I'm not sure just how big and dangerous an explosion like this would be, but if my assumptions are wrong, forgive me. This is not a gory chapter, if you're worried, either.

Anyway, I was furious to learn that someone on yahoo is using the username refloc already. I was going to create a new acount, solely for ffnet, but it was already taken. I was slightly curious, you know, to see who owns it. If you do people searchs, there's no Eoin Colfer out there... I wonder if he had the clever idea of spelling his name backwards.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.


"Oh… damn!" Valerie pulled him down flat, smashing his head flat against the roof of the car. "Don't move. Yet. Minimize the target."

"Which side are they on?"

"All of them," snapped Valerie. And then the shooting started.

It took about three minutes, before they realized that the Mafia was keeping the Sun Ye On away from them with their bullets, and making an obvious effort not to hit either of them.

Valerie swore eloquently. "They want us alive."

"But we can always bust out again," protested Zane. "They don't even have The Fortress this time! What's the problem?"

The Mafia were getting closer to the train now. After all, the Sun Ye On would have had difficulty infiltrating a large amount of their men into the country on such short notice, and it would have been even more difficult to get many on the train.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that there's going to be a war over us now— between the Mafia and the Sun Ye On. In case you hadn't figured that out yet. The Mafia won't want to give us up, and the Sun Ye On will want to kill us both." Valerie raised her head slightly, looking around, and studying the land.

"Get your head down!" Zane reached out to pull her flat, but Valerie slapped his hand away. "The Mafia aren't going to shoot us, they're trying to protect us. Besides, the Sun Ye On isn't even within range."

"What if they start shooting straight up?"

Valerie set her ear against the roof of the car, and listened. "There's nobody down there."

"What are we going to do?"

Valerie looked around again. "I think we should create a diversion. And then I think we should run away."

"I think that's a good idea," muttered Zane. "So how do we do that?"

Slowly, Valerie drew out her biggest, longest gun. "Do you think I can hit that tank from here?"

Zane winced. He didn't like the sound of this. "I don't think you should. Why?"

"Start running. Along the top of the train. Or— wait. Let's run towards the tank, and I'll shoot, and we can jump into that big ditch farther up." Her eyes sped along the course which they would take to flee the sight. "And then we take one of their vehicles, and floor it."

"Is there some reason I'm not liking this idea?" Zane grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Is there a slight possibility that this might be dangerous? Or hadn't you considered that?"

Valerie rolled her eyes. Oh the drama… "Look around you, Zane. Come on."

Zane saw her point. Literally, and metaphorically. "Fine. If you say so. But when we're dying, I'm going to tell you I told you so."

Without bothering to reply, Valerie climbed to her feet, looked around one more time, and started running. Zane was soon close behind her. They couldn't afford to waste more time, and if she was willing to risk it, he might as well too. He couldn't survive too well without her.

It took a little longer than she had thought it would to reach the engine, but Valerie was not too worried. The few Mafia members coming towards them were taking their time. They obviously saw no reason to hurry. Both Zane and she were injured, and even if they did get away, it would be for long. And of course, it couldn't have possibly occurred to them that anyone could be stupid enough to put a bullet in the tank.

Their loss.

Valerie climbed off the train, and pulled Zane towards the ditch. "They won't think it strange that we go down into it. It's too wide to jump across. Come on."

Convinced this was his last few minutes on earth, Zane gritted his teeth, and clamored down after her into the mud, wondering why he bothered. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"No, did you think it was?" Valerie lifted the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Like he'd done at the park, Zane was suddenly covering her, pressing her into the bank and holding her there, while the flames from one explosion ignited another, and the engine blew up. He covered her ears, and pushed her head down, while pieces of twisted metal rained down all around them, charred and black.

Valerie gave herself the luxury of one whimper when a piece of metal hit her exposed arm, slicing into it, and burning her. Then, she was quiet again. The only reason she'd allowed herself that release of pain was because everything was too loud for Zane to have heard it, and it helped her deal with the it.

The more you bottled up pain, the harder it became to deal with it. Only one long practiced in the area could cope with large amounts of pain. She was good, but she was struggling with the pain in her hand, and she didn't need an injured arm to distract her.

The noise and the hail of metal began to lessen, and Valerie quickly pulled back. "You'd better not have gotten hurt again, Zane!"

He straightened with a wince from his back. "Surprisingly, I'm unharmed. What about you?"

"It can wait. We can't. We've got to get one of those—" She stopped, hearing the shouts of more men hurrying in their direction. "Forget it. Let's go!"

They ran down the ditch until it ended, about twelve minutes later, hidden under the cover of smoke and confusion. Valerie did not pause to see if there was anyone nearby; she grabbed Zane's hand, and struggled up the bank, hauling him after her.

To her obvious relief, there was no one around, but there were plenty of cross-country vehicles. They were a little big for her liking, but it appeared they had good traction, and not only were the gas tanks pretty full, but they had little tanks in the back, in case of long treks.

Even better, they were unlocked, the keys were there, and this time she knew to look for the tracker and the transmitter. The transmitter was broken, and the tracker, she removed from the car, and set on the ground— as a little present for anyone looking for her.

That done, she climbed in, motioning for Zane to drive. "My arm's too bad for that."

Zane slammed his door, and glanced across at her good arm, questioningly. He winced. "I'm sorry— I forgot your arm was up there. I should have made sure you—"

"Just drive. It wasn't your fault." Valerie leaned back, eyes flickering around for anyone that might need to be removed, if they happened to see which direction a particular vehicle left the area in.

Luckily for them, no one did. No. They were all more worried about finishing off the Sun Ye On, threatening the passengers with death if they told anyone there had been a gunfight, and trying to figure out how many of their people had died in the explosion.

Oh, yeah— they were really hoping that Madam and Zane were alive still, too. Because if they weren't, The Tyrant wasn't going to be very happy with them. After all, that diamond was important, and they were the only ones who knew where it was, that he could get his hands on.

For a long time, they drove across fields towards the north east. A little past mid-afternoon, Zane stopped, and filled the fuel tanks again. Around midnight, he did the same thing.

Valerie went in and out of a fitful sleep, unwilling to allow herself the rest she needed, partly because she did not trust Zane not to fall asleep, and partly because she was worried that the Mafia would find them sooner than she was hoping they would.

Finally, they were out of gas. Valerie woke up again as Zane stopped the car, and looked around at the trees on one side, and the bushes on the other. "Can we go any farther?"

"There's no gas left. That's it. We rolled the last few feet."

She nodded tiredly, and unbuckled herself. "Have you seen anything or anyone?"

"No." Zane pulled a flashlight out from under the seat, and turned it on. "You ought to let me bandage your arm up."

Valerie nodded, and leaned back her seat, holding out her arm. "Go ahead; just be gentle."

For a second, Zane looked at her. "Gentle? I don't know what that means. I've never heard of it before." He smiled slightly, to calm the uneasiness of the moment, and reached for one of the bags. "Relax. I'll try."

"You'd better," grumbled Valerie. She shut her eyes and waited.

She wasn't expecting the alcohol, but all she did was tense, and then settle again, as it seared her cut with new pain.

"Sorry." Zane carefully wiped out the grime and gunk that had built up in the cut, tightening his grip on her arm when she flinched. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Almost done."

"It's fine," whispered Valerie.

But he could tell it was not. They both knew she was struggling with the pain. Now both her arms were injured. One, she couldn't use. The other was really going to hurt.

Gently, he began to wrap the bandage around her arm.

"Tighter!" snapped Valerie. "I won't be able to use it otherwise!" She struggled to glare at him, but finally gave up, and focused on controlling the pain in her hand and arm.

Fine! If she wanted it that way, he supposed he could give it to her. Zane tugged impatiently on the bandage. Valerie jerked, and when rigid in her seat with a slight gasp, but she did not pull her arm away. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I wasn't expecting it."

Feeling bad, Zane reached out to steady her. She was shaking. "You can't handle this anymore, Madam! You can't! You need a pain killer or something! A hospital!"

"No. I'm fine."

"No you're not fine!" Zane was angry now. "Maybe we should forget the stupid diamond, and just get out of the country!"

"No." Valerie's annoyance helped her manage the pain, but she made sure she had tight control of it. Extreme emotions of any kind were bad. They made things difficult.

"You don't need to be the damn hero!" Zane finished bandaging her arm, and leaned over her. "You've already done enough! People become heroes when they die! You can prolong that! Don't do something stupid, Madam! You're good! You're really good!"

Valerie felt her face twitch, and then harden. "It's not about heroics. It's about my rules."

"To hell with your rules! Surely they can be ignored this once!"

Valerie felt things that she did not want to face welling up inside her. "You don't understand, do you? If you build your life on something, and then you disown it, you disown who you are, and your whole life crumbles, and falls down in little pieces!"

"What are you talking about?" Zane stared at her in confusion.

"My life is built on my rules. If I break one, I break them all, and not only have I failed, but I have lost." Valerie was trembling again. "I've seen— people break their rules! I know! I know, Zane! Oh, damn… he should have killed him! You fool!"

Zane leaned back, knowing that she was remembering something: or more particularly, someone. Someone that had failed her. Someone that had broken their rules. And now she was scared to break her own.

"I'm sorry," said Valerie woodenly. "I lost control of myself. Please forgive me. It will not happen again."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Zane asked, "Why wouldn't he kill him?"

Valerie looked at him pleadingly, begging him not to ask with her eyes. Looking frightened like a cornered animal. "Because—" She began to tremble again. "Because— because he was a child!"

"Why should he have shot a child?" Zane stared at her in growing pity and confusion.

"Because he saw! And he told! And they're all… dead," whispered Valerie, who he was now sure was about to cry. "They're all dead!"


(Just so you all know, I think I'm going to pull the whole romance idea. It's just not working for me. I think it would be really forced, if I did do it, and… yeah. I tried it in several of my other drafts, and it didn't work.)

That was what I wrotetwenty-six days ago. Then, I had a brilliant moment of inspiration, last week, and wrote at least fifty-seventy-five pages of junk in which there is definite romance, though I was never quite sure if they were all the way in love. Anyway, to everyone who's been begging for it, I promise you things will happen, because otherwise the ending couldn't happen, and all of that. Patience. Patience. Chapter Twenty-five, if you must know.

You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)