Violet Eden Chapters 04 - Endless

rough. ‘This whole thing would be easier if we could get along, okay?’
    ‘Getting along isn’t exactly our problem, in case you’ve forgotten,’ I mumbled.
    But he kept his eyes fixed on mine until I sighed. ‘Okay, okay. Got it. We’re in this together.’
    His hand went to my face, warm and all-encompassing. ‘We’re going to make it through this.’ His forehead dropped to meet mine and we stayed like that for a few precious seconds before we were moving on again. Lincoln knew the station and led with purpose. Within minutes we had tickets and were boarding the first available train, taking our seats at the back of the last carriage after doing a walk-through of the entire train, monitoring every other person who stepped on after us. We were relentless in our focus. Now was no time for dereliction of duty.



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    ‘This is how it will be … The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous.’
    Matthew 13:49
    L incoln onlybought tickets to get us half way. Due to the predawn hour and Lincoln’s paranoia that we’d be followed, he decided to ‘borrow’ a car for the remainder of the trip.
    In spite of our frantic situation I found myself fascinated by the prospect of seeing Lincoln hotwire a car. And, he put on an impressively stealthy show, selecting a well-blending four-wheel drive parked close to the train station, and managing to start it in less than thirty seconds before tearing up the freeway like a madman while I searched for a map in the glove box.
    I grabbed hold of my door handle as we took a sharp corner.
    Lincoln finally slowed down when we merged with the other traffic, suddenly making us one of the many.
    ‘Who are you?’ I asked, as I stared at the normally by-the-book Lincoln.
    He kept his eyes on the road. ‘Mum taught me to always be prepared for desperate times.’
    ‘Did your mum also teach you how to boost a car?’
    He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. ‘Not exactly, but I’m sure she wouldn’t argue under the circumstances.’
    I had to agree. I started unfolding the map I’d found, twisting it around until I figured out where we were. ‘Okay, what’s the name of this town?’
    ‘Cold Spring,’ Lincoln replied. ‘We should be about twenty minutes out.’
    I searched the map. ‘Got it,’ I said.
    Well, it sounded nice enough. ‘Stay on the US-9,’ I instructed.

    It didn’t take long and when we arrived in Cold Spring, it was still predawn. The small town was misty and silent. The main street – the only street really – was deserted and we knew it would still be a couple of hours before any shops opened. We considered trying to find Evelyn’s safe-house but the instructions had told us only to get to Cold Spring and then to the general store.
    We parked the car in a small side street and tried to rest, but despite our lack of sleep neither one of us could relax. In the end we settled for a walk along the river, the sky slowly brightening as the sun rose.
    ‘It’s beautiful here,’ I said, taking in the picturesque scene. Cold Spring was perched along the river, walkways, small boats and huge old weatherboard homes lining its banks. I stared across the river into nothing but greenery. The view was so natural – untainted by human development.
    ‘There are towns like this up and down the Hudson,’ Lincoln said, an ease in his voice that reflected our environment. ‘I used to try and get away from the Academy and explore whenever I could. I never made it to this place, but I think it’s popular for its antiques.’
    We walkedback through an underpass beneath the train line and into the centre of the town.
    ‘I can believe that,’ I said, taking in just how many quaint little shops edged the street.
    ‘Look,’ Lincoln said, pointing across the road to where a window glowed and, above, soft plumes of smoke escaped a vent. ‘Can you smell that?’
    I sucked in a deep breath and almost moaned. ‘Fresh bread.’
    He grinned. ‘Yep.’
    We made our way over to the bakery and pressed our faces against the windows until we caught the attention of the tiny man pulling first-of-the-day bread from the ovens. After he had recovered from the fright he opened the door.
    ‘Travelling through?’ he bellowed in a deep voice that seemed far too powerful for his size.
    We nodded. ‘Any chance we could buy a few loaves of bread?’ Lincoln asked.
    A few minutes later we walked out with a bag of five-grain rolls, a