-40 DEGREES

CHAPTER 2

Union Cavern was a cavern of golden light and false cheer when she arrived. A massive wreath was hanging over the great hall, and the PA system blared a tinny rendition of George Michael's "Last Christmas, I gave you my heart..."

Maya moved through the crowd like a ghost, but still felt like someone was watching her. Around her, families hugged their loved ones, lovers kissed goodbye and the thousand other passengers either stood stock still or milled around, waiting for their departure.

She glanced at a giant OLED screen mounted above the departure boards. The headline flashed: CASSIAN GRANT TO ANNOUNCE 'CLIMATE SOLUTION BREAKTHROUGH' TOMORROW.

Below it was the headline of the rumoured Carrington Event.

Tick, tock, Maya thought.

She pushed through the heavy doors to the platform. The cold slammed into her instantly, smelling of diesel fumes and impending snow. The Northern Star Express sat hissing on the tracks as the steel beast stretched into the darkness. Steam plumed from the undercarriage, wrapping the platform in a thick, gray fog.

Maya hurried towards Car 4. The concrete was slick with a fresh glaze of black ice.

She stepped onto the metal stairs of the train car, but suddenly lost her footing, slipping.

Her feet went out from under her. Gravity took over, tipping her backward toward the gap between the train and the jagged concrete edge of the platform.

But just then, a hand shot out of the team and saved her. She was hauled up and slammed gently against the chest of a heavy wool coat.

"Careful," a voice said. "It's slick out here."

Maya looked up, gasping for air.

The man holding her was striking. He had the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover. Sharp jaw, blue eyes that crinkled at the corners, an expensive haircut and an intoxicating sweet, smell of pine and expensive scotch.

"My fault," Maya stammered, pulling away. Her heart was trying to batter its way out of her throat. "Wrong shoes."

The man smiled. It was a warm, disarming smile. "I'm Mark," he said, extending a gloved hand.

Maya hesitated. Ben's voice echoed in her head: DO NOT TRUST ANYBODY.

"Sarah," she lied. "Sarah Vance."

"Pleasure, Sarah." He gestured to her laptop bag, which had slipped to her elbow. "Let me get that for you. You look like you're carrying the weight of the world."

For a split second, just a split second, Maya wanted to let him. She wanted to hand over the bag, hand over the fear and just be a woman being helped but a handsome stranger on Christmas Eve. The vibe between them was instant, a spark of attraction that made the winter cold a bit bearable.

"I've got it," she said, hoisting the strap. But she offered him a small, genuine smile. "Thanks for the save."

"Anytime." Mark's eye lingered on her for a moment too long. "See you on board, Sarah."

Maya had just sat in her compartment, her hands trembling as she tried to organize the physical files in her bag. Every shadow looked like a threat now. Even the creak of the train sounded like a footstep.

Just then, a knock sounded on the sliding glass door.

She jumped, clutching her bag.

It was Mark, the handsome stranger from earlier. He was standing in the aisle, looking flustered. The suave charm from the platform was gone, replaced by distress.

"Sarah?" He opened the door a crack. "I hate to ask. I really do. But... are you busy?"

Maya blinked, guarding the bag. "I...what's wrong?"

"It's my mother," Mark said, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "She's in the next car. She dropped her insulin pen. It rolled under the heating unit beneath the seat. I can't... my hands are too big to reach it." He looked at Maya's small, slender fingers. "Could you? She's panicking."

Maya hesitated. Her gut screamed Stay put.

But she looked at his face. He looked genuinely worried. He had saved her from cracking her skull on the platform. She owed him that much.

"Sure," Maya said, standing up. She slung the laptop bag over her shoulder, she wasn't leaving it behind. "Lead the way."

They moved down the narrow corridor . The train rocked rhythmically as they passed the dining car that smelled of roast beef and wine, before they pushed through the heavy door into the connector.

The noise hit them instantly.

The vestibule between the cars was a sensory assault. The metal floor plates shifted and ground against each other. The heavy rubber accordion walls groaned as the wind howled through the gaps, dropping the temperature twenty degrees in a single step. It was deafeningly loud.

Mark stopped. He didn't reach for the door to the next car. Instead he turned to face her.

The distress vanished from his face like a wiped hard drive. The warmth was gone. The charm was gone. His eyes were now flat, dead things.

"You're a hard woman to find, Ms. Lin," he shouted over the roar of the tracks.

Maya's blood turned to ice. She backed up, clutching the bag, but her back hit the steel door they had just come through.

"How do you-"

Mark didn't let her finish. He lunged at her, clamping his hand around her throat and cutting off her scream. He slammed her against the exterior door of the moving train, the impact rattling her teeth.

With his other hand, he reached for the emergency release lever of the exterior door and yanked it down.

The door slid open. The scream of the wind was a roar now. Snow whipped into the vestibule in blinding, violent bursts. Below them, the ground rushed by in a blur of gray and black, moving at eighty miles per hour.

Mark leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he tightened his grip on her throat, pushing her backward into the void as she struggled.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered.