The Children’s Train

On a dark road in a Dutch forest, Sloan and Mica hid guns under the belly of a truck. The vehicle had been purchased with Marla’s money, taken in exchange for Peter.

“Marla wanted us to use him,” Mica said.

“He’s just a kid,” Sloan said. “He’s had no training.”

“Neither did we.”

“He’s a farmhand. He should be in England milking cows or something,” Sloan said.

“He’s smart and willing,” Mica said. “The rest will come.”

“If he stays alive long enough.”

“Wait, you like him. That’s it, isn’t it? What happened to ‘there’s no room for emotion in a rebellion’?” Mica asked. “Listen Sloan, I like him, too, but Isha is planning the train depot bombing. There aren’t many of us. We need more people. They don’t know his face, and he might just surprise you.”

“Not yet. He can be our runner, but here in England. Give him time to season,” Sloan said.

“You like him too much, Sloan. It’s affecting your judgment,” Mica said, but he smiled. “Me, too.”