She starts furiously tapping the screen while muttering under her breath. I step beside her, peering at her screen. No signal, just like me. She tilts it to the sky like that might help.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Besides rage? No.”
I laugh. “Looks like we’re walking to the nearest town, then.”
She exhales, then shoves her phone into that tiny backpack she’s been carrying all day. “Okay. Adventure, part two.”
We start down the road, the trail turning into cobblestone as we near the edge of the village. The sun’s dropped lower now, casting everything in a golden light I haven’t seen in months. Quiet and cinematic.
She glances at me, and her mouth twitches again. At least she’s finding this amusing. If this were Athena, everyone and their mother would have heard her, and we would have probably gotten out of here by now. One of the locals feeling sorry for meand offering us a ride to another train station, maybe. “If we end up sleeping on a park bench, I’m blaming you.”
“We won’t have to sleep in a park, Manu,” I say, and I can’t help my smile. “Let’s just find a store and ask for directions to the nearest train station. I’m sure there’s another service that can take us back.”
Manuela sighs dramatically. “Why do you have to be so logical?” She rolls her eyes, and I catch the grin before she turns her head, and we follow the road to what I hope is a town nearby.
11
MANUELA
“No luck.”
“Connor, there’s no freaking way no one speaks English,” I say, stomping my foot like a child. It’s getting late, and we haven’t had any luck finding someone who can tell us where the nearest train station—not the one we should have been at hours ago—is. I was hoping that maybe we could get to a different one, served by a different train, and that would connect us to our stop, but I can’t figure out the train systems and the language is so complicated. Even as a bilingual person, German is nothing like Spanish or English, even both of them combined.
“I already tried Uber,” he says, holding his phone up so I can see the app frozen on the screen. “The closest car available is forty kilometers away.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Let’s try one more spot,” he says, dragging me by the hand to the end of the street. We walked for about fifty minutes south—according to Connor’s compass app—and ended up in a charming town with approximately four streets. It’s a miniature version of Tres Fuegos, which has been, consistently,the smallest town I’ve ever been to. “There’s a neon sign on that window, look.”
The restaurant is small and quiet, dimly lit with amber wall sconces and a few tables scattered around. In a corner, two patrons are engaged in conversation, their plates empty but their drinks topped up. It’s the only table with people, but this town seems sleepy, so I’m not surprised.
It smells incredible, like melted cheese and warm bread, and honestly, I could cry just from that.
A man in a burgundy wool sweater stands behind the counter. He looks up as we walk in, drying a glass with a white towel.
Connor steps up to the bar, that easygoing smile of his already in place. “Hi,” he says to the stoic man in front of us. “Do you speak English?”
The man nods once. “A little.”
I exhale through my nose, somewhat dramatically, because I’m relieved. “We’re trying to get back to Lucerne. Is there any chance the trains or buses are still running?”
He makes a sound that could be half laugh, half sigh, and shakes his head.
“No more trains. Last one left at seventeen.”
Connor leans in slightly. “Five p.m.?”
“Exactly.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven. I think we both know we missed our window, but hearing it out loud makes it real.
The man gives us a small smile. “You could try the Ubers, but I don’t think you will have… eh, how you say? Any luck.”
My eyes widen. This was absolutely not in the plan, but I guess I’ll have to go with it. Part of the adventure, right?
“Next train comes in the morning.”
