and Erica were untied from the bench and led from the train as Tommy continued to goad them with threats of imprisonment. “Ewe’ll be goin’ to the mine fo ’ certain, tough guy. But, don’t worry, Eye’m shor yer girl will get to stay up ’ere on the surface with us.” He shoved them into the street. The citizens of the town weren’t interested in the train. The streets weren’t crowded, but they were full. Erica would even describe it as bustling. Men and women moved about at a leisurely pace. Many smiled and spoke with others as they crossed paths. If they hadn’t been dressed in period costumes, it would have seemed like a normal day in a normal town. The clothes looked beautiful and in good condition but were odd nonetheless. Erica leaned over to Jerry and whispered. “Look at how they’re dressed. It’s so odd.” “I know,” he said. “I was expecting more metal braziers.” “Rebecca would have loved this,” Erica said with no small amount of sadness. Jerry wanted to put his arm around her. He wanted to hold her tight. Losing her sister had been worse for Erica than losing the entire world. He leaned in close to her since the bindings prevented an embrace. A young boy yelled as he ran along the length of the train. “Sir Thomas?” “Ere boy!” the knight yelled back. The young teen panted as he spoke. “Sir Thomas, the king has ordered that the prisoner be brought before him at once.” Tommy smiled at Jerry. “Well. Looks like justice is moving extra fast today. Ewe’ll be in the myne in no time at all.” He signaled two of the guards. “Bring the prisoners.” “No,” the boy spoke again. “Just the dude. That’s what the king said.” “Isn’t that interesting?” The knight cocked his head and shoved Jerry forward. “Take this one to the king. Leave the girl with me.” Tommy leaned in and whispered, “What do you think of that?” Jerry whispered back. “I already warned you. You’ll lose every hand that touches her.” “Yeah, but your big bad Hannibal isn’t around now.” Jerry smiled and shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s not me or the dog you need to be afraid of.” A knifepoint in his stomach caused Jerry to step back. Tommy waved good-bye with the dagger and the guards led Jerry away. They escorted him down Twelfth Street and Jerry tried to take everything in and file it away. The buildings, the guards, the people—he tried to remember all of it, but there was simply too much purple. His eye was drawn to the ram’s skull crest on the field of purple and gold. The icon hung from every post and structure. It was stitched onto every armed man in the town. “I’m guessing the king’s mother was a seamstress?” One of the knights grunted, “His sister.” “Oh,” Jerry said. “Why the ram skull?” The other knight shrugged. “Because it looks badass.” Jerry nodded. “I can’t argue with that.” There were many arguments to be made with that. But Jerry was too relieved to bother making them. He half expected a ram’s skull to be the king. Like the Lord of the Flies, perhaps the people of the kingdom had been driven mad by the isolation. Or maybe it was the altitude. He had seen stranger things. One town in the Midwest followed the laws set down by a prized chicken. Another place farther south had elected a dog as mayor. One back east prayed and followed the laws of an old Volkswagen. They were delivered for the Volkswagen by a man named Hank . Or Hank was their leader and lived in the Volkswagen. He wasn’t certain. These could have all been attempts to dodge responsibility. If the crops failed or people died, it was much easier to pin the misfortune on a goat or German engineering than it was for a person to shoulder the blame. But it didn’t matter why these totems were adopted; the people that served beneath were always absolutely crazy. The guards turned him down Elias Street and the purple got