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Outbound Dream

by Joshua Allen

Umer braced himself on a bulkhead between cars as the trainchased its way up a hill like a wolf after a rabbit. Thedarkness of his skin hid him, but he had to remember to breathe.He stuffed his hand inside his coat and felt his chest. He was

on fire. A pit of molten lead sat inside his chest, nearly hotenough to scorch the flesh on his palm.He would never pass for human if he didn't breathe.Breathing also kept his chest temperature regulated. Theywould know if he was too hot. A hot chest was an easy tell. Whenhumans greeted each other, they touched hands to hearts--alwaysthe right hand. Hearts, lungs, guts, organs--those things made aman a man. Umer had none of it. He concentrated on breathing. Heforced himself to draw air in, activating the servos that causedhis chest to rise; then, slowly, he exhaled. If someone were tocatch him with his chest this hot, they would know he was arobot.Umer calmed himself. His chest began to return to normaltemperature. His hand slipped into his inner pocket, certainthat his gun had fallen out, somewhere in the dining car whenhe'd taken his coat off to eat.The metal, warmed by the intense heat of Umer's chest,greeted him. He traced the outline of the thing. Retromark 8000series blast gun with a full complement of aluminum powderpackages. Not a new gun, but known for its reliability, lovedfor the ease of finding ammunition. Anything aluminum could beturned into powder with a little tenacity. The gun was there. Itwas complete. Umer took a few more deep breaths and opened thedoor to the coach car.

was in there. Umer had seen the man with the curly,golden locks board at Substation Yankee/Old Chicago. A drifterfrom the wastes, by the looks of him, but too immaculate. Thedrifter image was a mere disguise. Like the train, coursingthrough the night after invisible prey, this guy was a hunter.Umer tried making eye contact with the man briefly as hepassed. Goldilocks pretended to be more interested in themidnight blur outside his window. Umer smiled. The hunter wastrying to calm the prey by pretending he wasn't hungry.Umer hurried through the next joiner into the bedroom car.He stuffed his hand into his inner pocket. The gun was there. Hehurried to his room. The door opened when he was close and Umershuffled inside sideways. He put the bed down, stuffed it withpillows. A schoolboy's trick Umer had learned reading contrabandbooks. This was why they were contraband. Robots started tofeel, to realize right and wrong. Next, the robots would want toescape the dungeons. Umer had.Umer hurried out the door, around the corner and into adark pocket. Now was a matter of waiting and listening.A door opened ten seconds later at the other end. Umerstuck his hand into his pocket. This time he brought the gunout. He would have to wait for the bedroom door to open.The footsteps paused, then retreated, heading back towardthe coach car. Umer forced himself to breath. He pushed himself