find her sitting with another group of scientists a few rows from the front, seeming composed, but sadly diminutive. ‘Make the most of your experience,’ I think to myself bitterly. A nudge from my side brings me face-to-face with a concerned Rachel, who seems to have guessed where my mind has wandered.
“I’m ok,” I tell her. The room descends into applause as the General finishes and a host with a European accent takes the stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your cabins. The Dawnrunner will be leaving the Sanctuary in 30 minutes.”