139 Years to the End of the World

Last of the Wars, Part Six

With the sun far below the horizon, and the blanket of night thick, the camp was lit faintly with parted torches. Gathered around an open tunnel, the men heaved, all thirty of them, carrying the contraption onto the long abandoned tracks of The Winter Train. As wheel and rail lined into place, the men dropped the handcar unceremoniously onto the track. The steel clanked together like a pair of cymbals, ringing throughout the snowing camp.

While I watched the rebels worked to attach the makeshift wagon behind, Amelia and John came up to me, rifle and SMG slung around their shoulders, backpack on their backs, masks hanging onto their belts, ready to leave at a moment's notice.

I turned my head and followed as they walked up beside me, inspecting the scene before them. "You don't have to come with me," I told them. "You two have no obligations to me."

"Don't be stupid," Amelia reminded me. "If you die here, how are we going to face our parents later?" She turned and walked away, leaving me with her brother.

John added, "Don't take it to heart. The scolding that is. She calls everyone an idiot."

"Yeah," I replied, matter-of-factly. "I can see that."

"But she's right. We're not going anywhere." He slapped me on my metal arm, drawing his hand back immediately after in slight pain. "Get use to us." He walked off after his sister.

I stared at their backs as they disappeared one-by-one into the armoury tents. I wondered what kind of life they had before me. If they had a family of their own. Children to love and care for. I made a mental note to ask them later.

"I'm guessing those are your grandkids?" I spun around to the voice.

Behind me stood Lindsey Gardner, Borris's sister. Wearing a hooded grey camouflage patterned coat over long sleeved black shirt, jeans, and a leather chest piece. A gas mask dangled from the bandoleer around her chest, a bag to her back. The woman looked as ready for war as everyone around us.

She continued, "I thought they'd be younger. But they look almost your age."

"Time traveller." I pointed to myself. "Eighty-eight this year."

"Right...Hero of the Mist."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, confounded. "And dressed like that?"

"I'm coming with you."

"What?" I was genuinely surprised. "No. No! You can't come with us. I'm not gonna have even more people risk their lives for me!"

"I'm sorry," she replied sarcastically, "But when did I ask for your permission?"

"I-"

"No," she cut in curtly. "I'm not going to let my brother's life be sacrificed in vain. If anything happens to you, I will never be able to make it up to him. Look over there." She pointed to Jason's group of men who lifted a second wagon into place. "Every one of them is Jason's people. And as far as I know, you can't tell your grandkids about that asshole's plan. So I'm the only one who can watch your back. What are you going to do if Jason stabs your family in the back because you couldn't see behind you?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but my brain was set on stun. Blankly staring back at her, desperately trying to think of something to say with my hand stuck in mid motion, I stammered out, "Um..."

"Yeah, I thought so."

Like Amelia and John before her, Lindsey headed for the armoury to gear up. My gut clenched uncomfortably. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't feel my gut. But from the way it grumbled and churned, I would say it was uncomfortable about something.