Dawnrunner

Part 2 - Chapter 7

I fight the tide of panic rising up inside me. Lying on my bed, I try to imagine the giant gate opening, bidding us to leave the Sanctuary for the first time in our lives. In my mind, it is not some dark, mechanical construction, guarded on all sides by GE troops and opening only onto an empty, endless tunnel. In my mind, it is something closer to the gates of heaven, in front of which I stand in darkness, but through which I see only sunlight.
Rachel is only meters from me, on her bed. I want to call out to her, to say something, to hear her voice reply – but I can’t speak. I’m scared and excited and completely paralysed by my own mind.
“Carli…” Her voice is soft in the small room. I turn and she is smiling at me, a warm ‘everything-will-be-ok’ smile. It makes me feel so much better and I hope somehow she knows that.
One of the soldiers enters our room, but I barely notice she’s there. She’s fiddling with the controls on the wall and explaining something technical to do with the train. Finally she looks me in the eye and says “I’m going to activate the canopy now, Miss Webb.”
I nod, completely unsure what I’m consenting to. Suddenly a glass dome – at least, a quarter of one – extends out from the wall above me and closes over until it reaches the outer edge of my bed. It lines up perfectly with the glass walls at the head and foot, the purpose of which had eluded me until now.
Looking across I see Rachel’s dome close and shoot her a nervous thumbs-up. Minutes later, the entire train bursts to life.

The glass canopy is alight with information about our speed and progress. We move slowly at first, running only on the standard steel wheels, but it’s not long before we reach the main gate. There’s a hum as the train comes to a standstill, and the display reads ‘Clearing primary airlock – UV gate engaging.’ The lights in the cabin dim and from all around us we can hear a deep thump-thump-thump from the emitters. I can barely make out the rush of air as the display shows the atmosphere inside the tunnel venting. The thumping sound stops and we are left in a vacuum, through which the train can travel unhindered.
Moments later the magnetic rail engages. There’s a jolt as the carriages lift off the tracks, and our acceleration explodes. The numbers on the display are dizzying as they climb upwards: 100, 200, 300kmph. The force is pushing me back into the bed frame and I want to scream. With one eye closed I check the readout: 600kmph.
The readout has reached 1000kmph by the time the forces have subsided and I’m once again comfortable in my capsule. A different soldier returns to open the canopy, and informs us the journey to Hong Kong will take 4 hours at the current speed. Rachel and I stare at each other from across the cabin, aware only of the fact that we’re hurtling over four thousand kilometres from the only home we’ve ever known, and for some reason neither of us can explain, we burst into laughter.

The sister to the Darwin station, on the mainland side of the submerged tunnel, is a military outpost built on the ruins of Hong Kong. In the years after the cataclysm, the city was a battleground between the armies of the Coalition of Free Nations and the Global Effort. Only the ash cloud, which rendered ballistic missiles useless on either side, prevented the island from being destroyed entirely. No dome was built to cover the island of Hong Kong, but as the train pulls into the facility, leaving behind the magnetic rails and once again riding on steel tracks, we find ourselves inside a sealed bunker swarming with GE personnel.
Stepping out of the carriage, Rachel was surprisingly speechless… almost.
“Oh, Carli, what have we gotten ourselves into?” she whispers.
“Is this the part where you tell me we’re not in Kansas anymore?”
“I’m serious. We’ve finally made it off that damn island. Even if we have just traded it for another one…” her voice trails off as she considers the unpleasant irony.
“At least this one doesn’t have a dome,” I say, clutching my purple bag. “Let’s look around.”
Christy May-Lee is standing a short way across the station, on the edge of the same group of scientists she was sitting with during the Commander-General’s speech. I practically have to pull Rachel’s arm to move her across the platform.
“Hi, Christy,” I manage. The poor girl looks like she hasn’t slept in days.
“Oh, hey. Carliah, right?” she replies.
“That’s right, but just call me Carli. How are you?” Rachel gives me a ‘stupid-question’ nudge, to which I respond with a ‘you’re-one-to-talk’ stare. Christy doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’m ok,” she says. “It turns out I’m not going to be staying here in Hong Kong after all.”
The optimist in me pricks up its ears at the possibility of good news. “Are they letting you go back to the Sanctuary?”
“Not exactly. They’re sending me further inland, to the station at Istanbul. Something about an attack there, and they need engineers to help with the repairs.” I want to die with embarrassment, but something in her tone suggests there’s something she’s not telling me.
“You don’t seem too disappointed about that,” I try.
“I’m not. They say because it’s further away, I can go home sooner. 1 year, tops. And it’s closer to the sky-clear zone, so I may even get to see the sun.”
Despite it all, I feel myself grinning. “Christy that’s great news! I really hope you can come with us wherever we’re going.” Rachel clears her throat and interrupts us.
“Come on guys, that guard is waving at us. I think we’re about to go outside.”

My first steps outside the darkness of man-made walls and domes is both the most exciting and most terrible experience of my life. We were warned that the area for miles around Hong Kong had not been a sky-clear location in decades, and to try to prepare for the reality with which we were about to be confronted, but no preparation could ever be enough.
Everyone from the train is gathering in the departure zone, while the soldiers hand out small packs with tubes that end in face masks, telling us to put them on if we have trouble breathing. Bright, flashing spotlights burst to life as thick, tall doors slowly open.
The first thing to hit me is the wind, which I feel all over my face, my arms and my hands. It’s nothing like the artificial air pumped into the Sanctuary, even when it’s simulating a storm. It’s air that feels somehow alive. It’s a harsh feeling, dirty and rough, and within seconds I’m coughing a little and considering putting on my mask.
I try to quiet the voices inside me that are screaming to step forward and feel the sun on my skin. I know it’s not going to happen now, that I have to wait a little longer yet while we travel westward. By the time I move out the words ‘There’s no sun here’ have become a mantra in my brain, playing over and over. I put that all-important foot forward, and look up.
My eyes are stuck open and every voice inside me is silent. I can’t move, I’m struggling to think and I’m relatively sure I’ve stopped breathing. It’s the sky, but it’s also not. There is a coarse, angry layer of cloud in the way, made up of ash and toxins, crawling slowly across my field of vision. Occasionally the cloud catches the air in places, turning this way and that before continuing on its trek.
Lower down, there is nothing to see but the ruins of hollowed-out buildings, and in the distance, skyscrapers that end about half as high as they’re supposed to with jagged edges of twisted metal where they have been torn in two.
The guard leading the group informs us that the train will take about an hour to recharge, and that we have to begin boarding again in about half that time. After five minutes, most the group has already return to their cabins, and after ten minutes only Rachel and I are still standing outside the building.
“This… is it?” I say to no one in particular. Eventually I feel a soft pair of hands on my shoulders.
“Come on Carli,” the familiar voice beckons. “It will all be better when we get where we’re going.”
I nod and tear my eyes from the horrible sight. Somewhere deep inside me I can feel a hurt, angry feeling as long as I’m looking at that cloud, knowing that without it my life up to now would not have been spent in the darkness.
I return to the carriage completely exhausted. On the edge of my senses I’m vaguely aware of a voice on the speakers, describing the sky-clear location that has been identified by the Valkyrie network. To my credit, I stay awake long enough to catch the most important word in the announcement: Amsterdam.