Shadow Train (39 page)

He glanced at his father and then at Weston. Then he headed for the door.

“Zhai, look out!” Weston shouted and pointed behind him.

Zhai turned to find that Li had sprung to her feet and grabbed a wooden chair, and she was charging him with it. He barely managed to throw up a
Bong Sau
in time to block it and keep from getting his head bashed in. The chair shattered against his arms and pieces of it skittered across the carpet. In each hand, Li still held two jagged pieces of the chair like two deadly vampire-slaying stakes, and she advanced on Zhai.

She stabbed at him with one stake while swinging at his head with the other. He managed to block both strikes at once, and then to block two more after that.

“Leave him alone, you liar!” Weston said, and he shuffled toward Li with all the ferocity of a librarian. She swept his legs out from under him, and he landed on his backside with a thump.

Zhai was about to make use of her distraction when the double doors behind him burst open.
What now?
he thought. Before he could turn, someone grabbed his arms from behind.

“Get the shard, now!” It was Lotus's voice, sharp and brittle—and she had a strength he never would have believed. Li rushed forward and thrust her hand into Zhai's pocket as he struggled to get free.

“Take it to them,” Lotus commanded. “Go! I'll take care of Zhai.”

Li looked at Zhai, a flicker of concern clouding her eyes for a moment. And then she dashed out the door and down the hall. Weston charged after her.

Zhai bucked, trying to break free of Lotus's grip.

“And as for you, stepson,” Lotus said softly, “you have been a nuisance for far too long,”

Zhai finally managed to jerk away, and he spun to face her. She had already picked up one of the sharp stakes that Li had discarded. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she advanced on Zhai.

“Lotus—enough!” Cheung shouted, moving toward her. “I will not let you harm my son.”

“Shut up,” she ordered him. “You have quite outlived your usefulness!”

The words seemed to strike Zhai's father like a slap to the face. He stopped in his tracks as Lotus advanced on Zhai. When Zhai tried to get past her she feigned a sweep, then spun and hit him with a crescent kick to the face. It brought him to his knees and knocked him back against the wall. She advanced, the stake in her hand. He tried to throw up a
Bong Sau,
but in one deft move she trapped his arms and brought the sharp wooden point up to his throat. Just a little pressure was all it would take to drive it up into Zhai's brain.

“It's really too bad,” Lotus whispered. “If you hadn't been corrupted by Chin you might have made a good Snake—instead of just a mediocre stepson. And now, you must die.”

Zhai lashed out with all his strength, but her arms were as powerful as a pair of constricting pythons. Just as the stake broke the skin of his neck, however, someone pulled Lotus off him.

It was his father. Zhai coughed, the pressure on his neck finally released.

“Go! Stop, Li!” Cheung shouted. He was holding Lotus in a bear hug from behind, and smoke was rising from their struggling bodies. “Go!” he shouted again.

Slowly, Zhai backed toward the doorway. As he watched, Lotus shook Cheung off, catching his arm in a lock. Zhai heard the bone crack as she broke it and Cheung fell to his knees. Zhai hesitated, ready to go back and help his father, when something else caught his eye.

The front of Cheung's white dress shirt had burned away revealing his bare chest. His tattoo was glowing red. Smoke rose from it as if it were searing his flesh, burning into him like a hot coal.

“Father,” Zhai shouted. “Dad!”

Lotus tried to go after Zhai again, but Cheung grabbed her leg. “Run!” he yelled, his voice strangled with agony. “Don't let the Snakes have the shards, Zhai! Don't let them win.”

Zhai understood. By helping him his father was disobeying the Obies—and the Obies were cashing in on their ownership of him. He'd told Zhai that if he disobeyed them they would kill him.

“Go!” his father yelled once more. The burning mark on his chest was no longer just a glowing spot on the surface of his skin—it was a ball of fire consuming his heart. His shirt was now aflame, and Lotus's clothes were catching fire, too.

Zhai realized that there was no saving his father. He would never be able to extinguish the flame that was burning Cheung Shao's heart.

“Do not let me die in vain,” his father said. “Go now—stop them.” Engulfed in flame now, Lotus was struggling. Cheung's face was contorted into a mask of agony as flames rose around him. “Go, Zhai—do what you must,” his father said with his last breath.

Zhai ran.

He sprinted down the steps, grabbed the keys from the door by the kitchen, and tore out into the garage. As the door went up, he caught a glimpse of Li in her mother's BMW backing out of the driveway, and he jumped into the driver's seat of his dad's big Maybach. He started the car and shot out of the driveway in reverse, in time to see Li tearing off down the street. He looked around for Chin and Nass, but they weren't there and he couldn't wait for them. He snapped the car into drive, hit the gas, and felt the surge as the massive V12 engine revved up and shot him forward, down the hill. Li had just passed the gate and it was about to close. He hit the accelerator and blasted through, losing a rearview mirror as he went.

He registered a movement off to his left and saw that it was Nass, stepping out into the road and waving at him. Master Chin was there, too. Zhai hit the brakes and stopped a few yards ahead of them in a squeal of tires and a haze of rubber smoke.

“Hurry! Li has the shard!” Zhai shouted.

Master Chin and Nass piled into the back. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Zhai saw that they were both beaten and bruised.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Lotus,” Nass grumbled. “She jumped us and then called security and had them escort us out of Hilltop Haven.”

“She got me, too. And so did Li,” Zhai said.

“Your sister . . . she's one of them,” Chin said. It was not a question, but a dark realization. “What depravity, bending a little girl to their cause. We have to stop them. They must not come to possess the completed ring.”

“We will,” Zhai said. They were flying down River Road now, heading out of town at warp speed.

“But we can't face Feng Xu's gang alone,” Chin said, and he turned to Nass. “Do you have your cell phone?”

Nass took it out. “Right here,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

“We are going to call in the cavalry,” Master Chin replied.

Chapter 26

Raphael found the Magician
waiting for him when he returned to the train after his raid on old-west Middleburg. It felt good to have helped Aimee's mom and the crew of girls defeat the outlaws—but the fact that Aimee still didn't recognize him had burned him deeply. He was so devastated by the empty stare he received from her, he was almost glad to return to the train and to ride it once more into the featureless fog that marked the world between times and places. At least here, in oblivion, there was nothing as painful as love.

There was only one time and place in the universe that could possibly be more terrible than his encounter with Aimee had been—and ironically, that's exactly where he hoped to go next.

“I believe there was another stop you wanted to make in your journey?” the Magician said.

Raphael hesitated. It was no surprise that the Dark Teacher had looked into Raphael's heart and read his deepest desire. But the thought of what he might now face if the Magician were to grant his wish was so frightening, he could barely find the courage to voice it aloud.

“I want to go to the Middleburg Materials Factory,” he said finally. “I want to know how my father died.”

“Vengeance makes for a bitter feast,” the Magician warned.

“He was my
dad
,” said Raphael. “And he was a good man—the best. I deserve to know what happened—and whoever was responsible deserves to pay for it.”

The Magician nodded, no trace of mirth in his dark eyes now. “Very well,” he said. “Sleep now, for you are weary. The train will take you to the place you seek.”

* * *

After Raphael left and old Middleburg settled back to normal, Maggie suggested that they return to the boarding house and change back into their own modern clothes before they headed home. They were all surprised when Emily opened a drawer on the bottom of the tall corner cabinet in the living room and took out a carefully wrapped package. She opened it to reveal the slacks, shirt, and sneakers she'd been wearing when Oberon had banished her to the past.

“I saved everything, just in case,” she explained. She pulled something out of the pocket of her jeans and showed them. “I even have my car keys!”

Aimee laughed, and Maggie was so happy for her and her mom. “Are you ready to go home?” Aimee asked.

“More than ready,” said Emily. “As soon as I write a note to Constance and thank her for her hospitality and all her help. I can't wait to get home and take a shower in an indoor bathroom that has hot and cold running water.”

Maggie saw a shadow cross Aimee's face. “Uh . . . Mom, there's something else I have to tell you,” she said, and she explained about Jack marrying Savana Kain.

Clearly shaken, Emily had to sit down. “How long have I been gone?” she asked. “I mean, in your time frame?”

“Almost two years,” Aimee said. “Somehow, Dad managed to have you declared dead.”

Emily laughed bitterly. “Well, won't he be surprised! And the woman he married—what's her story?”

Maggie spoke up then. “Don't blame her,” she said. “None of it was her idea, I'm sure. I—I know her son and I think she's . . . you know, nice. But there's one more thing you should know.” She paused and looked at Aimee.

“Oh, yeah,” Aimee said. “She's going to have a baby—like, any minute.”

“I see,” Emily said. “I guess I'll have to find someplace to stay then—until after the divorce.” She turned to Aimee, and Maggie could see the sadness in her eyes. “What about you, Aimee? Are you comfortable at home, living with your dad and his new wife?”

“Not exactly,” Aimee said, and Maggie wondered how she was going to explain about staying all that time with Orias.

“You know what?” Maggie jumped in. “You could stay with us—both of you—until everything is settled. I think my mom would be happy to have you. What do you think?”

Emily was silent for a moment, and then she said, “I think that's a great idea. But first, I'd like to give Jack the surprise of his life.”

“We should get back,” Maggie said. “We need to get the shards to Zhai. So what do we do now, Aimes?” she asked. “Hike back to the tunnel and find the Wheel?”

Aimee smiled and shook her head. “No,” she said. “That won't be necessary. I can teleport us from here.”

* * *

The train had stopped. That's what woke Raphael. Everything was shrouded in half-light, like predawn gloom, just before the sun bursts forth. He rose and stretched and went to look out the cab window. At first he had trouble taking in what he saw. When he finally did, his breath caught in his throat.

He was in front of a vast brick building. The sign in front identified it as Middleburg Materials, Inc.

I'm here. It really happened,
he thought with fascination and a kind of sick excitement. The Magician had come through after all, and he had no idea how to feel about it, other than terrified.

He reached into his pocket to make sure the ring shard was still there, then, wishing desperately for something to eat—or at least some Red Bull—he left the train.

No one seemed to notice him as he went inside through the front entrance. He walked through reception, past the executive offices, and into the manufacturing area, not drawing so much as a glance from anyone.

The interior walls of the factory were high and caked with black soot. The expansive space was filled with great, looming pieces of chugging steel machinery, churning conveyer belts, and soaring catwalks. A huge bucket suspended from the ceiling poured a thick stream of some kind of brightly glowing orange, liquid metal into a receptacle. Then a mechanical track in the ceiling sent it jerking away toward some other part of the factory, and another bucket as tall as Raphael took its place.

He stared, wide-eyed, taking in the immensity of the place, hearing the droning, banging, and grinding sounds of the machinery, smelling and nearly tasting the vaguely sweet, acerbic tang of metal in the air. It was steel, Raphael recalled vaguely: that was the primary metal Middleburg Materials used in its products. He felt nervous, nauseous, and giddy all at once. He had never been inside Middleburg Materials before, not even when his dad was alive.

“All right, keep her coming,” a man said into a walkie-talkie. He stood on a low catwalk that ran along the side of one of the machines, and as he talked he gazed up at one of the big buckets of molten metal drifting along over his head. He held up a hand and the big bucket jerked to a halt.

“Clear,” he called out. “Dump her!” He gave the thumbs up to a man in a glassed-in booth up on another catwalk. After a pause, the bucket tilted and poured its load of deadly hot liquid steel into the machine below. The man on the catwalk watched until the pour was finished, then nodded and went back up the catwalk, looking up at the next bucket that was already moving slowly toward him.

He pushed back his yellow hard hat, pulled his safety goggles down around his neck, and swiped a red bandana across his face. It came away dark with sweat and soot, and Raphael stared at him.

He had a lean, tan face with crow's feet creasing the outer corners of his blue eyes, from years of squinting into sparks from the hot metal. His face was also eerily, wonderfully, like Raphael's own. It was his father.

The breath left Raphael's lungs in a sharp huff, and he did not breathe again for a long moment. He stared up at his dad in a state of suspension, as if the slightest movement on his part might make the vision cease to exist. He took his piece of the crystal ring out of his pocket and ventured a glance at it, partly to give it a silent prayer of thanks, and partly to confirm that it wasn't flashing, getting ready to whisk him away. This time, it showed only faint illumination.

On the catwalk, his father jammed the bandana back into his pocket, righted his goggles, and got back to work, following another bucket of molten metal as it moved along its track in the ceiling. He hadn't seen his son—the factory was dimly lit and Raphael was standing in the shadows next to the big, whirring machine. Or maybe, Raph thought, he was invisible in this version of the past.

He almost hoped he was invisible. When the possibility of coming back to this crucial time and place had become a reality, he'd told himself that he would not—could not—interfere in any way. He'd seen plenty of sci-fi movies and read lots of books on time travel, string theory, and black holes, and he knew well enough that if you went messing around with the past you could change the entire course of history. And besides, dead was dead. There was no way he could bring his father back. He just wanted to find out how it had happened, to see the truth for himself, once and for all—and if someone had done something to his dad, he wanted to find a way to prove it. If he could find some damning piece of evidence, he could finally exact justice for his father, and his crusade against the Toppers could end.

But now that he was actually here, the desire to avert the accident rose inside him, from a match-lit flicker to a blazing conflagration. He almost stepped out of the shadows and called out to his father to come down, to watch out, leave the factory now and live.

But then a voice came over the PA system. “Foreman Kain—please report to Mr. Banfield's office.” There was a pause, and it repeated.

Raph watched as his dad signaled to another man to take his place and then headed for the front office. Careful to keep a discreet distance, just in case, Raph followed. He stood outside the door as Jack greeted his father.

“Come in, Marcus.”

“What's up, Jack?”

“Sit down, please.” Jack was trying to make his voice friendly, but Raphael didn't buy it.

“Thanks—I'll stand,” Raph's dad said. “I'm hoping this won't take long. I don't want my crew to get behind. Is there a problem?”

“That's something you'll have to tell me,” Jack said. “You were at Cheung Shao's house yesterday?”

“Yes—I went to pick up my boy, Raphael. He and Zhai take kung fu lessons together. They were over there practicing for a match that's coming up.”

“Cheung believes you might have overheard something . . . of a private nature. Something you weren't supposed to hear.”

“Maybe. He was having a meeting about a real estate deal. With all due respect, Jack, I don't see how this concerns you.”

“It concerns me,” said Jack, leaning across the desk and dropping his voice, “because I will be his partner in that deal. And for now we don't want word getting around. That could make other interested parties swoop in ahead of us and try to grab the land.”

“Oh, you don't have to worry about that.”

Jack smiled his barracuda smile. “That's good to know—”

Marcus Kain cut him off. “Because I'm going to stop it—or at least make it more difficult. A development deal like Cheung was talking about will wipe out the Flats and leave a lot of people homeless. I can't let that happen. I'm taking the story to the newspaper.”

“The hell you say?”

“What's really going on, Jack?” he asked. “A development deal in the Flats, of all places, when Middleburg is dying? There's more to it than that, and I'm going to find out what.”

“You've got nerve, Kain—I'll give you that,” said Jack. “You know if you stir up trouble it'll cost you your job.”

“Yeah—but sometimes a man just has to do what's right. I can't stand by and let you and Cheung Shao put innocent people out of their homes for the sake of greed.”

Tears started in Raphael's eyes, but he blinked them away. His dad was a hero—or would have been if he'd lived.

“So what's it going to be, Jack?” Marcus continued. “You want me to finish out the shift or just clear out now?”

“Oh, come on,” Jack said. “Relax. We can work this out. Give me a few days—I'll talk to Cheung.”

“One week. If you don't call off your plans to buy up the Flats I'll go to the paper. Hell—I'll even alert CNN. Maybe if enough big corporations are bidding, someone will come up with the money to help all these families relocate.”

After his dad left the office, Raphael lingered to see what Jack would do. He made two phone calls. The first was to Cheung Shao.

“He's not going to back off,” Jack told him, and there was a long pause before he spoke again. “Look—I told you. This is going to take some time to get set up. It's not going to happen overnight, if we want to get in there solid. I'm on it. Trust me—Kain won't be a problem.”

With the second call, although he listened intently, Raph couldn't figure out who was on the other end. All he heard was, “I've got a little problem I'm going to need you to take care of—today. Here's what I want you to do—hold on a minute.” Jack got up and closed the door to his office.

When Raphael turned around to head back to the workshop, he suddenly felt dizzy and unsteady on his feet. The world blurred for a moment, and when his vision cleared, he noticed that the shadows had lengthened on the floor and workers were punching their time cards and leaving the factory. It was as if someone—the Magician, maybe—had hit the world's fast-forward button, causing him to skip ahead to the end of the workday. It was a disorienting feeling, but Raphael tried to keep steady as he walked back to the shop where his father was working.