The Hush by Skye Melki-Wegner

go.’
    Sam dashed out from behind the trees. Chester followed, his heart shuddering like a loose fiddle string. They hurtled forwards – and with a terrible lurch, he realised where Sam was heading.
    The track.
    The railway track, right in front of the train.
    The train blazed towards them, gushing and roaring and pouring smoke into the air. Music pumped up through its smoke, and Chester fought down an insane urge to laugh. It sounded almost like a folk song, distorted with fire and power and engine grease.
    This is mad , Chester thought. This is mad!
    His entire body was trembling. He shouldn’t be here. He should be fleeing towards another town, searching for clues about his father’s disappearance. Perhaps he could slip away from Sam, escape the townsfolk on his own and make his way alone …
    But he felt faint from the blood loss and he had given his word and he had no idea what else to do. He had no money and without his fiddle he couldn’t earn a living. Nor could he charm people into spilling their secrets. Besides, at the moment, Sam was his only real lead to finding his father.
    Chester took a deep breath. He tensed his muscles and hurled himself onto the track.
    When he touched the metal, Chester let out a cry. Lit by the morning sun, it burned hot on his flesh. Sam grabbed his shoulder and began to whistle. Chester could barely hear over the roar of the train but he caught a few notes and realised it was a reversal of the Sundown Recital.
    The train was almost upon them. Its brakes screeched: the driver must have spotted them on the tracks, but it was too late. The train’s forward shadow fell across their bodies and Chester felt the world grow cooler, until all was smoke and screeching and metal and shadow and –
    It was gone. A churn in the air and a yank behind his gut. The world turned dark, rain exploded in blackened twists around his face, and dark fog rippled out from their position on the track.
    Silence.
    Chester was shaking. He raised his head, almost unable to breathe.
    Darkness stained the world around him. He still knelt on the railway line, but the metal beneath his knees and hands felt like ice. Rain swirled through the air, the sun replaced by dark grey sky. There was no train, just silent track. He was back in the Hush.
    Sam yanked him to his feet. ‘Come on, hurry. Gotta get the echoboat started before that train’s finished passing …’
    â€˜Echoboat?’ Chester stumbled along after Sam. The rain parted as they crossed the track, throwing light onto a new patch of darkness.
    And suddenly he saw it. It sat on the railway track: a strange beast of sails and lumber, crouching on its nest.It was the size of a large wagon, built of wood and metallic cogs. A yacht’s mast rose from its top, sails fluttering in the dark. Its windows were made of glass, an expense almost unheard of except in Weser City.
    â€˜What …?’
    â€˜Echoboat.’ Sam clambered up a short rope ladder and onto the deck. He heaved open a trapdoor and began to descend into the boat. ‘Get moving, will you? Gotta use the train’s residual energy to jump-start the engine, or we’ll be stuck here until another damn train comes along.’
    Sam’s voice faded as he vanished inside, swallowed by clanking machinery. Chester scrambled after him, clambering down into the innards of the boat. He dropped down into a sort of driver’s cabin, a cubicle that brimmed with wheels and levers. The trapdoor slammed shut overhead, sealing them inside.
    â€˜How can I help?’
    Sam yanked an enormous wooden lever. ‘Get out of my way!’
    There was a grumble around them and the cabin began to shake. The train’s Music played on, still leaking through from the real world. But it was fainter now; the whisper of a dying song. Sam swore then pulled another lever. He pressed a button and yanked a copper chain on the ceiling.
    â€˜Hold on,’ he said.