Chapter 4

The Wasteland Transit Line Omega screamed through the Arctic darkness as though the dead world outside were trying to tear it from the tracks.

Lyra stood in the narrow observation compartment with one hand wrapped around the overhead rail and the other resting near the pulse pistol secured against her thigh. Beyond the reinforced glass, there was almost nothing to see. The train's forward lamps carved two pale tunnels through blowing radioactive snow, illuminating twisted transmission towers, half-buried vehicles and the occasional skeletal remains of buildings before darkness swallowed them again. Every few minutes, something struck the armored exterior with…