My thoughts were preoccupied, thinking about what I was doing, my doubts, my frustration that I couldn’t effectively watch out for trouble while doing this the way I was doing it. It was too easy for someone with powers to board the train and go after Rain while uncostumed. Was it likely? No. But I wanted to justify what I was doing.

There was a chance, though, that when Rain got off the train, he would be followed by fellow passengers until he was in a place where he could be attacked. I could watch out for that.

I could watch out for any unexpected stops, and I could keep an eye out for the old staples of railway robberies and ambushes—trains moved slowest when they went around corners, so I could keep an eye out for ambushes and unexpected boardings that took place in those locations.

With my thoughts caught up in things as they were, I nearly missed it.

The train was old-fashioned in look, cars linked by couplings, and passengers could move between cars, with the space between each car being open to the air. Periodically passengers would step out to smoke or get fresh air. Most were parents with kids.

At the caboose, a figure had stepped out onto the back. Rain.

He climbed over the railing and jumped, while the train was going well over a hundred miles an hour.

Hands out to his side, his bag in one hand, other empty, his feet touched the slope, and he stopped. No momentum, nothing to suggest he’d been on a speeding train a matter of seconds ago. The fact he stood on a slope didn’t seem to matter, as he didn’t slide, slip, or fall.

He looked around, but he didn’t look up, and I wasn’t sure he would have seen me if he had. He jogged down the slope, and walked across a field. Past the field was mostly wilderness and dirt road.

Rain walked for ten minutes to get where he was going. Erin had parked under a modest little bridge in a town with one gas station.

I didn’t feel good, watching them interact. I felt guilty for spying, even though his actions proved he was being dishonest. I watched Rain make conversation with his friend. Minutes, where he did most of the talking, pacing some, while Erin leaned against the side of the vehicle.

He must have asked something, because Erin shifted position, reaching through the window. A second later, she drew her hand out. She had a handgun.

It didn’t mean anything. This was justifiable, given his situation. Lying about where he lived and where he was going was justifiable. Even his friend carrying a gun made sense, when he was being hunted.

His story about how they met and where she came from… I wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel like I knew the whole of it.