Chapter 35 Chapter 35
The world hit back.
The impact stole her breath, rolled her through wet grass and gravel. For a heartbeat, she was weightless — then the ground slammed up to meet her. She hit hard, skidding, the air torn from her lungs in a soundless cry. The world narrowed to pain — sharp, blooming through her shoulder, down her spine, into her ribs. When she finally stopped, the night spun around her in dizzy circles.
For a long second, she couldn’t move. The stars overhead swam and blurred; the scent of wet earth and metal filled her nose. Somewhere behind, the train’s thunder faded into the distance — a long, diminishing roar swallowed by the dark.
Then a voice, hoarse and low, broke through the ringing in her ears.
“Nina.”
She pushed herself up on trembling arms. Adrian was crouched a few metres away, one hand pressed to his ribs, blood dark against his torn sleeve. Even from here, she could see the strain in his movements. He looked worse than she did — pale, unsteady — but he was still on his feet.
“Still alive?” he rasped.
“Barely.”
He managed a crooked smile. “Good. That means it worked.”
She let out a shaky laugh, half a groan. “Define worked.”
“We’re off the train, aren’t we?”
“And possibly broken.”
He gave a faint shrug, wincing as he did. “Minor side effect.”
Nina dragged herself upright, her knees sinking into the wet ground. The grass clung to her jeans, slick with dew and dirt. They staggered toward the edge of the field, tall blades brushing against their legs. The air smelled of diesel, iron, and rain. Behind them, the train’s red lights dwindled to sparks in the dark, disappearing around a curve.
She pressed her hand to her shoulder, wincing. “I think I hit a rock.”
“You hit about twenty,” Adrian said, his tone light but his eyes scanning the dark horizon.
She shot him a glare. “You don’t get to joke. You jumped first.”
“Exactly why I can.”
They reached the cover of a low embankment and crouched beneath it. The tracks gleamed faintly in the moonlight — thin silver scars stretching endlessly in both directions. For a while, neither of them spoke. Their breathing came uneven and ragged, the quiet punctuated only by the distant hum of crickets and the soft crackle of cooling metal from the train’s passing.
Adrian finally broke the silence. “You handled that better than most of my crew would’ve.”
Nina gave him a sidelong look. “I’m sure your crew wasn’t doing it in borrowed shoes.”
He chuckled, the sound brief and low. “Fair point.”
When the trembling in her hands finally eased, Nina looked up. “Where are we?”
He tilted his head toward the horizon. “North of the main line, maybe ten kilometres west of the junction. There’s a signal yard ahead — if we move before sunrise, we can cut through it.”
“And if Raske’s men are already there?”
“Then we improvise.”
She sighed, half-exasperated. “You always say that like it’s a plan.”
“It is,” he said with a small grin. “Just not a good one.”
They started east, following the rails. The gravel shifted beneath their boots, crunching softly. The moon had climbed higher now — thin, cold, and watchful — turning the landscape into a world of silver and shadow.
Each step sent a dull ache through Nina’s shoulder, but she didn’t mention it. Adrian’s limp had grown worse; every few metres he slowed, caught his breath, then forced himself on. The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was the quiet of two people too tired to pretend.
After a while, she said, “Why do you keep saving me?”
He didn’t look at her. “Because you keep being there.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He hesitated, his voice softening. “Maybe I’m trying to fix one thing before everything else falls apart.”
“Is that what this is? Fixing me?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’s you fixing me.”
The words lingered between them, fragile in the dark, like something neither of them wanted to touch in case it broke. She didn’t reply, couldn’t — not with the weight of everything they’d just escaped pressing on her chest. So she just walked, letting the rhythm of the rails and the steady whisper of the wind fill the silence.
A faint hum reached them — distant, mechanical. Adrian stopped, head tilted. “Hear that?”
Nina strained to listen. The wind carried the sound again: an engine idling, then revving once. Not the train. Smaller. Closer.
“They followed the tracks,” Adrian said. His tone changed — calm, sharp-edged. The voice he used when things got bad. “Raske must’ve had a scout on the line.”
“How close?”
“Close enough that we move now.”
He pointed to the right, toward a dark seam of trees. “There’s cover that way.”
They ran. Grass slapped against their legs, the wet blades dragging at their clothes. The sound of engines grew louder behind them — headlights cutting pale arcs through the dark, slicing across the field like knives. A jeep, maybe two. The hum deepened into a growl.
Adrian grabbed her hand, pulling her faster. “Keep low.”
They dove into the undergrowth just as the first beam of light swept the field. The brightness seared Nina’s eyes even through the leaves, burning the outline of the grass into her vision. Voices followed — sharp, clipped, searching.
Adrian crouched beside her, breath shallow, his eyes scanning the shadows. “They’ll search the line first. We stay here until they move.”
Nina nodded, forcing herself to breathe slow and quiet. The smell of earth filled her nose, damp and heavy. Somewhere close, a beetle crawled across her boot; she barely felt it. Every nerve was tuned to the sound of the engines above.
Minutes crawled past. The jeeps idled, turned, then roared again — this time moving west, following the curve of the line. Their tail-lights faded, swallowed by the dark. Silence returned, thick and uneasy.
Adrian exhaled slowly. “We keep going.”
They climbed the next rise, every step a battle against exhaustion. When they reached the top, the world opened up before them — rolling fields glinting faintly with dew, the dark ribbon of the railway below, and far ahead, the faint grid of yellow lights marking the signal yard. From here, it almost looked peaceful, glowing soft against the night.
“That’s it?” she whispered.
He nodded. “That’s where Raske moves his shipments. It’s where he’ll expect me.”
“Then we go anyway?”
“We have to.”
She looked at him — the exhaustion carved deep into his face, the blood on his sleeve already drying black. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Adrian.”
He met her gaze, something flickering there — gratitude, maybe regret. “I know.”
He reached out, taking her hand. He was warm, trembling, but steady enough to pull her forward. “Come on,” he said. “One more night.”
Together, they descended the hill. The wind swept through the grass, carrying with it the low, distant rumble of engines turning back.
Behind them, the world was dark and endless. Ahead, danger glowed like dawn.
The hunt wasn’t over.