Page 10 - Crossing the Deadline
P. 10
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
December 21, 1864
As we pull into the station, my stomach rumbles as much as
the train. A shield of dull gray hangs above the city, and a
foggy haze sits on everything. It looks like snow will fall
from the sky at any moment, but the promise holds off. The
smell of thick smoke and steam ambushes us as we step
down from the train.
A man wearing a dark blue overcoat is waiting on the
station’s platform. His mustache is cut short to end above
the corners of his lips. His chin and neck are shaven clean.
Charcoal-colored hair hangs below the edges of his cap.
He’s thin and walks parallel to the train in measured, crisp
steps, almost in a strut. He points through the smoke
toward a double gate nestled into a two-story-high wall and
yells, at no one in particular, “When you get inside the
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