The Amtrack Wars - Earth Thunder - LightNovelsOnl.com
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'Please yourself." Steve braced himself for the inevitable a.s.sault.
She kissed him then lowered her voice to a whisper.
'I've finally got something on that boss of yours."
'Karlstrom?"
'Shuhh! Yes .... ' 'I'd have thought he'd be the last person you'd want to make an enemy of."
Fran's voice became a snake-like hiss. 'After the way he dumped us in that mess?"
'Oh, c'mon! It wasn't his fault ' . 'No? He's had it coming for a long time - and now we've finally got a chance to cut his b.a.l.l.s off!'
'How d'you mean - get him fired?"
'Among other things. There's a lot going on here you don't know about, Stevie. Let's just say that President-Generals don't live for ever and leave it at that." She sat up and stripped off the rest of her clothes. 'You and I have got a much more urgent problem to attend to, Captain."
'Yessirr-ma'am ' Steve moved obligingly towards the middle of the bed.
Fran landed beside him like a cat on all fours and pinned him down with a long, devouring tongue-sucking kiss that came close to tearing his lips off. 'uhh, Stevie! This is what I've been missing! Those j.a.p rice b.a.l.l.s are okay, but there ain't nothin' to match a regular diet of firm red meat!" She slipped her hand inside his bathrobe.
'Mmmm-mhhh!
Y'see?
Things are looking up already!" Regardless of what his body was saying, there was only one thought in Steve's mind: I've had enough. I gotta get out of here.
A couple of days later, Fran and Steve were invited to watch another late evening movie at Grand Palisades. 'Is your father going to be there?" asked Steve 'He might be,' said Fran. 'Why d'you ask?"
'Ohh, it was just that... Karlstrom advised me to stay out of his way.
On account of-' Fran fastened the high collar of his jacket together.
'Don't be stupid. If my father was out for your blood, d'you think I'd be here?"
'Yehhh,' mused Steve. 'I never thought of that' He watched Fran check her appearance in the long bedroom mirror.
Tonight she had chosen a dark blue evening dress with puffed elbow-length sleeves and a deep curving neckline that offered an enticing view of uplifted b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a smooth tanned back.
The transformation of Fran into a 'southern belle' for these formal occasions never failed to amaze Steve. The effect was always stunning, but he could not understand how someone with so short and so vile a temper could patiently allow herself be squeezed and trussed into a tight-waisted corset by her Mute maid-servant before donning layer after voluminous layer of petticoats. And it took as long again to add a new face and arrange the curled, beribboned hair pieces.
Fortunately they didn't have to dress up every night.
Steve parted the window curtains and looked down at the empty driveway.
'Are we going by coach?"
'No, it's too cold. We'll take the trolley." She fluffed out the sleeves of her dress, gave herself the final seal of approval and presented herself to him.
'Terrific." Steve picked up the matching shawl and draped it around her shoulders. 'What's a trolley?"
'Follow me and you'll find out."
They went downstairs into the large hall and into a side-corridor.
Fran halted opposite a marble side table bearing a huge bouquet of imitation flowers, and grasped the right hand side of a small framed picture of a landscape.
Instead of being hung on a hook, it was hinged down the left hand edge.
Behind it was a card-slot and keypad.
Fran produced an ID card from her small evening bag, inserted it into the slot, keyed in four digits, then retrieved her card and swung the picture back into place as two complete wall panels moved six inches backwards and parted to reveal an elevator the size of the living room Steve had shared with Roz and his guard-parents at Roosevelt/Santa Fe.
They stepped inside and were carried down to a lower level which led directly to a miniature, marbled subway station.
A two-car train running on a twin set of rails was drawn up at the platform which was at the same level as the track; a second set of rails ran alongside it and both disappeared into lighted tunnels lined with glazed white tiles. Each car, or 'trolley', was wide enough to accommodate a lady in a full skirt and long enough to hold six of them with their 'beaus'. Motive power was gathered from an overhead line through a sprung metal frame mounted on the roof.
The car bodies were made of framed polished wood panels with metal reinforcements, mounted on two sets of four-wheeled bogies. Everything in sight was gleaming, spotless.
'Incredible,' breathed Steve. 'Who cleans all this?"
Fran laughed. 'Cleaners! Who d'you think?"
Of course. Stupid question. An underground army of Mutes ....
A scanning device sensed their presence and obligingly opened the sliding double doors. Steve followed Fran inside. The cars were fitted with folding seats, but the row of polished bra.s.s poles that ran down the middle of each car showed that they were designed to encourage stand-up travel. Fran punched in a six-figure code on the key-pad mounted on a side part.i.tion by the doors, causing them to close as the driverless vehicle whined into life.
Steve put a hand around Fran's waist and held onto the same pole as the trolley gathered speed and moved towards its chosen destination at a stately ten miles an hour. 'Quaint,' he said, surveying the antique wooden interior. 'Is this another Family exercise in nostalgia?"
'Yes. These are scaled-down versions of the trolley-cars that used to run above-ground in a place called San Francisco. Several decades before the Holocaust."
'Never heard of it." Steve looked out of the window as they came to a wide intersection with curving rows of columns supporting the roof.
Between the columns he could see twin tracks running away into other tunnels.
Other directions. He turned back to Fran. 'How big is this system?
Does it run under the whole of Cloudlands?"
'The most important parts."
'Like the estates?"
'Among other places."
'So basically, it will take you anywhere you want to go."
Fran answered with a teasing smile. 'Provided you have the right card and know the codes."