Zero was right. The train station was less monitored than the airport. No facial recognition scanners at the gate, just a tired ticket collector punching holes in paper tickets.
We boarded the Coast Starlight southbound, heading toward California/Nevada border. We paid cash for a private sleeper cabin. It was expensive, but we couldn't risk sitting in the general coach with a baby who occasionally turned his eyes golden.
The cabin was tiny—two bunk beds, a small window, and a sliding door that barely locked.
"It’s claustrophobic," Caleb muttered, hunching his shoulders to fit in the small space. He sat on the bottom bunk, scanning the corridor through the crack in the curtains.
"It’s moving," I said, settling Leo onto the bed. "And it’s taking us away from Seattle. That’s all that
