“Nice name. Nice girl. Pleased to meet you. I shoulda brought flowers or chocolates or a dead mouse.”

Rhiannon giggled, and it lifted Sam’s spirits. There was always hope.

Rhiannon put her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You go first,” she said. “If I see you can make it, it’ll make me braver.”

“You sure?”

“Go on. Good luck.”

Sam looked out. As far as he could tell it was all clear. He squeezed through the narrow opening and shuffled on his belly onto the platform. A quick glance to left and right, then he sprinted to the end in a low crouch and gave the bed frame a quick once-over. It was secured in place with a chain and padlock. He would need the Kid’s help.

His heart was hammering, the blood pulsed tight in his head, and he felt sick again. He looked back. The train was still. There was no movement in Nick and Rachel’s livingcar. The doors were shut.

Rhiannon was slowly groping her way onto the platform; the Kid was obviously pushing her from below. Helping her up. Sam knew how hard that was. Once up she lay there on her stomach, catching her breath. The Kid quickly whispered something in her ear, and Sam waved him over.

Somehow the Kid seemed to blend in with the surroundings and almost disappear, moving like a rat and sliding into the shadows next to Sam.

“Nothing to it,” he whispered, his teeth very white in the darkness. “Piece of Coca-Cola.”

Sam showed the padlock to the Kid, who made short work of it, wriggling his tool in the lock until it clicked open.

It was a nightmare trying to unthread the chain without making a sound, but between them they managed it and were able to slide the bed frame back just far enough to squeeze past.

“Let’s get the babe, chicken legs.” The Kid signaled to Rhiannon.

“Don’t call me that,” said Sam crossly. “I don’t have chicken legs.”

“They sure are skinny.”

“You’re not exactly fat.”

“Not exactly, no—”

“Shhh.” Sam clamped a hand over the Kid’s mouth.

Rhiannon had gotten to her feet and started to come across. She was limping and fighting for oxygen. Moving painfully slowly.

“Come on,” said Sam. “Come on, you can make it.”

He could just see the expression on her face. Desperate, scared, yet determined. Nothing was going to stop her.

“She’s gonna make it,” said the Kid. “Come on, girl. Come on, my Rhiannon.”

Then Rhiannon staggered and fell to her knees. She couldn’t stop herself from grunting, and Sam held his breath.

“Get up, girl,” said the Kid, but Rhiannon couldn’t.

“Come on,” said Sam, and the two of them left their cover and went over to her. They hooked an arm under each shoulder and wrenched her up.