The Hunt

“Mayfly? Ohmigosh, sweetie, look at you! What happened—What’s going on? Are you okay?”

As the people began to flood past them, Enfie pulled Mayfly aside and sat her down in a vacant row. There, in their little pocket of air, the woman gingerly yet urgently patted her down, not unlike how mama did whenever she was looking for sore spots. Finding none, relieved not confused, she put her hands on Mayfly’s shoulders and hunched to be level with her.

Her eyes were blue comfort. They were worry and care, compassion, and flameless warmth.

Mayfly crumbled. She threw herself into Enfie’s arms and sobbed, heaving down deep, useless breaths out of habit alone. Her heart pounded, whirring in her ears so loud she thought she might shake herself apart in a fit. Enfie held her quietly until she found enough composure to sit back in her seat.

A hand stroked her cheek, though there were no tears to wipe away. It wasn’t so much different from her proper self; she knew if she really wanted to stop crying, she could, but that didn’t mean it was easy—even if her body did make it simple.

“Hey, honey, hey.” More gunshots. Screams from distant cars. Enfie’s hand kept her steady while the passengers around them panicked and shoved against one another. “It’s okay. Hey. You’re right here, you’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, promise. Look at me. I promise.”

She promised. Mayfly believed her, maybe more than she’d ever believed anyone.

“Now what’s going on down there?”

“They killed Falbrite,” Mayflay said, and though the evenness of her own voice shouldn’t have surprised her, it did. “They…I think they killed everyone.”

“Who did?”

God, and she almost said it. She almost told her it was Foste, but then she remembered what he’d said to her, and his friends. She’d named him. Priority had heard it and he’d slaughtered them all. People were dead because she’d said his name.

“It’s fucking magi!” a man cut in from the seats behind them. “A dozen of them, they blew the fucking car in half!”

Enfie shook her head. “They would have turned the whole train upside down by now with that many.”

“It’s three,” Mayfly said. “No, t-two now.”

“The guards could’ve handled two magi,” the man argued.

“They…they got rid of the guards. They said so.”

“Gods all, we’re fucked. We’re fucked! They’re gonna tear this place apart before we get anywhere near New Cazzer!”

“Calm down,” Enfie said, stern but not unkind. “And please, watch your language. I’ve ridden this route plenty of times; we’re coming up to a technoscape soon, and there’s a militia depot just on the other side. We’re going to be fine.”

“If we stop! What if they’ve already gotten the drivers? Fuck, what if the militia just blows us away as soon as they figure out we’ve been hijacked?”

Enfie shot up and jabbed a metal finger at the man. “I asked you very nicely to please watch your language. I understand you’re scared, but if a child can keep herself together, then so can you. If we just try to stay a little positive—”

The train lurched sidelong, Mayfly gripped her seat, but the others were thrown down or against the wall like dolls. For a moment she thought they were going to tilt over, but with a heavy groan, the car slammed back down onto the rails.

More people came running through, gunshots close behind. “They’re getting closer!” she heard. “Run!” “The magi killed another one!”

The man poked his head out into the aisle. “Still feeling positive, lady?”

“Good grief,” Enfie mumbled, pulling herself off the ground. She took Mayfly’s hand. There still wasn’t a hint of fear in her eyes. “We’re gonna move down now, so I want you hold onto me tight, sweetie, okay? You hold on tight and we’re gonna be just fine.”

Mayfly let herself be led with all the blind diligence of a duckling. People were still crowding, pushing off into the seats, or struggling to get to the further cars. In truth there were only a few dozen of them altogether, but packed in close, fighting and shrieking, the train suddenly felt much too narrow. The two of them barely managed a crawl, but Enfie didn’t let go of her hand for a second.

No one else came in from behind them. Through the open passage she could see two guards aiming into the next car, firing and ducking as shots came ripping back at them. For only an instant, she swore she could see Foste peaking out between the distant seats. Even so far away, those hungry, furious eyes were bright as suns to her.

‘Don’t have to do this, girlie!’ he’d said, clear as day to her now. ‘Only has to be you!’

It only had to be her. Not the passengers, not the guards. Not Enfie. A spike of grief and guilt hitched her odd heart. Her feet dragged, as though sunk to the knees in the blood of every last person Foste had killed since she’d said his name. Ealdwin had warned her, but when the time came to be ready, she’d ran instead. And now people were dead because, what, she was scared?

No.

No, just her.

Mayfly pulled Enfie aside into an empty row as the crowd continued to slosh down the aisle. The woman didn’t fight when she ushered her into the seat.

“What’s wrong, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

“They want me,” Mayfly said. “The man who killed Falbrite wants me, nobody else.”

“What? Why?”

She might have told her that, too, but looking into Enfie’s eyes, Mayfly wasn’t sure she’d go along if she knew. “I’m gonna go back. I’m sorry, this is all my fault. You’re my friend, and you’re really nice, and I like you, and I ruined all your maps and I’m really, really sorry—”

Enfie took her gently by the arms. “Mayfly, listen to me. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a good girl, and I don’t care what they want, I’m not handing you over to a couple of murderous magi.”

“They’re gonna keep killing people. Please, Enfie, just let me go back. I outran them before, I’m really fast! And the one guy, he can move metal around, but he couldn’t move me! And I’m all metal!”

It was like Mayfly had started speaking gibberish, and something finally twisted the raw compassion in Enfie’s eyes: bewilderment. “You’re all…” she patted the arms she held, then down Mayfly’s sides, rapping softly with her knuckles. “Metal.”

“And they shot me, and nothing happened! I can do it, really.”

“You’re all metal,” Enfie repeated, quietly and to herself. Her eyes narrowed, darting like minnows in a pond. Ealdwin used to say he could see smoke coming out of her ears whenever Mayfly was thinking hard about something; Enfie could have cooked the whole car with how hot her brain must have been running. 

Eventually she looked right up at her, questions clearly on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed them. “Okay. Gods all, okay, I think I have a plan. Honey, are you sure you want to do this? I know you’re…well you’re something, but it’s still dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, either,” Mayfly said. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. What do we do?”