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“That’s not how it was,” Annie said after taking her hands away from her ears and composing herself. “I mean, I blamed myself

for a long time, it’s true. I told myself that, yeah, I had killed that child, but in my wildest dreams I could never have

imagined such a thing happening. There was never any intent to harm that boy.”

Nabler gave her a smile that bordered on the sympathetic. “It must have been very hard for you.”

“Not as hard as it was for Evan’s parents.”

“Anyway, your intent is irrelevant,” he said, his look of empathy fading. “It is a distinction without a difference. That

incident showed what a book could do. But to me it was, if not proof, then evidence of potential.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You have an untapped power.”

“I can draw, and I can write. That’s it.”

“Now you’re just being modest. Or maybe you really aren’t cognizant of what you can do. There are a great many books designed

to inspire youngsters to reach for that higher rung, to be more than they believed themselves capable. But how many of those

books inspired any child to do what Evan Corcoran did? None. But yours, yours was special.”

“I hate you.”

Oblivious to her loathing, Nabler was already engaged in how they would move forward. He gazed about the room, imagining its transformation, as the trains continued to circle with their incessant din.

“What we’ll have to do is convert everything over from trains to a printing operation. Or, you could continue to have your

books printed in their current location, but before distribution we bring them here and put them through the process. We’ll

need fresh material, and given that there are no longer people here in Lucknow we’ll have to do some scouting in Bennington

or Montpelier, or we’ll head west to Albany. Lots to choose from there, no question.”

“Fresh material?”

“I’m sure you already noticed some of the scenic elements on the little town there are not what you would find in a more traditional

hobby shop. The bones, the teeth, the hair, that kind of thing. Your husband’s watch. It’s what gives the project its zing.

With books, I’m thinking we might take a different, more direct approach. Did you know that around 150 BC, in Pergamon in

West Asia, parchment was made from animal skin? So there’s no reason to think it can’t be made from human skin. Just a page

or two, that’s all we’d need. Slip it in somewhere, and—”

He cut himself off and laughed. “Those loonie politicians trying to ban books in schools and libraries? They might be on to

something without even knowing it.”

“I won’t do it,” Annie said.

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t have any part of it.”

Nabler gave her a smile one might offer a na?ve child. “I’m amused that you think you’re in a position to bargain. Have you

forgotten someone?”

“Don’t hurt my son.”

“I would certainly hate to do that. He seems like a lovely young man. He was very tired and hungry when I found him. I had my doubts he’d make it here on his own despite his best efforts, so I met him along the way.”

“I found his bike.”

“I knew you would. Bread crumbs.”

“Please, I’m sure he’s tired and hungry. I have his things in the car. A change of clothes. Just give him to me and we’ll

go to the car and then we can talk.”

Nabler rolled his eyes. “I know this getup is a bit ridiculous, but tell me I don’t look that stupid.”

Annie shook her head. “I just want my son.”

Nabler went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “You know what surprised me after the big event, when everyone died? I felt lonely.

I never would have expected that. Up until that time, I kept my interactions with people to a minimum. Dealt with them when

I had to, tolerated them. But when they were all gone, I was a little regretful.”

“Regretful?” Annie said. “You made it happen? You killed four thousand people?”

Nabler sighed. “The way things work is that in many cases there’s a kind of symbiosis between what the trains are doing and

what happens to those in their orbit. A mirroring, if you will. There was an incident in this room. The local chief of police,

getting a little too close to the truth, and in our back-and-forth, a few tanker cars were knocked off the tracks and hit

the floor and made quite the mess.”

“That... triggered the derailment?”

Nabler nodded. “It wasn’t planned, but it was without question a high point for me. Perhaps a case of be careful what you

wish for. I’ve been ready to retire ever since.”

“Where does some unspeakably evil thing like you retire to?”

Nabler shrugged. “Florida.”

There was a moment of quiet between them. Annie was assessing her situation, and Nabler felt it was only right to give her

some time.

Finally, she said, “I won’t agree to anything until I see Charlie and know he’s okay.”

Nabler nodded slowly. “That seems reasonable.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s been with us this whole time. I thought you might have noticed by now.”

Annie looked about the room. “Where the hell is he?”

Nabler raised a palm and waved it slowly in front of him, as if clearing a space on a frosted window. As he did so, one of

the trains that had been circling around the room slowed to a stop next to Annie on a track that was slightly below eye level.

It was the passenger train.

“The dome car,” Nabler said.

She focused her attention on the streamlined car with a glass bubble on top, the place where, in a real dome car, passengers

would sit so that they might have a more spectacular view during their journey.

Inside the bubble was a scale figure, no more than an inch tall, but detailed enough that Annie could see how it looked remarkably

like Charlie.

But then the figure waved its arms. It was not a representation of her son.

It was him. Shouting something she could not hear because they were separated by the dome’s glass.

But she could make out what he was saying nonetheless.

“Mommy!”