"Who says I want to make it through?"
Charlie shook his head, as if trying to shake off the thought. "You can't be thinking of giving them all coins! There's not enough in the world!"
But that wasn't true; the bucket was never empty. Still, it wouldn't be a good idea to start making kids disappear. The mob would get confused and frightened. The mob would attack. Nick, however, had another reason for making a pit stop here. "Trust me," Nick said, although he wasn't really sure he trusted himself. Still, Charlie sighed and pulled on the brake. The steam engine came to a wheezing, shuddering halt.
"Now what?" asked Johnnie-O.
Nick reached for the door. "I'll be right back."
Johnnie-O stepped in front of him. "I'm going with you."
"No ... . Your hands might scare them."
Johnnie-O smirked. "And your face won't?"
He had a point. "Okay," said Nick, "but you've got to lose that scowl. I want you to smile like an idiot. Can you do that?"
Johnnie-O took a deep breath and smiled like the best of idiots. He did it so well, it was scary. Probably scary enough for the kids outside to throw bricks. So Nick pulled Johnnie-O aside and whispered to him. "Actually, I'm more worried about Charlie panicking. It might be a good idea to keep an eye on him."
The grin left Johnnie-O's face, and he nodded, accepting this new security detail. "On second thought," he said loudly, "maybe I'll stay here and keep my buddy Charlie company."
Charlie seemed relieved to know he wasn't being left alone.
Nick opened the door and stepped down from the engine. Around him the Afterlights of Atlanta backed away, cautious and guarded. He didn't know whether they had heard of the so-called Chocolate Ogre, but even if they hadn't, seeing a face such as his gave him a psychological advantage. A kind of authority of the uncanny.
"Who's in charge here?" Nick asked them. No one answered right away.
"C'mon--a group this big has to have someone in charge."
There were murmurs in the crowd, and then someone spoke, Nick couldn't be sure who it was. "You mean in charge of us, or all Atlanta?"
Interesting, thought Nick. That meant that there was some sort of structure here. Maybe even a government.
"When I say in charge, I mean in charge," he answered.
The crowd murmured again, and once the murmurs had died down, Nick said, "I'll be waiting." Then he strode back to the train, and prepared for a meeting with the eminent ruler of Atlanta.
They kept Nick waiting in the parlor car for more than an hour. It could have been intentional, or it simply could have taken that long to retrieve the kid in charge. Nick gave them the benefit of the doubt. The kid who finally climbed into the parlor car was a tall and gangly African-American Afterlight, about sixteen or so. The torn, shabby clothes he wore made Nick wonder if perhaps he had been a slave when he was alive, and yet there was a confidence to his stride that bristled with powerful independence. Whatever this boy had been forced to endure in life, he had certainly risen above it here.
He looked Nick over and said, "What's wrong with your face?"
Apparently stories of the Chocolate Ogre had not reached Atlanta after all. He didn't know whether to be grateful or annoyed. Either way, he didn't feel like answering the question. "Please sit down," he said. "Let's talk."
The Afterlight introduced himself as Isaiah. He didn't offer to shake Nick's hand.
"Tell me about Atlanta," Nick said. "How many of you are there?"
Apparently Nick wasn't the only one reluctant to give answers. Isaiah crossed his arms. "First tell me about your train," he said. "I've never seen an Everlost train before."
"My train is my business."
"Well, maybe it won't be your train anymore."
Nick wasn't sure whether this was an actual threat, or just a show of force. He decided to match Isaiah's confidence measure for measure.
"You won't take my train."
"How can you be sure?"