Our destination turned out to be a literal dead end—the lights stopped abruptly, but farther down the tracks, just beyond the glow thrown by the last bulb, I saw what remained of the subway train itself. It was larger than our monorail in the Colony, and bulkier, and was wedged between the platforms on its side, as if it had hit a far wall at considerable speed and crumpled like an accordion upon impact. Now I knew why no one had bothered to get the train up and running again once the war had ended. What didn’t gleam in the low lighting was rusted through, and holes pocked the metal exterior of the train. A rear door hung open like a tongue sticking out at us, the dark maw above it an invitation.
I hoped that didn’t turn out to be Tin’s workshop.
He slowed the cycle to a stop, then dismo
