The Railroad - Journey - 4.3
I realized that I accidentally mislabeled straw bricks as straw bales earlier. Straw bricks are highly compressed straw bales, turned into something like bricks.
After that, it was like I was watching everything from a third-person perspective, with no sense of reality at all.
Thanks to our well-prepared plan, we passed through the territorial checkpoint without any difficulties. The travel permit signed by the free imperial cities granted us extensive privileges, and we wouldn't be stopped until we neared the Grand Duchy’s border. However, if anyone really insisted on checking our necks, the situation could take a sharp turn for the worse, exposing the falsified identity signals on our terminals. So, we still couldn’t draw too much attention to ourselves.
Perhaps we benefited from the fact that the system had been in place for too long and had grown too powerful and secure, leaving no one to suspect that the fox serfs before them weren’t wearing collars, as long as we kept ourselves bundled up in coats.
The blizzard had eased, but not entirely stopped. Our winter clothing and gear didn’t seem too out of place, and our footprints quickly disappeared into the endless white snow.
I’d say I used up all the luck I had in this lifetime.
If I… hadn’t let down my guard… maybe Adam could’ve…
A cracking sound, the firewood splintering in the flames, snapped me back to reality.
We had already burned the last of the straw bricks last week; after all, they were too heavy to carry much of.
“Look what I found!” 74258 said excitedly, pulling out a handful of fist-sized red berries from my backpack. “I thought you said fresh food should be eaten first.”
“That’s not food,” I said with a wry smile, quickly stopping the fox from stuffing the fruit into his mouth.
“Aren’t these tomatoes?” 74258 tilted his head, not quite understanding.
“They are, but these are genetically engineered tomatoes from the plant factory series.” I carefully took the tomatoes back from his hand and put them back in the storage box. “These contain bio-synthesized morphine. Eating one will put you to sleep for three days.” Actually, it would sedate you to death, but I wasn’t in the mood to mention that right now.
“Oh, I see. I always wondered why the third team only needed to produce a small amount of tomatoes to meet their quota.” 74258 scratched the tip of his ear. “But, what’s the plan for carrying tomatoes that we can’t eat?”
“Trade,” I said as I zipped up my backpack. “Medicine is highly sought after in the cities, and people who need it will pay a hefty price.” As for what kind of need… I wasn’t in the position to delve into that right now.
“Oh, you’ve thought it all through!” 74258 said, pulling out two compressed rations from his own pack and tossing one to me.
“It was Adam’s idea.” I hesitated for a moment but decided to say it anyway. 74258 must have heard the hesitation in my voice because he awkwardly scratched his ear again. “Speaking of which,” I said, changing the topic to lighten the mood, “if we’re going to cross the border, you’ll need a civilian identity. You should come up with a name for yourself.”
“Oh…” 74258 tilted his head, one of his ears drooping as he pointed to the ground, the sound of crinkling packaging filling the silence as he fidgeted with the wrapper of his ration.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, biting into my ration bar.
“Well…” 74258 shifted closer to the fire. “Like you said before, since I’m deciding how I want to be called, I should pick a name with special meaning. So maybe…” He tilted his head the other way, the flickering flames turning his eyes the color of rust. “...I need a bit more time to think.”
“Take your time,” I replied with a shrug, pretending to be casual. I hadn’t expected 74258 to take my earlier words so seriously—it was just a fake identity to get through customs. But I understood that desire to hold on to some sense of real feeling. “We’re still far from the border, so there’s plenty of time.”
“But there’s another question…” 74258 said, opening his ration bar and taking a bite before lowering his head to swipe at his terminal.
“I know,” I said softly, finishing my compressed ration and tossing the wrapper into the fire. “Just give me a little more time.” From the corner of my eye, I saw 74258 nod, continuing to use his terminal.
Our original plan was to avoid any potential trouble, only entering the free imperial city to resupply when necessary and otherwise trekking across the wilderness, sleeping in remote, desolate areas. If we could successfully trade the drugs, we wouldn’t run short of supplies, though it would take time. However, the longer we stayed within the Grand Duchy’s borders, the higher the chances of an unforeseen accident.
After meeting with the mayor, we had another option—visiting Little Rock, the largest free imperial city in the Arkansas Count’s territory. We had done some research; the Green Katydid Estate wasn’t a well-known winery there, but it seemed to be a perfect cover for some sort of underground organization.
The mayor did mention the “railroad,” right? And he hinted that he knew the drone malfunction was our doing. 74258 and I had discussed it, and we both reached the same conclusion—that Labrador deliberately fed us information.
So, the only question left is, can we trust him?
74258 thinks it’s worth the risk to obtain a direct route north. But if I’m against it, he’s willing to respect my decision.
I suggested a compromise—let me scout ahead and make sure it wasn’t a trap. But 74258 believed we shouldn’t split up; if anything went wrong, we wouldn’t be able to support each other.
So, I have to make the decision.
I don’t trust nobles, no matter how good their taste is in wine or snacks. But… does he count as a noble? No, that’s not the point! Which is the greater risk—walking across the continent or stepping into a winery that might be a trap? Wouldn’t it be easier for the mayor to just arrest us if he suspected anything? And when he said those things, he seemed so sincere. But sincerity can be faked. But, but…
Blooming roses.
“Let’s go to Little Rock,” I finally decided, tugging at the fur on my neck.
74258 nodded in agreement, his raised lips betraying his thoughts. Ever since we set off, although the fox had never complained, it didn’t take much insight to see that hiking wasn’t exactly his favorite activity.
After a while, 74258 set up his sleeping bag and crawled inside, bidding me goodnight.
I yawned in response, setting up the motion sensor beacons. After securing the probes, I glanced at the fox, who already seemed to be asleep.
Is he really someone who can adapt to any situation?
Stirring the fire, I tossed in the last of the firewood, sending up a spray of sparks and ash. The scent of burnt ash filled my nose, causing me to shiver involuntarily.
Staring at the flickering flames, I hugged myself tightly, trying to stop my trembling, but it didn’t help much.
So, I buried my muzzle between my knees, wrapping my tail around myself, and tried to stifle the quiet sobs escaping me.
"I still think I should go and check if it's a trap first," I said quietly to 74258, trying hard to resist the urge to scratch my fur.
"I thought you agreed that we shouldn't split up," 74258 glanced at me, folding down his right ear.
"I'm just grumbling," I waved my hand, signaling for him not to take it seriously. "It's too quiet, and that makes me overthink things."
We took a slight detour, approaching the Green Katydid Estate from the outskirts. The layout here was similar to the mayor's private estate, though it was noticeably much smaller. After passing through a few trellises, we reached the mansion.
The grapes here were also larger and redder compared to the ones at the mayor's. Perhaps this is what they call "terroir"?
"So... should we knock?" I asked 74258, only to realize the fox was frowning, intently studying a shrub planted in front of the mansion as if he were deeply immersed in some sort of research.
"What... oh right, let's knock. We can't just stand here forever," 74258 snapped back to reality and quickly scratched his ear.
I found the doorbell icon on the control panel by the entrance, pressed it to notify the owner, and then stepped back a bit to wait. A strange, lingering sense of dread, born from the fear that our streak of good luck was bound to end, made me tense up. To prevent myself from scratching again, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Still, I couldn’t help but glance repeatedly at the camera above the door, wondering what the estate owner looked like.
Maybe when the door opens, a team of bounty hunters will be there to greet us.
I shook my head hard to dismiss the thought—black humor was definitely not what I needed right now.
I darted my eyes around, trying to distract myself from thinking even stranger things. The cobwebs in the corner of the porch, the dust below the window sills, and even the roses in the front yard... they didn’t seem all that healthy, with some brown spots on the petals.
It didn’t seem like the estate owner was very diligent. At least, the grapes seemed to be growing well. After days of eating compressed rations, I was really tempted to pick some fresh fruit to eat.
I turned my head and glanced at the grape trellis again, shrugging to myself. I didn’t want to offend the owner before we even met them.
Just as I turned back, a light brown Labrador Retriever stood by the now-open door, its deep brown eyes scanning me and 74258 with the typical smile of its breed. I think this Labrador's bloodline was called... Chocolate Labrador? Damn, now I was even hungrier.
"What do you...?" he began, and I noticed his ears twitch slightly as he glanced at our necks. After days of trekking through snow, our cold-weather coats were slightly damp, clinging tightly to our bodies. I suspected the Labrador had already noticed that we weren’t wearing collars. Free foxes weren’t unheard of, but as far as I knew, there weren’t many this far south in the Grand Duchy of Golden. "…You’d better come inside."
The Labrador took a step back, gesturing for us to follow. Exchanging a glance with 74258, I nodded slightly, trying to appear like I knew what I was doing, and took the lead in stepping into the house. The fact that the Labrador didn’t immediately call for guards or pull out a weapon seemed like a good sign.
Out of the corner of my eye, I quickly assessed the weapon strapped to his waist—some kind of projectile firearm. I had no doubt the Labrador knew how to use it.
"I heard you have a logistics route to the north," I said cautiously, keeping my tone guarded. "My companion and I are quite interested in learning more about it."
"There are a few vintages of Green Katydid that are very popular in the northern cities," he replied, pointing us toward the coat rack. "However, transportation is limited to the 'railroad.'" He emphasized the word at the end, scanning me and 74258 again, his eyes narrowing as if waiting for something.
"In that case..." I hesitated a little, but I knew that sometimes the only way to find out what’s inside a box is to stick your hand in. Whether I’d find treasure or get bitten was hard to say. "…That sounds like it suits our needs."
I slowly undid the buttons on my collar, careful not to make any sudden movements that might alarm the Labrador—I noticed his posture shift, clearly ready to place his hand on his weapon. Thankfully, when I pulled open the front of my coat, revealing my collarless neck, the pedigree relaxed, even flashing us a deep, toothy smile.
"Welcome to the Green Katydid Estate. It must have been quite the journey for both of you," he extended his right paw, fingers together, palm facing me. "From here, the 'railroad' will take care of you."