“Backwardsh?” said Moose. “Back to where?”
“Anywhere!”
Then there came a sound like the mechanical groaning of some infernal engine.
. . . Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-cha! Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-cha . . .
By now kids were looking out of the train windows, pointing at the light, murmuring to one another, while the sound coming over the hill got louder and more menacing by the second.
. . . Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-cha! Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-ah—Grr-cha . . .
“What is that?” asked Jill. “Some kind of machine?”
“No,” said Jix, just as the source of the light finally crested the hill. “It’s a war cry.”
Now it was clear what that light had been. It was the combined glow of countless Afterlights coming over the hill toward the train. This was an invading force.
“Bozhe moÄ!” It didn’t take a Russian translator to get the gist of what Milos had said.
As wave after wave of Afterlights came over the hill toward them, the awful sound resolved into the voices of a mob shouting their singular war cry:
. . . Oogah—oogah—oogah-cha-ka! Oogah—oogah—oogah-cha-ka!
Mary’s kids were not prepared for this.
Months ago, when she had gathered her army of children, she had readied them for battle against the Chocolate Ogre—but back then, they knew exactly what they were up against, and had the advantage of being the attackers. This, however, was an ambush, and no one knew what to do, so everyone panicked.
Kids ran from the train, then ran back to the train, then ran out again. Kids screamed, they cried, and they fought with one another, as if that was somehow going to help.
“Stop it!” Milos demanded “Everyone stay calm!” But of course no one did.
. . . Oogah—oogah—oogah-cha-ka! Oogah—oogah—oogah-cha-ka!
The approaching marauders had faces painted with neon-bright war paint—green, yellow, and red—that glowed even more brightly than their bodies did, and many of them held what appeared to be weapons.
Milos ran up to the engine cab, where Speedo looked at him, wide-eyed and frozen like a rabbit before the radial. “What do we do?” warbled Speedo as Milos climbed in.
Milos looked toward the mansion, still a quarter mile ahead of them. “We ram it!” Milos said.
“Ram it? But . . .”
. . . OOGAH—OOGAH—OOGAH-CHA-KA! OOGAH—OOGAH—OOGAH-CHA-KA!
“I said RAM IT!”
Milos didn’t wait for Speedo. He grabbed the control stick and pushed it all the way forward.
The couplers shuddered, the wheels moaned, and the train began to move, picking up speed, with the first of the invaders just fifty yards away.
“I don’t like this!” Speedo complained, bracing himself against the bulkhead. “I don’t like this at all!”
But Milos knew what he was doing. The mansion, just like the church, was resting on the tracks. The attackers had put it there—which meant that the train could knock it off of the tracks and barrel right on past, escaping the mob. All it took was enough momentum.
Jix, who still hung out of the door of the parlor car, was nearly thrown off by the sudden momentum, and Allie, who, as always, had the best view of the rapidly approaching mansion, screamed, calling Milos every foul name devised in the English language, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of the engine as they accelerated toward the mansion. She had no idea what would happen to her once she hit. The impact couldn’t hurt or kill her, but what if the crash tore her soul to bits, and every bit, still alive and kicking, sunk down to the center of the earth? Whatever was coming, she knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. She shut her eyes, and gritted her teeth as she, and the train, connected with the building at sixty miles per hour.
CHAPTER 14
The Neon Nightmares